An Unrequested Gift

Shot in the Dark

The party awoke the next morning (well at least some awoke then, others, perhaps closer to the afternoon)to the sounds of people milling about in the streets. The Bard, rising before the rest, and making his way to the library and finding himself at home amongst the stone shelves and tomes. Joined by Atherton, the two weaved their way throughout shelves, with the bard becoming perhaps more acquainted with the economic history of Ornea. After spending a few hours studying the dusty volumes, Durzo spots an older scholar seated at a desk tucked away in a corner. With his long, unkempt dark grey hair, and ink stained hands, seemed like someone who was more in tune with ancient history. After giving him a description of the note embedded with the balanced scales, he asked for a few minutes to explore the recesses of his mind. Upon Durzo’s return, a note remained on the desk of the elder scholar. It pointed him towards a nondescript title found in the home makers section. The note producing only a name Thyron. By the time Atherton and Durzo left the library, the streets had more than filled as people began to prepare for the festival of Aravan.

The keen eyes of Atherton noticed the deft hands of a staggering passerby brush against Durzo to regain his balance leaving a note pinned to his cloak in his wake. Atherton, quickly taking note of the stranger before turning to Durzo to discover what words were pressed on the scrap paper.

Meanwhile, Varda and X found there way to a forest outside the city to spend time with animals of a largely nonverbal nature.

Arahana, however, was spending time enjoying the crowd, relieving several unsuspecting passerby’s of their purses. Although, almost getting caught once, she was spared by her sharp wit and quick retreat. She also found her way to the local gambling corner where she managed to “win” some more coins.

Eventually, the party reunites at the thumb and hammer, Atherton and Durzo explain the note had summoned them to meet beyond the gates at midnight.

Finally the group left the gates of Ornea behind. Ensuring they arrived in time the left the town early. Along the road, just off to the left stood the remnants of a since abandoned well, rotting wood and crumbling mortar was all that remained. Someone had noticed a small duck sitting on top of the remnants.

After a not so subtle attempts to inflict harm on the duck, it narrowly escaped an arrow’s flight away.

Suddenly, an arrow pierces through the darkness finding its mark. Quick thinking by the team brought some illumination to the night as the crew struck the assailants (and on occasion, each other)finally reigning death on their attackers, much to the disappointment of Atherton.

Eventually, after separating the corpses from their valuables they each returned to the Beggar’s Purse to patch the wounded and get some needed rest.

Turning Wicker into Gold
A Beggars Chance

Five adventures who have known each other only in passing find their night of revelry and story interrupted by a rather macabre gift. As each had the pints filled, spilled and filled some more, and chorus and song had meandered past their lips, a basket found itself in their midst.

Arahana quickly pulled the basket towards her almost reflexively, her roguish instincts helping mask this unusual occurrence amongst the regular rabble and din found within the Beggar’s Purse. This allowed for the Duskblade, Xanros, or X as he is commonly known, to lift the lid up with a potato infused fork. Roguish instincts were no match for the curiosity of the property realignment expert, who leaned over and quickly removed the wicker lid, while sliding the note off the top. Those at the table leaned in, the rough wood of the table digging in the arms of the bard, not the first time blood would be drawn that night. Staring back at them through a tattered cloth the vacant expression of a bodiless elf.

The stunned silence, more conspicuous than the inebriated dwarf standing on a table pint in one hand, expressive gesturing occupying the other while regaling his compatriots that while the Beggar’s Purse is a great tavern, it holds no burning keg to the legendary Grunt and Pollwart.

The Bard,Durzo and the buccaneer Atherton, notice two off duty guards chasing down pints at the bar. One appears intent on solving the mystery of the bottomless pint while the other, seems to be one of those guards who doesn’t have an off switch. In order to allow Arahana and Varda (an elvish druid) to make an a less than noticeable exit the bard quickly requests a well known verse from his portly compatriot, who offers Durzo a chance to join him in song, but before Durzo can get a stanza in, said Bard fills the air with his ale infused words, something an orc and rebellion and a chicken.

Aharana and Varda quickly weave through the crowd which has joined the Bards in their incoherent tale. As the tune begins to wind down Atherton stands between a human who is dwarf deep in ale and a halfling who holds her liquor and tunes in a similar fashion: poorly. However, in the Beggar’s Purse one’s vocal ability is often based on volume and quickly Atherton has these two leading the encore before subtly bowing out and joining his compatriots outside.

While they missed out on the show and encore Arahana and Verda quickly stashed the basket down an alley. Not wanting her skills to atrophy, Arahana smoothly relieved Varda of a single gold piece. The good natured druid allowed to keep her reward.

Mean while the Beggar’s Purse, its walls made of mere wood, cannot contain the approaching legendary sounds of the bard inspired sing a long as the music forces itself out the doors,windows, and numerous cracks and holes in the walls.

Meanwhile, Varda and Arahana both manage a voice in the darkness gently calling for alms. Kindly giving the man dressed in rags a gold coin before he moved off elated by the generosity of the pair.
Returning to Varda, Arahana looks down to find her generously given gold piece has been replaced with a piece of wicker.

Both Arahana and Varda quickly spot both pieces of wicker and torn fabric after Arahana exclaimed that she was going to sherlock the shit out this.

While the two dynamic deceives were hot on the trail, the men were finally separating themselves from their pints and stumbling out of the tavern, under the guise of drunken revellers. Some say this guise looked a little too authentic. However, they managed to keep in between the watchful eye of super cop and his compatriot allowing the ladies to gain ground on a hobo.

However, the the ladies leading the charge decided to wait for the meandering men after finding the trail had gone dark midway down an alley. After deafly hiding as super cop walked past, soon enough the group was together again discussing the recent events.

Arahana moved down the alley finding the discarded torch and aptly discerning change in stride by the mark, but even the deft eyes of this largely elvish group could not piece together this mystery as the footsteps ended just before the wall.

As they quietly gathered to discuss their options Atherton silently made his way down to the gate, while the Bard leaped up to the top of the wall, briefly grabbing the top which he quickly learned had been infused with broken shards of glass and clay. Both X and Varda had managed to get on the other side of the wall but were unable to spot further tracks.

Atherton’s endeavour only produced 3 bored guards who claimed he was in fact the only person they had encountered on an otherwise long and boring night shift.

Soon, with the adrenaline wearing off, the crew realized that it would be dawn soon, and they headed back to the Beggar’s Purse which was littered with mugs, plates and still drunk but now sleeping patrons.


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