The Adventure Begins

For one reason or another you all find yourselves in the Old Staff Inn, in the town of Erminit, in the Kingdom of Furyondy, in the lands of the Flanaess, on the continent Oerik, on the planasphere of Oerth. A brisk wind blows autumn’s leaves and the smell of early winter through the quickly shut doors of the inn. Dinner time. The food is good, the ale fresh, and the women properly buxom. It’s a very fine evening indeed. It’s at that point, somewhere between the last swig of a receding mug, and having a go at that last potato on the plate, that a very large young man bursts through the doors. He’s obviously wounded as he staggers into the busy establishment. The many patrons become hushed, and the peasant shouts out, “Help, yall! Them goblinoid things done put a hex on the hounds, and stolen away with Pa!”

Cries of, “Mercy me!” And, “My, my…..” And, “Who will save us from the savages?” carry over the quiet din of an obviously nervous crowd. All eyes turn to your locations. You hear a chuckling coming from somewhere towards the back of the room….

Just then, a brown robed priest of St. Cuthbert bursts from behind the curtain of a private booth, boldly, and quite smoothly, steps forward, “The priestess is away to the capitol, Zeek, but I’ll do what I can. Who will heed the call? As designated constable I can arrange a reward, and of course, there’s the bounty…”

A gnarly looking Dwarf in chest plate, looking into his mug says with obvious disdain, “Pfft, for two gold a kill you can chase them yourself, punk.” A large ½ orc in chain mail and a human female seated with the dwarf clink their glasses and turn away.

Then, “Aye, I’m with you Alexi. You’ll not need the help of their kind,” says a rather large Dwarf stepping forward with a huge black mane and broad toothy grin. He hefts a large ornate maul and looks fully capable and ready for action. Pulling his holy symbol of Moradin from the belt of his banded mail he motions and touches Zeek, who immediately smiles and stands to his full height somewhere north of 6 and half feet.

“Thanks to you friend Gollan,” says Alexi turning back to the crowd with hope in his eyes.

What do you do?”

Noobs of the Apocolypse