It is a sleepy day in the village of
Retford. In the largest village inn, the Black Unicorn, the lunchtime crowd is just thinning out as people go back to work.
In one corner of the common room a Bard is sitting on a high stool, playing the lute and singing with a beautiful voice.
He is a handsome fellow with dark hair who judging by the hat full of coins beside
him has been well appreciated by the lunchtime crowd.
Sitting directly in front of the Bard is a young man dressed in the robes of the
Order of the Golden Light, a well known and well
thought of order of monks. He is obviously appreciating the music.
At the table next to him is a young woman staring intently at the Bard. She is dressed
in slightly worn travelling clothes as if from a long journey. Is she a female
companion of the Bard? An admirer who hopes to introduce herself? She has the air
of capability about her that suggests that she is not the sort of silly girl that just loses
her heart to a passing singer. At the end of the Bard’s song the monk applauds warmly and
say to her how good his playing is and the young woman nods enthusiastically.
Other patrons of note are:
An old man in grey robes, wearing a silver scarf and immense black boots is sitting by
himself at a table by the door. The remains of a large meal lie in front of him, yet to
be cleared away. He is smiling and tapping along to the music. He might possibly be
a wizard that hasn’t heard of the King’s crackdown on magic or
perhaps a wizard who is too powerful to care.
In another corner is a strange-looking weather-beaten man sitting in the
shadows and listening intently to the talk around him. He has a tall tankard in front of
him and is smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs are stretched out
in front of him, showing high boots of supple leather that fit him well. A travel-
stained cloak of dark green is drawn close about him and in spite of the heat of the
room he wears a hood that overshadows his face.
Nearby are a tiefling and a halfling sitting together. The tiefling is wearing well-made
travelling clothes that fit him elegantly. He has a handsome face (apart from the
horns) and is obviously amused by the halfling’s talk. The halfling is by contrast very
simply dressed and seems grateful to have found a friend in the inn. As he talks and
jokes with the tiefling it is noticeable that he is fidgeting nervously with something in his
pocket.
On the other side of the room a squint-eyed ill-favoured southerner is trying to
persuade a group of locals that the King’s crusade against magic is a good thing. The
locals are not convinced and are picking holes in his arguments in a good natured
way.
On a table nearer the bar sits a gnome talking animatedly to a group of locals.
They
called him over earlier to sit with them as the Common Room thinned out. Suddenly
he waves he hands and coloured lights appear round his fingers. The locals clap
loudly which annoys the Bard who is in the middle of another song. Hereward frowns
and goes to have a word with the gnome who quietens down. The squint-eyed
southerner had got up from his chair but Hereward glares at him and pushes him away
from the gnome. The fellow then stomps out of the door.
Opposite this table are two middle-aged local women who are having an earnest
conversation about the deficiencies of men and husbands in particular. Finally there
are two local men discussing the coming harvest who have announced ‘Just one last
pint then’ at least three times by your reckoning.
At the bar sits a young dwarf chatting to the barman about brewing. He is being
pestered by another dwarf who may or may not be of the opposite sex (it being very
difficult to tell).
Meanwhile unbeknown to the patrons a troop of the unpopular Geogoths, the ill-disciplined section
of the army who lead the crusade against magic, draw up outside the inn on a routine patrol. The ill-favoured
southerner sees them and immediately goes to report the antics of the unfortunate gnome. Rather wearily the patrol ready their
weapons and one of them jokes that it would be easier to burn down the inn than ferret out the gnome in such a large building.
Fortunately the village is also the home of a retired army officer, Firmon Drewson, who still retains his commission and who outranks
all the Geogoths. Famed for his strategic brilliance he quickly assesses the situation thinking, 'I could either tell these guys who I am
and calm down the situation or I could run for the Inn door shouting Enemies! and get three crossbow bolts in my back'. As it is ages
since he felt the bracing sting of a crossbow bolt he goes for the latter option. He is almost too quick and reaches the inn door unharmed.
'Come on!' he thinks, as he pauses in the doorway, 'what do I have to do? Paint a target on my back?'. Thankfully at that moment the minimal
standards of the Geogoths kick in and they shoot him.
'Oi, Lofty,' shouts the the Geogoth sergeant to his corporal, 'Take five men round the back in case the gnome tries to escape'.
Meanwhile inside the inn the locals react with the alarm of people who think their beer might be spilt. They pull Firmon
into the Common Room and bar the door in case any other dying men try to stumble in. At the bar Dwain, the dwarf
cleric, sees a chance to escape his admirer, Frea, and tries to remember something about healing spells through a haze of alcohol.
Other patrons of the inn have a more difficult choice. Their family has left them a priceless artefact that they have sworn to
protect with their lives. The Geogoths will confiscate it unless they fight their way out. Their clan will disown them if they lose it.
Looking round they can see that other people are in the same situation. One of them goes to the back door - the Geogoths are out there too
but there are only six of them. Everybody agrees that although they are heroes they can not be expected to take part in what is not a fair fight.
They could go out the front door where there are more Geogoths but the Ranger Captain is out there now lecturing the Geogoths on their behaviour
and he looks like he could take them on single-handed.
Eventually the adventurer types which include the Dwarf cleric, the young woman who admired the Bard, the monk and the Halfling come to a consensus.
They will only take on a minimum of fifteen Geogoths, and to make it 'interesting' they will hand over their magic items to the Geogoths, and start with with no weapons and locked in a cage. Everyone
nods and surrenders. Dwain, however, was having second thoughts about the risk of being expelled from his clan and tries to hide his precious magic book instead of turning it in. When the Geogoths find it they are unable to tell which Dwarf it belonged too and arrest Frea as well. Dwain being the chivalrous
sort that he is lets them. Firmon, however, is more nervous about the likely outcome if he is captured and decides to jump in a beer barrel although noone knows whether he is trying to hide or whether pint glasses are just too small for his drinking habits.
Maybe the Geogoths would have missed him but the grey wizard would appear to be working with them and for some reason is keen to capture him. In all the
fuss the Geogoths forget about the gnome, Rumpkin, who stays hidden in the cellar.
As the cage rumbles down the road to the capital, Pell's Hold the Halfling introduces himself as 'Fingers' Sandheaver.
The party perk up at the sound of his name as without someone of his ilk their plan would have been to bash the bars of the cage with their heads until
something broke which works occasionally but tends to leave you with a headache. Fingers is indeed a 'security consultant' who was much more nervous about not knowing
anyone in the inn Common Room than about being locked in a cage. First he has to get out of the bonds that bind him which he does before the party finish
asking him if he can do it. The Geogoths were orginally a troop of thirty guarding a 'prison cage' cart and a 'loot' cart. The cage cart, however, broke an
axle and the troops guarding it were told by the Geogoth leader to catch up when they had repaired it. Little did they know that Rumpkin the gnome had sneakily followed the carts and using
a scroll so old that it belonged to an age when magic was subtly different he had magically damaged the cart.
The party had waited to after dusk on the second day to make their escape bid.
The odds were just about respectable there being fifteen troopers left and a motion that it would be more heroic if everybody had to hop on one leg throughout the melee as well
was narrowly defeated. Fingers opened the cage door in a flash and the party were in the trees by the side of the road before the troopers could react. In a battle under
the trees
the troopers stood no chance and the odds were even worse for them once the party acquired weapons. Only two of the troopers got away, heading back towards Retford.
The party, now including Rumpkin, then moved down the road to reclaim their possessions from the rest of the Geogoths. When they arrived at the Geogoth camp, however, the troopers
were all dead, killed apparently by magic.
The party's magic items were missing so they followed the trail of the attackers who by now they assumed were the
Red Thorns (despite the monk's protestations that their magic items were in another direction). At the Thorns camp, however, there was a scene of devastation. A large beast appeared to have torn every
last one of the renegade magic users to shreds. Again the party's magic items were missing.
Back at the road a 'rescue party' which had urgently formed over an evening's drinking was examining the scene. It was led by the Ranger Captain, and
included two Bards (one had been in disguise in the Common Room at the inn) and the tiefling. After some discussion it was agreed that they would follow
the monk's (possibly correct) intuition that the magic items were in the direction of
Pell's Hold . The junior Bard who was called 'Dove' and who appeared to be some sort of relation of Gale, the young woman traveller,
(although we will gloss over the way she was looking at him if that's true) agreed to go with the party and use his many contacts in the city to help them.
The party settle in to the Red Dragon inn in Pell's Hold and being traditionalists agree to spend a lot of time in the sewers. The Guild of Sewerworkers
think that there are strange things happening in the sewers and they hire the party as a kind of self-fulfilling prediction. After a week of smelly
patrolling the party return with a 'ratty' looking tail and a 'tentacle' from something that was rather reluctant to lose it (even though it had lots).
The Guild of Sewerworkers are well pleased with the party's efforts as the City Council do not want rumours of exotic wildlife in the sewers leaking out.
While the Guild is sorting out suitable remuneration for keeping the matter quiet the party have a few days to sort out their own affairs and improve their skills.
Dwain, the Dwarven cleric, takes the opportunity to start a brewing business, Gale goes off to commune with the countryside, Rumpkin the Gnome busies himself
with 'magical research' and Kan Ze, the Order of the Golden Light monk, returns to his monastery. Firmon lies low as the Watch have put up wanted posters with his likeness on claiming that he was the leader of a gang
that massacred a group of Geogoths. Eventually Firmon hires Fingers to get his network of urchins to deface the posters. For a few more gold Fingers spreads an
alternative version of events where Firmon is the hero.
Returning from his monastery Kan Ze manages to infiltrate the Nobles' Quarter. He discovers the location of a furnace that is supposed to be used to destroy the magic items that the Geogoths capture. Both through rumours he has picked up and through his own intuition he
figures out that the items are in fact stored deep underneath the Palace. By contacting his friend Gil who works in the Sambian embassy Fingers has discovered
that the 'Grey Wizard' is in fact
Count Draku, one of the King's inner circle. Fingers has also heard rumours that might indicate the whereabouts of Dwain's
stolen book.
Dwain meanwhile has organised a Dwarven drink-in at the local inn which goes well until, late in the evening, a hooded figure bursts dramatically into the bar.
While everyone else scurries for the exits the figure graps Dwain in an unbreakable hold, draws the struggling Dwarf closer and plants a kiss on his cheek. The Dwarves, irritated by the loss of their sacred book have sent a Dwarf Warrior Maiden to reclaim it, Dwain's sister Dia.