Our story picks up in the small fishing village of Nevin (population: 500). Hoblie Bigthorn, the halfling rogue, orders an ale and makes small talk with the barkeep of the town’s tavern, “The Fish.” The bartender discusses the plight of the land, that the bandits calling themselves the Red Poets working with some evil druids in the forest have been plaguing the trade routes for some time.
Albern Urdithane, a druid of the nearby woods, enters the cantina. His crop of halfing weed has proven to be especially healthy this season. He quickly locates his contact, Weiss the elf. Leaving his companion, Caesar the ape, at the bar, he sits with Weiss to begin negotiations. Much to his disappointment, Weiss is unusually tight-fisted: he is only able to offer 10 silver for the whole batch (the standing price is six times that). Weiss explains that there is not much need for the halfling weed with the shipping lanes shut down because of the bandits. After their business is concluded (leaving Albern most unsatisfied) Weiss explains how bandits have destroyed the town’s crops. He blames the brainlessness of Magory (the second largest town in the nation of Pelengrove).
“Fortunately for you, I happen to have just the job to make up the difference,” Weiss cleverly redirects the conversation. “It just so happens that a caravan carrying something that I am very interested in has just arrived in town. A few mercenaries still guard it while it is unloaded behind the church. If you would be interested in bringing me this single item, I would pay you handsomely for it.”
“You have my attention: how handsomely?” Albern inquires.
“Twenty gold for an afternoon’s work.” What could this guy want so bad?
Albern accepts the the job.
Cathran, the half-elf gunslinger, visits the tavern after having finished her shopping within town. As she enjoys her drink, her curiosity about the ape grows.
“Where did you get the monkey,” she asks her old acquaintance Hoblie.
“It belongs to that guy,” Hoblie motions toward Albern in his booth.
Albern returns to the bar to collect his companion, and invites the two at the bar to join him for a brief field trip to the church. Sheer curiosity compels them to walk with the druid. Once outside, Albern recounts his conversation with Weiss. Cathran is most curious about what he needs 20 gold for. Aldern hadn’t really thought about that part of his plan: he pauses for a minute, accepts her point, shrugs and hands the purse to Cathran. Cathran is a bit confused, but certainly not above accepting the stranger’s gift
The church is a humble, one story affair, with a few people mulling about. Sure enough, there are several wagons nearby.
“Who’s caravan is this?” Albern asks one of the workers.
“Small guy. Over there,” motions the man.
“Your caravan will be bandited,” Albern cuts to the chase when he meets the owner.
“Why are you threatening me?” the owner replies calmly.
“I’m not threatening you. I’m trying to tell you I’ve been hired to rob your caravan,” explains Albern.
“An unsavory fellow tried to hire us to rob your caravan,” Hoblie chimes in.
“His name is Weiss: he really is unsavory. I think he deals drugs,” elaborates Albern.
“My name is Burgess, by the way” the owner introduces himself, and motions for one of his companions to join him. “I only believe you because I know who Weiss is. Earlier we captured a wizard working with some of the bandits. Upon questioning him, he revealed a bit about the banditry, including Weiss’ involvement. The captive was assassinated once we got back to town. How do you expect to survive?”
“Truthfully, I haven’t thought that far ahead: I just looking to piss Weiss off since he short-changed me. How does he fit in with the bandits?” Albern continues.
“Weiss operates an independent cell of the bandits,” Burgess responds. “You need to be nowhere near Nevin, Margory or any of its areas. Or better yet, you could hide in plain sight! How would you like to go undercover with the bandits?”
“We should find and get Weiss before he reports to someone,” points out Hoblie.
“I’m Rosethon, a paladin. I can protect us,” Burgess’ companion (a rough-looking, mutton-chopped fellow) joins them. Albern has his suspicions about the so-called “paladin” and whether or not he’s even a paladin. He doesn’t dwell too long on the notion, though, as the fellow seems to mean them no ill will, even if he is the most unorthodox member of any church that he’s encountered.
The search is on to neutralize Weiss, who is still at the tavern, exactly where Albern left him. The group stake out the eatery from varying distances. It is early evening before he departs; Hoblie, Albern and Caesar keep their distance as they follow him toward the church, staying just out of sight, but Cathran tries a more direct route.
“Hey Fellow! I’ll buy your hat from you! 20 gold!” Always looking out for a bargain, and a splendid fashion statement.
“You want my hat?” Weiss keeps walking.
“Buy your hat! 20 gold!” persists the gunslinger.
“You’re drunk, woman,” replies Weiss, without breaking his stride.
Cathran disengages: she bolts away, trying to sneak around to the back of the church. As the others keep their distance, Cathran jumps the fence, dodges some gravestones and bursts into the church. With all eyes on the newcomer, she tries to play off the intrusion by kneeling at the alter in a feigned prayer; even she realizes just how conspicuous she is.
Weiss enters and is confused by both the commotion and the fact that her inebriated bargain-hunter/hat-lover has beat him to the church.
“Who are you?” asks Weiss.
Cathran draws her pistol and fires it, hitting the gruff looking bystander against the far wall pretty badly. Hoblies magical returning dart flies through he front door and lodges itself squarely in Weiss’ torso. Weiss, seeing he is outnumbered, makes a mad dash for the back door (his hat falls from his head in his haste). Cathran, preoccupied with the reloading of her firearm, is unable to stop him as he rushes past. Hoblie casts Expeditious Retreat upon himself, allowing him to keep up with the much large foe. Albern, just outside the front door, sees the skirmish and his retreating foe. He draws his bow and hurries around the corner and takes his shot as Weiss runs out the back of the church. The solid hit knocks Weiss to the ground. Hoblie catches up to Weiss and checks if he is alive. Hoblie, Albern and Caesar drag the deceased villain to the forest and search him.
Back inside, the wounded bystander attempts a feeble getaway. “You’re coming with us,” declares Cathran, with her gun to his head. The pig-headed fool doesn’t know when to quite: he tries to make a run for it. Instead of freedom and medical attention, he gets a the most painful wholop to his forehead that he has ever gotten. She collects the fallen hat and searches the unconscious citizen, locating an axe (with orce blood caked on the blade), some gold (which she leaves) and a note: “If you get the deed done, we’ll double your price.”
On Weiss, Hoblie finds a sword, 130 gold, a fancy, magical, cloak, a scroll of spider climb, black gloves, a non-descript copper ring and a crudely written note. Hoblie makes out the writing on the parchment: “Got job done. Could not find the thing you were talking about.” They return to the church and Cathran with their trappings and share what they have found. They compare notes and discern that the citizen was, in fact, working with Weiss.
Rosethon, alerted by the gunshot, rushes into the church. “What’re you guys doing?”
“We found these two trying to rob your church,” Cathran explains the encounter.
“Don’t kill this prisoner: he’s called Golford. He and his brother Horace rode with us as guards. We must keep him alive so we can question him,” explains Rosethon. He pauses for a moment to give Cathran a once-over: “Nice hat.”
“Hey Golford!” exclaims Rosethon as he slaps the prisoner to revive him. “You got into quite a scuffle.”
“Where am I,” inquires the confused captive.
“What matters is where you’re going: you’re going to prison. Where is your brother?” ask Rosethon. Seeing his refusal to help, Rosethon jerks Golford to his feet and drags him out of the church in search of the local constabulary. As Rosethon departs with his captive, the group returns to the forest to bury Weiss’s body and distribute their trappings.
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“The list was clearly not written by the ogre.”
— Chris Bullington
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So I find it very cool that I have the first post. Two reasons: (1) that I have never used this before and (2) I’m the first to mention… The cleric has earplugs?!?
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