Adventure 1 - The Inn

Smoke curled around the rafters, mixing with the stink and sweat of many nights that had been experienced before, save one notable difference. The Green Rose Inn was host to a bard who could actually oratise. Someone who could actually tell a story, sing, juggle and tumble like a court jester, and this was something definately special in these parts, during these times.

The bard was an attractive half elf of the female variety. Of course, now a days, a cynic would say, it seemed as though it were almost a prerequisite for barding for ye to have flawless skin, as opposed to having a wit as sharp as the nearest dwarven battle-axe - but perhaps she had that too. Sabine was wooing the crowd with her story of Thomas the mule at the moment, so it would be lucky that the cynic was laughing too hard at his antics than to make such an observation. Seated in the tables roughly around the inn, small groups of men, and some women sat around attempting to forget the Green army camped nearby. It was a mixed bunch tonight, with a table of rowdy guardsmen bickering with each other - and more importantly with a small group of Actaran militia - the irregulars of the army sitting around trading insults about each other's battle prowess.

Our notables were also seated around a table, Endath - a bearded dwarven cleric staring glumly into his mug, perhaps picking that there would be a fight soon, which he'd inevitably be drawn in to. Caedrus, half-elven scribe extraordinaire picked at his food, throwing the occasional glance at Elaruwan and Neferemeus, robes and staves giving away their positions as part of that mystically magical bunch of people known as 'mages'. They in turn looked towards the other dwarf at their table, Duggan - a scarred, grizzled man who seemed to consume more mead and ale than the rest of their party combined, and who, through the quaffing and repeated yells for 'fillin 'er up again miss!' seemed to be paying a lot of attention towards the argument happening at the nearby table.

The two sides of the argument next door were taking shape and escalating. 'You wouldn't be able to find a fight if you were a drop in the middle of an ocean' and 'your mother was a hamster' insults were being slung from either side. The conversation heated up, angry glares were thrown, and suddenly, the camel's back broke. Within seconds, a flurry of arms, legs, fists and boots between the five or so City Guard and the five or so Actaran Militia erupted in a virtual dustcloud of hurt bodies. Duggan jumped to the aid of the Militia, kicking out a foot of the captain of the Guard. Smarter patrons drew away, pushing tables and chairs as far away as possible (good wood turners were hard to find nowadays), and suddenly, eerily, as a small dwarven body rocketed into Elaruwan, a globe of darkness settled over the fight - summoned to aid Endath. The brawl slowed, its progress hampered by the now true inability of anyone to see what they were hitting as the Watch arrived to clear up the mess.

Somehow, through the course of the fight, our not-so-epic heroes - even Sabine - had become entangled in the fight, and, for good measure, were taken into custody and thrown into jail for the night to sober up - although, to be fair, most were drier than a dusty gulch.