Chapter One - The Adventure Begins

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A wretched drizzle falls from the ash gray sky. The rain-slicked buildings seem especially bleak and frightful, hunched together against the storm. A few lights burn in their windows, but mostly the shutters have been closed for the night. The scent of chimney smoke fills the air, and the din of water trundles from the rooftops, splashing into dark alleys and turning street gutters into tiny rivulets.

It's not as late as it looks. The clouds blocking out the moon along with the chill of the rain makes it seem as if it were nearly midnight when, it is only just past supper-time. You have passed others on your walk as well, some hurrying home to their families, others stumbling after a nightcap at the tavern.

You make a turn down one of Cauldron's many side-streets, and the crowd thins. There are a few other people you can see walking through here. A shiver runs down your spine—you want to hurry on and get back to a main street. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you jump as you hear a sudden cry from a nearby alleyway—"HELP! Somebody help!"—followed by angry cursing and a pained grunt. Your heart is pounding, but something in you compels you to investigate. You notice the others near you on the street move in as well.

Together, you arrive at the end of the alley and look in to see three men with faces painted half black and half white attacking a young man dressed in cleric's robes and wearing the symbol of St. Cuthbert around his neck. The cleric lies face down on the wet cobblestones. The three attackers kick him in the ribs a few times, then one lifts him up by the hook of his cloak and thrusts him against a wall as another other growls, "Stay away from the orphanage, you got that?" and punches him hard in the stomach.

When they hear the cleric's command, the thugs stop what they're doing and turn to see who's there. Scowling and fingering their swords, they size him up to decide if they should advance on him or not. Then they see Toe.

The little halfling steps forward and confidently delivers his monologue. The thugs watch, eyebrows raised and smirking. They pause for a moment in silence after he finishes, then burst into laughter. Once they catch their breath, the leader steps forward and responds:

"You're absolutely right, little friend. This particular situation (indicating the accosted cleric, whose left eye is now nearly swollen shut and is doubled over clutching his ribs) is quite unfair. You see, in our line of business, it pays to be KEENLY aware of the level of fairness at all times. I work hard to make sure that it's ALWAYS weighted in my favor. As for the face paint... well. That's not for intimidation. That's what these two (motioning to the other two thugs) are for. The makeup is so that you don't recognize me next week while I'm out at the market shopping with my grandma."

"I'm not particularly worried that this green-gilled sunshine priest is going to stop us. If you think you could best us in a fight, little man, you're welcome to try. But my advice would be for you to bugger off before you get hurt."

"You're right, maynwdyr*, let's even-out those odds then !", a gruff, raspy voice announces cooly.

Emerging from the shadows on the opposite side of the alleyway, a hirsute-looking character slowly and deliberately steps out into the scene, the barrel of a grisly-looking, massive crossbow pointing at the thug's chest. Long, matted hair and bristly sidebruns framing a rugged, sunburnt face show him to be from the outside frontier, and his surprisingly pointy ears betray his mixed elven bloodline.

"You should really take one more step, fool. I am dying to pierce your filthy, marauder hide. You go on, then !"

The man's carnivorous smile is absolutely mirthless as his slanted, piercing yellowish eyes are strained on the bandits' every move.

*Maynwdyr: filthy, soiled or brackish water in sylvan speech. By extension, any unsavory or offensive person or behaviour.

I posted somewhat of a short story in the "Notes & Journal" thread, so as to set the stage for Fhenryl. I did take some creative liberties in mentioning his sibling Sdion, so Razlus, feel free to PM me if you want anything changed and/or corrected on that front.

Dracone was becoming bored at the Inn. The stories coming out of the drunks becoming more and more embellished as the minutes passed. What started out as a fist fight had somehow led into an all out war won by the person telling it. The weather outside wasn't toogreat but, Dracone needed to get out and get some fresh air. As he was walking, he kept thinking of his duties and how he could find a way to expand his knowledge and experience when suddenly there was a cry for help.

I'm sorry Gentlemen but, as a protector of the Church of St. Cuthbert, I take your assault on my fellow man as a personal insult.
I believe you owe him and apology.

Dracone will move forward to help the acolyte all the while keeping his hand on his weapon at all times.

The battered and bruised young cleric looks relieved to see everyone step up to his aid, and when he sees Dracone his eyes begin to glisten and you see him clench his jaw to hold back the emotion.

The lead thug counts under his breath — one, two, three, four, five, six — his eyes growing wider and more doubtful with each one of you he sees. He says, with a note of anger and embarrassment in his voice, "Well boys, it looks like we're done here. We got our message across. You can have the priest. Let's get outta here." They back away from the priest and begin to make their way out of the alley.

Dracone moves forward to help the injured cleric to his feet. It looks like he may have one or two broken ribs, and his eyes are so swollen that he won't be able to see to walk himself back to the temple. "Thank you for your assistance, everyone. It is truly surprising and humbling to see so many answer my call for help on a night like this. As you all surely know, people in this city aren't always so... neighborly."

He pauses for a moment before continuing. "Would you all mind accompanying me back to the temple? I'm a little shaken up and would feel better with the company. My superior will want to offer her thanks as well, and I have a feeling she may have a job proposition for you."