The Adventure

Our story takes place here....

Our three adventurers met on the road just south of Matterfort, each heading into town for a much-needed respite from their travels. After talking amongst themselves, they decided they tolerated each other well enough to adventure together.

After a short trek, they enter the important trading hub of Matterfort. In the center of Umbermoor, this thriving town sits not only on the north-south route between Varzand and Tamora, but also near the critical east-west route between Ulsternaulde and the great fortress-city of Vuldun.

As can be expected, the town is bustling: carts clatter down the cobblestone streets, traders hawk their wares, travelers and adventurers of all sorts meander about. Since this is Umbermoor, there are plenty of dwarves about, working mainly as artisans. A wise traveler knows that there are dwarf-dug caverns beneath the town, where those dwarves who truly can't stand open spaces live and work.

And as its name implies, the town is also a fort. A large barracks sits in the middle of town, along with an armory and some training grounds. Most new recruits to the Umbermoor armed forces are stationed here, rather than at the more remote capital, Vuldun. Vuldun is also nigh-impregnable, and needs relatively few troops.

Despite the presence of so much military personnel, Matterfort is hardly a joyless authoritarian dump; there's still plenty of fun to be had, should you know where to look, or who to pay.

You all make your way to a tavern called Hogarth's Folly. Despite the name, whoever Hogarth is should be happy with the tavern's business; while not quite filled to bursting, there are still plenty of patrons drinking, eating, and making merry. Since it's 6 PM, the dinner rush has started, and the staff hustles through the clean and tidy interior, setting out food and drink and then collecting the resulting dirty dishes with impressive efficiency.

As you all look around, three people stand out...three people who look like they might need some intrepid adventurers to aid them....

The first is a tanned, muscular, blue-haired gnome, wearing battered chain mail. She's shoveling food and drink into her mouth as fast as she's able, and seems to be watching the entrance intently.The second is a dark-skinned man wearing a red turban. He's clearly at ease, laughing and gesturing along with a group at a nearby table.The last is an older man with a thick beard, also wearing armor that's seen some use, who seems oblivious to the cacophony around him. He stares down at his ale, only sipping occasionally.

Leira sat and looked at the three. She nodded and sighed.
"Fine..." she said almost in a bit whiny voice. "I'll go talk to the boring one." she stood up. The gnome woman and the older man both looked way more exciting personalities. But nevertheless, Leira dragged herself to the red turban. Maybe the most timid look person had the most exciting story to tell. Who knows.

Instead of talking to the red turban directly, Leira observes him for a moment. He seems in a group, and he seems to have fun. But why does he keep gesturing?

She steps forward.

"Well met. I am Leira Stormwind. Want a beer? I can't help notice you keep trying to get my attention."

@Aenwyn:

The gnome gapes up at Aenwyn, half-eaten food dribbling from her mouth. Then she swallows, washes it all down with a large gulp of ale, and wipes her mouth with a sleeve.

"Well, lookit you! Nice tail! And the rest o' ya ain't bad, either! What's the word to describe it? One o' them big ones...oh yeah! Voluptuous! HAHA!"

She kicks out a chair and gestures for you to sit.

"Name's Wyla Turen. An adventurer...just like you are, I'm thinkin'. And yes, I am in a small amount of distress...not large, not even medium, just a teensy tiny smidgen. But maybe you can help. I'll try to give ya the short version, cuz folks say I talk too much. Can you believe it?! HAHAHA!"

Another gulp of ale, and she begins:

"Was travelin' from Ulsternaulde, mindin' my own business, when I come across four other travelers. They were just lazin' about by the road...which is fine, I don't judge. But then they started hurlin' insults about my size. Fuckin' original, right? So's I hurled some back...better ones, of course, cuz Mama Turen's daughter ain't no shy, stammering doofus."

"Things got even more heated, so's I challenged one o' them to a wrestling match. We doffed our armor and went at it. Hoped that would shut 'em up after I won...which I did, easily, cuz I'm strong as an ox. But it didn't shut 'em up. In fact, they all rushed me! I hate retreatin', but four versus one ain't good odds."

"So's I dove for my pack, and I was just able to get a bag o' caltrops and toss it at 'em. Confused 'em enough to allow me to grab my armor as well, and I high-tailed it outta there. They gave chase, but I'm at home in the wilderness; I zigged and zagged and made my way here. Now I'm just grabbin' a quick meal before I hit the road again. I think I lost 'em, but ya can never be sure; that's why I was watchin' the door."

"But if you and yer companions (ain't they yer companions?) wanna help, we can put those shitstain bullies in their places! If we can find 'em, that is. Now, to be clear, I don't wanna kill 'em, even though it seems like they wanted to slit my throat. I'm forgiving like that! No, I just wanna beat the tar outta them, maybe maim 'em a bit, and steal all their gold. So, whaddaya think?"

@Thomas Miller

The older man stares at you for a long moment. Despite his age, he's powerfully built, and his gaze suggests a stubbornness that's not easily tempered.

But then he sighs, and suddenly it seems as if all his wrinkles have multiplied fivefold.

"No, I'm not alright, stranger. I'm here on an important mission, but it's one I wish had been given to someone else. However, duty and honor is paramount to me, so I intend to see it through."

"I'm Cormac Thalken, cleric of Tempus. Tell me, have you ever had to hunt down a friend?"

@Leira Stormwind

The turbaned man laughs at your words; it's an infectious, musical laugh, as if care and worry were for lesser mortals.

"I admit, I was not trying to get your attention. I only just noticed you now, so absorbed was I in our discussion. But I will gladly jettison this current conversation, if a beauty such as you wishes to speak with me. Such features! You are gorgeous, no doubt, but I also sense an inner strength within you...perhaps even magic? And that hair! Exquisite!"

"My name is Hassan Rein, a member of the Prosperous Path. Perhaps you've heard of my guild? No matter either way. We can discuss it if you wish, we can discuss your surely adventurous life, we can discuss anything under the sun! Please, sit! I'll shoo these lowly dogs away (I jest, of course...but only partially!), so we won't be distracted."

@Aenwyn:

The gnome nods, makes a few more salacious comments about your tail, and then resumes scarfing down her meal. Though she still watches the entrance, she seems more relaxed now that she has potential allies.

@Thomas Miller:

The man lets out a gruff laugh as you introduce yourself.

"I appreciate the 'mister,' but no need to be so formal, Thomas. Cormac will be fine. I also appreciate the offer of help; it would certainly ease my burden. Let me tell you what I must do, and you can decide if you wish to aid me."

He then takes a deep breath, seems to collect his thoughts, and begins his tale:

"I seek a man named Dane Marsk. Like me, he was once a follower of Tempus; I knew him well, and adventured with him on several occasions. But the last time we fought together...[you can almost hear his teeth grinding]...things went awry."

"Some goblins had been terrorizing Timbervale, a village north of here; they seemed to be based in the nearby woods. We were sent into those woods to ferret them out. A simple enough task, it was thought; thousands of adventurers have accomplished similar tasks without incident."

"But there was trickery afoot. We found the goblins easily...and some hobgoblins. The fiends had held back the bulk of their forces, hoping to lure the inevitable adventurers into a trap. They succeeded, probably beyond their wildest hopes. We were overrun, and had to retreat."

"There were five of us in the party. One was killed. Three made it out of the woods, myself included...exhausted and injured, but still alive. Dane got left behind in the chaos, and was captured; we were too weak to immediately go in search of him. We recuperated, gathered reinforcements, and went out to hunt for our comrade...but we tarried too long. Our foes used that opportunity to move deeper into the Forest of Shields, probably sensing that we would return in force."

"We tracked them all through the forest, and even through the foothills of the Iron Range. Finally we cornered them. A terrible battle resulted, but we won. All the fiends were killed; no quarter was asked, so none was given."

"We found Dane after the battle...emaciated, battered, half out of his mind. You see, it had taken us over a month to track down these goblinoids. The things they'd done to Dane in that time...."

"The clergy thought they could heal his fractured mind, but it was naught to be. As soon as he recovered a portion of his strength, he loudly renounced Tempus for abandoning him, slew two clerics, and set off for parts unknown...well, unknown for a time. Now he's resurfaced here in Matterfort. I have credible information that he's recruiting people from the dregs of society...for what exact purpose, I can't say, but I'm certain it's nefarious. There have already been tales of murder and rape."

"He's been designated one of the Fallen, a former follower of Tempus who's descended into madness or darkness. We trained him, we supported him...now it's our responsibility...my responsibility...to deal with him. If he can be apprehended, he'll be tossed into a dungeon from which he'll never escape; if he insists on fighting till the end, then an end he shall have."

He takes a few sips of his ale, and then rubs his beard thoughtfully.

"Excuse the length of my tale, Thomas, but I figured you needed to know all the facts. As you can see, this isn't a task I relish; Dane was a good man, and I can recall many fond memories of traveling with him. And if you were to say we failed him, that we didn't rescue him soon enough, that we didn't heal his mind as we should have...well, you'd be well justified in saying those things. But the fact remains: he's become a danger, and must be stopped."

@Leira Stormwind:

"Never heard of my guild? Well, let us banish your ignorance on this matter forever!"

"The motto of the Prosperous Path is 'Wealth Through Valor.' Sounds simple enough, right? But I believe you could switch it around, and it would still ring true: 'Valor Through Wealth' is also appropriate."

"You see, we're not just an adventuring guild, though adventuring is surely a large part of it. We also handle all things related to commerce. This dual nature of the Prosperous Path means that your tasks could be incredibly varied: one week you might be delving in an abandoned mine for treasure, the next you might be helping negotiate a trade agreement between two merchants."

"Martial prowess is required, but also cunning and diplomacy. This actually keeps our ranks relatively low. Many find they only want adventuring, and leave the Path to join a guild that focuses exclusively on that; others find they only want to deal with the business and investing aspects, and so also leave."

"But if you're a person of varied talents, and are willing to adapt...well, let's just say that no member of the Path has ever starved."

"So, Leira Stormwind...are you interested in joining? I'd be happy to sponsor you, if you are. If not, I won't be offended...but I will be offended if you immediately leave, without further conversation. Just because you're not interested in the Path doesn't mean our evening together has to end. We can certainly find myriad other things to talk about!"

@Thomas Miller:

"Of course, Thomas. Discuss amongst yourselves."

"However, I'll be moving forward with my mission shortly. So you may have to catch up with me, should your deliberations take some time. Still, I have a room here at Hogarth's Folly, and if I'm not there, Hogarth will know where I am. He's discrete and dependable...and no pushover."

@Leira Stormwind:

Hassan seems unbothered by your questions. In fact, as breezily as he answers, he's probably answered them dozens of times before.

"You desire more details? A good sign! It means you haven't rejected the Path outright."

"So, details: to join, you need a sponsor. As I said, I'd be happy to sponsor you and your friends. You'd have to fill out some paperwork (establishing your identity, mostly), and then you'd be put on provisional status. After that, you'd be assigned a job. Nothing too daunting; we're not going to send you out to slay a dragon on your first mission!"

"If you perform satisfactorily, great! You're now a part of the guild. If you don't perform well, we'll evaluate your performance, and then send you out on a second job. If you fail at that job...the guild would still work with you, but it certainly wouldn't be an auspicious start. Perhaps the Path isn't a good fit for you."

"As for member ranks, we go by coinage: Copper, Silver, Gold, Platinum. We don't use electrum, because it's such a strange currency. Why even have it at all? But I digress...."

"If you succeed in your provisional job, you'll become a Copper. Then you move up based on your efforts...or get demoted based on your failures. Should you prove extraordinarily capable, you may even ascend to our ruling council, called the Nine Pillars. There's nine of them, obviously...a straightforward name, eh?"

"You're expected to be active in the guild, though 'active' is flexible. You know how it is: some jobs take two days, some jobs take weeks, after which you're certainly entitled to a break."

"We don't deal in slavery, sex trafficking, or consort with dark or demonic forces. However, there is some...moral ambiguity for some of our jobs. You may have to grease someone's palm, or bend a few rules, to accomplish your goals."

"If you take a job through the guild, they take out 2% for membership fees. This is taken out beforehand, so don't worry about doing math; if someone tells you a job is 100 gold, you'll get paid 100 gold, not 98 gold. Many balk at this fee, but I think they're foolish. 2% for a world of opportunities, for a network that has your back, for reliable allies that you can consult on any topic? A bargain, in my opinion."

"As for how you and your friends fit in: you all must determine that. I don't know your exact capabilities. Are you crafty and ambitious, but also skilled at combat and exploration? Then you'd be like a fish in water! But as I mentioned, the Path is not for everyone. If business and investing bores you to tears, then you'd be better off joining a straight-up adventuring guild...as much as it would pain me to lose you!"

"Oh, and you can leave the guild at any time. We don't hunt you down like barbarians for rejecting us. However, if you officially leave, you lose whatever status you had; even if you were a Platinum, should you wish to rejoin, you'd have to start back at the provisional stage. This has actually happened, and certain former Platinums thought they should get special treatment. The Path rejected their pleas, which created hurt feelings, but that's how it is. We can't have people bouncing in and out willy-nilly, yet still expecting to maintain their rank."

"I'll let you digest those details. But once you have, feel free to ask more questions! I am at your service."

While the three of you converse, a barmaid bustles over and sets down three frothy ales.

"Here ya go, lasses and lad. The gentleman over yonder bought these for you."

She points at Hassan, then departs as quickly as she arrived. Hassan waves to Aenwyn and Thomas...but blows a kiss to Leira.

The three tankards are filled with Sunburst Wheat, a bright and refreshing ale with notes of citrus and honey.

While the three of you are conversing, a young, well-dressed young man enters the tavern. He may actually be a teenager, so youthful is his appearance. He saunters over to Wyla and addresses her...Wyla grabs her battleaxe and squints at him, but she responds. The youth quickly pulls out some sort of note and places it on the gnome's table. Laughing, he then gives her a sarcastic salute, and saunters back to the door. You all hear Wyla loudly asking questions, but the man pays her no mind, and is gone before she can collect herself to pursue him.

She plops back down in her seat, furrows her brow, and reads the note. As she reads, her already tanned complexion becomes darker as she reddens. Her eyes bulge, and a wall-shaking expletive roars from her lips.

She bounds over to your table and slaps the note down.

Wyla: "That foppish punk messenger boy was searchin' the taverns and found me...and left this! Read it! Can you believe their...their gall?! They try'n assault me on the road, now they threaten me with death if I don't be their errand girl?! I knew they were arrogant, but I didn't think those troll-shits would hide behind their daddy like that!"

The note is written in a clear hand, and says:

To the Blue-Haired Gnome (we couldn't recall your name),

Your actions have endangered not only our personal reputations but also a deal of great importance to our family. Our father is a man of great influence, and isn't forgiving. As of yet, however, we haven't told him of your transgressions.

We are willing to show leniency if you take on a task that will prove your worth to our household. If you succeed, it will perhaps restore a fraction of our goodwill.

If you decline this task, we will be forced to share the truth about your disgraceful ambush. You can expect no safe haven in Matterfort—or any town within our father’s vast reach. In fact, you may find yourself food for carrion rather quickly.

If you’re wise enough to comply, meet us at dusk in the clearing just outside Matterfort's western gate. There we’ll explain what must be done.

Warm regards,

Aaron and Amelie Fairborough

P.S. - Do not harm Roderick, our messenger. If you do, retribution will be swift.

Wyla is still cursing, and some of the curses you hear are truly inventive. She's also pulled out her battleaxe, and occasionally whispers to it, promising imminent bloodshed.

"I know how it'll play out, Aen-wind: with me cleavin' all o' them from neck to navel! I was gonna let 'em off with a light whuppin', but now that they're tossin' out death threats, they've done pissed me off somethin' fierce!"

"I say we jump 'em as soon as we see 'em! I ain't doin' their stupid task anyway, and I ain't scared o' their daddy! If ya'll don't want to bloody yer hands, I'll do the killing myself...ya'll just keep 'em occupied until my axe can send their souls to whatever planes they're destined for."

Wyla laughs (or more accurately, cackles) at Leira's not-so-subtle threat.

To Leira: "Right, right...my axe just might slip, and lop someone's head off! Happens all the time! HAHAHA! I like you, thunder-chick...and our hair is a similar color! I'm guessin' ya've got some interestin' ancestors, like me!"

To Thomas: "So's ya know their daddy? Hmmm...not that it matters. Like I said, I ain't worried about no jumped-up merchant. If he doesn't want his kids to get spanked, he shoulda raised 'em right! So let's go see if yer good with that halberd, or if yer compensatin' for something! HA!"

To everyone: "Well, shall we head to the meetin' spot? I'm mad as fire, but I'll try to just rough 'em up...promise!"

You all make your way to Matterfort's western gate (more like northwestern, but anyway....) at an unhurried pace; since it's early June, sunset is around 8:30, so you have some time to kill.

You arrive as the sun dips below the horizon, leaving behind a fiery orange-red sky. A few travelers (either on foot, mounted, or riding in mule-drawn wagons) are entering the town before darkness sets in. A group of people (probably locals) are loitering about, watching the sunset and chatting.

There's a one-story wooden guardhouse by the gate, manned by four guards. Three have a youthful exuberance about them; perhaps this is their first posting as guards. The last one is a middle-aged man whose eyes seem to be everywhere at once...probably a sergeant with plenty of experience. However, none of the guards bother anyone; they simply nod as people walk past.

Near the gate is a clearing that seems to be an all-purpose area. Judging from the ruts, wagons park or turn around here. There are also some worn wooden benches, and even some stone fire rings. People must camp here sometimes, for whatever reason. Right now, however, nobody is making use of this area...except for four people who smirk as you approach.

A white-haired youth steps forward, haughtiness and cunning practically radiating off of him. He's clearly the de facto leader, and addresses you all in a clear voice:

Man: "There you are, my wrestling partner! And you brought friends? Shocking, actually...I didn't think anyone could tolerate your filthiness, rudeness, and cockiness for long!"

Wyla marches right towards him and stares up, a crazed grin on her face.

Wyla: "Already talkin' trash, huh? Didn't ya learn yer lesson? I already tossed ya around like a rag doll! But instead o' takin' yer lumps like a man, you and yer buddies tried to thrash me! But now I got some help, so things're gonna turn out differently!"

Man: "Listen, gnome: I took offense because, when we wrestled, you seemed eager to grab me in places that----"

Now a white-haired young woman speaks up. Her arrogant expression is almost identical to the man's.

Woman: "Don't let her rile you up, brother. She's clearly an expert at getting under people's skin. Let's just inform them of their task, so we can be on our way. Trading banter with the...lesser classes simply bores me."

Man: "Certainly, sister. [clears throat] First, let me introduce everyone. I'm Aaron Fairborough, and this is my sister, Amelie. Our friends here are Byron Samson and Tiffany DeCourt [he motions to the other two, who are, of course, also radiating arrogance]. The gnome has met us before, in regrettable circumstances. Regrettable for her, that is, because she behaved so abominably. Now that the introductions are out of the way, we can move on to your task, which is----"

Wyla: "Hold it right there, jackass! (And yes, I did grab you in certain places, but I didn't find much! Just a twig, really! And we were wrestling, ya blockhead, so any place on the body is fair game! You were grabbin' me all over, but you didn't hear me complainin', did ya?) If ya'll think you can hide behind dear old daddy, threaten me with death, and then demand I do somethin' for ya, yer fuckin' delusional! We came here to give ya'll the spanking you deserve, not be yer servants!"

Aaron blinks at her, but doesn't seem that troubled. He motions to the three of you.

Aaron: "Is that true? Are you going to let this...this incorrigible gnome doom you? Our quarrel is with her, not you. We simply want her to atone for her actions by accomplishing a simple task. But if you all insist on fighting us instead, well...."

Aaron rolls his eyes at Thomas, as if the former guard is some child uttering nonsense.

Aaron: "Respect isn't a one-way street. It must be received and given. As I've said, this gnome enjoyed groping me, and then gloated when she'd beaten me during our little contest. In fact, she said that all four of us were...what was the term...'pathetic troll-butt-sniffing wimps.' It seemed like she was intent on jumping us. So we simply decided to show her that we aren't to be trifled with. If she didn't run her mouth so much, she wouldn't get in so much trouble."

Now Wyla pipes up: "Ya'll were the ones who talked trash first! What was I supposed to do, jus' walk away?"

Aaron: "Our words were just idle banter, not meant to provoke you to violence. You claim to be so tough, yet a few words infuriate you? Quite sad, really."

Wyla: "Bullshit! Ya'll snobbish cunts knew exactly what ya were doin'...and you know what yer doin' now! Don't listen to 'em, team!"

This arguing continues between the two, but while they're gesturing and shouting, Tiffany DeCourt moves over to Thomas, Leira, and Aenwyn, and speaks softly, her words like honey:

Tiffany: "They'll keep arguing until the endtimes, I'm afraid. But Aaron (and therefore Amelie) are dead-set on proving a point to this gnome. Why don't you all just help Wyla complete this task of theirs? It'll be easier for everyone."

For reasons unknown, Aenwyn decides to leave the party. That leaves Thomas and Leira, as well as Wyla, their temporary (?) party member.

But perhaps someone else has noticed this confrontation, as has decided to insert themselves....?