Just your classic RPG
Posted: Mon Apr 13, 2020 4:29 am
(I really liked CalamityCon's idea of a toned down D&D, I'll also be rolling a d6 to see if your commands succeed! Let's see where this goes I have nothing planned so go nuts)
We begin our story in the Drunken Toadstool, the local watering hole in the town of VillageStead. Our heroes are your classic rag-tag group of swords for hire, enjoying the spoils of their most recent conquest!
Your party consists of:
Ogg'Chk: Orc-ish Berserker
Soleil: Elven Hunter
Tomas smith: Human Warrior
and
Fin! The Gnome Bard!
You have just saved the town from the Gabooglin Goblin Warband which had been playing mischevious pranks and thieving from the locals. The townsfolk have rewarded you with 100 gold and drinks on the house! The music is filling the room, accompanied by laughter, merriment, and loud mirthful murmers.
wow everyone is getting real inebriated.
All of a sudden the doors BURST OPEN *the music stops* and a hobbled old man walks in, dripping wet from the downpour outside... weird, it wasn't raining before.
He walks over to the group of heroes, with each step he shakes another regiment of raindrops onto the wooden floors. When he reaches your table he places his hands on the edge revealing them to be the leathery, calloused, and hook-scarred hands of a sea-faring fisherman. Villagestead is entirely landlocked...
He catches eyes with the group of heroes and opens his mouth, water gushes fourth splashing on the table. Everyone recoils, picking up and covering their drinks from the sudden introduction of this contaminant. His voice gurgles past the liquid in his chest producing a squelching croak.
"Roight... You's's the 'Eroes then?? I gotta Quest for ye"
the man concludes his sentence with a phlegmy slurp in an attempt to retain some of the fluid that is steadily flowing from his mouth as he speaks...
ew.
what do you do?
We begin our story in the Drunken Toadstool, the local watering hole in the town of VillageStead. Our heroes are your classic rag-tag group of swords for hire, enjoying the spoils of their most recent conquest!
Your party consists of:
Ogg'Chk: Orc-ish Berserker
Soleil: Elven Hunter
Tomas smith: Human Warrior
and
Fin! The Gnome Bard!
You have just saved the town from the Gabooglin Goblin Warband which had been playing mischevious pranks and thieving from the locals. The townsfolk have rewarded you with 100 gold and drinks on the house! The music is filling the room, accompanied by laughter, merriment, and loud mirthful murmers.
wow everyone is getting real inebriated.
All of a sudden the doors BURST OPEN *the music stops* and a hobbled old man walks in, dripping wet from the downpour outside... weird, it wasn't raining before.
He walks over to the group of heroes, with each step he shakes another regiment of raindrops onto the wooden floors. When he reaches your table he places his hands on the edge revealing them to be the leathery, calloused, and hook-scarred hands of a sea-faring fisherman. Villagestead is entirely landlocked...
He catches eyes with the group of heroes and opens his mouth, water gushes fourth splashing on the table. Everyone recoils, picking up and covering their drinks from the sudden introduction of this contaminant. His voice gurgles past the liquid in his chest producing a squelching croak.
"Roight... You's's the 'Eroes then?? I gotta Quest for ye"
the man concludes his sentence with a phlegmy slurp in an attempt to retain some of the fluid that is steadily flowing from his mouth as he speaks...
ew.
what do you do?