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In the Beginning
In the Beginning, there were six adventurers, each with their own goals and ambitions. Some wanted fame. Others wanted fortune. Some wanted both. Others just wanted to see the world, and leave Sasserine behind. But for whatever reason, fate brought them together on a warm summer’s evening, to sip a beer at a waterfront tavern, where the ocean waves squelched the summer heat.
It was here, on the first of Harvester (August), that the party meets to discuss their fortunes, and any hint of adventure. Most of the party has small jobs to earn room and board, but everyone’s funds are dwindling. It is evening, and the crowd is light at the Empty Grave. The Empty Grave has less of a crowd than other places because of it’s gloomy atmosphere.
DM: Party may roll Perception Checks to hear or see anything out of the ordinary.
Sevrin rubs the back of his neck as he entered the bar. It had been a long day in the canals—more shovel work than anything else. He sighs and nods to the barkeep with familiarity before moving to his normal table. Rough times, these days. Maklash said he had to cut pay again… Bloody nobles and merchants don’t seem to appreciate clean waterways. Maybe a few days of clogging and blocking ships would teach them a lessen.
With another sigh, he waves to the barkeep for a drink before leaning back and looking around the bar. Hrrm. Maybe the others are doing a bit better. Guess I’ll just wait and see when they get here.
Perception Check: 1d20+0
Result: 10
“Huzzah Sevrin and well met” Thor yells and waves from the corner table. “I was just finishing telling about one of my adventures for my new friends here” he yells with a laugh. Thor lifts the last of his gallon on ale to his mouth to finish it off.
The rest of the people that share his table finish off the 4our other gallons that Thor bought for the group.
“Come my friend. Lift a mug with us and share a tale!” he yells with a sway.
Perception check (Thor is currently drunk so he is at -2)
Roll: 1d20 + 6 – 2
Result: 22 = 18[d20]+6-2
Sevrin smiles and stands and accepts a flagon from a server before moving over to Thor’s table. “The only new tales I have involve silt and flotsam, I’m afraid. Not much happening other than that. And what…, ah, tales do you have this evening, Thor?”
Sevrin grabs a chair from nearby and pulls it up to an empty gap in the seating around the table, nodding to the few vaguely familiar faces also seated there.
“A good story is always good for the soul” says Cyrian. After a day of selling small trinkets to travelers there is nothing quite like relaxing with friends over a good ale and an appeasing tale.
Roll: 1d20+0
10 = 10[d20]+0
DM: Thor, you hear what seems like a muffled cry coming from the docks. Then again, it could have been a gull.
A serious look passes Thor’s face as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“My tail may have to wait” he says a look of disappointment darkening his eyes. He then grins a grin that is bigger than it seems possible. "A bird is being tortured at the dock! AH HA!” he yells with a laugh as he slams Cyrian shoulder with his big meaty hand.
“My friends!” he yells with glee. “Even the smallest adventures can become the songs of bards!” He pushes his chair back as he stands up. He takes a fraction of a second to steady himself and then staggers out of The Empty Grave.
“Come my friends” he continues to boast. “Women will dream of our deeds tonight. The bird is this way! A great Dinner awaits! Err adventure.. whatever. HA HA!” He pulls his giant hammer from his belt and heads for the docks.
(OOC: to those I have played with before.. my die rolls are actually good? wow.. this is a first for me… usually I roll VERY poorly)
Roll: 1D20+6-2
Result: 23 = 19[d20]+6-2
