Forgotten Realms

Session 4 and 5

Oh snap, teh kobolds have aids

Our noble adventurers find themselves at the exit of Swan’s nefarious Storehouse-cum-deathtrap.

Although conflicts, like a bitter tea, had brewed within the the group, this newly companioned team surmounted them all- bonding through their trials, and by trials i mean the near death of werewolf-wrestling Coras Kennyghymn by gelatinous cube.

The exit was revealted to be an earthen aperture- a tunnel if you will, that led to a room with no cieling and of small dimensions, with round walls that went up quite high and a bucket that lay overturned upon the floor.

With his massive brain Thorival surmised the purpose of this enigmatic demesne. It was their turn in the well. “HELLO! MY NAME IS AH…TIMMY AND I FELL IN THE WELL” he yelled towards the open sky, wherefrom an occasional pebble would fall. A young pebble-throwing puck answered “ARRGHHHHHH” and threw his pebbles no more.

Binbou never one to stand idle, immediately began to ascend the wells wet walls, grunting in a orcly fashion all the while. During his ascent the young puck promised “Timmy” help, and went to fetch his grandmama and also guards with swords.

Binbou eventually found his way to the top, and leaping upon the ledge and was immediately accosted by two inbred militiamen. They asked “WHAT HO?” and “WHO ART THOU?” and Binbou, cunning barbarian that he is declared to the hick guards that met him “I AM BINBOU AND I WILL KILL YOU ALL, AND BELOW ME IS AN ARMY OF A THOUSAND MORE JUST AS DEADLY AS ME”. The guards fingered their blades most nervously, which Binbou noticed were rusty and rather small.

Luckily the Jackal himself had made his way to the top, and not to be outdone he too lept upon the ledge, on the side opposite binbou and faced a seperate audience- a small crowd of women, as well as Harod, a lanky, freckled man-boy who would never throw another pebble and who looked upon the thief with awe.

“Do not worry, we are only adventurers” said the tall, dusky thief, and his words drew the giggles of many milkmaids- including a particularly buxom wench who eyed his short sword most hungrily.

With the arrival of Jackal the slack-jawed militia-men were pacified, and as the rest of the group emerged from the well Jackal decided the crowd deserved more of his awesome, and so he approached the group of women, who later on the group would discover had been deprived of their manfolk for almost a fornight, and Jack withdrew from his backpack a brown-pouch, closed with a drawstring.

The dark haired lasses watched as he undid the drawstrings (thinking- let it be me!), and withdrew a tiny amount of magic dust. He sprinkled some in the air, and too the Oooh’s and Aaaah’s of many an onlooker the colors of the dust shifted blue and purple and then red, continuously changing before their very eyes.

And thats when the fat women strode with the moustache strode right up to the thief and begged the adventurers for help.

Jackal could see the pass the glassy eyes or stubble of Ariana, the petitioner who begged his attention, and nobly voltunteered his group’s aid. Everyone else agreed on principle. The principle of 100 gold for every assisting adventurer.


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