TURN ONE:
Dustan Hache / Drubjarred
Another day passes with you staring at the bottom of a glass in your favorite tavern, The Crazed Ferret. The hours seem to slip by as you sit basking in the complacent fuzzy glow of mild drunkenness, doing nothing and going nowhere. Between your periods of languid satisfaction, you contemplate the meaninglessness of the stupor that has taken over your life. Day fades into night. It seems like the years are slipping by fast, with each one looking the same. A new day rises. You remember better times, when your life had a purpose and you had a lot more money to spend on alcohol. Overcome by a desire to see those good days come again, you pay your tab, exit the bar, and walk into the blinding light of mid-morning.
Across the street, a slightly built, well dressed man is leading three people into the large house of the recently deceased Violaceous Turaco. You know who the house belongs to because he was a regular in the bar. Sometimes the two of you would bet the next pitcher of beer on a dart game. You always won. One night, he told you about his plan to encourage his inheritors to start an adventuring company.
This could be your chance. Visions of your time as the Hammerer of Routedmansions flash like lightning behind your eyes. The happy days could come again.
The door closes, and you are left standing, swaying slightly and covered in a very thin layer of perspiration, across the street. What do you do?
CubeJackal / Falvar Forgan
It was inevitable that the players of this game realize my true nature: I am a liar. I said that the game would begin immediately prior to your arrival in the city, but here you are, strolling down Minotaur Avenue towards the small cafe that the executor of your relative's estate requested your presence at on this date, at nearly this hour.
The buildings on Minotaur Avenue are old but sturdy, built of stone. Many small alleyways and cross streets intersect the wide avenue, bringing a sense of space to what would otherwise be a somewhat crowded street. Stray ads and wanted posters dot the walls. Far off in the distance on the horizon, you make out the hazy rugosity of a far-flung mountain range. A single blackish spire of rock stands up from the range, like an enormous talon. You catch many of the locals (small, thin people in sand colored clothes) looking at you, almost staring as you walk past.
You find your way to the cafe, a narrow building with large windows. You open the door, a bell tinkles, and you step inside. It's a small cafe, and you assume that the pale well dressed man who is the only patron at this hour must be Phineas Cladoc, executor of Turaco's estate. He looks up, sees you, and turns a paler shade of pale. Before either of you has a chance to speak, the bell tinkles again, and an angry looking woman and a filthy man step inside.
CubeJackal / Falvar Forgan, AbstractTraitorHero / Laura Ravencroft, Yoink / The Camel
Phineas Cladoc looks back and forth between the lithe man in scarlet robes, the angry looking and heavily armed raven haired woman, and the haggard man in dirt-caked canvas clothes, and his eyes and the corners of his mouth bespeak an emotion almost best described as exasperated disbelief at the task set before him. The room skips a quick beat, and the expression is replaced by a more jovial one as he rises to his feet to introduce himself.
"Phineas Cladoc, attorney to the late Violaceous Turaco. I'm honored to make your acquaintance. I presume you are Falvar Forgan," he enthusiastically shakes the hand of the robed man, "Princess Ravencroft," he shakes the woman's hand, "and, I apologize, but your name escapes me at the moment." He shakes hands with the extremely filthy man.
"Pyotr Alameus III, chamberlain of Torcia."
"Ah, yes, of course. Pyotr Alameus III, chamberlain of Torcia. Anyway, unless you three would like some refreshment here, I suggest we set off for the late Mr. Turaco's estate at once, as there is much to be settled."
(Referee note: I don't actually care if any of you want a coffee or a croissant or whatever here, you can come back later, I'm not holding up the rest of the turn for this nonsense)
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It's only a short walk from the cafe to Turaco's house, which is easily the largest building within sight on the street. Along the way you pass numerous smaller residences, shops, and vendor stalls. Across the street is a bar, complete with a drunkard standing outside. Soon you reach Turaco's house. It is an immense building at least three stories tall and built from the same sand colored stone the other buildings are, but covered in a coat of very faded red paint. Numerous windows are set into the walls, and a few stone steps lead up to the heavy bronze door that stands high and imperiously facing the street, covered in a bluish patina of verdigris. Cladoc climbs the steps and grasps the doorhandle, turning and pulling hard as it slowly swings open with a creak. You follow him as he steps into the dimness of the house.
The front door opens directly into a spacious room, lit at an angle through the front windows by the rising morning sun. Mounted high on the far wall, painted in resplendent oils and in an ornate frame, is a portrait of a man who looks exactly like Falvar Forgan, even down to his scarlet cloak and the dark circles under his eyes. He stares out intensely, straight ahead, through the doorway and into the light. In front of the painting is set a long table, with a multitude of chairs on either side, one at the head directly beneath the portrait.
"Please, have a seat, gentlemen and your highness. I'll be just a moment." Phineas Cladoc deposits a thick stack of papers on the end of the table and makes a quick circuit around the room, lighting torches in wall sconces before he sits down across from the three of and begins rifling through his papers.
"Now, first order of business, why my client called you here and what you stand to inherit." Cladoc passes out a thick stack of papers labeled The Last Will and Testament of Violaceous Turaco to each of you. "As you can see, the will is quite lengthy, and you may read it at your leisure. To summarize pertinent points, Violaceous Turaco has left you joint possession and ownership of the majority of his worldly possessions, with some exceptions as noted in the will, contingent on your utilization of the inheritance to start an 'Adventuring Company,' which, as defined in the will, is essentially a freelance mercenary-cum-bounty hunter organization that specializes in dangerous quarry. A good portion of the actual will is a rambling list of demands that must be accomplished and pieces of advice that my client believed would be useful in the operation of an adventuring company. Of particular note is article 38 of the will, which states that, within 48 hours of taking possession of the inheritance, the inheritors must officially found and name their company. Please make a quick perusal of the document and sign the final page of each of the three copies, as well as on this fourth copy that I will retain in a safe in my office. If you have any questions regarding the layout of the building, the items within, or the city, please do not hesitate to ask." Cladoc sets his copy within your collective reach, turned to the final page, and waits.
Seven doors in total lead out from the room you are seated in. Two on the northwest wall, set on either side of the portrait, the front door (closed), and two doors on each side wall. What do you do?
i hope i didn't forget about anything i wanted to do here, heh
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Topic: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 17: I Guess This Counts As Taking Casualties (Read 27604 times)