The Roads of Anglor

It is late, the setting is a busy tavern in a small town, on the wall there is poster that reads " Wanted the head of the troll-boar Sorag, Upon taking the job you will be paired up with three other brave adventurers, we will give you the site of the last siting spot, we will provide rations but nothing else, upon return youshall recieve 500gold, fame, and all the free beer you can drink." Who will step up to the plate and brave themselves for the quest.

A small satyr whom is waiting in the town for the mountain snows to the north to thaw walks up to the sign. The past couple days have been a bore for him, most of the time he simply sat in his room at the tavern, he decided this would be a great way to pass the time, and keep his sword arm from getting rusty. He signed his name "Berethis Bloodbane" on the line under the note, he noticed three more lines to go.

A black robed figure signed his name, taking note of the name above his. After all, he should always know who can run faster.

Berethis sitting at a table watching for his new companions to emerge from the crowd saw the man, he could since this man had strength in some form but he was not to be intirely trusted, He saw the man look at his name which means he is vunerable to be curious, and the hood was a big alarm to Berethis for those draped in mountains of cloth typicaly have somthing to hide.

The wolfman in the kilt ducked into the tavern looking for some dwarven whiskey and a job. He had heard of a hunt that was being put together to track some local nuisance. That sounded just about right. It was something that involved hunting, fighting, and killing; some his favorite hobbies. Though the pay seemed suspicious. It was too good.
But he hadn't had a real job for three weeks (and breaking the jaw of some cuckolding husband, or tracking down and retrieving a stolen ale cart, is not a real job, it's a way to pass the time), so he was willing to overlook a little thing like missing details.
Still, he couldn't rid himself of the feeling that this job would have a few catches. When he asked the taven owner about it as he slid some of his few coins to him, he said there were no catches, all that was needed was to kill the beast and return the head for proof. The wolfman had never heard of a 'troll-boar', though it said something that no one promises you five hundred in gold, free beer, and fame for killing any normal boar. "This thing must be a real monster," he thought. "Sounds fun". So he shrugged his concerns away and carefully scratched his name, Raalcorr, below the other two names and commited them to memory. "Now," he thought, looking around at the vast mix of races dotting the tavern, "to find the beings that go with those names."

Aodhfin noted the goat-man sitting and watching him, as well as the other in the kilt. "Well," he thought, "that's three."
He seated himself by the satyr, motioning to the kilted one to come and sit with one hand and motioning to the barmaid to bring some ale. Winking to her as she passed by, he gave her a pinch and left her some gold for her trouble. What had seemed to be a robe was actually a cloak, wrapped around the front and fastened, and now came unfastened and off his shoulders, revealing a large, muscular man in black clothing. Three scars adorned his face, running from his left temple, ear, and jaw all the way to his chin, as if some monster had slashed his face. His eyes shone an eerie orange as he peered across the table at his companion and waited for the other to come.

a young pale figure moved about the bar, he wore baggy clothing and carried a sword on his hip. hmmm as he looked at the list he took in the names on the list, my good sir, do i need to put my name down to help? i don't wish to be famous or the gold, i merely wish to help kill the beast.

(OCC: Sorry, I should have specified what a troll-boar is exactly for those who don't know, troll-animals come from the land of trolls, they are 3 times bigger and 10 times more aggresive)
Beretis saw the wolf man, he thought probaly a demon, he wasn't quite sure how he liked it. He remembered the dragon warrior from before, he couldn't remember though, but he remembered he hated him, he also remember the pale man from past experiences, he was not sure he hated or liked the man, he swiged his ale again and stood up, he walked over to a guard and whispered in his ear, the guard then walked to the sign and took it down. "Attention, will those who signed this list please listen, your hunt's last sighting was in a creek near the town of Merr, in front of the is a ranger by the name of Hessle, report to him and start walking." Berethis was already gone, he was outside, the tavern getting loaded up with food and water, he then waited for the others.

Raalcorr had just finished his first whiskey when the pale one signed his name. "So these are the members of my hunting pack," he thought. A satyr who looked like he had seen his fair share of battle, the Dragonwalker who had made a name for himself as a capable warrior and occasional berzerker less than a year after first entering Midgar, and a vampire of dubious repute.
The satyr spoke to the guard then moved outside as the guard gave us the location of the last sighting and the name of the witness. Raalcorr rose as well and said to Aodhfin and Tyr, "My gear is at the Lumpy Midget Inn. I'll meet all of you at the city gates or failing that, I'll find you on the trail," and left the tavern. He bought some fresh supplies from a nearby merchant, though only enough to supplement what he would hunt down on the trail.
He retrieved his gear from his room, strapped his axe to his back, belted on his swords, grabbed his bow and quiver of 5 blood-metal arrows and one dark heart arrow and started for the city gates wondering whether to cook the troll-boar or eat it raw.

Berethis made his way to his room for the rest of his gear, he grabbed a pack which had other foods, he put on a straw hat that he had stollen from the immortal half-demon Tarn, his bronze blade that he lifted off some bandits he met on his way, then he pulled out a chest and took the key from around his neck, he opend it, inside was a silver minotaur head that doubled as a flask, inside was Grotag Brew, one of the most potent beserk drink, he put it in the pack

Tyr looked around the bar, he noticed the saytre walk out, and the wolfman as well, then he spied Aodhfin. eh went and joined him for a drink. well seems i gone and done it, looks like we are together again in slaying a beast.

Slapping the vampire on the back, Aodhfin laughed and said, "I wouldn't have it any other way old friend. Just don't get eaten, eh?"

As he passed through the merchant quarter on his way to the city gates, Raalcorr realized he was still not fully equipped. After all, while his six magical arrows would not break or get lost and would be adequate for threats and hunts that could be encountered, he would need more for a pitched battle. But how to pay for decent arrows when one is poor? Theft was an option, but who to thieve from?
As he mused on this dilemma, he noticed a crowd gathering in a square he was approaching. From his eight-foot height he could see over the crowd and what he saw caused him to smile with delight. His dilemma was solved. Two opposing guilds of thieves were facing each other with the smell of magic and hate emanating from them. This was a perfect opportunity for fun!
He leapt above the heads of the two rows of people between him and the thieves and landed in the midst of the battleground. He then drew his swords and brought the flats of them down on the heads of the two leaders of the factions hard enough to cause their brains to spray out in a bloody, gelatinous mess, covering the nearby thieves with the gore of their leaders.
"Now," he roared, "who wants to avenge them?!" Only two brutes ran forth and they were dispatched in pieces to the ground, soaking the road in their blood and innards. The rest ran for their lives. The strengths of the thief lie in speed, deception, and stealth, not in battle.
The crowd applauded the swift work of the wolf-man, the women walking up to run their fingers through his fur and tell him when their husbands would be gone, the men to shake his large clawed hands and offer him work as a mercenary. He politely fondled the women and thanked the men, but told them that he was late for an adventure already. He was used to this by now. For some reason, women loved the fur.
As the crowd dispersed, he took the purses off the dead leaders and found them to be filled with what seemed to be the pay of their respective guilds! With this much coin, he could get the finest of arrows and still have enough to pay the occasional bribe or buy what information would be needed.
As he walked back to the bow smith to purchase his arrows, he thought he saw three tall, dark-eyed women watching him. They smelled of the same magic as the thieves had. He began to wonder if that impromptu battle was actually as impromptu as he had thought.
What reason could three witches have with causing some thieves to attack and kill each other?

((Raalcorr, your making this more twisted than before. I love it!))


Aodhfin nodded to the vampire, agreeing with him. "Your right about that....something does seem odd. Course, I've never actually seen a troll-boar before, just trolls and bigger trolls." He drained his glass and excused himself, then walked to the gates of town. The guards had made him store his weapons and armor in a locked chest when he came into town, but had let him keep his knives. When he arrived, he found the guards had decided to "play" with his equipment, and even rolled dice to claim the items they wanted most. Snarling at the sight, he startled the guards sitting at the table, who promptly drew their swords and called for there brethren to assist. What they didn't know is that they hadn't taken all of his weaponry......not just meaning his knives either. The four at the table had been casting lots, and now were ashes in the wind, and dragon fire still smoldered on the table. Aodhfin calmly donned his armor, his dragon skull helm, and belted his swords around his waist. His bow he strung and placed in his quiver with his arrow over his left shoulder, and his axe and greatsword were sheathed and strapped in an "X" fashion underneath the quiver. No reinforcements has shown themselves yet, but he still waited in the guardhouse anyways. After all, this was the road out of town, as well as the road to the troll-boar. So, he sat and waited, rolling the ash covered dice and sipping from a bottle of whiskey he had found in the cupboard.

Berethis walked up to them, grinning ready for a hunt, "Yall ready to track down a troll-boar"

As Tyr walked out of the tavern a Guard walked up to him. "How dare you walk around with a sword, you realize that agianst the law, now either giver your sword an all your money or i'll take your life"
Tyr merely grinned, then before the gurad knew it his head was off his body. Tyr had drawn, struck and sheathed so fast noone watchin would have been the wiser. Dang crooked cops, rogue wars, magic in the air, mysterious beasts in the woods. Something didnt feel right. He made his way to the road out of the city, he bowed as he met up with his friends.

Raalcorr was in sight of the city gates and his hunting pack when again he caught a whiff of magic. Looking about, he saw three tall, dark-eyed orc-women watching him from under black cloaks. Though they were not human, they still smelled the same as the women from before. Never being skilled at the art of delicacy, he walked right up to them. They neither walked away from nor toward him, they simply watched him approach without and visible emotion.
"You cannot disguise yourself from me," he said. "I know you are the three who ensorcelled those two bands of thieves to attack each other. Why did you do that? What profit do you receive from thieves killing each other?"
All three, in the same voice, said, "The profit is not to us, but to you. You and your companions are vital to her."
"Understand this, I am not one to be used. I decide my own fate and no one can change that!" he growled. The very idea that someone was working directly or indirectly to coerce him to follow a path they set for him was repugnant in the extreme!
All three screeched in the same voice, "The Lady is coming, Raalcorr, and you will all be her vassals! Her tools! HER SLAVES!"
With that last statement still echoing, they vanished into a black, foul-smelling hole which opened beneath their feet. Just before it closed, he thought he caught a glimpse of a form. A female of unnatural beauty; and incredible evil.
Raalcorr muttered to the ground where the hole had been, "Just try it, you deranged, disturbed, demonic, dimwitted broad. You'll find yourself dealing with far more than you can handle!"
Still, as he walked toward his companions, he found himself thinking about the female thing he saw in the hole, and felt the hackles on the back of his neck stand up. Whatever this was, he felt it right to inform the others.
"Fellows," he said, "I think someone is out to get us."
He then explained of his encounters with the three female creatures.

((Just curious, but has anyone walked by the gates of town yet? I'm still waiting in the guardhouse.))

((I think the rest of us have met up at the gates of town now.))

Berethis saw the warrior at the gates, he began to trot to them, "Allo, is you ready?"

Aodhfin corked and stowed the whiskey in his pouch and headed out of the guardhouse to meet Berethis and the rest of the group. It looked to be an interesting day, all things considered. Berethis, Raalcorr, Tyr, and himself. He wasn't entirely sure how long the troll-boar would last at this point....he shrugged to himself and turned to the Satyr.

"So Berethis, where to?"

"Well.." Berethis pulled out a map and stared at it for a minute. "We gonna follow this road to the river, there we meet with the ferryman, he takes us across the lake and we track us a boar." Berethis put the map away, he knew troll-boars were not simple to kill, he went with his dad on a hunt when he was young, half the hunters died, and it was a small one.

((OOC: Am I adding too many twists to this story? If I am, I can wrap them up quickly. If they are acceptable, I can make them considerably larger. With everyone's approval, of course. Also, am I writing too much with too many details? I've never done a roleplay story before. I just like writing. So far, I like what everyone has written. This has the potential to go far with a lot of excitement.))

((Raalcorr, don't stop. It adds to the story, which will make this more fun. A good roleplay doesn't just follow a simple plot like a movie, but adds twists and turns throughout until the story is more than what it started.))

(I see no problem with it, it just makes the story more epic, and Berethis loves the epicness)