SRK D&D Game start! The town of Marast: At The Quill & Dagger Inn

Summoning @Angelpalm @CanadianDstryr @RockBogart @Neesa @AYO?! @The Question (summoning failed!) @Missing Person (fizzle!)

This will serve (for now) as the in-game discussion for our D&D game, Dwell of the Iron Bull.

As I create (and remember) information important to the game, I will post it here, which hopefully will re-summon you (I’ll be sure to lat the space-namers know also) so that you’ll see it. I’ll try to keep this to a minimum, but at the beginning, please bear with me.

The world:
I’ve decided not to go with the standard D&D world, instead substituting my own that I have created. The name of this world is Aa’Mra. It is a world much like Earth in physical composition. The realm in which you will begin is called Sotaria, its people part of the Sotar Royal Kingdom, pictured, as you know it, here:

There will be more information given about the world at a later date.

You begin in the town of Marast, a medium-sized port within Sotaria, known for it’s art and creativity. Whether or not you’re actually from Marast will be up to you to determine. I will post more detailed information about Sotaria, it’s cities and Aa’Mra in general as development progresses, and I expect that your character’s historical details will naturally change in response.

I’ve started working on some deities for this world, but as they are not yet complete, I simply substituted the traditional D&D gods. Whichever you decide to worship (if any at all) is up to you. As more information is available you will be allowed to change your decision if necessary.

We will be playing by post, which means that we may have to wait for some players to be able to post because of real life demands. Please be mindful of this. I will try to wait on everyone to be ready before proceeding, but please try to check in at least once each day, even if it’s just to say that there’s nothing you wish to do.

Combat and turns:
Normally, your characters can act freely, but in combat, there will be a strict order to how you must post. In combat, I’ll ask that you roll for combat initiative which places you in order from highest roll (you act first) to lowest (you act last), and that is the order in which your posts should stay in. It’s okay if you want to post something out of character, and if you do so please it in spoiler tags so that it isn’t confused with things said deliberately in game. While we’re in combat try to post as quickly as possible when it is your turn so that combat can be resolved as quickly as possible.

All other times, your characters may act at will. For example, if you’re at a market shopping, there’s no reason to make you wait your turn before you make a transaction. Sometimes, though, players might want to do something together as a group. Take for example, interrogating a prisoner. You can’t all talk at once, so I’ll ask you players to decide the order in which you’ll speak or assign I’ll just one myself. I highly suggest that you delegate a party leader that will resolve disputes for you and/or decide where to go or what to do next if you guys get stumped. Also, delegate a marching order for exploration. This is important, because you don’t want the blind character up front leading you all over a cliff. It also makes it easier for me who sees/hears what and when.

This is a new world that I’m putting together for you to begin shaping and molding, so feel free to suggest additions where you see fit, or to tell me if I screw up something. In fact, please tell me. As the world develops, your characters will be putting their personal marks upon it.

That’s it for now. If I think of anything else it will be posted here. Also, all upcoming game world updates will be posted here as they are developed. Most aren’t immediately important. The story begins in the next post.

Good luck in your adventures, and above all else have fun.

Adventure, part 1 - At The Quill & Dagger:

You, of course, are in a Marastian tavern called the Quill & Dagger
The tavern is a large simple structure, basically a rectangle roughly 60 feet by 40 feet. There are two stories, but the top merely serves as a balcony seating area for more exclusive customers. Within it, are your standard tavern features, 6 round tables with 4 chairs each within the South Eastern portion of the building, while along the west wall is the bar, which seats about 10 medium-sized individuals, a half dozen seated there now. Each of the tables bear guests, making a total number of just over two dozen patrons, mostly Humans, although there are two Dwarves seated at the bar. In the Northwest corner is the kitchen, and in the north East, a storage area, packed with many barrels and sacks, underneath the stairs leading to the upper level.

It is an average night at the Quill and Dagger so far. The food company and song are all of acceptable quality, as usual. The warmth of the great fire, the odd-smelling combination of pipe smoke and and roasting boar meat all make for a cozy and comforting environment. The ale runs sweeter - and therefore more freely - than normal, as Brigdan, the barkeeper recently uncorked the first casks of this seasons spicy winter brew.

For much of the night, your visit to the pub seems to be quite the normal period of rest from your daily toils.

It is, however, not long after your absent-minded noting of this homely sense of normalcy, that something very out of the ordinary occurs. You are not immediately aware of it, but this event will come to have far-reaching consequences for you, the town of Marast, all of Sotaria, and especially for the group of people that will come to be your most trusted allies and perhaps even close friends…

You are seated at your normal spot beside the fire when he enters the pub. Ole’ Ferry, is how he is known to the townsfolk; a graying old fixture in both the city watch and the night time activities of the Quill and Dagger. He keeps the place safe and orderly, and he never, ever orders a drink…

  • Yet -

After entering, pausing for a moment, he walks, trembling, very slowly up to the bar, and with a broad motion of his hand requests drink. It is at this point that every patron in the tavern stops whatever it is they are doing and the entire establishment becomes instantly silent. The serving wenches stop in their tracks, attention distracted from the massive trays of food and drink that they carry.

All eyes are fixed directly upon the old man trembling at the bar.

There is a slight pause as Brigdan hesitates briefly - an action that is quite out of the barkeep’s character - and takes a mug, fills it from the large keg behind him at the bar. As he does so, you note the large-but-friendly barkeep’s entire demeanor has changed. There is a grimace now spread across his face, suggesting concern (fear?!) over the events taking place before him. It deepens slightly as he slowly slides the mug towards Ole’ Ferry.

The old guard snatches up the mug, spilling out ale in a little pool on the bar surface beneath him, and downs it quickly. Drained, he slowly sets the empty glass down on the counter with a loud clink. The bartender back stares in amazement as the man wipes his mouth upon his filthy sleeve, then gravely, slowly, says “another.”

After a brief pause and an even more concerned look of confusion on the part of Brigdan, it too is delivered and then quickly downed by Ole’ Ferry.

Whatever spell was cast that had taken hold of the other patrons, silencing them to amazement at the old guard’s return to the drink ends, as each of them slowly begin to stir again, clanking tankards and chittering among themselves.

Moments pass as Ole’ Ferry nurses his third mug of ale, unflinching, and undisturbed, just the same as on any other night. But the brief moment of peace is short-lived when the old man began to cry out aloud, voice raised up over the tavern crowd’s droning hubbub.

“We’re all dead, ye know.”

The crowd is again silenced.

Ferry continues, this time in an oddly cold and low, almost normal speaking voice: “The Rat Fangs opened up another chamber.”

He takes a large gulping drink from his mug, and though he whispers it, lowly and softly across the bar to Brigdan, everyone within the establishment hears him finally say, “Leading to the depths of Hell itself.”

He drains the mug and gently places it back down again, reiterating even more quietly and to no one in particular, “we’re all dead.”

It is then that the first of the flaming arrows comes flying into the tavern.

One by one, please introduce your characters to the group as you describe the action they are taking (try to be as descriptive as possible: clothing, gender, hair color, scars, etc).

In a small corner of the Quill and Dagger sat alone, an individual whom for all intents and purposes could very well be the namesake of such an establishment for not the fact that she despised ale for what it did to her senses.

With her boot heels firmly planted on the top of a table and her chair slightly titled back, the elven archer almost absentmindedly whittled away at a piece of wood. Her delicate hands effortlessly navigated the blade that peeled away at the layers of wood. Her half open eyes narrowly focused on the task in front of her did not belay the thoughts that flowed through her mind.

“Miss, do you fancy a drink?” asked an inappropriately dressed bar maiden nervously.

Lydia stared at her woodcarving. What had started out as what looked like a small humanoid figure from the bottom up ended in what one could only define as “phallic”.

“A perfect likeness don’t you think?” Lydia calmly replied. “Tell me, is it a human custom to come sword drawn to such a merry dwelling as this? By the way you might want to get down…” the elf stated flatly as the first flaming arrow came crashing in.

In her last five years in Marast, Sarah had become something of a mascot to the Quill and Dagger. This night didn’t seem all that different from any other night, so here she was, seated in her usual spot and in her civilian clothes, grey tights and a brown tunic that’s at least one size too big on her slender frame. Her sword was at her hip, but within the safety of the tavern, her chain shirt was tucked away in her backpack.
The young redhead was known for spending many an evening at the tavern, swapping stories with fellow adventurers-well, she wasn’t much of an adventurer at ten, but she came into her own fairly quickly, and becoming a regular fixture at her seat facing the bar.
It was fairly common knowledge to anyone who wanted to know that Sarah had lost both parents at age eight, and was being raised by her older sister Laura, who was studying magic, as well as doing odd jobs to support the two as best she could. This however didn’t leave much time to be a spectacular parent, and while Laura definitely meant well, Sarah had to fend for herself much earlier than a child should have to. One would expect this to make her hard, but in reality it did the opposite, she saw being on her own as an opportunity to make her own fun, and she took up “adventuring.” Incidentally, she turned out to be pretty good at it. What started out as looking for lost pets and doing other odd jobs for people around town, but that eventually escalated into what one would consider a proper adventure. Laura wasn’t terribly happy seeing her younger sister coming home with scrapes and bruises, but didn’t have the heart to stop her from doing something she so thoroughly enjoyed.

Fast forward to today, and here she was, at the Quill and Dagger, on an evening that started out like any other might. At least until Ole’Ferry crept up to the bar.

Sarah was just as shocked as the rest of the regulars to see Ole’Ferry so visibly shaken. But upon hearing his chilling message, gears were already turning, albeit not terribly quickly, thinking over everything he had to say.
Rolls Knowledge Local for info on Rat Fangs <8> + 2 = 10

When the arrow came through the window, Sarah, already on edge from Ole’Ferry’s tale leaped out of her seat, causing it to crash to the floor and drew her rapier and unbuckles her shield from her bad…

Damn, we rolling and shit, I thought we was just introducing ourselves?

I really don’t think this gonna be combat oriented right at this time until we let everyone actually get their shit together.

But just in case, I check for hidden passages niggas lol!!! In all seriousness Lydia takes note of all the entrances.

Not sure tbh. I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to be strapped up.
Rolling for knowledge is free anyway, figured I may as well take a shot at that, see if we already know anything worth a damn.

The man twiddled a gold coin between the knuckles of his fingers, back and forth the coin danced as the crowd gathered around with tepid admiration. It had become a common tourist stop at the bar, to find the man who knows everything, the Spiritseer, the Fortune Teller known only as Amon. Brigdan begrudgingly allowed the spectacle of fantasy in his domain, if only because Amon pays a portion back to the burly man. Amon could just as easily tinker with his brain but the illusion of free will is a nice trinket to hold onto, just to make Brigdan feel like he has a say.

“You have chosen a good day to greet me, my friends.” His voice droned out with an inner power, a spark of fire ignited in the otherwise normal words. He was heavily robed, foreign clothing that adding a unique touch to his routine, so he kept the rags on despite the need for more practical wears.

“A good day indeed. Fortune favors the bold in this city, and fortune is what what I bring. I know what you already plan to ask me but amuse the crowd, what is it that you wish to know Claire?”

Piercing green eyes stunned the girl, momentarily taking the breath from her lungs. He was handsome in his own way but his eyes, they were hypnotic, stealing their way into her soul. Before she found the courage to speak however, the door swung open to the bar and a silence descended upon the inhabitants as a wizened old man stumbled into a seat.

“Now this is interesting…” Amon mused out loud to himself. intently peering at the old man. It was easy enough to hear the conversation. Trinkets rattled on his body as Amon raised a hand, resting his head on the palm while deducing what the old man meant. Before he even had a moment to a thud hit from above, and smoke began blooming through the tavern.

“Weeeell…this isn’t good. I guess fortune favors the bold on this evening.” As if on cue panic and screaming started among his little party. But Amon had found a better purpose for the moment.

Calmly but briskly Amon made his way downstairs and approached the wizened man. “Old Crone, you may know more about this than the drunken stupor foretells. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to…probe your mind further.” (Gather Information + psychic stuff check I assume.)

As you look deeper into the tavern, what was first a nondescript elf catches your eye. She seemed quite young for an elf and was quite beautiful…but there was something quite unsettling about her beauty. Her golden hair hangs about her like a halo. Her face was round and childish, yet held a smile that spoke of experience and wonder. Her cheeks were soft and rosy…but they gleamed brighter than they should…her ears seems almost…too pointy. A smoky aura about her clears and the soft smile becomes a devilish grin.

A single small fang pokes out and shines brightly. Slowly and deliberately, with practiced elegance, she deftly parts her full length skirt. revealing her long, thick penis. It is well veined and carries a slight sheen. As thick as a child’s arm it effortlessly reaches the floor and lays coiled like a sausage. The length is painted with beautiful runes of an esoteric elven language. The tip is clad in a black iron cap with spikes along the outer ring. The top is dotted with holes, with a crisscross of blades covering them.

The tavern has gone silent at this point. She adjusts in her seat and the crude, spiked cap makes a loud scraping noise as it travels the cold stone floor. She leans forward and produces a large gold coin. You cannot make out the design but it is obviously ornamental or symbolic. She begins to flip it. Ting! Slap as she catches it…TingslapTingslapTing…she catches it one last time and slams it on the table. the sound echos through the hall and you hear somebody swallow as they try to see what the coin landed on…but to no avail… her small, delicate hand is covering it. Her eyes beckon you over.

Do you dare look at the coin?

Get the fuck outta here.

What you know about The Rat Fangs: They are a group of thieves, assassins and thugs, depending on who you ask and on which day. They maintain a highly secretive presence in Marast, where a clever system of tunnels allow them to steal/smuggle off ships in harbor, their primary activity aside from robbing roadside travelers. Some say that their numbers are highly exaggerated, citing the hyperbole of merchant captains who have conveniently insured their cargo against theft. Hence Ole’ Ferry. He oversees over the naval mercantile and keeps a close eye on The Rat Fangs, exploring and clearing their system of tunnels and caves - and if rumor is to be believed - sometimes even collaborates with The Fangs for the use of their tunnels for official guard business.

No obvious hidden passages. There is the main entrance and also at least one more at the rear of the storage area, which you’ve never actually seen before, only seen staff passing through from either entrance to the other, meaning there must be a door somewhere back there.

The arrow, landed squarely in the center of the tavern and just behind the old man, does not phase him. “Drunk?” He replies. “Oh, I’m just about to get good n drunk. First time in a loooong while.” He turns to you for the first time, his grey eyes penetrating your gaze with a nonchalance that only the hardest of men could produce in such circumstances. “Tell me that my fortune is good.”

Behind the bar, Brigdan has already produced a huge bastard sword, as if by magic, and is deftly wielding it. “Whatever ‘e says yer fortune is, I’ll be sure to sour it if ya don’t get off yer useless arse and go out to stop whatever is tryin’ ta burn down me tavern, guard!”

“Town,” says Ole’ Ferry between drinks. And before Brigdan can interrupt, he resolves: “They’re going to burn down the entire town.” He finishes draining his third mug of ale, and then points at a nearly full bottle of whiskey on the nearby bar counter “can I have that?” he asks Brigdan.

The bartender looks on in disbelief and grimaces sourly as he reaches out and slides the bottle over to Ole’ Ferry, who immediately grasps the bottle by the neck and, clutching it close him, turns back to you.


:rofl: Do you dare leave this thread alone so we can play? As hilarious as a trap dick blade is I got all the players and NPCs I need for now.

NOW GET OUT! :tup:

The rest of you guys can hop in whenever you feel ready. No rush. :tup:

Lol, we gonna be stuck in this one scene for the next two weeks.

What happens when you start this during Pokemon season. Honestly it’d be easier to do one long session on Roll20 or something I think then dragging it out here. But we’ll see how it goes.

If I can get everyone together and I have time to set up a Roll20, sure.

Damn, is Pokemon really that strong? :rofl:

Yeah, I think we lost like two people. From what I gather we have: Angelpalm, Canada Man, RockB maybe, and I. Which amounts to like…three Fighters and a Psychic.

Maybe they haven’t noticed though or something.

@RockBogart has been in communication with me. Not 100% sure he’s lost yet. Kromo may have scared him away. :rofl:
@Neesa probably hasn’t gotten her backstory worked up yet. Also, Pokemon.

The Question and Missing Person - Oops I forgot to send them a message. Doing that now. :tup:

Why’s it gotta be private?

I can see that I’ma have to get my graphics library done and do this over Roll 20. It’s a great system, but the logistics problem is a PITA.

pokemon is def that strong. the pokemon thread has 400 new damn posts every few days…you’d think it was the lounge on a slow day.