Faerun Adventures

Arian was tired and hot. The trip down out of the mountains had been long and arduous and then Jaroo had sent her on almost as soon as she’d arrived. He’d had no one else to send and could, of course, easily spare her. Truth be told, she was a bit thankful. She’d only met Jaroo briefly before and was not comfortable with him yet. He had pressed on her the importance of finding companions to travel with but she had met few people on the road so far and she was nearly at her destination. The path took a turn and she saw a dark-haired elf just ahead, walking slowly. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Well met,” she said, so softly that no one could hear. She was out of practice. She cleared her throat again and raised her chin. “Er, hello, fellow traveler!” Ah, and that time it had come out too loud.   The elf stopped walking and turned, waiting for her to catch up. 'Well met.... A snow elf? You're a long way from home! But then again, so am I!. What brings you so far

As related by Thibault.   "Everyone, while you were busy with your brews, I've found us a couple possible options for new income. One, Ostler's got a rat problem..." When Bryn pronounced these words, over our table at the Cumin Inn, we were so far from imagining the fate that was hanging over our heads or more precisely, creeping under our feet... She pounded her fist on the table rhythmically while mincing her words, as if to clench the deal: "Big rats!... Ginormous rats!" Torgin, our new companion and sometimes a dwarf of few words, waved his axe towards the cellar’s door. A bit skeptical, I chanced: “And what about the cat? Too well fed or scared by the size of the rodents?” Bryn stared at me, knowingly: "Thibault, I think the rats may be bigger than the cat..." Mistle had also a good point: “Well I for one feel duty-bound to help, the Cumin is like a second home to me! And the thought of those rats nibbling away with their nasty yellow teeth at

An accounting from Bryn.  Gorlock flew down the stars, an eldritch blast already leaving his hands. A half dozen bats fell to the ground. Mistle, not to be outdone, took aim and fired into the centre of the closest swarm. Wings pierced, more dropped and the swarm dispersed into confusion.   Greeba wasn’t far behind. Bat bones crunched under her heavy feet as she ran and then—jumped!—into the air, waving her Warhammer wildly around her head. Six more bats fell, some perhaps by surprise. The remaining bats swarmed towards Thibault, wanting to get away from the half-orc, but he was ready for them and killed two as soon as they came near.   The bats were angry now, making high-pitched noises that were enough to make someone’s hair stand on end. They re-doubled their efforts to attack Thibault, but his heavy armour held them back. Vrena took the opportunity to get close, using both of her short swords to good effect.   “Thank you for your assistance, Vrena!” said Thibault, ever polite. Then