Barrowmaze Part One: The Barrowmoor

[cailano]

 

BARROWMAZE

Cast of Characters

Player	Character	Description
Sellsword	Black Dougal	A Human Thief
Ephkabey	Serpe	A Human Cleric
Larswester	Thomas	A Human Thief
Raistlinmc	Zaivie Wynx	A Human Fighter
matt_s	Tharnakalian	A Human Fighter
Excior	Allen Blackhawk	A Human Fighter
Malkavian Grin	Cyrus Lancaster	A Human Fighter

 

GAME MASTER

Cailano

[cailano]

June 26th, 1183 Kings Reckoning

You wake in the common room of the Brazen Strumpet Inn and Tavern, surrounded by fellow travelers, mercenaries, and adventurers in various states of consciousness. The scent of stew and fresh-baked bread wafts in from the kitchens. Outside, you can hear a few people doing business in the streets over the insistent cries of gulls and other marsh birds.

You all arrived last night, having come in on the same wagon from a neighboring region. You came because your hometowns were poor and opportunities were few. The caravan master - a rakish rogue of a dwarf named Korlan - had told you about a series of old burial mounds where treasure had been discovered recently. He told you every mercenary worth their boots was going to the Duchy of Aerik, to the Great Moor.

He sold you and a few other would-be tomb robbers and monster-slayers seats on a wagon for five gold pieces each. The price included stew, bread, and all the mead you could drink. He brought several barrels of mead.

So it was that you arrived in town at night, a little drunk, dreaming of riches ripe for the plundering.

Your first stop was the Brazen Strumpet, where the drink continued to flow. From what you've gathered, many adventurers, thieves, and opportunists have been drawn to this place by the same rumors you heard. The innkeeper is no fool, either. He's charging a premium, and between food, ale, and lodging, it will cost you two gold pieces per day to stay here.

You'll need to claim your share of whatever treasure is out there before you go broke.

None of you have ever been here before. While you've met over the last few days, none of you know each other well. None of you have worked together.

You'll need to do some exploring to get your bearings.

What do you do?

[matt_s]

Tharnakalian cast his gaze about the common room. The warm caress of drink gave his vision the steady gentle pitching of a caulked wagon crossing a river with brown water lapping like a kitten at the pitch stained boards. The motley debauchery and splendor of humanity stank like a festive trough of beer laden vomit with traces of fine cooking.

I had had some fear of brigands and cutthroats upon the road, he muttered darkly, but this is the real robbery. 2gp a day and with a smirk in his face as if it took magnificent business acumen to blunder into running a common boarding house in the right place, the right time. But if I keep at the whinging, I suspect even my gold bought hospitality will wither, so I'll belay complaining for now.

Ol' Korlan running the caravan told of some burial mounds with plenty of gold and all that within I reckon. Gold is what I need and from the looks of more than a few of you that is not unique to me neither. It'll be risky, most things like this are, and a full share as a corpse is worth a lot less than a fraction alive. What are you thinking?

[Raistlinmc]

Zaivie Wynx had never been a smart girl.

This unfortunate realization had first occurred to her around the age of four-ish, when her father - knee-deep in his cups, admittedly, but hurt was still hurt - had first bellowed out, "Zaivie Wynx, you ain't a smart girl, is ya?"

She'd had two distinct thoughts at that moment, as she remembered it: first, she'd thought that that was rather unfair of her dad, being that he couldn't add higher than six even on his best days; second, unkind though the words may have been, she'd silently agreed with him, largely because she wasn't much good at getting higher than six herself.

Thus, she'd embraced it as only the good-looking and impoverished can. Sure, she was dumb; what of it? She'd grown up and, a decade and some change later, learned that there was more than one way to skin a cat.

She'd also suspected that there was a lot more a to this world than skinned cats. So she'd decided to see some of it.

And that was how she found herself in the position to respond to the well-spoken fellow with the long name - Tharnacalicer? Thermolopoli? something like that - when he'd asked what the others were thinking. In truth, if she was being entirely honest, Zaivie would have had to respond to this particular query about what she was thinking with little more than a whistled tune she knew only as "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah" that she'd picked up somewhere along the way, but even a dullard like Zaivie knew that that wasn't the sort of thing one said aloud to a group of strangers.

So, instead, she flashed the man a smile - men loved being smiled at, she'd learned in recent years - and replied, "Welp, here's what I'm thinkin': the man says it's two gold a night ta stay here, yeah? An', unless I messed up my countin' along the way, I got m'self one gold left. Now, 's fair ta say that that ain't enough ta sleep here again t'night unless'n that innkeep's inclined ta give me a discount fer...umm...one reason 'r another. So I'm thinkin' I'd best check them burial mounds ya mentioned there, cuz before long, I'm probably gonna need ta turn this one coin into, uhh, more of 'em."

She flashes her smile again, crooked and bright and too damned come-hither for anyone's own good, and adds, "By the by, name's Zaivie. Zaivie Wynx. Nice ta meet'cha, boys."

 

Edited February 26 by Raistlinmc (see edit history)

[Sellsword]

Black Dougal--"Black" or "Dougal" or "Hey, you!" to his friends, and most often "Stop, thief!" to his enemies--wakes slowly, head pounding. "Free" was too good a price to pass up on all-you-can-stomach mead. Sure, it was 5 gold coins for the wagon, but he had stolen that money anyway. He'd probably regret his over-indulgence later in the day, but for now it was time to get to business. Taking stock of his surroundings and casing the joint, Black saw a few familiar faces in the sprawl.

He had pegged Thomas for a cutpurse right away and decided to give him a wide berth. Thieves are not to be trusted even in the best of times, at least not until you've seen their work first-hand could see that they're not incompetent. Some of the others were still rousing from a long night of debauchery, but two of the more dangerous-looking passengers seemed to be hitting it off. Black stumbled in their direction, looking for easy marks along the way.

"It's highway robbery," he proclaims. "Two gold coins a night? Ale wasn't that good, wine was watered down, and I'm pretty sure there was rat in the stew just like every other cheap, two-copper joint like this I've been in." Black looks around carefully, making sure none of the Brazen Strumpet workers were nearby. Innkeepers could get touchy about accusations of rats being in the stew, true or otherwise.

"Name is Black Dougal, pleased to meet you both. Did I overhear that you mean to visit the Barrows? I find myself in the same economical crisis that you do, and I had the same thought. There's gold to be had, and a better cracksman you'll never meet. Care if I tag along?"

More bodies began to stir into wakefulness, and Black smiled. The Barrows were said to be quite dangerous, and they'd need more bodies if any of them were going to come out alive. That's just what Black needed--a proper gang of villains, ruffians, grave-robbers and barrow-looters. "Maybe we can find a few others to join us?"

[Raistlinmc]

"Oh, I'm in no position ta say who comes 'n' who don't, Mr. Dougal," Zaivie replies, chuckling lightly. "Far as I'm concerned, we got ourselves a 'th' more, th' merrier' sorta thing goin' on here. Sounds like ya know yer way around a thing 'r two, which ain't never hurt neither."

Turning to survey the others Black Dougal had just referred to, she adds, "What'd'ya say, lads? Anyone else wanna go on a little adventure w' us?"

[Excior]

As Allen rose from his uneasy slumber, a familiar ache pulsed through his temples, a relentless reminder of the previous night's excesses. Blinking away the haze of alcohol-induced stupor, he surveyed his surroundings, vaguely recalling the whispers of gold-laden barrow mounds that had lured him to this remote village.

Clutching his throbbing head, he squinted against the harsh morning light, his thoughts still clouded by the fog of intoxication. Joining the assembled group, comprised of familiar faces from the wagon journey to this backwater town, Allen's voice cracked through the silence.

"I find myself in a similar predicament," he confessed, his words punctuated by a wince as pain pulsed through his skull. "I would gladly join any expedition to the Barrow Mounds, though I pray we don't encounter any barrow wraiths along the way."

[Raistlinmc]

Zaivie opened her mouth to speak again...and promptly shut it instead.

After all, what possible good would it do this group of would-be adventurers to know that she didn't know what a barrow wraith was? She wasn't even entirely clear on what the whole 'barrow' thing was in the first place, so when you threw an unknown like wraiths into the mix...well, suffice it to say, Ms. Wynx would surely be as surprised as anyone could be if they did indeed run into whatever-the-hells the new fella had just mentioned.

[LarsWester]

Thomas stirred to the sound of a gull cry above. Praising himself for taken it easy with the "free" ale he felt his purse. It was considerably swollen due to the overindulgences of some of the Strumpet's guests last night. In just working the crowded tavern last night Thomas more than made back his 5 gold for the wagon ride. Contemplating how many nights he could do the same before getting caught he overheard some of his companions from the wagon ride discuss adventure and treasure hunting. He noticed with care that the one calling himself Black Dougal had already found his way to the table with some tough looking individuals.

Thomas yawned, rose, and rolled up his bedroll. He secured it tightly to his backpack before finding an empty seat at the rapidly filling table.

"Barrow wraiths? Do such things even exist? I always thought those type of stories were made up to scare people away. People with more superstitions than need for coin or adventure." Thomas paused and added with a small chuckle "People not like us. Am I right?"  He looked around the table for the others reactions. He stretched his back against his trident before leaning the weapon on the table next to him. "What does that two gold get you for breakfast around here besides a sore back? Any of you ever been to Helix before? First time for me."

[Raistlinmc]

"Firs' time fer me too," Zaivie pipes up, adding with a somewhat wry chuckle, "fer Helix anyway. As fer th' breakfast options, I hear good things 'bout the rat stew from Mr. Dougal there! Ha!"

[Sellsword]

"Mr. Dougal". I like her, I could get used to this.

Black chuckles at Zaivie's comment. "Hardly any bones, though I'm pretty sure I got a tail in mine. Must be the lucky one."

Back to business, he continues. "Village square seems as good a place as any to start. We can see what this little town is about, expose ourselves as foolhardy adventurers looking to court peril and near-certain doom for the promise of untold riches, and maybe ask directions to the Barrows. I wonder if the markets are as overpriced as this piece of sh..." he pauses sheepishly, as the innkeeper passes nearby, "reasonably priced and certainly fine establishment."

 

[cailano]

Black Dougal, Allen, Zavie, Thomas, and Tharnakalian

The five of you head to the tavern proper for some breakfast. It's a simple affair, just some stew and a slice of dark bread and cheese, but it should keep you going until midday.

The Strumpet is run by a team of four. The innkeeper runs the bar, and his three barmaids serve the food and chat with the customers. The maids are all attractive in a roughspun way. Two of them - a tall blonde and a buxom redhead - are human. The last barmaid, small and dark-haired, seems to have a little elven heritage.

There are already a few patrons in the tavern. Several others you recognize as new adventurers like yourselves, either from the caravan or the Strumpet last night. They seem less equipped than your group. Some don't even have armor or are armed with rusty weapons.

There are a few locals, as well. There's a half-orc wearing the white tabard of a priest of St. Ygg and another group of mercenaries, but not new ones. The adventurers are an eclectic bunch. There's another half-orc among them, as well as a dwarf, an elf, and a halfling. The half-orc seems to be their leader, and he's wearing a fine suit of black platemail. The group is minding their own business, although they cast disparaging looks at the newcomers from time to time.

Thomas, you recognize a brand the mercenary leader has on his left hand. It's something they give to criminals south of here. You met a man who had one a couple of years ago. He was a rough sort who got himself killed in a knife fight in your hometown. As you heard it, he took a member of the local thieves guild with him and cut off another man's thumb. Now that you're looking, the entire crew seems to have a similar mark.

 

 

[Raistlinmc]

After a good (if-not-great) breakfast - dark bread dipped in stew rarely made her unhappy, admittedly - and some somewhat shameless flirting with the buxom redheaded barmaid, Zaivie turns her eyes to the adventurers gathered here. And what a gathering it was!

She'd seen some with the tell-tale Elvish ears in her lifetime, and she'd once spent the night with a dwarf (though she hadn't known he was a dwarf exactly before things got frisky; she'd just assumed he was shorter and hairier than most men), but she'd never seen an orc before, half or otherwise.

And as far as halflings went? Well, Zaivie had to admit she wasn't entirely clear where dwarves stopped and halflings started, but she knew they were both short and often cute as a button, so why worry about the nitty-gritty details of it all?

 

[LarsWester]

Thomas takes notice of the brands on the hands of the other band of adventurers. He quickly looks away, wary about making undesired eye contact. With his mouth full of bread and cheese he nods to the half-orc priest. "The gods. Are you for the old, the new or more like me with a whoop-it-do?" Thomas waves his hand dismissively at the last word. He adds with a conspiratorial whisper "That group over there is a suspicious bunch. Criminals, the lot of them. I suggest keeping an eye on them." Thomas spoons some more stew into his mouth, bread crumbs and bits of cheese falling from the corner.

[Sellsword]

Black Dougal sidles towards the bar, hoping to draw the innkeeper's attention. He does his best to avoid the gaze of the redhead barmaid, for they are known to be cursed. At the very least, they are known to have often-violent husbands who care not for lingering gazes. Best to avoid them both, in any case.

In his distraction en route, he clumsily bumps into the half-orc priest of St. Ygg. "Apologies and good morning to you! Crowded in the common room this morning. Mind your purse, priest. There are pickpockets about, I hear." Unsure how to extricate him from the rather awkward conversation, Black gives his best attempt at a salute to the priest. "Duty and honor?" It comes out as more of a question than a statement.

When he finally makes it to the innkeeper, Black leans over the bar and greets him. "Thanks for the hospitality last night. Most comfortable floor this side of Aerik. I'm sure you get this all the time, but we're new to town and in need of direction to the Barrows. Any pointers you can share?" Knowing that money talks, Black Dougal slides a gold coin across the bar and gives it to the innkeeper.