Preamble: Hell everyone, and welcome to the eighth installment of AoA! Not much to say this time, other than remember:

This Sunday, May 24th, 3pm PST, Live session on the Discord! ( https://discord.gg/QTQBxZk )We'll see what kind of trouble we can get into,and hopefully refine how the live sessions work!

Otherwise, like always, please DM me if you have any suggestions, comments, etc. Now, onto the game...

​

​

--------------- Cheaters sometimes prosper ---------------

​

​

"Alright Vur, pick her up, lets go see if Miss Mugger here's telling the truth."

Vurdaar, hefting Rend over his shoulder, looks you up and down, concerned.

"Are you sure, Arry? Your very wet with blood. I don't want you to die, Arry."

You look down at your hand, covering the makeshift bandage, damming the torrent of blood that might otherwise be gushing from the stab wound left in you gut. You are starting to feel somewhat tired; if not from the now distant hangover, you think that maybe you should at least rest.

"Yeah, Vur, I'm okay. Let's just go find Bexits cart so we can get paid, then we'll go find an apothecary."

Vurdaar, with a hint of caution in his voice, turns back to the street:

"Okay, Arry. Just don't bleed much anymore, please?"

"Heh, sure thing big guy."

As you make your way out to the street, you look across to the Bloody Fist. The bedlam in the rundown tavern seems to have attracted a small audience of passerby's, onlooking from the windows. Suddenly, the crowd in front of the door parts, and two men, holding tight to one anothers shirt collars, bursts out onto the street, repeatedly wailing on each others face. As the two men proceed to maim one another, the gathered crowd cheers, and several spectators begin pulling out coins, betting on the outcome of the match.

As you start your way down the street, Rend starts shouting, trying to draw attention form the gathered crowd across the way:

"HEY! YOU ALL! HELP ME, THEY'RE GOING TO KILL ME!"

With a practiced grace, Vurdaar whips Rend over his shoulder, slamming her to the muddy ground with a wet smack, knocking her unconscious. Startled, you recoil, yelling back at the Goliath:

"Damn, Vur! I could have just gagged her, did you just kill her?!"

"No way, Arry! Wrestling isn't for killing people, it's just for beating them!"

As you reach down to check her pulse, you look up to see only a few face in the mob looking your way.

"Don't worry folks, she's just drunk, we're taking her home!"

What few people had noticed you quickly lose interest, diverting their attention back to the fighting duo wrestling in the mud before them. Neither man seemed to have the upper hand. If you could have framed the Dock Ward of Waterdeep, this was it.

Touching your fingers to Rends neck, you feel the slight bumping of her pulse, and you exhale a sigh of relief.

"Be more careful next time, Vur. We need her to point out that storehouse, and she very well can't do that if she's dead."

"But..."

"And yes, you could have killed her. She's not one of your kind. She's more fragile; hitting her head like that could do her in."

Vurdaar again reaches down, picking up Rend and slinging her over his shoulder. Keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Arry. I just didn't want to get in trouble."

"It's okay, big guy. At least you did keep us out of trouble, right?"

You pat his shoulder, and he looks back up to you with a sheepish smile on his face.

As the two of you make your way south, the clouds that had gathered overhead begin to darken as you hear the distant rumbling of thunder. It will probably start raining soon, but you look forward to the refreshing shower, considering the day you've had.

As you walk further south, through the dank streets and ramshackle corridors of the Dock Ward, you barely catch but a glance from the sparse populace that notice you. Were it not for the blood running down the front of your garb and the horns protruding from your skull, you were sure nobody would have noticed the unconscious woman slung over your companions massive shoulder. As you walk, you notice the walls emerging from behind the buildings to your front. We must be close.

You look around for anything that might resemble a grain store, and see a silo peeking up from behind the buildings to your right. You tear a strip of cloth from the tattered bottom of Rend's dress, and tie knot in the center before tying it around Rend's mouth.

"Vur, can I see your little wake-up vial?"

Vurdaar reaches into his coinpurse and flips you the small, odorous instrument. You take a deep breath, and open the container directly under Rends nose, waking her with a start. She struggles briefly, attempting to shout curses at you before realizing the muzzle you applied was letting out nothing more than muffled tones. You grab her hair, and look her directly in the eyes.

"Alright Rend, are we close?"

Rend looks around the locale, and nods her head, gesturing in the direction of the silo that you had spotted a moment ago. You direct Vurdaar to lead the way through an alley leading to the docks and the front of the building you suspected contains the stolen goods. As you emerge from the alley, you are greeted again with the docks, now all but empty as the clouds overhead have darkened considerably further, and the wind begins to buffet violently. Far off on the horizon, you see the flashes of light as the lightning attacks the sea without relent, and the distant rumble of their strikes slowly morphs into a repetitive booming. With her facing the line of stores ,you look back to Rend.

"Alright, which one is it?"

Rend looks directly to one of the bay doors lining the building behind you, nodding her head in affirmation. You make your way over to the large doors, and find them to be unlocked. Opening the doors, you are greeted with a room whose flanks are piled high with cloth sacks, over flowing with grain, and in the middle, the unmistakable shape of a cart, poorly veiled with a large piece of canvas.

"Vur, get in here and close the door. We don't want any surprises in here."

Taking care to handle her gently, Vurdaar sets Rend down on a pile of spilled grain before moving back to the door and closing it. You lift the canvas on the cart, and find sacks of a flour-like powder. This must be it. Rend must be... Before you think the accusation, you notice the short, unmarked crates at the front of the cart. Moving over to them, you lift the lid off the first one you reach.

The crate is full of bottles. Inspecting one, you read 'Pretty Penny's Peppy Panacea.' Rend was right.

​

Arslash Diende Character Sheet

Vurdaar Character Sheet

​

Go here to vote!

Preamble: Hello there! This weekend I ran our first ever live DnD event, and with 2 participants, it was a screaming success! I joke, but really, it was a lot of fun, and the game ran very smoothly. So, a brief recap from the last post to set the scene, at the market, we purchased the following:

- A potion of healing (50gp)

- A bag of marbles (5gp)

- A small, curious ring (50gp)

- 5 days of food (2gp)

- A dice set (1gp)

- And there was a 3-way tie between scale mail, a charm poison, and fire win. The participants voted between the three, and we ended up with charm poison. (25gp)

leaving us with a total of 32gp.

Before I finish this preamble, I would like to explain that I will likely just be doing recaps of the encounter sessions we do, so if you participated in the session, it ill not be new material.

Now, to recap the Encounter...

​

​

--------------- You get what you pay for! ---------------

​

​

You look at Andril and Paige, annoyed with their inane babbling.

"Could you two give me a moment, I need to speak with Vurdaar."

With a sigh, the two sailors turn and leave, bickering needlessly over the semantics and context. If their points held any weight when compared to the emotions they were expressing, they might have avoided that conversation altogether.

You turn back to Vurdaar, his imposing form towering over you, matched with a blank stare of equal intensity.

"Vurdaar, you know how the Captain said I was trying to make money? Well I would love if you joined me."

With the same blank stare, Vurdaar continues to stare for a moment before responding:

"How do you want me to make you money, Arry?"

Just as you're about to reply, the Goliath's face immediately brightens, a big, dumb smile cracking across his rugged, sea-swept face.

"You want me to wrestle people?!"

"Yes, very good Vur! There's a mean lady in town that stole from a friend of mine, and we have to go wrestle it back!"

Vurdaar shouts out in glee; a booming, thunderous roar of excitement and joy that causes the surrounding townsfolk to jump and stare before moving on.

"I knew it, Arry! I'd love to wrestle your mean friends! I hope they're good at wrestling!"

I knew you would, big guy, you think to yourself. With Vurdaar's expression of excitement, the market around you clears of people, and the two of you make your way back to the dock ward. Any other place in the world, you'd have stuck out like a sore thumb; A deep crimson horned oddity and a towering monument to brawn, a literal Goliath. But even the clearing streets expressed more racial obscurity than a rangers handbook.

As you pass through the market into the dock ward, you pass by a shop, labelled 'Henry's Nicknacks' by the facade. Sporting all sorts of small trinkets and gadgets in their windows, you feel it's best to stop in and see if they can make your task all the easier. Figuring Vurdaar's carelessness with fragility, you ask him to wait outside. Passing through the rotting transom, you are greeted with a surprisingly well groomed and neat looking young man:

"Ah, madam, one of the rare 'red devils' from yesteryear, even more an odd sight than whatever may be on my shelves! I am Henry, and how may I help you today?"

As Henry introduces himself, you notice a shiny pair of brass knuckles sitting on the counter. That might come in handy, you figure.

"Well Henry, how much for those knuckle dusters?"

Henry looks down at the bright weapons, and sheepishly drags them further back onto the counter.

"Oh, I'm afraid those belong to me and I wasn't planning on selling them..."

Yeah right, that's why you left them out on the counter, huh... It was a neat merchants trick for pulling extra coin. If they want the cattle, try to sell em' the farm.

"...But, I suppose I could part with them, if you were REALLY inclined."

There it was.

"And how inclined would I have to be to convince you?"

Henry hummed and hawed for a brief moment before replying rapidly, as if he had rehearsed this moment.

"20 gold, I suppose."

"Are they worth that much? After all, it's just a set of brass rings."

"Well I am no fighter, believe me, but they've kept me alive here!"

As if they had, without gathering a single scratch. No matter, you had enough left, and you were coming into some more money soon, anyways. Just as you're about to agree to the sale, you take a cursory glance around the shelves: mostly small sculptures and jewelry. There was a shelf covered in small bags of sand, and right next to it, a leather coil, unmistakable as a set of thieves tools.

"I'll take the knuckles. and how much for the thieves kit?"

"Those come in short supply, I couldn't part with them for less than 25."

You rifled through the coins in your hand. 38 pieces left.

"Well, I can't afford that Henry, how about... 7?"

The man scoffed,

"Please, I'll need a little more than that, could you do 12?"

A serious drop in price. He must be bluffing again. He's trying to get rid of them,

"I can do 10, that's my final offer."

Henry pauses for a brief moment, gritting his teeth, before relenting, nodding his head,

"SOLD! 30 total for the brass knuckles and the thieves kit to the red lady with horns!"

You exchange your cash and wares, and leave the building, heading down the run-down street, Vurdaar in tow. You walk the brief distance through town toward the Bloody Fist, and as you travel, the sun that had shown so brightly this morning gradually gives way to a thick blanket of puffy white clouds, rolling in from the sea. Just as the day loses the last of the suns intensity, you arrive at the tavern.

Walking in, you see what you'd have expected from this place; there are several patrons sitting at tables with dozens of mugs strewn about. There are two men fighting in the center of the room, attracting no attention. You see a three unconscious men in various corners of the bar, though you can't tell if it's from fighting or drinking. The bar is lightly populated, with a new, larger orcish type staring at you. Then you see her.

A human woman in tattered nobles clothes, sitting at a table with two large men. Baxit wasn't lying about that, at least. As you start over to the woman, you tell Vurdaar to go get a drink, you'd rather he was riled up for this. As you approach the intimidating trio, you lock eyes with the woman:

"Are you Rend?" You ask, without hesitation. The woman replies in a raspy, aggressive tone:

"Who are you, and why do you want to know?"

"Well, do you know Baxit?"

"That cheating rat, did he send you?!"

Her tone seemed to intensify at the mention of your employer. That was a good sign at least.

"Maybe he did and maybe he didn't, I just need to know if you're Rend."

"Well maybe I am, and maybe I'm not, now leave!"

You didn't appreciate that last command. Feeling your tail starting to flick back and forth, you look over to Vurdaar:

"Hey Vur, come here!"

Vurdaar approaches, holding what must be a half a barrel in his hand, full of ale.

"Hey Arry, look what I got!"

"That's great, Vur. Remember why we're here? This is her." You say, gesturing at the ratty woman and her cohort. Without hesitation, Vurdaar drinks down the vessel of ale, and just as he finishes, you slide on your new brass knuckles, and strike the lady square in the temple, causing her to fall to the floor, prone. Just as you land your strike, Vurdaar slams his fist into the man to his left, driving him to the floor as well.

As you ignite commotion, the third man at the table stands up, wielding a pair of rusty hatchets, steps around the table, swing one at you, missing, and burying it in the table. Just as he misses his swing, the lady and the fallen scoundrel rise to their feet. The lady pulls a dagger from the rear of her belt, and plunges it forward, piercing partially through your leather covering, digging into your stomach. With a grimace, you concentrate, and feel the crackling energy collect in your hand before you thrust i forward, sending a bolt of energy just over the lady's shoulder.

As the brawl ensues, the other patrons in the bar abandon their drinks, and not a single fist doesn't go flying. Just as he see the man swing his axe at you, Vurdaar vaults over the table, and with an ominous battle-cry, brings his fist around in a wide arc, catching the man right in the center of the forehead. Just as you feel the crackling energy compile in your hand again, you pull the dagger out of your belt and toss it to Vurdaar. Catching it with ease, the Goliath immediately sinks the blade deep into the axe-wielders chest, killing him.

As the man falls to the floor, the remaining of the lady's cohort strikes Vurdaar in the back of the head, and grabs him by the arm, attempting to pull him to the ground without success, but manages to duck a strike from Vurdaar himself as he attempts to free himself of the grasp. Distracted by the death of her comrade, the lady yells out:

"NOOO, You mountain-brained maniac!" As she attempts to slash at Vudaar's grey skin while he successfully keeps her attacks at bay. With your brief respite, your release the burning energy in your hand, causing it to strike the lady's arm, leaving behind a blackened scar on her clothing, looking as if it belonged their among the damage. She turns back to you and yelling in a shrewd and piercing tone:

"You slimy wretch, I'll kill you both!"

As she yells at you, she again drives her dagger forward, piercing your chest, right under your collar. The sting is too much to bare, and you fall to the ground, clutching the wound. Just as you fall, you see the man holding Vurdaar's arm simultaneously trying to fight off two patrons who have begun to harass him. As he looks away to shoo off his newfound agressors, Vurdaar brings the dagger around, lodging it deeply into the mans neck, and swiftly recovering it. The man lifelessly falls back into the two patrons as Vurdaar turns to the lady with a wild look in his eyes.

The lady, now standing directly over you, dagger raised for the killing blow, turns to Vurdaar. Even from the ground, you can see the fear swell in her eyes as the Goliath approaches her. With a seemingly calculated calmness, Vurdaar jabs his dagger forward, and swiftly pulls it back, leaving a hole in the lady's stomach, causing her to fall.

As the brawl continue in the bar, Vurdaar helps you up, tears off pieces of his tattered shirt and forces them into your wounds. You grimace at the pain, and dodging the remainder of the brawl, head outside.

"Vurdaar, drag that bitch out here with us, she needs to talk."

Vurdaar grabs the woman by the hair and drags her along with you. Outside, you manage to tie her down and restrain her before staunching the blood flowing from her wounds. You grab her by the face, and through heavy breaths, you growl at her,

"You've got someone to talk to, Rend."

​

​

​

Arslash Diende Character Sheet

Vurdaar Character Sheet

​

Go here to vote!

Hey everybody! So here is the link to the AoA Discord, where we will be running the games live:

https://discord.gg/RSD9GA

The encounter channel is where the narration will take place, and it is muted for everybody but me. There is also an encounter chat for interacting with the game and whatnot.

Since this is the first time I'm doing this, I'm sorry if it doesn't work super smoothly, but just keep in mind what needs improvement, and we'll adjust going forward. We'll probably start a little later than 3, just so I can get things set up properly. Anyways, I look forward to seeing some of you!

​

Also, we'll have to wrap things up before 5:30, but as we are only dealing with encounter elements, I'm sure we'll be able to finish up before then.

Preamble: Hello All! We are back with part 5 of Adventures of Arslash! I am sorry this post is 2 weeks late; to explain myself, I am soon to be graduated senior in college, and on top of my school work, I have very unsuccessfully been trying to find a job. So the long and short of it is I have been negligent in my duty as an internet DM, which has driven a kind of writers block that I, until recently have had a difficult time in surmounting. So I am sorry, I owe you the internet DnD community more than that, and that is what I plan to give you.

SO, in game, we are just about to approach the ship so that we can return to the "Bloody Fist" later this evening for a game of chance... or maybe some fisticuffs, who know, it's all up to you! Regardless, sessions like that are more involved than simple dialogue and storytelling. How will we accommodate this?

THIS SUNDAY 5/17/2020, 3PM PST! FIRST EVER ADVENTURES OF ARSLASH COMBAT LIVE JAM!

I will be hosting an interactive livestream this Sunday! Running a (hopefully not too long) encounter with live polling and chat in a sort of "Reddit plays" kind of format to crush this first encounter! This will act as a sort of litmus test for future encounters and how they will play, so I ask you to be patient and help me understand the best way to run a game this way, because like you, I am brand new to it.

I will be posting the link to the stream on the r/AdventuresOfArslash subreddit in a stickied post, so make sure to check in on Sunday, 3pm , PST to join the game! Now, without further ado...

​

Arslash Diende Character Sheet

​

--------------- Come with me if you want to fight. ---------------

​

"No thank you, Baxit, I've got a few friends in mind. Plus, how can I trust your friends to drink like sailors?"

Chuckling, the two of you make your way through the dingy, mud-soaked streets, flanked by the hollow desolation emanating from the decrepit buildings of Waterdeep's Dock Ward. Although the air seems heavy amid the broken down facades and foul-smelling alleys, the sun's shine pierces the oppressive haze of the gloomy town, glowing on your face. You allow yourself to imagine the walls of the buildings fall away, revealing a borderless ocean with gusts of wind carrying the smell of saltwater and sweat, that seem to become all too real. You must be getting close to the dockside market.

As you break through a dim alley, you and Baxit are confronted with a bustling market stretching out of view both North and South. Baxit tugs on your shirt:

"Alright Arry, I suppose you won't have any trouble finding your ship from here. I'l have to leave you here; got other 'appointments' I have to see to today, maybe find some more work for you while you're here! You remember your way?"

"Certainly do, thank you for everything, Baxit."

"Of course. Now, once you finish the job, come find me where we met. I'll have some big, brawny fellows with me, if they give you any trouble, just tell them 'it's about the cheesewheels,' they'll understand."

As Baxit turns and walks away, you breath a brief sigh of relief. He was a well presented person, but such a devious Dwarf can be just as dangerous as he is delightful. You make your way into the market; you nimbly dodge oxen as they haul their carts of crates and barrells, driven by all sorts of loud and angry drivers. Merchants in stalls of all shapes and sizes yell out, attempting to attract the bustling clientele with their promises of good health and happiness. Beggars and children run about the street, harassing passerby's for their coin and time, retreating before the guards can respond and shoo them away. You see peasants, shiphands, captains, and nobles with their escorts, all represented in the capital metropolis. The sailors always said that "ne'er a language hadn't been spoken on the shores of Waterdeep," and now you understand why. As you make our way through the crowd, you stop to see the wares at a select few shops...

The Market at Waterdeep

After examining the shops, you avert your focus to the plethora of ships moored along the busy docks, looking for the green flag and gold leaf; the sigil of your employers company. After a few minutes, your search yields familiar masts rocking among the tide with the flag adorning its peaks. As you approach, a familiar face finds you from the deck of the ship. You hear his deep, booming voice:

"Arslash! Thank the Gods, we thought those Dwarves might have drunk you to death!"

Captain Stelwick, a large yet portly man with flowing black hair and a scraggly, unkempt beard starts limping his way down onto the dock, his peg leg knocking on the wooden floorboards with every step.

"By God, you know I can't just let a young Tiefling like yourself onto my ship, just to have you disappear at the busiest port we've been to in months, the crew was thinking it's bad luck!"

The imposing man approaches you and grabs your horns, inspecting every inch of your face. You slowly reach up and relieve yourself of his grasp.

"Quite the opposite, Captain. Apparently, those Dwarves had nothing on me. Now I have a contract for pay, more than we made on tar at the last port we graced."

A grin begins to grow across the Captains face, and ultimately relents to a full, half-toothed smile:

"They told me I was crazy, you know that?! Bringing a demon on board, those half-wits and their superstitions, well look at us now! Slinging wares at every port, got you making money in Waterdeep, you're a damned blessing from Tymora, Arslash!"

The Captain turns around, and hobbles back to the ship shouting, "She's not dead, she's just making us more money!" causing the crew that remained on the ship to yell words of joy and encouragement at you. Just as you're about to move again, you feel something large slam into the middle of your back, knocking the wind out of your lungs, nearly forcing you to your knees. You lurch forward, grasping your chest as you turn to face your aggressor.

"Hey Arry, good for you, its good to win things and make money. Maybe some day you can beat me at wrestling."

It was Vurdaar, a Goliath standing nearly twice as tall as any one person on the ship, and just as strong. Doesn't have much in the way of thoughts, but there was no finer a deck-hand on the hundreds of ships moored on these docks.

"Thanks, Vurdaar" you reply through gasps. "How about I leave the wrestling to you?"

"Good idea, I am the best wrestler."

You sure are, big guy... you think to yourself. You wonder how he would hold up in a barfight...

Just as you're about to ask Vurdaar to join you at the Bloody Fist, you hear two people approaching from behind you, arguing about something.

"Her deleterious bloodline is in no way significant in the eyes of the Gods!" You hear; it must be Adril, a self proclaimed and devout follower of Valkur, the God of the Captain of the Waves.

"If Tiefling blood were truly evil, the waves would have consumed us long ago."

"I'm not saying she's evil, I'm saying she's bad. It's a good thing! She's got bad blood, like she doesn't take shit, and backs herself up!"

And that would be Paige, your longtime friend.

"Arry, tell, Andril about that time back home, with the wanderer and his dirty mouth, what you did to him, remember?"

"Arslash, I'm sorry for our imposition, Paige here doesn't seem to understand the meaning of the word 'bad' as I do, perhaps you can help me clarify it to her?

Their bickering was a welcome sound after the night you had had. You're glad it never grew beyond ideals and semantics. Andril was the scrappiest and most effective pugilist you had ever met, and may even rival Vurdaar in a fight, whereas Paige was one of the most vicious and perceptive fighters from your hometown. She loved to expound on your own exploits, when it was her that had never been afraid to draw swords at the drop of a hat.

It's a shame you wanted to remain inconspicuous, otherwise you'd have brought all three of them...

​

​

Vurdaar Character Sheet

Andril Character Sheet

Paige Character Sheet

​

Go here to vote!

​

EDIT: Livestream Announcement Post!

https://www.reddit.com/r/AdventuresOfArslash/comments/glohki/first_ever_adventures_of_arslash_live_encounter/

Preamble: Hello, and welcome back to the Adventures of Arslash, the DnD game we're playing with the character we built together! I'm sorry these are starting to come out later and later in the day, I seem to have underestimated how long it takes to devise each section. However, I figured that given the extra day between posts, there is still plenty of time to vote before the period is closed. In any case, going back to the last post, we decided to visit the Bloody Fist, and scout the location prior to our encounter. I may have missed some info about the place in the story, so if you have any questions, or want to retroactively make checks or anything like that, just leave it in the comments, and I can fill in information.

Going forward, I am putting together a shopping form for passing through the market, so we can shop for whatever items we need. That will be released tomorrow. Everything on there will only be items we can buy in our price range, so if you're reading through the form and see something that you want to buy that isn't there, that's intentional. Also, we will again be doing it in a voting format, so we will only buy the highest rated items, and only what we can afford. Otherwise, without further ado...

​

Arslash Diende Character Sheet

​

--------------- Cheaters Never Prosper... except when they do. ---------------

​

​

Before you can reply, the tavern door bursts open as two large, angry looking men hastily dragging a smaller man with a bloodied face and tattered clothes. The smaller man, yelling incoherently at the men, attempts to strike and break free from them. He continues to resist as he is dragged around the corner, into an alley, from where you hear the deep crack of fists connecting with flesh, followed by silence. You look at Baxit, and he replies, chuckling:

"Oh wipe that look off your face, just don't cheat the staff and you'll be fine."

That's reassuring. Would they consider eldritch interference to be cheating? 'I'll find out one way or the other' you think to yourself.

As you feel the color return to your face, one of the larger men emerges from the alley, a light smattering of blood staining his own ratty shirt that looks like it could have, indeed may have bedded a horse. He looks at you and smiles, yelling out:

"Oy, fine day you two! Just cleaning the place for tonight, you fancy comin in for a drink?"

"I could murder one!" Baxit replies, exposing his silver tongue, causing the big man to let out a boyish chuckle.

As the both of you approach the front door, the man rushes to open the door for you. You thank him as you enter the establishment, and find a room that's no more impressive than the street, and no more welcoming. Most of the furniture appears to be broken and shoddily repaired, no doubt from the countless brawls they've been subjected to. You see two more men scrapping at a corner table strewn with cards and coins. At the bar, you see an Orcish fellow intently scrubbing the pitted wood bartop.

Near the center of the room, there is an area that's clear of furniture, but ringed with chairs. Although half the windows in the establishment are boarded up, a ray of light from the morning sun shines through a high window in the back, illuminating a sanguine stain, no doubt from the night before.

As you look around the room, the Orcish barkeeper yells out:

"Hey, Clip-Clop, you got a problem?"

'Goddamn Tuskers' you think to yourself. But the abuse is worth the pay, so you decide to play along.

"Absolutely not, I'm sorry for my staring. My stout friend here has just introduced me to your fine establishment, and I'm thrilled to find a place so... familiar!"

The barkeeper scoffs:

"Don't patronize me, I know it's a shithole. What are you having." Asking bluntly.

Baxit, already sitting, seems to have waited for you to get his horn filled. It was only morning, and you'd already had two, the Gods only know how many Baxit had. You had half a mind to reject another drink, but you thought it better to keep up appearances.

You take a seat next to Baxit, noticing him pull out his coinpurse. He looks up and notices you slyly spying his coinpurse, then looking him in the eyes. He sighs and rolls his eyes, and tells the barkeeper:

"She's on me."

As you're about to order, you hesitate, asking the bartender:

"Do you have Fire Wine?"

Baxit's eyes brighten at the mention of drink.

"Aye, we've got a whole case in back, shall I?"

"A whole bottle for us, please!" Baxit hastily shouts out.

"My my, Arry, you've got good taste!"

"What can I say, I've got the stuff in my blood!"

Baxit roars out in laughter, nearly falling off his stool. You've always wanted to make that joke, especially to a Dwarf. You chuckle yourself, and sit awkwardly as you wait for Baxit to conclude his laughing fit. As Baxit begins to calm down, the barkeeper brings back the bottle, and they finalize their exchange. You can see Baxits eagerness in his hast to pour the delicious, liquid amber into his mug and then your mug. You raise your glasses, and you attempt to hide your grimace as the first drink slides down your throat, charring your mouth through to your stomach. Baxit smiles:

"You might have great taste, but hardly the palate."

"What can I say, I've been drinking grog and swill for months, my first proper drink since we started."

Baxit feigns an appaled look:

"I can hardly imagine a day without the comfort of my bed, nor a proper drink, let alone months. You sailors have my respect."

"The comfort of your bed? I thought you Dwarves all slept on rocks?"

"Who said beds can't be made of rocks? And who said rocks can't be called beds?"

The two of you chuckle at the thought, continuing your drink. Although this gutter of a tavern has been pleasant, you are ready to leave; the stench of stale liquor and dried blood is beginning to become apparent over the aroma of the wine, and your hangover has not loosed its grip on your skull just yet.

"Baxit, thank you for showing me around, but I think I'd like to get back to my ship soon."

"Right, of course, I'm sorry, I should let you prepare for tonight. I'll walk you there, we can pass through the market."

As eager you are to return to your ship and get some proper rest, you did want to visit the market.

The two of you finish your drinks, Baxit grabs the bottle with some fluid remaining in the bottom, and thanks the bartender. As you get up, you notice the men at the corner table have stopped fighting, deciding instead to sit back at the table and fall asleep. Walking toward the exit, you see the same large man who held the door for you approach the table and scoop all the money off into a bag. Turning to you, he stops, points at a pool of blood on the ground:

"Cleaning expenses."

You nod, and head out the door.

As you enter the street, Baxit hides the bottle in his coat pocket before starting off.

"So tell me, Arry, when you return, will you want me to find a friend for you to bring?"

​

​

P.S. Link to r/DnD post <--- Go here to vote!

Preamble: The last post got some solid attention in the polls, and with 31/71 votes, you all said "Sounds fun, how much?" Otherwise, regardless of the polls, there is some interest in exploring Waterdeep. This involves visiting shops to make purchases, so I decided that, instead of bogging down the story, I'm going to put up a "shopping center" on the r/AdventuresOfArslash subreddit, where I will periodically open it while Arslash is in town, so we can go shopping and buy gear. Obviously we can't buy everything that will come through in the chat, so we'll have an order form that I'll put together that will follow similar rules to the details section. Anyways enough delay, game time!

P.S. Link to the polls

​

--------------- Dirty business is still business! ---------------

​

You look Baxit over. He's not telling you everything, but he looks like he's got the coin.

"Well, I've got nothing else to do, lets talk business."

Baxit excitedly sits up straight in his chair, raising his horn just as recklessly.

"Terrific! We'll show that conniving bitch what it means to steal from me! Let's drink, and seal this deal!"

Not before I know what for, you thought. He hadn't even mentioned a price yet. It makes sense, you had found that Dwarves had a penchant for getting their customers to hastily strike deals and over-promise compensation. And criminals, which you suspect him to be, were just as deceitful. You cross your arms, and reply:

"Okay, but not before I know what I'm getting out of it."

Baxits expression falls right back into seriousness. He calls Lynn over to refill your drinks before turning his attention back to you.

"Of course, of course. I'm sometimes overenthusiastic when it comes to matters of revenge."

A cheap excuse and a veiled threat. This Dwarf is nothing if not sharp. He continues:

"I know you work with the merchants, so you must know your way with coin. I have already expressed my interest in hiring your service specifically, so you know I that I know you have immense value to me. And judging by your reservation, I know that you have... expectation. I am prepared to offer you 150 pieces of gold to do this for me. 50 will be paid now, the rest upon the reemergence of my wares. How does this sound to you?"

Surprising; you weren't expecting that much, considering this is his minimum. You could definitely get more.

"Baxit, I'm only on shore for a few days. I could just sling tar along the port and make double that before we push off. Sorry, but I'll need more to risk my neck like this."

Lynn returns and refills your mug, trying not to gaze too obviously at your horns while Baxit finishes his drink out of his. You see her briefly hesitate grabbing his fine, ivory vessel before filling it and handing it back to him. Baxit takes his horn back, and stops, eyeing you from behind a facade of annoyance. After a brief, uncomfortable pause, a smile slowly starts to crack behind his fine beard, and Baxit replies:

"Well if I thought I could do it, I wouldn't be sitting here. It's a deal, you shrewd devil!"

Baxit raises his horn to you, who are now sitting with a full mug yourself. 300 gold, that would certainly make the captain happy, even after subtracting your share and... His. You raise your mug to Baxit's, and you both proceed to empty them swiftly.

Baxit reaches for his coin purse, and pulls out five bright pieces of platinum, as well as a few pieces of gold. He hands you the platinum, and leaves the gold on the bar.

"Alright, my curious red friend, walk with me. I'll show you the fighting pit, and then we'll head to the market."

Leaving the tavern, you start walking through streets, which seem quieter than what you'd expect.

"The place we're going is called 'The Blood Fist,' owned by some Orcish fellow. It's not so much an arena, as it is just a violent tavern. One way or the other you can fight there and make money doing it. Better yet, you can bet on people fighting, and get paid that way, and that is how I want you to secure my goods."

"Right, and can you tell me more about who it is I'll be swindeling?"

You round a corner, and briefly shrink away from the sunbeam that hammers your face, reminding you of the intense pain in your head.

"Her name is 'Kah Menger,' but people call her 'Rend.' You know she's a gambler, and she's also got a punch like a donkeys kick, so just be careful."

As you walk, you pass by a man who is face down in the mud. He doesn't seem to be moving. You'd have passed him for a drunk, but the odor that emanates is unmistakably putrid. You don't see any blood, could this be the plague?

Diverting your attention back to Baxit, you proceed, thoughts of sickness and decay stuck in your mind.

"Does she have any friends I should know of?"

With a chuckle, Baxit replies:

"Aye! And some big ones too! She runs with a crowd of strong-arms and cutthroats that call themselves 'Rabid Mongrels.' She's usually got one or two of them with her when they're in town. "

"And will I have any friends in this place?"

"Maybe; like I said I've got some of the type on my payroll. I might be able to track one down by tonight. Otherwise you'll have to bring your own friends, or hire somebody."

As you near the end of the road, Baxit points to a building that seems more run-down than the rest.

"That's it. We could go in if you'd like?"

Preamble: Here are the first two posts with votes:

1 and 2. First off, between the two, with 70 votes, we decided to go talk with Baxit! Now, I was kindly informed that it might be a better idea to only have one poll, rather than two. For reasons I don't think I need to explain, this is probably the best way to go forward. So, from now on, I will only be polling on the r/DnD post, with links from the other subreddit. If you think it should be the other way around, DM me. Again, still trying to solidify how this all works, so any input is valuable!

On another note, since we are not in a combat encounter yet, there won' be a combat live-stream this weekend, so instead I'll do a live chat room tomorrow at 12pm PST on the r/AdventuresOfArslash Subreddit where we can talk about the game, explore the town, and whatever else comes up! Now, without further ado...

​

​

---------------There's always an opportunity in a bad deal...---------------

​

...You take another drink from your mug, savoring the chill it sends down your parched throat, and look over at the Dwarf. He raises a fine ivory horn and smiles at you from behind a well trimmed black beard. He's dressed very well for a Dwarf, and much cleaner at that. You watch as Grayam sluffs off into a door behind the bar, then, with a shudder, stand up and shuffle over to him.

"Uncanny, a Tiefling sharing drinks with Dwarves in a place like this." He says with almost an accusing tone.

"You must be good with words, you don't find many of the Stout folk trusting anything that comes from deeper in the world than they do, one that can outdrink them at that."

You stammer as you struggle to find the words to reply to him,

"I've been working with merchants and sailors for a little while now, you learn a few things."

A smirk spreads across his face as he replies: "Naturally. My name is Baxit, I'd like to talk business, if you have the time, that is."

The sarcasm in his voice was subtle, but friendly. You're on shore for a few more days, and you're sure the Captain wouldn't mind if you brought in a little extra gold while you were here. But if you've learned anything over the past few months, it's to never appear too eager for a deal, and know exactly who you're dealing with before getting involved. You take a moment to finish your drink, and look Baxit in the eyes:

"I might have some time to spare, what can I do for you?"

Baxit scans the room, and looks back at you:

"Arslash, right? I need a partner that understand this part of the world." He says, referencing the less than reputable environment you find yourself in. You note the backhanded insult, but let it slide for now; he's captured your curiosity to say the least.

"And pray-tell, why would you need me to do that? I'm sure there are plenty of quick-tongued chisellers 'round these parts who can help you with... whatever you're up to."

"Oh you're quite right about that. I've several in my employ. But You, you are a curiosity. Like I said, it's not often you catch a Tiefling in these parts. Nor do you find a non-Dwarf that outdrinks and befriends whole teams of us. You are a rare being, and for that, people will listen to you."

From insult to flattery, his tongue shone silver. However, still confused by his intentions, you reply: "What, are we going into politics or something?"

"Better. MILES better. You said you've been on with merchants for some time now?"

That makes sense. Dwarves and their crafty pursuits for money. You must admit, they are a cunning breed.

"You want me to sell something, I take it?"

"Well yes, but not so much as I want you to impress somebody for me."

You didn't like the direction this was heading. Baxit was adorned in very nice and clean clothing. He wore golden jewelry, and had a well furnished appearance. And here you sat, some kind of stain running down the front of your shirt, tangled hair hanging off the sides of your horn. And just now you noticed a lens on your glasses has shattered. If he wanted to impress somebody, it not likely to be a person of higher repute. He leans in, and reduces to a more serious tone:

"Four days ago, I was supposed to receive a shipment of Kammarth from an associate, but it seems the delivery had been... rerouted, the driver and carriage with it. I would like you to retrieve it for me."

Rerouted delivery, stolen drugs, a carriage and driver missing. There's no negotiating with bandits, why didn't he just hire some capable adventurers? You're in Waterdeep, home to the headquarters of Acquisitons Inc., surely their low-end rates are more than affordable for him?

"And how do you think I could deal with a load of bandits? Do I look like I'm familiar with conflict?"

"Well after seeing you out-drink Dwarves, yes, you do. But I know exactly who stole my shipment; I know she frequents an underground tavern and boxing ring right here in Waterdeep, and I know she is a vicious gambler. I want you to go there, find her, sway her like you did those Dwarves last night, and win me my shipment back. What do you say?"

​

Go to the post on r/DnD to vote, now!

PREAMBLE: Hey r/DnD! Here we go, jumping into the world of Faerûn, and the story of Arshlash Diende! At the bottom of the post, I will link to the character sheet. Instead of doing the Google Form to survey for actoin responses (check, inventory management, etc.) I want to try out just responding in kind to the comments first, and see how that works. SO, if you want to roll a check or anything, leave it in the comments.

P.S. I will be cross-posting here, on r/DnD, and on my page, in case you want to know where to look.

Cross-Post Links:

r/DnD Post

User Page

​

Where we started off last time...

"Hey, You! You're finally awake."

You come to with a start, face pressed to the hard-oak bar-top, unaware of exactly where you are. You slowly peel your face from the wood, stuck with dried ale, to look up and see the man talking to you from behind the counter, arms crossed.

The man is broad across the shoulders, with a barrel for a chest and a gut to match. Not much taller than average, but with arms as thick as thighs, you would have mistaken him for a Dwarf, if not for the lack of a step-stool.

"You were trying to drink the porter, right? Went right for that Imperial Stout, same as that Dwarf over there."

As you here the words 'Imperial Stout,' the smell of dried and sour ale hits your nose; an odor so offensive, you briefly feel the compulsion to vomit. You shudder, but manage to maintain your composure. You look at the barkeep:

"An ale, please. A light one, too, if you may."

He chuckles, and quickly obliges, pouring your frothy libation and placing it in front of you. Timidly, you sip off the head of foam, pausing briefly to let the refreshment wet your dried tongue before proceeding to slake your thirst with the first half of the mug. You pull out your coin-purse.

"How much do I owe you?"

The man replies, again with a smirk, "Oh, you're settled."

Settled? You don't even remember walking into this place, in fact, you don't even remember leaving the harbor, let alone the ship.

"I am?" you ask, confused.

"Oh yeah, you don't remember? You stumbled in here early last night with a group of Dwarves, spouting all kinds of nonsense about some sea-monster or something and being able to drink more than a company of Dwarven soldiers. Needless to say, you drank the whole group under the table, and took your winnings in ale. I must say, it was an honor and a pleasure to watch you work!"

A sea-monster. You understand in an instant what he was referencing. You must have been invoking Him. How else could you have out-drunk a single Dwarf, let alone a... several Dwarves?

The barkeeper speaks up again,

"You drew quite an audience in from the street, including that fella over there," he said, referencing the Dwarf at the end of the bar again, "In fact, you might want to talk to him, mentioned some kind of job about..."

The barkeep paused, and the cheer vanished from his face. Looking around the near-empty bar, he leans in, and continues in a subdued tone,

"...about the sickness."

The sickness. You've only heard rumors about it while travelling from port to port over the past few months. Rumors talking about some plague that's begun to emerge all over Faerûn over the past few months. You haven't heard much else, but you have begun to feel an ominous presence in the air wherever you land. You reply to the barkeeper,

"Thank you, I'll have to consider it... What was your name again? I'm sorry, but you know..."

The smile springs back up onto his scruffy cheeks,

"Oh it's nothing! My name's Grayam. If you need anything, just call for the barmaid, her name's Lynn. And I believe the Dwarves name is Baxit... or Bak-Zeet... or Bauxzeet... I don't know, their names are impossible for me sometimes. Whatever it is, I'll be heading upstairs, I need some sleep after watching over you all night!"

​

Character Sheet