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Prelude

 
Prelude

Here ye, Here ye!

The Swordlords or Restov seek promising adventurous type individuals to venture into the stolen lands to seek out and put an end to all bandit activity, a curse that for so long has plagued the borders of our dear city!

The promise of wealth, fame and fortune will befall all those that heed the call of the Swordlords, brave souls interested in taking up the task should seek audience at the town hall, come ye all that are able!


Town Crier at the market square


At the far side of the square from the town crier, lodged in the corner next to the night-soil stall, are the stocks. The lone occupant dangles, supported by neck and wrist, his legs far too short to be acquainted with the ground - though not from want of trying, if the constant motion is any guide.

Up. Down.*splat* Up. Down.*splat*

He grunts with each movement, scraggly hair obscuring his face. Stripped to the waist, his body is scored by countless scars... but even those cannot obscure the dark blotch on his chest which seems to resemble a mountain pierced by a giant sword. The few boys that have gathered to throw rotten fruit at him keep their distance, timing their throws to the motion of the man's legs. A red-haired boy sits crying in the night-soil stall, a dark bruise spreading on his face.

The man pauses in his exertions to listen to the crier. A sharp exhalation reveals an unkempt face with sharp prominent features, twisted with contempt. He grumbles for a few moments, idly kicking his feet.

An Exceedingly Tall Man

A tall fellow strolls through the far side of the square from the town crier, looking for a rare herb used in the creation of an ointment he was once told can make a woman love a man... at least for an evening or two. He stops and watches as boys toss fruit at one of the criminals in the stocks. He puts a hand on one of the boy's shoulders and says, "Might want to lay off that one, lad, he's likely to turn more sour on you than the fruit on him." He walks along his way, willing to leave the criminal to his fate, or at least not be around when he tears off after the kids.

He stops a few dozen feet away at the stall of an old woman selling herbs, and spends the next bit of time going through the herbs one by one. "I really should have listened in alchemy class," he thinks to himself.

As one of the boys prepares another missile Skapti grins at him his seemingly disembodied hand crooking a challenging finger at the child. Looking at the deranged halfling for a moment, the boy decides to take the tall man's advice and drops his rotten tomato.

The hanging halfling kicks his feet for a few more moments, studying the exceedingly tall man.

"Hey horny man... HEY HORNY MAN!" The halfling roars, unnecessarily loud. "What you know about this?" His hand gestures across the square towards the crier.
I'm taking a few licenses with the environment and such, since I'm assuming this is a nice sandbox for us to play in without the DM having to intervene too much. If this is not the case, let me know Magent, and I'll stop ordering the NPCs around like my own personal puppets.
OOC

Please continue, as long as nothing completely overboard is made (like a riot killing the king or a troll invasion) feel free to elaborate

An Exceedingly Tall Man (with Horns)

The tall fellow looks at the woman in the stall with the herbs. She looks back and points at the tall man. She seems to be saying, "yeah, he's talking to you stretch." He looks to his left and right, hoping for another horny man. A small voice in the back of his head says, "Get it. Horny. You have horns. Horny. You're trying to make a love potion. Haha Loser." He angrily frowns at his own self-doubt and inner monologue. It's never done him right.

Sighing, he looks at the dangling halfling and tries to come up with anything funnier than, 'horny,' but fails miserably. Instead, he opts for casual conversation. "Seems to be they're willing to pay suckers to put their neck on the line because the local bureaucracy is too cheap to pay for an armed militia to solve the matter the old fashioned way. It's a fool's errand, and will likely cause no small number of locals to either 'Try to save the land' and die, or to 'Try and save the land' and realize that banditry probably pays better and has the same retirement plan."

"In other words, I think it sounds like a fantastic idea. I plan on going in a day or three."



Exiting the wagon, Missoi stood and stretched, glad to be on steady ground again. The journey from Silverhall had been uneventful, which was mostly a good thing: Missoi had agreed to provide the merchants he was accompanying with protection in exchange for free passage and a few silver pieces, and it was nice to not have had to work too hard for his fair. As the plump merchant counted out the silver pieces, Missoi could see the man give pause; after giving Missoi a second look, however, he wisely chose to pay their agreed-upon fee in full, rather than argue the point with the physically-superior half-elf. Saying his thanks with a small, wry smile, Missoi made sure he had all his belongings - which mostly consisted of his two polearms, his pack, and his alchemical equipment - and then began to make his way through the crowd over to town center, where adventurers offering to foray into the Stolen Lands seemed to already be gathering. Smiling to himself, Missoi couldn't help but wonder what the future held.



The halfling hangs limp for a few moments, his mind dazed by the torrent of words - especially the big ones like 'militia,' 'bureaucracy,' and 'fantastic.' Eventually, his legs start kicking again.

"Huh. This place need saving, even Skapti see that." He attempts to spit on the ground, but it merely rebounds off of the stock and returns several inches below its point of origin. "Is just like soft tallfolks. Guard ask me 'deal' with bandit. Is fight needed and they want send talkies to make 'deal'. Skapti never hear of thing, am no woman. If he steal from Skapti, Skapti kill, not deal."

"Indeed," said a tanned, handsome youth who stood in the shade off to the side of the herbalist's stall, "It is a lure for the desperate and the foolhardy." Then he smiled "I'm definitely one, but I hope I'm not the other." With a wink to one of the young ladies in the square, he added "I'll let you decide which is which."

The young man then walked over to the stocks, carefully staying out of the line of fire, and asked the halfling, "So, you got locked up because you killed a bandit?"

An Exeedingly Tall Man (with Horns)

The tall man looks at... Skapti... with a look mingled near awe. His mind is dazed by the torrent of words - especially the lack of organization and tonal arrangements. Eventually his mind starts kicking again.

"I have no idea what the nine hells you just said," he says, eyeing the halfling. He looked at the other young fellow. He looked like a fop. He sighed and put down the herbs he had been examining, realizing that he wasn't going to get much time in the short term. "Did you actually kill a bandit, or just the first person you saw after the guard?"




 

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