The Realm of mankind is narrow and constricted. Always
the forces of Chaos press upon its borders, seeking to enslave
its populace, rape its riches, and steal its treasures. If
it were not for a stout few, many in the Realm would indeed
fall prey to the evil which surrounds them. Yet, there are always
certain exceptional and brave members of humanity,
as well as similar individuals among its allies - dwarves,
elves, and halflings - who rise above the common level
and join battle to stave off the darkness which would otherwise
overwhelm the land. Bold adventurers from the Realm
set off for the Borderlands to seek their fortune. It is these adventurers
who, provided they survive the challenge, carry
the battle to the enemy. Such adventurers meet the forces
of Chaos in a testing ground where only the fittest will return
to relate the tale. Here, these individuals will become
skilled in their profession, be it fighter or magic-user, cleric
or thief. They will be tried in the fire of combat, those who return,
hardened and more fit. True, some few who do survive
the process will turn from Law and good and serve the
masters of Chaos, but most will remain faithful and ready to
fight chaos wherever it threatens to infect the Realm.
You are indeed members of that exceptional class, adventurers
who have journeyed to the KEEP ON THE BORDERLANDS
in search of fame and fortune. Of course you are inexperienced,
but you have your skills and a heart that cries
out for adventure. You have it in you to become great, but
you must gain experience and knowledge and greater
skill. There is much to learn, and you are willing and eager
to be about it! Each of you has come with everything which
could possibly be given you to help. Now you must fend for
yourselves; your fate is in your hands, for better or worse.
BACKGROUND
The Realm of mankind is narrow and constricted. Always
the forces of Chaos press upon its borders, seeking to enslave
its populace, rape its riches, and steal its treasures. If
it were not for a stout few, many in the Realm would indeed
fall prey to the evil which surrounds them. Yet, there are always
certain exceptional and brave members of humanity,
as well as similar individuals among its allies - dwarves,
elves, and halflings - who rise above the common level
and join battle to stave off the darkness which would otherwise
overwhelm the land. Bold adventurers from the Realm
set off for the Borderlands to seek their fortune. It is these adventurers
who, provided they survive the challenge, carry
the battle to the enemy. Such adventurers meet the forces
of Chaos in a testing ground where only the fittest will return
to relate the tale. Here, these individuals will become
skilled in their profession, be it fighter or magic-user, cleric
or thief. They will be tried in the fire of combat, those who return,
hardened and more fit. True, some few who do survive
the process will turn from Law and good and serve the
masters of Chaos, but most will remain faithful and ready to
fight chaos wherever it threatens to infect the Realm.
You are indeed members of that exceptional class, adventurers
who have journeyed to the KEEP ON THE BORDERLANDS
in search of fame and fortune. Of course you are inexperienced,
but you have your skills and a heart that cries
out for adventure. You have it in you to become great, but
you must gain experience and knowledge and greater
skill. There is much to learn, and you are willing and eager
to be about it! Each of you has come with everything which
could possibly be given you to help. Now you must fend for
yourselves; your fate is in your hands, for better or worse.
Ahead, up the winding road, atop a sheer-wailed mount of
stone, looms the great KEEP. Here, at one of civilization’s
strongholds between good lands and bad, you will base
yourselves and equip for forays against the wicked monsters
who lurk in the wilds. Somewhere nearby, amidst the
dark forests and tangled fens, are the Caves of Chaos
where fell creatures lie in wait. All this you know, but before
you dare adventure into such regions you must become
acquainted with the other members of your group, for each
life will depend upon the ability of the others to cooperate
against the common foe. Now, before you enter the grim
fortress, is the time for introductions and an exchange of information,
for fate seems to have decreed that you are to
become an adventurous band who must pass through
many harrowing experiences together on the path which
leads towards greatness.
You have travelled for many days, leaving the Realm of Ulek and
entering into the wilder area of the Borderlands. Farms and
towns have become less frequent and travellers few. The
road has climbed higher as you enter the forested and
mountainous country.
You now move up a narrow, rocky track. A sheer wall of natural
stone is on your left, the path falling away to a steep
cliff on the right. There is a small widening ahead, where
the main gate to the KEEP is. The blue-clad men-at-arms*
who guard the entrance shout at you to give your names
and state your business. All along the wall you see curious
faces peering down at you - eager to welcome new
champions of Good, but ready with crossbow and pole arm
to give another sort of welcome to enemies.
As you approach the fortifications, you look at the companions that have joined up with you to seek your fortune on the borderlands. Two dwarves, well armed and armored, a priest handy with the spear, another human of questionable past, and the enigmatic elf with a book of magic.
The guards at the keep call out as you approach.
"Step forward in turn and identify yourselves. State your name, profession, and reasons for coming to the Keep."
Eldarian bows deeply, "Hail and well met, I am Eldarian Stardancer, recent apprentice to the Elven mage Talaras Starbloom of Silverwood. My former master has asked me as a final task in his service to call upon an old colleague of his who resides in the Keep.
"Mot Zon C'uiz faithful of Vathris on a quest in his name, tracking draconic vermin from the Bright Desert. I am weary from days on foot and seek a brief respite before continuing on my path for vengeance.", Mot Zon hollers, leaning against his jet black long spear.
"Grimm Warhammer of the Dwar clan Warhammer. I be from the great city-fortress of Deepholm in the Barrier Peaks and I be a wandering warrior looking fer adventure!"
The entire time the dwarf does not look up, but rather seems to be yelling at the gate!
"Well met, I am Rowan the wanderer. I am here representing interests from Gryrax. It is said the local wood holds timber of high quality for building ship masts and I am tasked with finding the truth of these claims." He lies hoping to raise his stature in the keep. "If I should find my fortune in the meantime, all the better."
The Keep guards smile and wave each forward. Rowan has the most impressive background and they reflect up on it.
Rowan gives a devilish grin as he sees his story has had a least some effect on the guards.
Rowan's story is impressive. The two guards pull out a book and earnestly scribble some notes in it.
"Welcome to the Keep, Rowan of Gryax. Are these dwarves your escort?"
They wave you forward with the others.
"Put your weapons away and we will escort you inside."
The portcullis is raised for your entry.
Two towers 30’ high with battlements
flank a gatehouse 20’ high. All have holes for bow and
crossbow fire. A deep crevice in front of the place is
spanned by a drawbridge (now up). There is a
portcullis’ at the entry and large gates at the far end of
the passage. The passage is about 10’ wide and high,
the ceiling above pierced with murder holes*, and
walls to either side slitted for archery. It is obvious that
the building is constructed of great blocks of the hardest
granite, undoubtedly common throughout the entire
fortress.
"I cannot say they are at this point, but I will be in need of stout companions before I head into the forest, so yes they soon may be."
Hey give Grimm a wink and says to him under his breath, "I would make no assumptions, but if you play along we might find out time in the keep much more comfortable than mere travelers could hope for."
Taken aback by the brash assumptions of the young human, Grimm almost blurts out a dismissal to the fellows proposition, but instead frowns and nods in agreement.
"Pr'haps we can come to some understanding longshanks." he rumbles back.
"I am Elwitta Bad-Axe! The forces of chaos will soon learn to fear my name."
Elwitta sheathes his weapons and bellows, "Now this is a sturdy keep! Must have been built by dwarves, wouldn't you say Grimm?"
He follows the others into the Keep.
The drawbridge comes down and you enter the keep, acquiring the escort of two men at arms and a scribe. The scribe carefully writes down your names, occupation, and the date you entered. A more experience guard with a single slash on his blue livery is also on hand, checking the book and each of you with a keen eye.
The date recorded is CY576.4.4 -- You entered in CY (Common Year) 576 on the fourth or planting month on the fourth day of that month.
The guards nod approvingly as they size you up and seem to like what they see. You find yourself entering the outer bailey, a collection of buildings.
"Provisions and weapons can be found in the general store. Food and drink can be found at our inn. And homage to St. Cuthbert can be performed at our chapel. Mounts can be housed and purchased at the stables."
The guards give you directions to the buildings of interest they just mentioned neglecting to direct you to the stables. Your nose can probably guide you to them if you need to find horses.
The bustle of late day activity continues as mostly armored men move around in the courtyard.
"I am weary ... if I may be so bold having just met you on the road this very day, I would enjoy your company at the tavern for a little grub. First round's on me! One gets tired listening to his own voice ..."
Overhearing your conversation, a portly, short dwarf maid appears in a tunic and leggings made of dark brown linen. Her hair is braided.
"Can I show you to our tavern? The ale is passable, the small beer for those on a budget."
Elwitta nods at Mot, "Aye, I could use a drink. The next round is on me."
"A nice, dry white wine would suit me quite well to cleanse the grime of travel from my parched throat. Pray, lead on to your establishment, my lady." Eldarian replies to the dwarf maiden.
As the group makes its way to the far side of the keep, you are impressed with the fortifications. Elwitta and Grimm are convinced dwarves must have helped build the granite walls. The military force here appears to be one in five to one in four dwarven. The occasional hobbit is seen, but none seem to be armored or armed.
The dwarf maid grunts and says: "Berta. You boys tackling the caves?" She heads to the tavern with the air of one who has made her way there many times before. "Since you're buying, it is a well known fact that there is a merchant imprisoned in the caves that will reward his rescuers handsomely."
Grimm looks over the dwar lass.
"If'in you tell me the ale is good, then I'll believe it lass. Grimm Warhammer from Deepholm."
He give a quick bow and a winning smile to the girl.
He turns to address Elwitta.
"From where do you hail brother? Your accent is odd to mine ear.
Finally he addresses Mot
"First round eh!! That might get expensive with two dwarves at the table!"
He laughs and nudges Elwitta with his elbow.
Rowan follows the group through the gate, listening to the guards description of the small community. He looks around the yard and laments the straights he has found himself in. This place is a long way from the streets of Gradsul.
"We are going to need a lot of ale to make this place feel cheery." he says to group. "It is never a good idea to eat alone, gives people the wrong impression."
Rowan falls in with the rest of the company and follows Berta to the tavern. When hearing about the reward, he perks up considerably.
"What can you tell us about the merchant and more specifically the reward?" he asks Berta.
"My accent is from Ulek. What can you tell us about these caverns? Do you know of any guides who could take us there?"
Berta reminds Grimm with a quick but painful tug on his beard before he can get out of his bow.
"Passable human ale, passable."
She looks at Rowan: "I said too much 'bout merchant. That's guild hall business. You didn't hear it from me."
You arrive at the tavern:
Berta informs you this place is the favorite of visitors and inhabitants
of the KEEP alike. The food is excellent, the drinks
generous and good. The people of Ulek still use an electrum piece (e.p.) which is a half gold or equal to 5 silver.
The bill of fare reads:
ALE 1 e.p. SOUP 1 s.p.
SMALL BEER 1 s.p. STEW 1 e.p.
WINE 1 e.p. ROAST FOWL 1 g.p.
HONEY MEAD 1 g.p.
BARK TEA 1 s.p.
ROAST JOINT 2 g.p.
1 e.p.
BREAD 1 c.p./slice CHEESE 1 s.p./wedge
PUDDING 1 s.p./bowl FRUIT 1 s.p.
The tavern is full, but four workers are leaving and you have room to crowd around a small table leaving two of you standing.
At one table you see a tall human with dark hair dressed in full plate armor with a tower shield and a spear with a gleaming head of fine steel propped up against the wall near him. On his blue livery are four slashes of rank and he has a sword and dagger in scabbards about his waist. Four other soldiers in blue livery are hanging about the table, listening to him describe a 'flying dismount' from a moving warhorse. It sounds like a dangerous tactic.
"...and when you land, you are lucky to keep from injuring yourself, let alone worry about keeping your feet. Hitting and rolling is your best bet, as you are still a target."
The soldiers seem to hang on his every word.
Berta has calloused, ruddy, red hands. And she is comforted to wrap them around a cold metal flagon of ale. "I work in the kitchen. Lots of scalding water.": she says as explanation.
Berta produces a rough map of the local area, drawn by a cartographer. Laying it on the table she points to the Caves of Chaos.
A dwarven barmaid takes your orders. She has been seen to carry four flagons of ale in each hand. "What you having? Fowl is fresh." She points to the Bill Of Fare.
With a weary sigh, Eldarian plops into the nearest chair, raises his hand to draw the attention of the nearest server and orders "A glass of your house white wine, the roast fowl and a fruit bowl, please."
He hands over 1 gp and 6 sp to pay for his fare.
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"A roast fowl fer me and another tankard o'ale ta washer er down! Also bring me some bread and cheese, if you would please ma darlin'"
Sitting down, "First round of drinks are on me ... I'll have a honey Mead and stew!"
"Ale and fowl for me as well. Keep the drinks coming."
Elwitta looks at the map. "Interesting. What lives in the caves? How was the merchant captured? Why has the army not dealt with this?"
Berta looks at Mot:
"Thanks for the ale outlander. A map of this quality will cost you a gold at the trading post."
She beams at the dwarves: "Gonna earn enough to start a family? I know some maids that would love to settle down and raise kin."
She uses her thumb to point next store:
"Rooms at the inn are a gold, but pallets in the common room are a silver. Nobody hardly gets rolled there."
"Yep, this Keep is the safest thing for days and days. Wouldn't twant to be nowhere else notime."
Morgan watches from the bar as a new group of adventure-seekers enters.
"Ah! New blood, eager to be spilt on the steppes of the Caves of Chaos! Ready to find fame and fortune in the darkness?" she asks, giving the newcomers a crooked grin.
Rowan gives his order; "I'll have an ale and some stew."
Rowan regards the ranger, "You talk as though you have some experience with these caves, and from your appearance you have spent some time in the wild," standing, he offers her his seat. "Would you like a seat. We could use any information you might have about these caves."
Morgan gives the man a crooked smile and sits down, laying a forearm on the table.
"The Caves are a spawning ground for orcs and goblins of all kinds. They breed like rats and roaches, and spill out into the countryside, killing, burning, and stealing whatever's left. Of course, the Caves also keep me gainfully employed. There's good money to be had collecting bounties on the foul beasts."
She pantomimes shooting an arrow from a bow.
"The name's Morgan. Morgan Iron Wolf. And if you're headed to the Caves, you might be interested in having a guide along who knows these lands. I'm good in a fight, and I pull my own weight."
Eldarian's sharp ears prick up at the mention of "fame and fortune" and interjects, "Fame and fortune are certainly desirable but what about...power? Does anyone know if these Caves hold any long-lost secrets of arcane lore?"
Morgan has a similar map drawn by the Keep cartographer.
Berta looks at Morgan. "You haven't been inside the inner bailey, youze a new one?" She shrugs and produces an empty flagon: "New man at the table is buying drinks I think?"
"New man? You need a healer to check your eyes," she growls at the barkeep.
"Sure, I'll buy a round. Give'm all whatever's cheap and plentiful. I haven't scored any ears in a few days. Spending my last few coins will give me incentive to get out of doors, again."
Her tone is dry, and it's difficult to tell if she is being sarcastic, but she counts out 6 silver coins for a round of small beer.
"Well, it sounds like we have found ourselves a guide." Rowan quips. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head with the talk of fame, fortune, and bounties.
"Who sets these bounties and how do we go about collecting them."
"Not sure who sets the price, just that whenever the countryside starts to get thick with them, a posting goes up offering bounties. It's not exactly great pay, but it beats grubbing for berries and sleeping in the mud. To tell the truth, we should look at trying to rescue that merchant that went missing. I'd wager his family would pay handsomely for his safe return."
She pauses for a moment, and smirks.
"Of course, considering what lives in the Caves, we might only be retrieving his gnawed bones. But that might still get us a little something."
Rowan asks Berta, "Berta, you mentioned before that the merchant was guild hall business, which guild hall are you talking about?"
Grimm perks up when Berta mentions dwarven women.
"Mayhap I be interested. Starting mine own holt will need more bodies! Now tell us about this cave and merchant longshanks! You have perked my interest. Did yer say orcs lived there? Oink, oink! Just point me at them."
Eldarian blanches at the female warrior's mention of "his gnawed bones" slowly putting down the bones of the roast capon he was finishing, "What foul abominations call these caves home?
Berta realizes her mistake:
"Aye, Morgan, you're a warriess not warrior. Well, I don't look too closely under the wrappings. I can't drink what he passes for beer here. I'm not a fighter sept when it comes to killing the game in the kitchen. Let the boys buy the drinks--dey got the gold. They can probably afford the good stuff."
Berta responds to Rowan: "There is a guildhall in the keep for all the rich merchants. Quite an exclusive club."
Morgan comments: "The grid squares each take about twenty minutes to walk across. Getting to the caves will take a day and the better part of another after a night of camping."
"Now, as for magic gizmos. What self respectin' dwarf be lookin' fer majicked gizmos. That can only get you in trouble."
After about an hour the officer of the keep and his crew leave and group of four warriors with heavy crossbows and livery with yellow lions on a brown background enter. Berta jerks a thumb in their direction.
"The mercs on their offtime. Probably work with de merchies keepin the almighty trade safe. If you boys are hitting the caves, no need ta leave gold in yer pouches. If yez come back, ye'll have more."
"As long as I have a silver to buy a spot on the floor, and another for a breakfast in the morning, I can make do. Of course, that doesn't leave much for gambling," she harrumphs.
"So are we serious about this venture? Are we heading out for the Caves at first light, or was this all just the drink talking? I'm all for going, but I'm not fool enough to go alone."
Elwitta slams his fist on the table. "Yes, we will kill every last stinking orc and goblin in these caves! I will venture with you Morgan. Who's with me?"
Raising his flask, "To the Caves of Chaos!"
"To the caves!" Grimm yells
"I came to this land to seek vengeance on foul draconic vermin ... what better place to find them than dank caves."
Mot Zon raises his mead, frothy liquid sloshing out, "To the caves!"
The bar seems to realize that the group is going to the caves, so a toast is made in their honor.
Berta looks at the two dwarves with deadly seriousness: "You represent our kin. With short legs, running away is not called fer. Make sure to get supplies if you need 'em."
Turning to Morgan: "Don't back without me dwarves here. If yer do, I will find you. Don't wanna look for two more pretty boys to chat up for drinks."
"Yes, to the caves!" and rowan downs his small beer in one slug.
"If we are going out into the wild tomorrow, we should make sure we are well equipped. Do we have all we need for several days in the wild or do we need to stop at the provender. I know that I for one am going to need more trail rations."
Rowan is going to make for the general store, to pick up some rations and other gear (taken care of so we can move things along).
Rowan will stay in a private room to keep up the façade that he is being sponsored by wealthy interests.
Grimm will also top up his supplies with more rations (total of 5 days worth).
"Worry not beautiful Berta! Will will do the Dwar justice and perhaps I shall return with a trinket or two to bestow upon a pretty lass!"
"I'd be a fool to earn your wrath, Mistress Berta," Morgan replies dryly, "or the wrath of the dwarven nation by squandering such fine breeding stock!"
She gives a laugh and claps each of her dwarf companions on the shoulder in camaraderie fashion.
"Let us make our preparations, then."