Post by Northern Dungeon Master on Apr 18, 2008 10:26:55 GMT -5
This story is based on the campaign that I have just written for my little brothers to get them into the game.
Ill probably post the actual campaign elsewhere and put a link here. Anyway on with the story, im just going to give a story for the prelude of the campaign because the whole thing was about 7 encounters long and i dont have that kind of time.
Prelude
“All hail the Brown Bear and all who drink within!” Cried a rather far gone man from the corner of the pub his bouncing exaltations causing mead to spill down his front. A chorus of “ayes!” followed before men returned to their drink. Lorenth hated mead; he actually hated most things on this earth. The noise, the light and the sheer mass of people. Not just humans, people, almost every civil race was represented in the city of Volken, but humans still had the majority, but they were merely cattle in the grand scheme of things, so was Lorenth, but he had the sense to realise what he was. Each man here thought himself a lord.
Looking down Lorenth realised that his drink was empty and he called the barmaid for another glass. She was a pretty little lass, a human, but still pretty, that was one thing that human women had that no other race did. No matter what they looked like, you were drawn to the hourglass figure, as a moth too the flame. She poured his drink, he payed his silver for the glass and turned again to look over the table and off into the wall. Sipping at the drink intermittently.
The draft of the door opening sent a shiver down Lorenth’s back; snapping him from his revere and remind him that he was still alive. A few of the crowded pubs patron did take notice. Mostly the men around the fire as the flame wafted away for a brief second. They were a big pair of lads, take able but big. The door opener clumped across the ten feet too the door, stepping three times, ‘big steps… for a big guy he’s probably bigger than the guys by the fire and the two in the corner behind me…’
Before he could finish his thoughts the man was sitting on the stool beside him, he had dragged a radiating chill from outside into the cosy little pub. It leached into the air around him as he took of his large fur coat and placed it beside him.
Shaking the snow out of his thick blond hair with a grubby paw he called the barman and ordered a drink.
Mead.
I hate mead Lorenth repeated to himself. Maybe he’s just another barbarian down from the mountains. Here to slay a few orks and bring their skulls back to his mud hut shanty. Why is there never anyone of my calibre, where are my equals?
Where are my friends?
Ten minutes of drink fuelled silence followed. Everyone made merry, save for the two at the bar. Finally the barbarian broke the silence he was clearly straining for something to stay. “A Drow above the surface eh, ain’t seen much o that…”
Rolling his eyes Lorenth threw raw sarcasm into a reply, “Well that’s cause we have our fun by running round corners when you surface dwellers come, that’s how we get our kicks.”
“Hahahaha!” Boomed the barbarian sloshing a small measure of mean too the table, “I like you Drow, you got a name?”
“I am Lorenth Bladerunner, an illegal handyman, so who are you and why are you chilled by mountain winds?”
“Well Lorenth the illegal handyman, I am Kirnor and I am who I am, my tribe roam the mountains and I am here to secure us fame and infamy by selling off a rather sizeable bunch of furs. The hunt was long but the fruits fleshy and sweet!”
Lorenth nodded. The man was a killer, a hunter by nature, like he was, but he was no threat. Kirnor was about to secure himself a great fortune and would be content for many tendays on the money.
“So do you know…”
Kirnor never got too finish his sentence as a man screamed in agony.
In a flash both warriors were on their feet and had spotted the man who had flung the chair now smashed over a pub goer’s back. It was one of the big guys in the corner, clearly a hired goon celebrating with whatever petty gold he had gained in return for whatever vile deed he had done. Neither of them had weapons but knew that sooner or later this could turn ugly. Maybe the two groups were rival gangs or it was a personal thing. Neither man wanted to see a riot unfold and do nothing. One of the men at the table of five where the man had been hit picked himself out of his chair and went to help his now unconscious friend. The intended targets of the attack, the thugs by the fire, were unaware of the full situation and had only heard the man cry out in pain. The bartender and Barman were still working away behind the bar and the second thug was beginning to rise.
Lorenth was first to act, he covered the eight feet easily with sure steps, pulling back his arm for a right hook to send the man flying. Kirnor was hot on his heels too and slammed into the man rising from his chair, obliterating the chair and crushing the man as the wind rushed from his lungs while Kirnor picked his heaving form up off the ground. Lorenth used his momentum to add power to the punch and connected to the side of the man’s skull, just at the temple. The sickening crunch that followed downed the large warrior and he slumped too the ground, his skull smashed and the pieces digging into the brain.
Everyone in the pub turned too see the fight, or what was left of it. Kirnor was forced to land another punch to down the man. The barman had left the room and could be heard fidgeting with something in the back room. Most likely a weapon.
The other two thugs were advancing now. Using the table to block the direct line of a charge while people fled out the front doors.
Looking at the table Kirnor picked up one of the mugs, his hand almost drowning the mug, and lobbed it in between two fleeing people catching the thug straight in the gut. Doubled up, the man could do nothing as Lorenth advanced on him and the barman was returning with a large knotted club. A good weapon even in an amateurs hands Kirnor wondered what the barman could and would do with it. He shut off the thoughts and moved towards the two thugs. Sending a fleeing wood elf through a table as he knocked all aside to get the thugs.
Lorenth was already attacking the first man, the one still on his feet. A flurry of blows were either blocked by frantic hands desperate to cling to life. Lorenth landed a glancing blow that hit a stud in the armour, ripping the skin and drawing a small well of blood.
Cursing at his luck and shaking his hand to stop the numbing pain. A fist thudded into his gut, doubling him over, spiting blood he kicked out and caught the man’s leg just above the knee, it was enough to send him off balance and enough time to save Lorenth’s life.
A blurry brown figure flew overhead, the solid iron shod boots thundering into the body of the second thug, cracking and crushing the man’s ribs and sending them into his vital organs. Shoving the pain away to the back of his mind and kicked the man into the bar front his head slamming into the woodwork.
Panting the pair smiled at one another as the Bartender bellowed, “Are you two gonna fight one another or are we done ere?”
Lorenth laughed.
Kirnor laughed.
But the bartender stood firm, the knotted club in his huge hands, an angry grimace on his weathered face.
“No we wont fight one another… its to much fun to fight beside one another… besides I don’t want to whoop this guy to bad… I like ‘im…” Kirnor replied drawing breaths and expelling them with laughter.
“Indeed… there is no need to fight now…”
“Good” beamed the bartender “Then your both barred for life for fighting and I’m guessing killing,” He booted one grounded man for effect, “It’ll take months for the Brown Bear to get her reputation back.”
Both warriors looked to one another in dismay.
“Get your shit and get out!”
Ill probably post the actual campaign elsewhere and put a link here. Anyway on with the story, im just going to give a story for the prelude of the campaign because the whole thing was about 7 encounters long and i dont have that kind of time.
Prelude
“All hail the Brown Bear and all who drink within!” Cried a rather far gone man from the corner of the pub his bouncing exaltations causing mead to spill down his front. A chorus of “ayes!” followed before men returned to their drink. Lorenth hated mead; he actually hated most things on this earth. The noise, the light and the sheer mass of people. Not just humans, people, almost every civil race was represented in the city of Volken, but humans still had the majority, but they were merely cattle in the grand scheme of things, so was Lorenth, but he had the sense to realise what he was. Each man here thought himself a lord.
Looking down Lorenth realised that his drink was empty and he called the barmaid for another glass. She was a pretty little lass, a human, but still pretty, that was one thing that human women had that no other race did. No matter what they looked like, you were drawn to the hourglass figure, as a moth too the flame. She poured his drink, he payed his silver for the glass and turned again to look over the table and off into the wall. Sipping at the drink intermittently.
The draft of the door opening sent a shiver down Lorenth’s back; snapping him from his revere and remind him that he was still alive. A few of the crowded pubs patron did take notice. Mostly the men around the fire as the flame wafted away for a brief second. They were a big pair of lads, take able but big. The door opener clumped across the ten feet too the door, stepping three times, ‘big steps… for a big guy he’s probably bigger than the guys by the fire and the two in the corner behind me…’
Before he could finish his thoughts the man was sitting on the stool beside him, he had dragged a radiating chill from outside into the cosy little pub. It leached into the air around him as he took of his large fur coat and placed it beside him.
Shaking the snow out of his thick blond hair with a grubby paw he called the barman and ordered a drink.
Mead.
I hate mead Lorenth repeated to himself. Maybe he’s just another barbarian down from the mountains. Here to slay a few orks and bring their skulls back to his mud hut shanty. Why is there never anyone of my calibre, where are my equals?
Where are my friends?
Ten minutes of drink fuelled silence followed. Everyone made merry, save for the two at the bar. Finally the barbarian broke the silence he was clearly straining for something to stay. “A Drow above the surface eh, ain’t seen much o that…”
Rolling his eyes Lorenth threw raw sarcasm into a reply, “Well that’s cause we have our fun by running round corners when you surface dwellers come, that’s how we get our kicks.”
“Hahahaha!” Boomed the barbarian sloshing a small measure of mean too the table, “I like you Drow, you got a name?”
“I am Lorenth Bladerunner, an illegal handyman, so who are you and why are you chilled by mountain winds?”
“Well Lorenth the illegal handyman, I am Kirnor and I am who I am, my tribe roam the mountains and I am here to secure us fame and infamy by selling off a rather sizeable bunch of furs. The hunt was long but the fruits fleshy and sweet!”
Lorenth nodded. The man was a killer, a hunter by nature, like he was, but he was no threat. Kirnor was about to secure himself a great fortune and would be content for many tendays on the money.
“So do you know…”
Kirnor never got too finish his sentence as a man screamed in agony.
In a flash both warriors were on their feet and had spotted the man who had flung the chair now smashed over a pub goer’s back. It was one of the big guys in the corner, clearly a hired goon celebrating with whatever petty gold he had gained in return for whatever vile deed he had done. Neither of them had weapons but knew that sooner or later this could turn ugly. Maybe the two groups were rival gangs or it was a personal thing. Neither man wanted to see a riot unfold and do nothing. One of the men at the table of five where the man had been hit picked himself out of his chair and went to help his now unconscious friend. The intended targets of the attack, the thugs by the fire, were unaware of the full situation and had only heard the man cry out in pain. The bartender and Barman were still working away behind the bar and the second thug was beginning to rise.
Lorenth was first to act, he covered the eight feet easily with sure steps, pulling back his arm for a right hook to send the man flying. Kirnor was hot on his heels too and slammed into the man rising from his chair, obliterating the chair and crushing the man as the wind rushed from his lungs while Kirnor picked his heaving form up off the ground. Lorenth used his momentum to add power to the punch and connected to the side of the man’s skull, just at the temple. The sickening crunch that followed downed the large warrior and he slumped too the ground, his skull smashed and the pieces digging into the brain.
Everyone in the pub turned too see the fight, or what was left of it. Kirnor was forced to land another punch to down the man. The barman had left the room and could be heard fidgeting with something in the back room. Most likely a weapon.
The other two thugs were advancing now. Using the table to block the direct line of a charge while people fled out the front doors.
Looking at the table Kirnor picked up one of the mugs, his hand almost drowning the mug, and lobbed it in between two fleeing people catching the thug straight in the gut. Doubled up, the man could do nothing as Lorenth advanced on him and the barman was returning with a large knotted club. A good weapon even in an amateurs hands Kirnor wondered what the barman could and would do with it. He shut off the thoughts and moved towards the two thugs. Sending a fleeing wood elf through a table as he knocked all aside to get the thugs.
Lorenth was already attacking the first man, the one still on his feet. A flurry of blows were either blocked by frantic hands desperate to cling to life. Lorenth landed a glancing blow that hit a stud in the armour, ripping the skin and drawing a small well of blood.
Cursing at his luck and shaking his hand to stop the numbing pain. A fist thudded into his gut, doubling him over, spiting blood he kicked out and caught the man’s leg just above the knee, it was enough to send him off balance and enough time to save Lorenth’s life.
A blurry brown figure flew overhead, the solid iron shod boots thundering into the body of the second thug, cracking and crushing the man’s ribs and sending them into his vital organs. Shoving the pain away to the back of his mind and kicked the man into the bar front his head slamming into the woodwork.
Panting the pair smiled at one another as the Bartender bellowed, “Are you two gonna fight one another or are we done ere?”
Lorenth laughed.
Kirnor laughed.
But the bartender stood firm, the knotted club in his huge hands, an angry grimace on his weathered face.
“No we wont fight one another… its to much fun to fight beside one another… besides I don’t want to whoop this guy to bad… I like ‘im…” Kirnor replied drawing breaths and expelling them with laughter.
“Indeed… there is no need to fight now…”
“Good” beamed the bartender “Then your both barred for life for fighting and I’m guessing killing,” He booted one grounded man for effect, “It’ll take months for the Brown Bear to get her reputation back.”
Both warriors looked to one another in dismay.
“Get your shit and get out!”
