08-31-2020, 01:30 PM
Spring is approaching fast, but freezing winds are still sweeping the lands of Blackmoor. However, the heart of the adventurers is always on fire. As always, the Comeback Inn is a fair place to hear rumors of the war, of the world, and of the fall of those who ply the trade.
To the West, rumors speak of atrocity. The Afridhi raid marshland farms and villages with impunity. The army and the shattered remnants of Ten struggles with the numerous foe. When fixed in a stand up fight, the champions and heroes of the North make swift work of the Afridhi. But, this war has been as much about smoke and fire and burning farms as it has been about glory on the field of battle. The Afridhi butcher the small folk with seeming impunity.
Others speak of war to the far south. Some force has swept out of deep deserts south of the Thonian Empire. There seems to be little peace in the world.
The door opens and a young man steps in, clothed in the tunic and doublet of a priest of Thonian orders, the symbol of Odir is emblazoned on his chest. The crown of his head is shaved in a tonsure, in the manner of some of that Order.
He speaks briefly to Batts and the bartender waves a glass in your direction. Batts grins showing a savage mouthful of teeth and fang, over the young priest’s shoulder, he seems pleased with himself, which usually means there’s a joke on someone. Or what passes for a joke for an Ogre.
The young man winds his way through the crowded inn and stops at your table; “I am Roger Lillard, a priest of the Order of the Holy Spear. I have been told that you maybe could serve as bodyguards for needy travelers? If so, you come recommended by Batts. May we speak?"
Feanor looks at his companions for any signs of objection, then gestures to the man to take the empty seat at their table. "We are in between jobs, so we may be interested," the cumasti elf says casually.
Storm listens to the man
Roger sits down, offers you a round of drinks, and commences with this tale.
"I thank you and may Odir’s light shine on you all. I am new to more senior duties in my order. As my first formal duty as a young priest, I have been assigned the spiritual welfare of the farms and thorps of the North Downs. Normally, the holy warriors of Odir would accompany me. However, Uther has called upon our order and we have sent our forces west to assist in repulsing the Afridhi.
As a result, I am in need of escorts as I minister the spiritual needs of the commons. The Skandaharians have made numerous raids along the coast this year, and my need is pressing. If you are willing, you will have the gratitude of the church, and also, such future support as I can provide."
Storm replies that he is ready to escort the kind priest and looks at his companions for their responses.
"I came here to find a purpose, and have idly lingered too long in the tavern already. I will go." Jan agrees.
Roger smiles and nods, satisfied: "See you in two days at the north gate near the Raider Road, one hour after dawn."
Storm nods in understanding and after the man leaves, asks his friends for the next step
Jan's expression at the mentioned Skandaharians draws attention to his features - blonde hair, blue eyes, a pale complexion. His eyes suggest he has worried thoughts. But he keeps them to himself, "So beyond the Northmen, what other threats do we know of that lie in that direction??"
To the West, rumors speak of atrocity. The Afridhi raid marshland farms and villages with impunity. The army and the shattered remnants of Ten struggles with the numerous foe. When fixed in a stand up fight, the champions and heroes of the North make swift work of the Afridhi. But, this war has been as much about smoke and fire and burning farms as it has been about glory on the field of battle. The Afridhi butcher the small folk with seeming impunity.
Others speak of war to the far south. Some force has swept out of deep deserts south of the Thonian Empire. There seems to be little peace in the world.
The door opens and a young man steps in, clothed in the tunic and doublet of a priest of Thonian orders, the symbol of Odir is emblazoned on his chest. The crown of his head is shaved in a tonsure, in the manner of some of that Order.
He speaks briefly to Batts and the bartender waves a glass in your direction. Batts grins showing a savage mouthful of teeth and fang, over the young priest’s shoulder, he seems pleased with himself, which usually means there’s a joke on someone. Or what passes for a joke for an Ogre.
The young man winds his way through the crowded inn and stops at your table; “I am Roger Lillard, a priest of the Order of the Holy Spear. I have been told that you maybe could serve as bodyguards for needy travelers? If so, you come recommended by Batts. May we speak?"
Feanor looks at his companions for any signs of objection, then gestures to the man to take the empty seat at their table. "We are in between jobs, so we may be interested," the cumasti elf says casually.
Storm listens to the man
Roger sits down, offers you a round of drinks, and commences with this tale.
"I thank you and may Odir’s light shine on you all. I am new to more senior duties in my order. As my first formal duty as a young priest, I have been assigned the spiritual welfare of the farms and thorps of the North Downs. Normally, the holy warriors of Odir would accompany me. However, Uther has called upon our order and we have sent our forces west to assist in repulsing the Afridhi.
As a result, I am in need of escorts as I minister the spiritual needs of the commons. The Skandaharians have made numerous raids along the coast this year, and my need is pressing. If you are willing, you will have the gratitude of the church, and also, such future support as I can provide."
Storm replies that he is ready to escort the kind priest and looks at his companions for their responses.
"I came here to find a purpose, and have idly lingered too long in the tavern already. I will go." Jan agrees.
Roger smiles and nods, satisfied: "See you in two days at the north gate near the Raider Road, one hour after dawn."
Storm nods in understanding and after the man leaves, asks his friends for the next step
Jan's expression at the mentioned Skandaharians draws attention to his features - blonde hair, blue eyes, a pale complexion. His eyes suggest he has worried thoughts. But he keeps them to himself, "So beyond the Northmen, what other threats do we know of that lie in that direction??"
He's a real Nowhere man, sitting in his Nowhere land,
making all his Nowhere plans for Nobody.
making all his Nowhere plans for Nobody.