Vladislav
2012-06-19, 12:17 AM
OOC here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=246981)
http://galadorn.wikispaces.com/file/view/wildlands.jpg/344931112/wildlands.jpg
Dusk crept on the town of Tourenne, and beacons were lit on the guard towers facing the river Mineros (http://galadorn.wikispaces.com/Mineros). Although there were no monster attacks on the town for a few years now, the townsfolk had no intention of slacking off, and each tower was manned by two ruffle-haired youths, peering nervously into the huge swampy wasteland beyond the slow-moving waters.
At the One Eared Goblin inn, five friends were gathered around a table, splitting the booty from their latest exploit. Crag's chair was creaking and threatening to give way at any moment under the Goliath's weight. Garth, bearded and unshaven, his dull clothes are criscrossed with stitching from repairs. In contrast, Orodreth's chain shirt was clean and gleaming, and his fearsome chain coiled beneath his feet. Korlin was sharpening his scimitar, not at all daunted by the prospect of losing a finger. The fifth member of the group was a skinny and bookish fellow, dressed in scholarly robes, whom the rest knew as Atalar.
After the coin was divided into equal shares, always a source of argument, and so were the other precious items, only one thing remained on the table - a magical healing belt, which should have gone to Atalar by right of draw, but for some reason he did not pick it up.
Fellows, the robed man started, we had some nice adventures together. And I don't think I'm up to any more. It's time for me to retire. My uncle was always hellbent on having me live in his tower. Or maybe, he jingled his purse, maybe I'll try to buy my own. You can have this, he pointed at the belt. You'll need it more than me. Also this, he added, tossing a wrinkled piece of parchment on the wooden surface. Do with it as you will. I'm too old for this.
[[ the parchment is what you see above ]]
http://galadorn.wikispaces.com/file/view/wildlands.jpg/344931112/wildlands.jpg
Dusk crept on the town of Tourenne, and beacons were lit on the guard towers facing the river Mineros (http://galadorn.wikispaces.com/Mineros). Although there were no monster attacks on the town for a few years now, the townsfolk had no intention of slacking off, and each tower was manned by two ruffle-haired youths, peering nervously into the huge swampy wasteland beyond the slow-moving waters.
At the One Eared Goblin inn, five friends were gathered around a table, splitting the booty from their latest exploit. Crag's chair was creaking and threatening to give way at any moment under the Goliath's weight. Garth, bearded and unshaven, his dull clothes are criscrossed with stitching from repairs. In contrast, Orodreth's chain shirt was clean and gleaming, and his fearsome chain coiled beneath his feet. Korlin was sharpening his scimitar, not at all daunted by the prospect of losing a finger. The fifth member of the group was a skinny and bookish fellow, dressed in scholarly robes, whom the rest knew as Atalar.
After the coin was divided into equal shares, always a source of argument, and so were the other precious items, only one thing remained on the table - a magical healing belt, which should have gone to Atalar by right of draw, but for some reason he did not pick it up.
Fellows, the robed man started, we had some nice adventures together. And I don't think I'm up to any more. It's time for me to retire. My uncle was always hellbent on having me live in his tower. Or maybe, he jingled his purse, maybe I'll try to buy my own. You can have this, he pointed at the belt. You'll need it more than me. Also this, he added, tossing a wrinkled piece of parchment on the wooden surface. Do with it as you will. I'm too old for this.
[[ the parchment is what you see above ]]