All legends spring from small kernels of truth. It is said that before Caldir ascended to the ranks of thieveing greatness that he was a nothing, a nobody. Given how widely his name is known and how many songs are sung about his deeds it is hard to believe that once he may have been just an everyday person. The mundanity of everyday existence is a shackle at the heel of the common man. Sometimes those common men are not so common. Sometimes those common men break the shackle. Sometiems the shackle is picked.
All legends spring form small kernels of truth...
Caldir looks at the stargazer lily in his hand (his mother's favorite flower), then he looks to the fresh earth covering his mother's last resting place. He carefully places the lily on the fresh earth and whispers "Goodbye mother, may Desna bless you". He turns and heads away from the village.
As Caldir walks away from his former home, the small cottage on the outskirts of the Barrowood village still smoldering, he wonders what he should do next: Head towards the former capital of mighty Cheliax, Westcrown, or seek his fortunes elsewhere?
Nice avatar!
I think Caldir would head to the nearest city...not sure if that would be Westcrown, East Rikkan, Westpool, Dhaenhold, Citadel Rivad?
Westpool is the closest and most easily accessible town to reach from your former home. You have been there a few times growing up and your memories of it are fond and grand. Once you were even able to purchase some rock candy at the market. What a glorious day!
You know you will have to be vigilant on the way there as there are numberous bandits and brigands that try and raid the rich merchants that ply the waterways of the river Adivian and the Stavian Arches and portage stations. In addition, you will have to watch yourself around the press gangs that are constantly scooping up the unwary and selling them into slavery.
I set off for Westpool. (Am I on the road, in the wilderness, or on the river?)
At best it can be described as a trail used during the infrequent visits village folk pay to the town. It is rocky and broken with frequent twists and turns, generally following the ridges of the low hills that lead to the Adivian river. You feel that the trip to Westpool will take the better part of five days. You hope your rations last.
I will look for game on the trail.
Have to remember to post as Caldir, not Daed.
Three days of travel later you come across what you think looks like recent tracks of some goblins.
I will follow, trying to be stealthy.
You stalk the trail for a few hundred yards before losing the trail. As you scan the ground looking for where the tracks went two small javelins come sailing at you each hitting for 4 points (total 8)! You hear the high squeaking voices of goblins as two of the green beasties charge down towards you waving rusty short swords.
Die beasts, die!
Just looked at DM screen info. Those are some badass goblins, good attack rolls and max damage rolls!
Just looked at DM screen info. Those are some badass goblins, good attack rolls and max damage rolls!
Your cries for murder filling the air, you savagely hack one of the goblins down, ripping through its throat. The remaining goblin is stunned and dismayed to see its companion so easily dispatched. You have the initiative!
Just looked at DM screen info. Those are some badass goblins, good attack rolls and max damage rolls!
Plus now you have free Diehard feat so you are really like lv 2-3!
Prepare to meet the same fate as your companion foul creature!
Not sure what happened there, try again.
Your blood a'boil, you lunge forward driving the point of your blade straight through the sternum and up into the skull of the goblin. It sputters and kicks for a second before you pull free you blade. As the goblin collapses to the ground you hear the sound of even more of the creatures coming from the same direction that these two appeared from.
Quickly try to hide, depending on numbers of the enemy will either try to surprise them and sneak attack or just keep hiding so I don't die.
You do your best to find some cover and remain silent, making sure to avoid any blood trail. Crouching deep in a large tangle bush, you slowly begin to bind yourself, breathing quietly and listening as the sound of a large troop of goblins comes closer. Soon after you watch as the group, about 15 in number, comes upon the sight of your recent battle with the 2 scouts. You notice that these goblins seem poorly equipeed, even for goblins, and that they seem nervous-even more so now that they have found two of their member slain.
The goblins conduct a quick and vigourous (albeit not very effective) search of the area, coming close to you but never really threatening your spot. Beginning to sense the futility of further searching a heated argument breaks out between two of the larger goblins. The rest of the group turns to watch the interplay of the two leaders, ignoring the rest of their surroundings.
I will sit tight and wait for them to move on. Do I have any sense of what they are arguing about?
arrrggghhh, keep posting as Daed
The actions of the two apparent goblin leaders make about as much sense to you as a bird trying to mate with a rock. Your reverie about what the goblins may be discussing is suddenly shattered as a squad of horsemen come galloping out of nowhere mowing down the massed group of goblins. The armed group wheels about and sets to slaying those goblins that remain alive.
I think I will stay where I am and observe the horsemen, trying to get a sense of who they are and whether I should trust them.
There are 10 heavily armed and armored riders. Their armor is dark black and one of them is suited in a fantastically sculpted set of full plate with an embossed scarring on the breasplate and a wickedly horned helm. All of their shields have the symbol of a star comprised of bleeding lashes on them.
With quick efficiency they dispatch the surviovors of the initial charge. When they are done three of the riders spread out and head back down the trail from where the goblins came.
The finely armored warrior rides close to your position and you hear a strong female voice ring out hollowly from the horned helm: You have nothing to fear from us sir elf, if you be a free traveler. Step forth and be recognized.
"Indeed, I am very thankful for your arrival, I fear the kobolds would have overwhelmed me had they spotted me. I am Caldir of Barrowood."
I meant goblins, not kobolds.
The woman pushes up her face shield revealing the striking features of a young woman with a bit of a hawkish noze and light hazel eyes framed by ringlets of dirty blond hair. Indeed? It appeared that you handled those first two easily enough even though they had the drop on you and then were smart enough to seek refuge when your foes badly outnumbered you. She smiles quickly, But where are my manners? You have already introduced yourself and here I am chatting without doing the same. My name is Aravel, Hellknight of the Order of the Scourge and these lot gesturing to the other armed riders are my assigned armigers. We have been chasing this rascally band of goblins for some time after they had the timerity to raid one of the caravans headed to Egorian along the Xarian Way. I see that you are injured; here take these reaches into a saddle bag and hands you two potions they are minor curatives and should mend you up. I offer them to you as reward for your part in helping us keep the road clear. You are also welcome to whatever treasure those two that you killed possess; the rest are the spoils of my men.
"Well met Aravel, my thanks to you and your armigers, it seems I am in your debt, hopefully I will have the opportunity to repay the favor at some point in the future. Can you tell me anything about the way between here and Westpool?"
I will drink one of the potions and then search the 2 goblins I killed.
Thanks are not required. We are merely doing our job. It's good to see that even common citizens are willing to ensure the order of mighty Cheliax is not disturbed. They way to Westpool should be clear as we have just come from that direction chasing these scum.
She turns to make sure her men are finished with the slitting of throats and turning over bodies.
The 2 goblins have poorly maintained short swords and coins totaling 30SP. They also have some decent trail rations apparently taken from the caravan, enough for 4 days.
Continue on my journey.
The next few days of travel are uneventful as true to her word Aravel's squad has swept the road clear of potential hazards. You arrival in Westpool is somewhat anticlimatic and disappointing. Why is everything so small? The only thing that remains the same from your memory is the stench of the slave pens and the crack of their master's whip as they "encourage" them to step to with a will.
You quickly find a cheap room at the Broken Oar along with some watered down beer and a bowl of stew with bread (10SP).
Do I hear or see anything of interest in the bar/common room where I am having my meal?
Nothing of note seems to be occuring in the room where you take your meal. It's mostly merchant talk and people busy going about their business. You do hear a relatively common theme, however, and it's that the merchants are sick and tired of the corrupt officials in Westcrown and the extra costs that adds to their business.
Did i see a place to sell the goblin swords when I came into town? Or see anybody looking for caravan guards or any other folks looking to hire?
You saw more than a few weapon shops coming in to town in the market area. You could probably take some day labor jobs. There are caravans as well in the market area that you can ask about.
I will head to the market area to see about selling my 2 goblin short swords and keep my eyes and ears open for a possible job.
You make your way down to the market and speak with a few arms merchants trying to see who will give you the best deal. The most you will be able to get is 3 GP per sword as although they are not of goblin manufacture they have been very poorly maintained.
During your various conversations with the folks in the market you are amazed at how much carping there is over the current governance in Westcrown. It appears that many of the folks working in Westpool were formerly citizens of Westcrown and that they left the city due to the corruption of the officials, the rapaciousness of the thieve's guild (which city officials deny the existance of), and the general discomfort surroundingt the "midnight guard" that patrols the streets of the city during the night.
While you are doing your final bargaining over the swords you hear one of the merchants in an adjacent stall lamenting the fact that he needs some documents taken down to Westcrown but he doesn't have the time (or feel comfortable) delivering them to requisite parties.
I will take the 6gp for the 2 swords and will approach the merchant that needs a delivery to Westcrown. "Excuse me good sir, I could not help but overhear you need some documents delivered to Westcrown, perhaps I can be of assistance?"
Eyeing you calculatingly Mayhap you could. I need some documents specially delivered to the Vira Salisfer in Rego Laina of Westcrown and can't be bothered to take them myself. I'll pay you five gold crowns upfront for the safe delivery of them after we have you swear in with the Prince of Law's priests. What say you?
"I accept"
Fair enough. Lem! Watch the shop; I found someoe to go to Westcrown! turning back to you Come on then.
The man walks out into the middle of the marketplace, weaving in and out of the crowd and headed to the constable's office near the center of town. Over the front of the building hangs a black obsidian disk with a dark blood red pentagram cut into it. The man sketches a quick symbol over his chest and enters the building.
You follow him to a small clerks desk where another man dressed in robes the color of dried blood sits. A quick coversation ensues between the two of them about the nature of the documents and the delivery thereof. The robed man pulls out a piece of paper and a quill and ink well. Quickly scratching out some words on the paper, the ink looking like blood, the man draws up what you assume is a contract. Smiling, the man in the robes looks up at you So, this contract stipulates that you, the undersignee, will transport and deliver in good faith and condition, without opening said documents, to the estate of Vira Salsifer in Westcrown. In return, Topher here will pay in advance a sum of five gold crowns for your trouble. He pushes the paper towards you for inspection. Do you agree?
"Yes, I agree"
Place your hand on the Prince of Law's symbol. He offers forth a red-gold pentagram. You take hold of the symbol and as you do you realize that it's razor sharp on all edges as it cuts into your hand and your blood coats the symbol. You try to release it but your hand is fastend tightly to it and it starts to get hot, VERY hot. You feel a sickly pulse of energy wash over you and the clerk smiles up at you and says Asmodeous compells you; it is done.
You are finally able to release the symbol and you look at your hand-it's fine; no sign of the trauma that just passed.
Topher looks at you, Unnerving isn't it? But it's the best; no one breaks a pact with the Prince of Law. No one that enjoys living that is. He hands you the papers and five gold crowns. If you come back this way, stop by my stall. I'll by you a drink and you can fill me in on what's going on in Westcrown.
"Yes, unnerving describes the feeling very well, I look forward to that drink Topher." I begin my journey to Westcrown.
As you walk out the door to the street you narrowly avoid bumping into a tall armored figure-Aravel the Hellknight stands in front of you.
Ha! Ser Caldir! What are the odds? Not in trouble already are we? Wouldn't want that, especially after your good work out in the country. What brings you to my master's halls?
"Aravel, so good to see you again, employment brings me here, I am off to Westcrown on an errand. Any news from the road?"