Castles And Creatures - The Main Thread

Adventurers. The brave men and women from a variety of races who boldly seek forth danger and harrowing for the love of excitement or money. It has always been groups of these heros who have made impacts on the world - deposing kings, saving villages, and slaying dragons.

No town celebrated adventurers more than the glorious town of Eridell - which has recently fallen under siege by a goblin horde. With the King's soldiers and knights spread thin in trying to defend the town, the regular townsfolk must rely on traveling heroes and mercenaries to solve their problems.

Which is just what Mr. Barnabus Browning, an enormously fat halfling, had placed an ad in the local taverns requesting. His antique shop was quiet today - a fact which he hoped would change soon. He sat behind his desk, smoking his pipe, thinking about the days finances and whether or not anybody would answer his ad instructing them to meet him in the lobby of his shop at ten o clock. He checked his own grandfather clock in the lobby - a clock which was currently on sale. It read 9:58. He sighed. They had better hurry.

Someone I once knew said, "I don't get outta bed for less than a hundred gold pieces a day." Told him that being a gigolo didn't count. Me? I'm out here at ten in the morning, and there's a good reason for it.

Barnabus Browning. Ol' Joe at the bar told me a little about him. Runs an antique shop, loves the fine life, looks the part too. I'm taller. He's wider, even with my chain shirt on and Karla at my waist - "looks more like a three-quarterling than a halfing," said Joe. "Put up an ad at the taverns reporting the theft of a Ring of Three Wishes, calling for interested parties to meet him at his shop today."

A Ring of Three Wishes? I told Joe to cut the crap and give me the real deal. You hear stories about them, of course - and the stories always involve asshole genies, warping reality, and the user getting screwed over and hopefully only taking half the town with him in the process. But no, Joe said that this Barnabus fellow was as honest as they came, or at least as honest as you got while managing to become filthy rich. Which was even worse, because if it was goblins who'd got their filthy paws on the ring, I'd expect Eridell to turn into freakin' ashes at any moment. You know how goblins are. They get along with fire like a house on fire.

Either something was up with that story, or we were boned harder than the King of Liches himself. So I figured I might as well have a look at this case, make a little gold along the way, hopefully meet some fine dames... Dwarves, non-dwarves, beards, no beards, I'm not picky as long as they don't try to murder me in my sleep.

We reached the antique shop just before ten. Had a bit of time. Figured I'd pop in and inspect the merchandise. Could use a smoke, too.

<Gram enters the antique shop, lights up a bit of tobacco, and looks around.>

edited 26th Feb '14 5:22:53 AM by Pyrite

His name was Berturabo. It was a halfling name. A grim sounding halfling name, like a human named Mortis, an elf named Nihelus or a goblin named Doom-In-Iron-Skin. But it was still a halfling name and he was a halfling.

Not a person got to look under his helmet to say otherwise.

Wearing full-plate armor, the being was obviously the right size to be a halfling, or kender. Not nearly large enough to be a dwarf, too tall to be a gnome. About the right size for a halfling. Or a goblin. But he was a halfling. Definitely a halfling.

No need to stab him, or anything.

He acted with all the halfling customs when entering someone's place of business, at least those common to the Cozy Hills village. He parked his dog-beast, drew his weapon, carrying it upside down in front of him. He remembered this was a general halfling custom, presenting your arms when entering on to anyone else's property, holding it in an inconvenient to wield position. Deposit by the door, there we go.

"Hullo," Came the muffled sober voice within the armor, a Cozy Hill accent.

A bell rang at the front door. Though it was not the bell designed to let one know when the door was opened - that is, if the halfling had even bothered to install one. It was one of the bells in Ace's hat, jingling about as he opened the door and made his way into the shop.

"Could this be the shop of sir Barnabus Browning?" he asked, closing the door. When his left hand came back from the knob, he was holding a jester's stick in his grip. He held his right hand up to his mouth, as if to whisper to the others who weren't Barnabus. "I see, he must be the halfling on the verge of frowning. The poor clerk who lost his ring of three wishes, perhaps to a thief who was quite superstitious?" He took his hand away from his mouth and went closer to the halfling.

"There's no need for you to have any doubt," he told him. "What's wrong will be righted - that's what this meeting's about. And I'll make a smile out that pout!"

He rolled back and popped up, jingling his stick again, as well as the bells in his hat, letting out a laugh.

edited 23rd Feb '14 10:04:49 AM by nman

Kris browsed the large selection of antiques displayed in front of the shop. He wondered how a Ring of Three Wishes could've appeared in a place like this, let alone past the first person who beheld it. He expected it to be like a hidden treasure in an epic tale, with a ancient curses or a mysterious catch. It being stolen, however, was a different story, and here he was, dashing off to look for it, with a bunch of adventures he'd never met before. He sighed, then pushed open the door.

After wandering around the shop, he walks up to Barnabus, with an expectant look on his face. "Are you Barnabus? I'm here for the job"

edited 23rd Feb '14 3:32:58 PM by GravityNonsense

Jaola received her pay from the merchant that had hired her to escort him to the city. She bid him farewell and mounted on top of Gottie. It was just past 8:00 then so she decided to go around the shops, resupplying herself with food water and mead. On her way she stumbled across the ad. A wrong to be righted, she thought. A such when the time came she left Gottie tied to a pole on the front of store and she entered the establishment, hoping she could help.

Charon seethed in frustration as he walked the streets of Eridell. With darted glances, he muttered to himself empty death threats to each passerby, all inaudible over the clanging of the chains he dragged behind him. This was not what he had expected when he heard the great city of Erindell was under siege and its guard could no longer spare help to its people. He imagined perhaps the knights had retreated to the keep to protect their king while the outer city was left to be pillaged by their invaders. Yet here the walls still stand and its people going about their day unharnessed by the ravages of war. Where were the openly weeping widows and orphans of the dead? Where were the bodies piling in the streets cause they could not dig holes faster then casualties suffered? Where were the thieves and looters ravaging the city knowing that the guard could not allocate the resources to put down a crime spree? No, this was not what he had expected at all.

Charon wanted to murder every single one of the citizens he passed, if for no other reason then to make up for the lack of progress of the invading army. But, he would not. He knew such an action would be counter productive to his mission. He also knew how his superiors dealt with such insubordination. Charon would not allow himself to give into such urges, no matter how tempting. Besides, he was a devil, an honor bound civilized being, unlike those mindless vermin from the abyss.

Charon let out an exasperated sigh to clear his head. It was only a matter of time. The King's men are stretched thin and can't continue as is forever. Until then he should be making a name for himself, so when things go to hell the people know who they can turn to for help, and he can start by taking this job.

Charon entered the shop. A number of people have already arrived before him, and judging from the armor and weapons, they weren't here for the craftsmanship. In a low raspy voice Charon spoke out "Which one of you lot calls himself Barnabus Browning? We have business to discuss."

edited 24th Feb '14 2:01:06 AM by ImmortalNeet

"Ooh, am I late? Am I late?", Grittra asked, breathlessly and at the top of her lungs as she ran through the door. Anyone standing nearby would have to move fast to avoid getting hit by it.

Kylara was surprised by the little cat-like creature running past her. as she'd never seen anything quite like it. She was even more startled to see it turn into the same shop she was heading towards. Another adventurer?

She supposed that there were many things she didn't know. Putting that thought aside, she walked up to the store - owned by someone named Barnabus Browning - and headed in to see that quite a group had already assembled. She hadn't expected so many people showing up to help with this job.

"Mis'uth arelen," Kylara muttered in her native tongue. With this many adventurers, it was unlikely all of them would be hired. And she really could use this job; it was much better than having to tend to the "uncooperative" animals of yet another farmer or rancher. "Greetings," she said, nodding towards the group. Time would tell if this would work out for her.

Thurge moved merrily through the street, watching each shop sign inattentively. He knew he was running late, and he knew that it couldn't be helped. He hoped to Kord he was going the right way, but if not then he could live with it… or not seeing as he was low enough on cash that he would probably have to go without food for a while.

However, as he rounded a corner, he saw the shop symbol that he had been told to look for. He also noticed that several other adventurous looking individuals where entering the same place. Excited to have found the place, Thurge threw on his friendliest grin, and entered the place.

The fat halfling behind the desk visibly brightened as more potential heroes entered. His smile lit up as he was reminded of his younger days where kindly wizards, mighty barbarians, and lordly knights strode the Earth righting wrongs and fighting evil. Since Eridell had been under siege, it had been awhile since Barnabus had felt hopeful. He waddled over to his door and switched the sign in the window from OPEN to CLOSED. However, he also spent a few seconds writing a note saying that any potential helpers should come on in and attached it to the CLOSED sign.

"I assume you all are here to get my ring back and not to peruse my wares, no?" Barnabus asked, cracking a grin.

"Well, I'll give you as many details as my old brain will allow. I was sleeping two nights ago when I heard a commotion. I grabbed my old dagger and headed downstairs where I saw two goblins with red dragon tattoos on their arms, breaking my display case containing a ring." the halfling exposited, gesturing to an indeed broken case in the corner of the store.

"Before I could do anything, one of their friends must have clubbed me in the back of my head. When I awoke, the only thing they took was that ring. Now that ring reportedly belonged to Lord Worr the Benevloent - nearly a eight hundred years ago. So I kept it for its antique value. It would fetch a pretty penny if sold but I wondered why the goblins didn't steal any of the other valuable things in my store or at the very least my cashbox." Barnabus continued. Unlike last time, however, he didn't gesture to where the cashbox was in the store - not being dumb enough to show a bunch of well-armed strangers where he kept his money.

"I ended up telling one of my old friends - Mystorun - about the robbery and described the ring when he asked. He used to be a warlock in his youth and told me that the ring was actually a ring of three wishes - which can grant the wearer anything he or she desires. He warned me that the goblins may have a more sinister purpose in grabbing that particular artifact. I don't espescially know or care whether they do or not. I just want my merchandise back and, last I heard, a bunch of goblin bands have been camping out near the Dragon's Tooth creek. I'd look there. You get my ring back to me and I'll pay you each two hundred gold coins." Barnabus offered, looking at each of the adventuers in the eye.

"And don't even bother killing the goblins and collecting the ring for yourself. Mystorun already told me that it takes a very special ritual and magic word to activate the thing." the old halfling warned.

"So will you help me?"

"I'm at your service" said the traveling knight "even if pay weren't to come" she said gladly.

Kris stood back, carefully thinking about the halfling's words. Everything seemed normal, and he presumed that the goblins knew what the ring was. All the more reason to get back then.

"I'll gladly help find it" he said, stepping forward, "I think it's best not to let the goblins meddle in this issue."

"Two hundred gold? I'm in," said Grittra. "Also goblins suck."

My first thought was that the old halfling must've had half a wit to match if he hadn't used the damn ring already. But you gotta admit, the stories never said nothin' 'bout words of activation. Bunch o' sneaky bastards, wizards, but hardly surprising. Still, figured it'd be in my best interests to investigate. I like my reality intact.

So I let Browning keep talking, and eyed the competition. In order of arrival, we had:

• One really short warrior, even by dwarven standards. From the size and the speech... male, probably a halfling. Civilised fellow, too. Kender would've tried to steal half the shop by now. Damned good-for-nothing lazy doorknobs, those kenders.
• One fool. Okay, one jester. Fine, one scaly, winged, all-gods-have-mercy HUGE jester. Not gonna ask him which parent the dragon was. Didn't look armed. Probably doesn't need them. Talked in rhyme, all the time. Damn it, he had me doing it too.
• One half-drow in a robe. Probably a wizard: man walks around in his nightgown like that, you know he's not afraid of anything. Didn't wanna ask about his parents, either. Enthusiastic, too - the poor sucker.
• One human girl, probably another warrior judging by the armor, and looking way too young and fresh-faced to be experienced at this adventuring business. If she didn't want the money, I'd be happy to take it off her hands... if I was that kinda guy.
• ...I made a note to stand far away from the devil in the event of inclement weather, and to get the number of the nearest paladin.
• One... fuzzball. A half-cat, I guessed. More enthusiastic than the half-drow and the human combined, and you know what they say about curiosity.
• One elf. Covered in dirt, but thankfully, not as old as dirt. Throw in the lack of metal and the pet snake, and I guessed she was some kind of druid. (Don't know how they get by - me, I'm more of a tech person myself. Engineering's a dwarven thing.) Aside from that... Didn't manage to figure out too much else. Far as I know, nobody's ever solved the mystery of the druids.
• One half-orc. Lighter armour than the two fighters, two hammers, and one hell of a grin on his face. Almost convinced me to start trusting him. Almost. I only trust orcs as far as the range of my crossbow.

So this was the party that Barnabus Browning was going to hire to get his ring back. And I knew two things about the case. One, he could've hired fifty times the number of adventurers here, and it'd be a bargain compared to the ring's actual value. And two... never trust a warlock.

Gram took the handrolled cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled lightly, drawling, "Two hundred gold coins, plus all operating expenses paid for. After all, it ain't much use to any of us, but to the person who knows the story and the right song-and-dance routine, it's gotta be worth much more. And while Stoneface Investigations ain't gonna stand by and let some dirty goblins fool around with a reality-warping trinket, well... you never know who else might be looking for it. Think of it as hazard pay."

edited 26th Feb '14 8:29:08 AM by Pyrite

"200 gold ain't enough. Here I come crossing planes of existence, willing to put my self in harms way for you, and your offering peanuts for pay. While I am sure no one here has any moral qualms of butchering the goblins who saw fit to let you live, to ask us to part with such an invaluable object is folly. Even if we can't use it, a less then reputable individual could still sell off the object for much more then you are offering. But, being the honorable sort we are, we are going to make sure your trinket returns safely to your hands. So the least you can do is show your appreciation by offering a better pay" Charon looked down at the excess fat coming from the halfling "I am sure you are well to do enough to be able to find the extra coin to pay your benefactors."

"Song and... dance?" Ace asked Gram with a wide smile. The bells in his hat quickly jingled a few times before he turned back to the halfling hiring them.

"Then I suppose that this job is quite a chance. For the payment of a hundred coins, twice, that is quite a fitting price. Looking high, looking low, who knows where this path may go? I will find your missing ring, and you shall pay with the coins that cling. But more than metal with the mug of a king, a smile I will make out of that frowning thing. Now you may have a burning desire, one that begs you to inquire: 'Who is this one who will brighten your face?' To all of you, you may call me Ace." He crossed his hand with his jester's stick across his body, so that the arm went to the other side, and he took a formal bow, causing his hat and staff to jingle again.

Barnabus glared at Charon bravely for someone so small and fat looking at a devil.

"There are people in this room who have already agreed to my deal so if you don't want to participate, I certainly will not force you to. But I suppose there's no way to stop you from killing the goblins and taking the ring for yourself but let me ask you one question. If you don't know the activating ritual, how are you going to be able to prove that your ring is the genuine article or that the wishes haven't been used up? I have a warlock friend to aid me in my sales endeavor - how will you do it, I wonder..." Barnabus pointed out, using his pragmatic mind that he had acquired after numerous years of being in business. However, he did appear to be thinking over what the chain devil had asked.

"But, you may have a point. If you can get my ring back to me before the sun rises tomorrow, I'll throw in fifty extra gold coins for each of you as well as a hearty meal at the Dancing Dove. But that's my final offer." Barnabus offered. The adventurers who had been in Eridell for a few days might recognize the Dancing Dove as an exquisite establishment noted for their fine brandy and their half-eleven barmaids' quality service (in addition to their skimpy uniforms).

edited 26th Feb '14 4:46:02 PM by FantasyLiver

"I have no issues with that," Kylara spoke up. To be honest, she didn't care about the pay beyond what it took to buy food. A free meal would be nice, as long as they served a beverage that wasn't alcoholic. She really didn't want to remind herself of that one time...

Putting that unpleasant thought aside, she looked around, waiting to see what everyone's reactions were.

Berturabo still considered just stealing the ring for himself. If the magic had a lock, then you just had to pick it. He was no expert, but he learned such an axiom from a wizard who dabbled in the roguish arts.

"I'll gladly take food if you offer" said Jaola, peeling her eyes from an exquisite looking glass sword.

Charon grinned in his hood, he was glad to see the halfling had not lost his pair under all his fluff. There was no point if pressing the issue any further, he saw he milked the situation for all its worth. "Such a generous offer. Consider the deed done. You will have your ring before the morning" With negotiations done, Charon was ready to leave, especially now that they are on a clock. He glanced over the others gathered in the room. An assorted bunch, with many lacking weapons, armor, or height. He will learn their names when the need arises, no use in chumming with them til they show they actually have something to offer.

edited 26th Feb '14 7:15:41 PM by ImmortalNeet

Turns out the old geezer really did drive a hard bargain. Dealing with a devil took guts - which, given his waistline, he probably had plenty of - and he still managed to come out with the upper hand. After all, as much as I'd like to visit the chicks at the Dancing Dove, cases like these weren't usually solved in a day. Still, you never know when Lady Luck will smile on you... and when she'll laugh in your face.

Problem was, I had to work with these guys. Ace the Joker clearly wasn't playing with a full deck, the devil looked ready to get the hell outta there, and... well, who knew what the others were thinking? It'd be a miracle if we managed to work together for the day.

Another drag on the cigarette, another ring of smoke in the air. "Fine. You got yourself one investigator, Mister Browning. But I'm not going anywhere until I've had a good look at the scene of the crime, if it's alright with you." Gram got up from his slouch in the corner, ready to go to the broken display case. "After all, those goblins had to get in and out of here somehow, and you never know what they might've left behind."

edited 27th Feb '14 8:07:09 AM by Pyrite

A magic ring and goblin thieves. It was not quite the Epic that Thurge had hoped to partake in, but it wouldn't be bad place to start either. Upon entering the room, he had surveyed his fellow adventurers, and learned one thing: They looked like they'd be hell'a fun to journey with.

Thurge kept his smile as he listened to the bartering that was taking place. He was impressed by the halfling's gall, but disinterested in the conversation otherwise. He really wasn't interested in money. So long as he had enough to survive that is.

Doom, who was Berturabo, decided that, ultimately, he had to keep to his word. If he ever hoped to run a nation, his worth as a ruler would be the worth of his word.

"Jolly good," He rumbled. His voice was deep, grim, his tone flat, slow. "We shall show these thieves what for, and return your property," He took a deep breath, like his slow speech couldn't even last the last, "Post haste."