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Post by andycd on May 8, 2018 21:58:17 GMT
Following the reclaiming of Daring Heights and the recovering of the captured, there passed a year of relative calm. The town progressed, with strange allies and relationships forming.
The adventurers who formed such a core part of the town, continued to be a source of civic pride, hope and concern in equal measure with their variously heroic and questionable deeds.
This is a recounting of what they did in this period of regrowth.
(Ok gang, we are doing a TIME JUMP! We are moving everything 1 year ahead in time. Here is a thread to put down anything you want to recount doing in this time. Write as much as you like, with others or otherwise.
Anyone who posts a story will gain 4 sessions of experience and can (if they wish) gain a proficiency in any one thing - skill, tool, etc. to represent what you learn in this year
You can keep coming back to this if you like to piece together things which come up, but not to retroactively justify something (you know who you are). Any questions let us know. I am going to make a separate thread on here about politics in town tomorrow. Because we need to figure that out too.)
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Post by Deleted on May 8, 2018 22:01:08 GMT
I miss ONE session in the last FIVE months and I lose a YEAR of my life.......
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Post by Tugark (Retired) on May 8, 2018 22:07:09 GMT
I miss ONE session in the last FIVE months and I lose a YEAR of my life....... ~15 levels that no one gets, lol |
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Post by Deleted on May 8, 2018 22:12:02 GMT
I miss ONE session in the last FIVE months and I lose a YEAR of my life....... ~15 levels that no one gets, lol (I meant more that the one week I miss and it's like the end of the season/massive time jump/whole new world/everyone saved and town rebuilt all in one fell swoop) |
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Post by Tugark (Retired) on May 8, 2018 22:45:35 GMT
Tugark's gonna take it easy for a bit, move to Port Ffirst and set himself up with a nice cabin and maybe work on getting himself a skipper to take out along the coast, particularly to the south when he's feeling adventurous for the unknown.
(I'll come up with a story later, but I think this will be a nice setting)
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Post by Deleted on May 8, 2018 22:56:25 GMT
Some of the "Saviours of Daring" may have noticed that Lachlan was not there during the heroic rescue of the prisoners and the subsequent reclaiming of the city. In fact, he'd been subdued and distant ever since the desperate scramble through the collapsing portal following the final battle in the town square.
Over the next few weeks, he begins drinking more than usual and neglecting his post of artist-in-residence in The Ettin. Whenever he does make it on stage, the music and performances are jaded, morose, and often dwindle into aimless meanders. Anyone in attendance would notice a hand crossbow of curious design resting constantly either against the lute case, across his knees, or actually loaded and strapped to his wrist.
Conversations with Lachlan become chores; his approach soon presaged by quiet groans and swift remembrance of business elsewhere. While many in the town are fully aware of the horrors and dangers that had recently befallen this frontier civilisation, there's a general mood of optimism and hope - a sentiment that Lachlan does not buy into, instead preferring to talk only of the pain and shit and pointlessness of existence on this side of the world. You sense this is more than mere restlessness, but attempts to engage him in discussion merely result in some bitter rejoinder and Lachlan stalking away. Even Leo has not made much headway, eventually kicking Lachlan out of the Gilded Mirror after starting one too many brawls.
Lachlan takes to journeying further and further afield from Daring, sometimes for days on end. Eventually, people stop keeping an eye out for his return and stop asking after him. One day, Coll finds a note in Lachlan's old room:
"I need to leave this place. That fight was nothing I was prepared for. I thought I knew what I was doing. I didn't. I can't stay here; complacent, dulled, out of tune. I need to keep moving and find a purpose. I've given Leo some of my stuff; he knows what to do with it. Be careful of that crossbow: I almost couldn't leave it behind; it seemed to drive most insistently at my mind. Fare well. I'll keep an ear out for Daring's future stories."
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Post by Dvärgar / Gara on May 9, 2018 8:36:08 GMT
During the first days of Darings reconstruction Dvaergar dug in like all the others, fiercer than any in fact, from dawn till dusk his pick or shovel did not rest. Breaking rubble, re-digging roads, carrying bodies…
At night he exercised his smith skills, working through the night reshaping the armour he scrounged, sharpening weapons looted from bodies and plotting. No one saw his normally ever present companion Lyka for a few days.
After about four days of hard labour, Dvaergar stopped. He sat at one of the benches that had been rescued from the ruins of Daring, Lyka at his side, and spoke in a loud booming voice, making sure to seize the attention of all around.
“I’ve found the orcs, Lyka tracked them down. I’m going to hunt them, one tribe at a time, it will take time, will be uncomfortable and let’s be frank, dangerous. But by Trithereon I cannot sit around knowing that those who attacked us and butchered our people are out there. I cannot promise reward, but the orcs that left made off with a significant amount of gold and possibly much more…
I leave on the dawn of the third day from now, I plan on riding, so if you have a mount, or can summon one, feel free to join me. If not, I can summon two horses myself and we could perhaps scrounge a wagon…
All those interested in retribution, repayment and revenge, join me! This is a holy quest in the name of Tithereon, in the name of honour and in the name of those we lost!”
(Basically, for a year, Dvaergar and anyone who joins him will be Orc hunting, going from tribe to tribe. The plan is fairly simple, slaughter those warriors that are prepared to fight and intimidate the others into either never leaving their camps for the next lifetime. OR, intimidate the surviving orcs into following us into battle to fight the other orcs and essentially use one clan to butcher the next, recruit survivors move on, butcher, recruit survivors, etc. There are about 1000 orcs left, divided into 6 clans, so with 150 to 200 enemies worth in a clan. So basically all very manageable with a little strategy and a lot of violence.)
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Post by Tugark (Retired) on May 9, 2018 11:19:23 GMT
During the first days of Darings reconstruction Dvaergar dug in like all the others, fiercer than any in fact, from dawn till dusk his pick or shovel did not rest. Breaking rubble, re-digging roads, carrying bodies… At night he exercised his, smith skills, working through the night reshaping the armour he scrounged, sharpening weapons looted from bodies and plotting. No one saw his normally ever present companion Lyka for a few days. After about four days of hard labour, Dvaergar stopped. He sat at one of the benches that had been rescued from the ruins of Daring, Lyka at his side, and spoke in a loud booming voice, making sure to seize the attention of all around. “I’ve found the orcs, Lyka tracked them down. I’m going to hunt them, one tribe at a time, it will take time, will be uncomfortable and let’s be frank dangerous. But by Trithereon I cannot sit around knowing that those who attacked us and butchered our people are out there. I cannot promise reward, but the orcs that left made off with a significant amount of gold and possibly much more… I leave on the dawn of the third day from now, I plan on riding, do if you have a mount, or can summon one, feel free to join me. If not, I can summon two horses myself and we could perhaps scrounge a wagon… All those interested in retribution, repayment and revenge, join me! This is a holy quest in the name of Tithereon, in the name of honour and in the name of those we lost!” (Basically, for a year, Dvaergar and anyone who joins him will be Orc hunting, going from tribe to tribe. The plan is fairly simple, slaughter those warriors that are prepared to fight and intimidate the others into either never leaving their camps for the next lifetime. OR, intimidate the surviving orcs into following us into battle to fight the other orcs and essentially use one clan to butcher the next, recruit survivors move on, butcher, recruit survivors, etc. There are about 1000 orcs left, divided into 6 clans, so with 150 to 200 enemies worth in a clan. So basically all very manageable with a little strategy and a lot of violence.) The cabin and skipper at Port Ffist can wait. This sounds much more interesting! I'd be up for a few special "flashback" sessions of the orc hunt. |
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Post by Nuno (Rholor) on May 9, 2018 13:08:52 GMT
(My gap year write-up will depend on the outcome of the Political Debate going on!)
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Post by Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar on May 9, 2018 15:24:03 GMT
I expect the bards amongst us to set their write ups to "Time Warp" from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
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Post by andycd on May 9, 2018 20:15:29 GMT
Daring Heights was silent as the first citizens returned via Aurelia's teleportation circle to assess the damage. The town had been pillaged - a fire set by some enthusiastic orc raider had swept through much of the residential area, destroying scores of homes. Hundreds would be left without a house to return to, if many wanted to return at all after the devastating losses many had suffered.
Indeed, many did not return. As the weeks progressed, it became clear that a large number of citizens of Daring had elected to return to the safer climes of Faerun, where they had originally come from. The population of Daring was cut almost in half, all told. The town seemed... emptier, even though it was always bustling with construction work.
The merchants, of course, needed to secure their businesses again. "The sheep must flow," one of the mutton traders was overheard muttering to themself as they looked over their ledgers. Trade and commerce was why Daring Heights existed in the first place - land, resources, new peoples to trade with - all still presented opportunities for precious gold to flow into and through Daring and return the town to the bustling economic hub it had been just a few weeks ago.
The political landscape changed - now no longer solely sitting in the hands of Willum Daffles, the Merchant Prince. But you all know how that turned out.
The people needed to rebuild. Stone could often be repurposed, but getting Grey Tree re-settled and the stone quarry there back up to full strength was a top priority. Xvart bandits had been a problem in the area for years. That was clearly no longer a problem, but this presented a number of other pressing issues of its own. Nearly 200 small blue creatures settled in the ruined houses on the north-western outskirts of the city, all claiming that they were here on a Great Mission to show how mighty their Inner Strength was by rebuilding Daring Heights. It was... a tense time, but the Xvarts were insistent, and incidents between them and the citizenry were... as limited as they could be.
They also claimed they were now citizens of Daring Heights, but perhaps that's a political question.
One question on everyone's minds however was, "Will this happen again?" Dvaergar's promise to annihilate the orcish threat was met with great enthusiasm, but the problem remained that they had lost a battle and lost much of their fighting force, not to mention the very fort they had tried to defend. The city planners came up with a solution.
The fort was re-summoned. Called out of the very earth with a huge crowd watching in amazement by Aurelia (often called the Angel Wizard by children), this time the fort was placed right inside Daring Heights, within its walls. The houses that had burned down were cleared away to make space, but now there was a safer point to build out from, and houses aplenty were built to the East, especially. What forces remained of the army - many stayed, some left - they were being paid after all, or at least had been promised a salary. Captain Cordelia Jadefist, leader of the warmages within the soldiers, assumed command at least initially, and saw to it that patrols were set further out into the hillsides than the local guards who patrolled the city.
The graveyard, which had always been a small affair to the south of town, was tripled in size. Such is the way of things.
Many of the core buildings in town - the stone structures of the Library and the Gilded Mirror, the Ettin and so forth, had not so much been broken as much as they had been torn apart from the inside. The Gilded Mirror would need new everythings and the Temple of Selune and Waukeen had been... desecrated. Cleaning and repairing them would not be pleasant work, but nor would it be difficult.
Slowly, a semblance of normality would return to Daring Heights, and as the Summer waned into Autumn, it was starting to look passably like a town again. Aurelia kept her post in town, now having to cast numerous Teleportation Circle spells a day to send people where they needed to go. Fortunately, Jenna learned the spell as well and would help as much as possible. It wasn't overly taxing, but there's only so many circles you can draw on the ground before you go mad.
The Ettin continued. It's what the Ettin does best. People always want to drink, they always want to sleep and they always want to pay someone else to deal with their problems.
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Post by Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar on May 9, 2018 21:48:07 GMT
In the weeks following the Battle of Daring, Varis seemed to withdraw from his former companions. He kept company largely with the soldiers who had fought under his command and survived the ministrations of their Orcish captors. These veterans were cold, hard eyed folk, fiercely loyal to the man whose shield had saved them from countless killing blows and who’s axe had cut down the mighty Tanarukk before their very eyes. Many had lost family and homes in the invasion, and seemed to cling to this new fraternity with disturbing fervour. Varis walked among them like a stern father, correcting sword-forms here, drilling unit tactics there. Where he went, ironclad discipline prevailed, and the former soldiers – for none now answered to Daring’s military commanders – showed him a respect that belied his years. He in turn showed a compassion many of his former comrades would have found unfamiliar, as he sat each night listening to stories of grief and loss. When Dvargar announced his plans to hunt the Orcs in earnest, Varis and his followers – by now calling themselves the Order of the Crimson Fist, and decorating shields and tabards with the sigil of a blood-drenched gauntlet – answered the paladin’s call. They rode with the mighty Dwarven warrior, demonstrating for the first time the brutal efficiency of their training, and the grim resolve of their master. Varis was often heard to say that “A fool pulls the leaves; a brute chops the trunk; a sage digs the roots.” Between raids on Orcish positions, the Order could be found in the ruins of the northern slums. Here, with the (perhaps unwilling) help of a small army of Xvarts, they constructed a modest barracks of red stone – little more than a single long chamber for sleeping, a mess, a training yard, a small stable and a forge. Some of the locals took to calling it The Bleeding Keep in gentle mockery, though few were brave enough to do so where members of the Order might overhear. In the humble forge, Varis himself worked hot steel, instructing some of his recruits in the proper way to heat and shape arms and armour, and soon the small group of warriors were as well equipped as many of the adventurers in the town. Captain Jadefist and many of the surviving military officers looked on with unease, but there was little they could do. The Order had broken no laws, and indeed, seemed intent on stamping out lawlessness where they found it. Then one day Varis was gone. He left behind his followers, under the command of a garrulous Dwarf named Gretchen Coldiron, and in his absence they continued to drill, patrol and hunt Orcs with Dvargar. Varis was gone for weeks, then as suddenly as he had vanished, he reappeared, his usually clean jaw covered in a golden beard. He rode into the courtyard of the Bleeding Keep on the back of a mighty silver stag, and when Gretchen asked what she might call the beast, the stag itself answered in a mellifluous voice that it’s name was Tuevel – Blade of the Moon in the ancient tongue of the Elves. So things stood, an uneasy amity growing between the sanctioned military forces of Daring and this new band of warriors, though how long it might last, none could truly tell. ( andycd I may need some guidance on the giant stag thing...) |
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Post by Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar on May 9, 2018 22:23:03 GMT
In an ambitiously large (considering the size of it's occupants) though poorly constructed stone premises, conveniently close to both the old market square and one of the only working wells in town, the erstwhile Grung emissary, G'Lorth (or rather, his retainers Grub, Gulp and Gurg) have set up a store. Masonry may not be the Frogfolk's forte, though approaching the structure, one is forced to concede that there is a kind of ramshackle grandeur to the place. Above the entrance hangs an elaborately lettered sign informing customers they are now entering:
"The Magnificent Mortar: Alchemists and Toxicant Emporium"
As the weeks and months pass, and life returns to Daring Heights, the townsfolk come to regard the slightly eccentric Grung with some warmth, and his magical concoctions and horrifying poisons rapidly become essential equipage for many of Daring's more adventurous citizens.
The gold skinned amphibian aristocrat seems more than happy to dive in to the emerging political situation, offering sage advice (especially where it is not requested) and generally forcing his way into any and all conversations, whether they concern him or not.
The newer of Daring's residents come to know G'Lorth well (or rather, his manservant, the blue-skinned Grub) as he regularly requires strange esoteric components for his alchemical concoctions, and seems very happy to pay someone else to fetch them.
As the year begins to draw to a close, The Magnificent Mortar plays host to a series of unfamiliar Grung, and G'Lorth himself is seen less and less, appearing very troubled when he does, despite his best attempts and bonhomie. It would appear that whatever events precipitated the emissary’s arrival in Daring are now coming to a head...
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Post by The Sergeant / Alisha on May 10, 2018 10:49:02 GMT
The Sergeant's body had been ready to die following his capture. Bones in his hand were broken, cuts lined his body and his lungs moaned at each breath. One purpose had kept him alive. A promise he had made to an old friend: revenge.
When a young man covered in old chainmail released the manacles on his wrists, revealing open and worn flesh beneath, the Sergeant nodded, knowing he may now walk toward his final adventure.
He knew well enough he needed his strength. Over the first fortnight he remained in the ruins of Daring, part of the temporary camp he had set up. "Think we'll have enough work?" Anton, his business Partner and co-founder of The Daring Builders laughed, as the two walked through the broken town.
The Sergeant saw his armour and weapons were sharpened and padded, his bones set and the cuts cleaned. His lungs continued to moan.
He worked with Anton to ensure the Daring Builders hired every capable hand. And the contracts rolled in. Repairs, construction, planning. Dwarven, halfling, elven and human hands all together under the direction of Anton and The Sergeant.
Anton sat over breakfast with a list of jobs, builders and finances. He looked up to The Sergeant between mouthfuls of beans, "Want to buy our own Portal after this?"
The Sergeant smiled and rose from his stool, "Invest it wisely brother. I'll be back for my share in a few months. Spend it and I'll break your legs."
Anton laughed, before shaking his friends hand, "Good luck - and stay safe."
The Sergeant looked to the floor for a moment, lost in thought before leaving.
The past weeks both before and after the Orc's attach, The Sergeant had been talking at length with Nowhere, and this morning the two were seen again deep in discussion,
"I'll get the horses," The Sergeant called out. As he marched through the street, fully armoured, he saw Grimes. The Paladin greeted his friend, "The White Hawks could use you mate."
"They are going to have to wait a while." As he went to continue his search for horses, he stopped and called back, "Grimes, I'm leaving. Not sure I'll come back, but if I do I may need your help. When the time comes, can I depend on you?"
Nowhere waited for those horses for over an hour, while The Sergeant searched the camp and the ruins of Daring for a handful of those he had fought alongside. He found Dorian and Varis, telling them both he was leaving for a time, but if he returned he may call on them for their aid. He searched for Leocanto and Rholor, but found neither before the horses were ready and saddled.
The road awaited. Nowhere and the man many knew as Val set off Northward in the morning sun.
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Post by Grimes on May 10, 2018 11:07:37 GMT
As he encountered Val in the street Grimes could see the recent events had marked him in many ways - both visible and invisible. He wasn't truly surprised to hear his White Hawks colleague and friend was leaving.
In response to Val's question Grimes replied "Look after yourself. I would say stay out of trouble but we both know that's unlikely." (A glimmer of a grin crossed Grimes' lips and then he became serious again.) "We'll talk when you get back. You know you can count on me - so long as the cause is just. Good luck." Grimes shook the Sergeant's hand firmly and stood watching him walk away.
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