The town of Tristram has been suffering from the current demon infestation that not many know the reason for. The demons have at least stopped entering town at this point and instead are focusing on desecration what is left of the once sacred place. There has been calls for help from the town however none want to approach it for fear of it spearing into their own. The Tavern owner Ogden, The blacksmith Griswold, Peppin the Healer, A local barmaid Gillian, and the old Prophet Cain stay to the center of town were it is safest. On the outskirts of town over the river Lives Adria the witch who seems unbothered by everything that has been going on. Sitting near the edge of town is the local drunk Farnham constantly babbling on and on about some butcher that killed everyone, There is also Wirt a boy with a pegged leg that often approaches anyone in an attempt to swindle them out of their money selling overpriced goods that one can find elsewhere for better. This small broken town is the site that greets all of you when you enter.
Emilio sets foot into the town square. "So this is Tristram...they weren't fooling when they said it was in need of help."
Emilio remembers back to when he first received his mission from the Church. Find out what is causing this infestation and put a stop to it if possible.
He clutches his holy symbol around his neck. "I'll stop this plague if it's the last thing I do. I swear it."
"That's... nice to know... I guess..." Dorian says to his new friend Emilio.
"Emilio, I don't know if we properly introduced ourselves on the boat ride here, but my name is Dorian." Dorian says as he extends his hand to Emilio.
Dorian is wearing a large and thick brown coat with a large sword at his size.
"This guy's such a ham!" says Locke, the ex-thief. "I'll stop this plague if it's the last thing I do-iu-iu-iu!!!!"
"Nice impression." says Lleu, the ex-she Druid. "But it's not nice to make fun of people."
"EHAHAHAHA!!!!" laughs Gwendal, the ex-swordsman.
"Gwendal, don't encourage him!" says Linde, the ex-she Cleric.
"..." The ex-Monk Bois keeps himself silent as he listens to the Banter of his comrads.
Dorian gives a slight smile as he hears the spirits talk. Only he can hear them, and it bothers him to no end.
He takes Dorian's hand with a firm shake. "Emilio Cross, Cleric of Iomadae. I heard you talking to yourself on the boat ride over. Is everything alright?"
Emilio's weapons, armor, and shield all have that quality about them that say they were made with care, consideration, and knowledge of what they were intended for.
"EHAHAHAhahahaha! Oh, if only he knew the half of it!" says Gwendal.
"Would that mean that he would know about 3 of us, or only 2?" asks Linde.
"Well, Linde, my dear, I think it's quite obvious." says Locke. "He would only know about two and a half of us."
"You're an idiot, Locke." says Lleu.
"..." Bois keeps silent, listening to the words Emilio says and how Dorian plans on responding.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I... uh... I'm just talking to myself. Making sure I remember stuff. Yeah." Is Dorian's reply.
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Lanfearon walks into the shabby town. Lanfearon puts you in mind of a prowling lioness. She has almond shaped sapphire blue eyes, a byproduct from the alchemistry infused in her. Her midnight black hair is long and is worn in a simple, dignified style. She has a busty build. Her skin is pale. She has a defined nose and high cheekbones. Her bright silver body armor is of an medieval heritage which is a full-body field armor that combines both silver and steel components into a suit of mail with a steel backing. It includes a cloak made of grey wolf fur, as well as arm, shoulder, and thigh guards.It has a slight modification has been made to cater to her unique body build.
She has 4 arms, 2 of which is attached at the torso. Her upper and lower right hand rest displays the ease of a seasoned veteran ready to whip out the large greatsword strapped across her back. She carries a large spiked shield with an emblem of a 5 winged angel on it with her upper left arm while her lower left arm rest causally on the handle of a whip.
I sense the sin in this place. It is as heavy as my greatsword strapped upon my back...this place must be cleansed.
She walks in when the cleric is shaking hands with the eccentric barbarian.
Greetings. I am here called by my deity.
"You know what the first thing I notice when I see that woman?" asks Locke.
"What?" responds Linde.
"Her big... massive... arms." Locke says dramatically, ending with a loud laugh.
"EHAHAHAHAHAHA!! You do know how to pick them!" Gwendal laughs loudly Locke's joke.
Hearing Locke's joke, Dorian immediately turns to see the woman.
"Uh... Hi."
"Uh... who are you talking to?"
"You're talking to me... Alright... I guess that works... The name's Dorian." Dorian says extending one of his hands. Dorian doesn't quite know which arm to shake, so he just lets it hang for Lanfearon to shake it.
Cole was tired of lying in bed. Deckard said it was what was needed. Whatever the old man had rubbed on his charred skin had certainly done the trick, but free of the pain, his mind quickly grew restless.
He'd read the book until the pressure in his head grew until he thought it would burst. And then he read it again. If he was going to be able to learn more he needed practice, and he was going to have to have a talk with with his teacher about all the cyphers. It seemed like every other page was another puzzle.
When he couldn't take it anymore, he picked himself up slowly and pulled trousers and a tunic on over his bandages, and made his way out of the room in the back of the inn that they had turned into a makeshift clinic.
Waving weakly to Ogden as he passed through the kitchen, he poured himself a bowl of soup, and went to sit down in the main room.
He didn't expect it to be full of so many unfamiliar faces. Shaking his head, he sat down. Maybe he'd learn something if he stayed a while and listened...
The raven-haired man looks up from his mug at the boy, covered in bandages. Immediately, he looks back to the bartender and says, "I could've sworn I ordered it medium-rare. This one looks a bit... well-done to me." Turning to look at the boy more closely, he appraises the extent of his injury. "You look like you could use a drink, kid."
"Hey, anyone else notice that there's three people here that have NOTHING to do with each other, and yet are probably here for the same reason?" Linde says to everyone.
"Now that you mention it..." responds Gwendal.
"Perhaps you should ask these people why they are here. Make sure to do it politely, though." says Lleu.
Taking note of what Lleu and Linde are saying, Dorian says "If you two don't mind my asking, what are you doing here in little Tristram?"
Emilio looks to Dorian. "I'm here to find out what's going on with this town and put a stop to it. I know my sister-in-arms," he motions to Lanfearon, "would be able to help. Although I don't quite know, or for that matter want to know, how she got those extra arms..."
He leaves his question hanging, hoping someone will answer it for him.
"That's very... interesting..." Dorian replies.
"I'll say, it reminds me of the last Giant I killed." Gwendal says.
"How does this remotely remind you of killing a giant?" asks Linde.
"Oh, I'm glad you asked. See, He was big, and ugly, and had the biggest club you've ever seen in your life. And when it raised it's club high to swing at me, I swung first. Landed the club right on the bugger's head, it did." Gwendal replies.
"That... doesn't have anything to do with this situation." Says Lleu in an obvious voice.
"Ah, but it's still a great story! Ehahahaha!!!" Gwendal laughs loudly at his own story.
"..." Bois' hand has embraced his forehead. Such a distinct mannerism in which the hand's only way to show it's grief is to connect to the part that hurts the most, the head.
Emilio clears his throat. "Perhaps we can all carry this conversation at the local tavern?"
Emilio head off in that direction, knowing the way since there are signs.
She has been in the town for a week. The inn had been quiet for some days but now new faces, She looked over form her table at the salty sea dog drinking to one side. She had nodded at him so he seemed friendly.
"When do we star little one?"
the voice of her other-self said.
"I do not know, from the boy our side I know some have come but we shall see."
The thing just outside of her yet part of her seemed to move.
"I hunger"
She held her held back until it was once more it was stilled.
"Little one keep safe I am always close."
The thing of raw power moved away from her once more.
The small Snow elf sat and looked around the Inn once more.
After the new a rivals enter the Tavern a face of a young man probably in his late 20's to early 30's greets them. He seems optimistic on the outside, but there is a grim undertone to his smile. Greetings Travelers...and young Master Cole. With the recent happening that has caused hell to erupt inside the Cathedral I worry for our town. Especially since the group that Lazarus the Archbishop never returned. The few that did babbled insane things...or became drunken. I do now know you however your sort seem like you could eradicate whatever is going on and return our Town to its formal glory. One more thing...if you happen to find the sign for my tavern whilst in there would you mind returning it. A few nights ago some of the bastards stole it and it would be nice to have it returned. He then offers a small sigh hopping for them to accept if they are really here to kill the demons and find the root cause of evil.
Aylya hears the boy out,
"He talks of dark things under ground. I would see them"
She stands and takes her bow.
"I am in"
is all the small Ice elf says.
"Sounds like a plan.... I guess." Dorian says.
"This'll be fun! EHAhahaha!" Says Gwendal.
"I hope we can find his sign." says Linde.
"Don't be such a crybaby, Linde!" says Locke.
"..." Bois remains silent, but nods his head in approval.
"You people are here to go into the church?" the bandaged man says in disbelief. "Do you know what happened? What's in there?"
Emilio takes a step forward. "I volunteer. This town will return to glory."
He looks to the bandaged man. "I am here to end the demon plagues. If the church is where it is coming from, then so be it. No, I don't know what happened there." He takes a moment to look Cole over. "What happened to you? If you don't my inquiring."
Despite the red scarf around his neck, a chill runs down Rasmus' spine as the group enters the tavern, interrupting his banter with the burnt young man. Looking around, he quickly ascertains the reason for his discomfort: this is a very strange collection of characters. He notices a chilly-looking girl sitting at a table, momentarily startling him. Nobody's come in since me, but she didn't come in just now...has she been here the whole time?! How could I miss that? Keep sharp, Rasmus. His bafflement is quickly forgotten at the sight of the four-armed woman just now entering. It takes every bit of his self-control not to immediately attack the creature. She travels with the others, and she looks human enough. But if she's not a demon, what in the Burning Hells is she?
Looking over the she-demon's companions, his eyes linger on an unremarkable-looking boy. There's something unsettling about him, something just not right, but at least he only has two arms. Finally, his gaze comes to rest on the well-armed and -armored man with the holy symbol. A paladin of Zakarum? Traveling with a four-armed she-devil of a woman? It seems the dark rumors are bringing all the weirdos to Tristram. A drinking night, indeed.
Turning back to his mug, he finds himself spinning around again as the bartender steps out to greet the new-comers. Listening silently, he takes in the commotion the bartender's words provoke. Yup. More demon-hunting weirdos. He shakes his head to himself as he takes another draw from his mug.
"Hell came. Demons. Fire. The walking dead. Nightmares." the bandaged man said grimly. "That's what happened."
"And now you see why we brought you here." Says Lleu.
"These people need your help." Says Locke.
"If you don't everyone will die." Says Linde.
"You can imagine why that's bad, right? Ehahahaha!" Says Gwendal.
"..." Bois keeps silent as usual.
"I... see..." Dorian says with a big gulp. He then looks around and says "I see! We must do something about this!"
Demons. Fire. The walking dead.
Sounds like my kind of party.
I don't know who any of these other yahoos are, but you know what they say: the enemy of my enemy better not get in my way. I came too far to sit back and let some glory-seeking wanna-be heroes save the day. If anybody's going to crack this case, and inevitably the skull of whichever rogue Vizjerei caused this mess, it'll be me, or my name's Jim-Bob Malkowitz. But they might have their uses...
"If I may be so bold as to interject, I've got some questions. When did all this trouble start? And who's this Lazarus fellow? And where's the damn bard hiding?!"
Seriously, I don't know where the music-making monkey's holed-up, but when I find him I'm going to take pleasure in breaking every string in his lute. He's been playing the same song since I've been in town, and it's getting really old. And no matter where I go, it never gets any quieter. Reminds me of the time I rigged that drawer in Natalya's room to tick like a timed fire-trap. The best part was the flash bomb that went off when she finally disarmed the ticker. Poor girl never knew what hit her. Priceless!
But seriously, that minstrel's so dead.
Oh kind Sir, Lazarus was archbishop to the King. He took Prince Albrecht with some villagers to eradicate the beasts including something called The Butcher. I have not seen him with my eyes, Wirt has though poor child lost his leg while exploring in there. Farham knows more then anyone just word your questions carefully. As for when this started, it started a few weeks ago when some men came into town and attacked a few folks. They retreated into the Cathedral. We thought nothing of it at first untill all hell broke lose. Bard...I thought he died long ago...must be his ghost.
The Ice elf walks up to the group standing her full 5,2 tall with a bow as big across her back. She takes along hard look at each off them. Hit hard to see what she is thinking her face is as still as the ice she comes from.
"Risk?
"Some, the god ones will stand, they always do, the red scarf one, will run, I know the type, The half-elf, look at his haunted eyes, ask yourself what dos he see that gives him eyes such?, as for the Sea dog, hes all mouth and drink, no use at all"
"Aylya"
Is all she Says
I stand corrected. The minstrel's already dead. Playing the same song, over and over. For eternity. Y'know, death's starting to sound like a fate worse than death.
"Where might one find Farnham and Wirt? If they've got answers, I've got questions."
So we've got demons in the church, a party of slaughtered villagers, and a missing archbishop. Presumably, the missing prince is with the missing archbishop. He must still be down there, which means he's probably dead. If he's not, I'll bet he wishes he was. At this point, I'd go down to find him myself, if only to get away from this damn music!
Farnham is usually sitting around next to an old house drowning himself in some of the taverns best liquor that he usually can afford. Wirt, he is around the rocks that are on the west edge of town. The cathedral is to the north. Just do be careful when talking to Wirt that child has a tongue of silver for on so young.
"This place is a dump." says Locke.
"I'm certain the lack of people is part of the problem." responds Linde.
"..." Bois watches the group of people, intreged by all the different types of people.
"Well... there's no use waiting around here anymore. Anyone want to get an early start on talking to Wirt?"