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And the Adventure Begins!


Kyle Aarons

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Vorador nods that he too is willing to join but looks over at the captain, "Uh, sir, um... I'd sure pefer a morning star over this flail."

The Captain looks noticeably relieved at hearing everyone accept his offer. You get the feeling he is beyond unhappy the boy was not rescued maybe even slightly nervous. "not a problem, if there isn't one in the spare equipment room, my man who will take you over to it will make sure you get one." He then turns, "sergeant, get em taken care of and have Scout Malayond get them to the trail we know they took. There is no way they will be able to travel too fast with five brats with them, so if we get them out there before it really starts snowing, they sould be able to track and catch up!"

The senior sergeant quickly to escorts all of you out to the excess supplies and spoils tent. The sergeant glanced around, and sweeps his hand over a multitude of cared Arms and armor. On another table is packs of dried rations and basic adventuring supplies. on yet another are piles of clothing in all sizes "Orders are you each get one good weapon, one set of armor or shield and an item or two to help fill out your packs along with a new backpack if you want."

For reasons most of you don't understand, he nods in the direction of the young human, "you, we got some real good splint mail for you. So don't worry about the lessor armor in here, none!"

"The rest of you, if you want an extra short sword or dagger, feel free, we have dozens of them!

As you llok around, you notice the armor is leather, studded leather, Chain shirts, breastplates and scale mail. The shales are all different designs but ammout to steel shields.

The odd part is the young human. Another man walks in and drops down a suit of splint mail, a heavy armor, and it is in really good condition. Watching the youngster for a few seconds, he strips to loin cloth grabs some softer clothing to wear under the armor and begins to dress. It is at this point you see the scar on his face is only one of at least a score of combat wounds that crisscross every area of his body from his chest to his lower legs and even his back. He is oblivious to the fact some of you are staring at him in near disbelief as he starts putting on the armor.After struggling with a couple of stamps Vorador moves over and gives him a hand for which the human gives a nod of thanks before pulling on new boots. He then tosses the bloody battle axe off to the side, (loudly) and tests every battle axe in the room with a few practice swings before selecting one that includes a de-mounting spike at the tip. He takes a new backpack and stuffs what he was carrying in it and adds a healing kit. He grabs the rest of his weapons and secures them before adding some more food to his pack. "Let's go kick some Bugbear ass!"

Vorador rids himself of the Orakin daggers and selects a real bandoleer to put over his armor with six sheaths and adjusts it to fit his frame properly. As he is doing this a man comes in and hands him what looks to be a brand new morning star. Vorador nods with a grin. He adds a whetstone and flint/steel to his pack before taking a nice set of winter clothing a a very nice blue dyed heavy cloak. He runs his hands down the cloak with a smile, Not going to wear this till I find some water so I can use the soap. No time now, though. We need to get moving!"

Select a weapon and one thing of armor or two weapons (add extra daggers or an extra short sword are free to grab) take a couple of suits of clothing and a piece of adventuring gear or two (the sergeant isn't going to hold you to a singe item, but tray to take everything and he my get a bit annoyed...) at the same time a smith and a leather worker come in and offfer to quickly patch up and or sharpen anything you want fixed.

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Innil looks over the short swords and chooses two that are better than the one taken from the inn. He adds a couple of daggers weighted for throwing and a suit of clothing. He looks at the leather armor but decides to remain unencumbered. The longbow he has is good but he does take another quiver of arrows. He continues to look at the spoils and spots a leather working kit that he stashes in his pack. He keeps looking around the room hoping to spot any musical instruments, particularly a flute. He lost his when they had to flee to the sewers.

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The captain's nervousness does not go unnoticed by Elan'fal but he shows none of it. Instead he selects another dagger and some of the rations. "I am ready to depart when everyone is." He says and waits next to Zem and Innil.

 

He looks at Zem and smiles at the boy. "Hello, Zem is it? Where do you hail from?" He asks him trying to strike up a conversation and maybe the possibility of a friendship.

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Quelten makes sure to grab a healer's kit, and two more quivers of arrows.  He lingers over the selections of heavier armors before shaking his head and muttering 'already carrying too much weight.'

 

"Is there any bathing water available, Seargent?" Quelten asks.  "I don't need a full bath, but a pot of hot water and a few minutes would go over very well right about now.  Well, I need the bath, but all I'm asking for is a bit of hot water and a few minutes to clean up, dress in my new gear, and double check my pack."

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The human youngster glances over at Quelten, "Dude, everything we do from now until we catch up to the bugbear lets the 150 silver piece bounty get further away. If you don't want to look at it as a walking bounty, fine. then consider this. You taking a bath will delay us. You talk of being from some uppity house, great, whatever, but if you were the noble taken would you want those mercs paid to get you back to take a bath while you are being drug further away?"

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"The young human fighter is correct, Quelten. I know how you feel after spending months in the sewers but we need to leave quickly. Besides we are headed into the Swamp of Bones. You would just be filthy again in short order. Consider this a burden your god is asking you to bear to save the lads that were taken."

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Elan'fal chuckles. "Yes, indeed, and except bones, murky waters and filth swamps also have...usually insects, large, small, huge... I would not want to be clean there, no then these large insects and other things we might encounter may consider me food then...nicely cleaned food. Filthy we may pass as one of them." He says looking between Innil and Quelten before gazing at the others.

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Ecstatic at the prospect of having better rations, Zemzelett quickly devours a pair of purloined packed rations in as dignified a manner as he could muster.  Suppressing a belch that threatens to rattle the tent, the half-elf scoots over to the armory.  Ridding himself of all the sub-par equipment he scavenged off the dead gnolls a while ago, Zem revamps his choice of weapons and adventuring gear. Years of living in a Travelling Troupe allows him to make snap decisions and pack relatively quickly.
 
Eyeing the breastplate covetously, Zem sidles over to the soldier in charge.  "Please sir, I was wondering if I could take this too?  I know I'm too scrawny for it now, but maybe I'll grow into it."  The fact is not lost on the half-elf that the breastplate is an extremely expensive piece of equipment (at least in his eyes), and tries to pour on the charm in his selfish request.

 

Attempt Persuasion.
Equip: 2x shortswords, 1x light crossbow, 6 throwing daggers in a bandoleer
Take: new backpack with the following inside (numbers in brackets indicate weight in pounds): 

  • [07] Bedroll
  • [03] Blanket
  • [00] Chalk (3 pieces)
  • [03] Case containing 20 crossbow bolts
  • [02] Component pouch
  • [10] Day's rations (x5)
  • [03] Disguise kit
  • [05] Silk rope, 50 ft.
  • [00] Soap
  • [04] Traveler's clothes, 1 set
  • [05] Waterskin, full
  • [01] Whetstone

Total encumbrance: Weapons (17 lbs), Armor (13 lbs), Pack (5 lbs), Pack contents (43 lbs): Total of 78 lbs.  Zem's maximum carrying capacity is 15 x 8 = 120 pounds.  If the soldier allows it, take the breastplate but not equip it - tie it to the backpack, adding 20 lbs to encumbrance.
 
Whilst donning the armor, the wood elf approaches him.  "Hello, Zem is it? Where do you hail from?
 
Responding in Elvish, the half-elf responds: "Prithee, Sir Elan'fal, would that I know my true origins.  I was conceived in a traveling caravan, the Cantertrot Performance Troupe, and so do I call the Caravan home."  A light of hope sparkled across his eyes. "If it would please you to answer, have you seen my mother?  Much like yourself, she is an Wood Elf ranger.  We had escaped into the sewers after the initial attack, but we had gotten separated.  I have been looking for her for weeks, but to no avail."

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Quelten rolls his eyes.  "I may not be an expert at stealth, but we've spent the last three months in the sewers.  We don't smell it anymore, but I'm quite certain we exude sufficient stench to let the bugbears know we're coming from miles away.  And if you'd listened, I wasn't asking for a full bath.  Assuming they have hot water handy, it takes all of about three minutes to undress, scrub, and then redress in my armor.  It won't remove all the stench, but at least we won't be blowing trumpets to announce our arrival."

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"I don't know much about bugbears or gnolls, Sir Elan'fal.  Can these creatures smell us coming, if we're wading in the Swamps?

 

While engaged ostensibly in private conversation, Zemzelett switches to common and purposely allows his voice to carry over the room.  He was, in fact, hoping to cleanse some of the muck off his body as well.  He wasn't about to publicly say so though - let the human noble take the heat for any delays, he sniggered to himself.  Anyway, Zem hasn't bathed in over 90 days, what does an extra day of smelling like sewer matter if he can reunite with his family sooner?

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post-65-0-47563400-1419046024_thumb.jpg (Barett)

 

I walk over and grab the breastplate and size it up. Looks like ti will fit. I also pike up the nicest chain shirt I can find and some studded leather leggings, I pick some of the best clothing available to be worn under the armor and strip nude and take the rags I was wearing previously and wipe as much of the grim off my body as possible and then begin redressing. I pull the studded leather leggings on and the chain shirt. I inspect and select the best footman's mace I can find and attach it to the belt of the tunic. I think notice a group if quarterstaves with made with studded iron rings. I feel the weight of them and pick the one that seems to have the best weight. I think select the best unadorned shield I can find. I then fill my pack with a healers kit, and as much rations as I can carry. 
 

I then grab the breastplate and walk over the armour and ask them to help me adjust it for the best fit.

 

Once done I look around at the group. Does anyone need help getting gear one?

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Quelten looks over at Zegrinch.  "While it's true that swamps stink, and it's also true that the bugbear and his troops stink, I doubt it's the same stench as comes from having waded around in shit for three months.  Maybe it won't help, but I'd certainly rather take the effort to try and capture the element of surprise.  We're going to need it."

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"Quelton, We all need to get cleaned up but I am sure we will run across an lake or river or something were we can get our selves clean quickly. If we delay to long we take the risk f losing the trail. I think we need to move now and close the gap a little before we start handling the little things."

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"And how, exactly, would cleaning up at a lake or river be quicker?" Quelten raised a single sardonic eyebrow.  "No, don't waste time answering.  We're spending too much time on this argument.  If you don't think there's a significant and important tactical advantage to be gained here, I won't argue.  Let the stink brigade head out."

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Eghas sighs hearing the young human whining about a bath.  he walks over, grabs a full water skin, then selects a good set of studded leather armor, and the proper under clothing.  He then strips off, grabs a hunk of soap, dumps the water skin over his head, and cleans as well as he can, using his old clothes to aid.  Then dresses in the new clothing and armor.  while he is dressing he looks over the available equipment.  he then heads over and picks up a nice sturdy long bow, and a full quiver of arrows.  He looks over his other equipment.  He then looks at the packs, and selects a full explores pack, that looks sturdy.  he takes time to verify that everything is in it, then nods to himself as he re-assembles it.  He is about to say he is ready, when he spots a nice long cowled robe.  He puts that over his gear, and pulls the hood up to cover his horns. 

 

Finally, he moves over to the large Human child, and sticks out his hand.  "It looks we will be traveling together.  I am called Eghas...."

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"Let us sally forth, then!" Zemzelett chimes in.  Cramming everything he wanted to take along into his pack, he takes a couple of steps forward.  He could barely move, much less march towards some kind of faraway swamp.  Huffing and puffing, and hoping no one would notice his weakness, the scrawny Half-Elf chucked out his purloined crossbow, all crossbow ammunition, the crossbow bolt case, the blanket, the silk rope, and the very expensive armor he couldn't fit in yet.  Much better, he thinks to himself.

 

Note: I will be keeping personal track of inventory (I guarantee accuracy only for Zemzelett) in this page: https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/1006639/Old%20Port.htm

 

In an attempt to hide his embarassment, Zem bursts out into song:

 

Born of cold and grit and will

And gnoll-led siege combining.

We have emerged with nerves of steel.

We stink, but who's complaining?

 

We cut through the heart

Cold and clear

We, you smell before you hear

Let all good men smile and cheer

With our shiny gear

Let all Gnolls run in fear!

 

Stink Brigade!

Let us go!

Hup!  Ho!

Stink Brigade!

Let us go!

Hup!  Ho!

 

Beautiful!  Powerful!  Dangerous!  Rank!

Does it really matter that we stank?

Stronger than one!

Stronger than ten!

Stronger than a hundred men!  Hup!

 

P.S. Sing this to the tune of Beware the Frozen Heart

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When no one is looking Innil grabs the crossbow and crossbow gear, throws it over his shoulder and then stuffs the blanket into his pack.

To himself, "Little half brother needs a ranged weapon until he gets his strength back and the extra blanket at night. I am still not close to what I could carry and still keep up with this group."

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Elan'fal listens to Zem talking before responding in the Elven tongue, one of them.

 

"No, I am sorry to hear that young one, but I have not seen another elf for years...other than Innil and you now. I am sure though that something will turn up eventually. If I was your mother I would follow the rest of the refugees so she'll probably be where everyone else went after they were pushed out by the legion. Keep strong for your mother Zem, keep strong and true and she'll be proud of you when we find her. We have at least one thing in common then...I know not where I hail from either...or who my parents are." He gives the young half-elf a pat on the shoulder and proceeds to pick up a blanket and a set of new clothes.

 

He undresses down to his loin cloth as if nothing is the matter and wears the new set.

 

Then he stands in the shadows listening to his newfound companions. If he is to travel with them he knows that he needs to start studying them a lot more closely than he did in the sewers.

 

Then he listens to the rich brat complain yet again on trivial things and he decides to amuse himself a bit.

 

"It is true that bugbears will smell our stench from miles away...maybe we need the most well bred of us as a bait to lure them out with the promise of good food. That way we can kill them in an ambush and have the kids unhurt in the process. Who I wonder is the most well bred of us all? Who has lived in wealth...." He cuts mid sentence as if epiphany has struck him and with a fake evil grin looks at Quelten trying his best not to burst out laughing and keep a straight, serious face.

 

Turning to Barrett he smiles and talks to him. "Brother Barrett I would be ever so obliged if you can advice me on what else to take on our perilous journey." He asks earnestly and genuinely.

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Quelten breaks down laughing at Zergrinch's song, and when Zergrinch finally finishes mutters a few of the lyrics to himself, as if to fix them in his memory.  Heaving Elan'fal's quip, his eyes narrow for a moment in annoyance.

 

"Unfortunately," he says after a moment, "I don't think bugbears are quite stupid enough to fall for that trick.  And if they were, I imagine they'd realize such high quality meat is simply to rare to stumble into their grip by chance.  We'd need to use someone more common, or they'd smell a trap."

 

Quelten's mouth snaps shut and he buries his face in his hands.  "I mean, they'd realize there's a trap," he tries to recover.

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Elan'fal can no longer contain himself as he too breaks down laughing. "Oh I think they can smell it alright...both the trap and us coming from a mile away!" He says amidst fits of laughter. "Well at least if we're going to our deaths we're doing so with good song...increasingly good company and I at least I'm taking some of them with me."

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"Well said, Elan'fal! We have a name and an anthem for our group. So let the Stink Brigade march on! I too plan to take as many as possible with if it is my time to die. Come on, Zemzelett and Quelten, let us go meet our fate together!"

Innil claps each of them on the back as he laughs with Elan'fal.

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"You know, I can hardly wait to hear the reaction of the first bard who has to right a song about our exploits," Quelten laughs.  "'Whadaya mean, they called themselves the sink brigade?' he'll complain!  'That's no proper name for an adventuring group!'  Oh well, could be worse.  At least he won't have to deal with the Fart-Stinkers or worse!"

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"the only sign of death will be when I heft up the head of the bugbear on the spike atop my new axe" The teen human all but roars before he turns to Eghas with a bit of a surprised look, but doesn't hesitate in the slightest at taking your hand and his grip... oh you have little choice but to wince... He releases your hand quickly enough then gives you a way too firm pat on the back which sends you a step forward. "Why, you must be new here!"

 

Off to the side Vorador gulps, "Eghas, have you never heard of Reld the Trooper?"

 

Seeing several blank looks, Vorador takes a deep breath even as the teen Human makes a snorting sound and nods for Vorador to make the introduction.

 

However, it is a member of the Legion who speaks up, "I cannot believe you don't know of the Trooper!" He points over to the teen, "Reld has a following, very strong in Old Port, and well known in several cities all the way to the western desert! I saw him fight two years ago at a small desert encampment for our entertainment and wow does he put on a good show in the arena! Hell, almost every member of the Legion has seen him fight at least once and many paid to travel to see him fight a second or even a third time!

 

"Here, standing before you, is the youngest Slave Gladiator to ever earn his freedom! This is none other than Reld the Trooper, who got his first kill at age eleven!"

 

"Ten." Reld corrects the man, "My first fight was supposed to be my last. I was given to repay a debt my father had incurred to Baron Misbrey of Knight Sky, and he stuck me in the Knight Sky Arena and forced my father to watch as I was put up against a convicted Elf killer Dwarf. The man had killed over a dozen Elves and was sentenced to fight 50 matches for his freedom. I was to be his ninetieth kill, an easy stomping, when he was told to make me die slow and miserably so my father could see the price of not paying off debt to Baron Misbray. It didn't work out so well for the good Baron who lost more on his bet against me than my father owed him. Because of this he sold me to the Jackal Gladiator Troop and I fought my first arena match for them here in Old Port at age eleven. Two years later I was again sold, this time to the much more esteemed  Brotherhood of Pelgrin Gladiator Caravan where I traveled to over a dozen temples of Pelgrin where they taught me the arts of fighting and exercises to build muscles for better fighting while the arenas. They taught me to read and write and helped fill arenas with folks to watch me deal with common criminals. I was opening match for the pre Snowfest Celebrations, when I was offered my freedom if I survived a three on one combat against three particularly lowlife commoners. I left them headless, and in once case legless, on the floor of the arena and was granted the Brand of Freedom by the Kings Seneschal. Well worth the pain, if you ask me."

 

He glances around, "Some of you still look a little weighed down, and I bet I can have some equipment held here in safety if you wish to travel lighter and actually be able to fight once we find those who took our walking bounty..."

 

"He smirks, and as far as catching up, maybe I can help." He looks over to a member of the Legion,  "Any chance we can get horses in exchange for this?"

 

He pulls out a gold and gem encrusted amulet and tosses it to the sergeant. "It came off the foolish Gnoll caster who came into the arena to release the criminals while I was getting dressed after getting the Brand of Freedom. His head is still sitting on a spear at the entrance to the criminal cages since the Orakin and Gnolls were terrified to move it for some reason. I held out along with six of the guards as long as we cold, but we were forced to retreat, so, unfortunately the criminals were released, but not before a dozen Gnolls fell to us! I think we took care of a score of the common criminals too, but the guilded ones managed to overpower the other guards at the far end of the arena and escaped with the help of the Orakin."

 

The sergeant moves out and comes back with the captain a minute later, "I can get you one heavy and seven light horses for this all with saddles and saddle bags. If you return them and get the boy you get the amulet back in addition to the reward. If not, you keep the horses that are left and can sell them for whatever you can get. I'll also keep anything you all want to keep but not travel with here and waiting for you. Best I can offer I can make."

 

Reld nods, "Deal!" He then looks over at the rest of you, "Since we travel together, the light horses should go to those who don't know how to ride or don't know combat ridding. The riding horses should only be loaded to about 320 pounds and remember the saddles and bags will be about 30 pounds of the weight. We can load them down more with the loot of those we kill to get the uppity-ups back, since we will not be in as much of a hurry, so keep your in mind your own weight and then that of your gear. I'll go saddle the horses for us."

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"If it does not offend you, i shall help.  I am trained in combat horsemanship, and wish to make sure that the horses are suitable for what we will need."  He looks over to the Captain and bows in applogy.  "I am sorry Lord Captain, but i was always trained to make sure for myself, rather then trust someone else's word, i mean no offense."

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