Yet Another Kingmaker

Session 1

Last time on “Kingmaker”…

Our band of losers and misfits encountered “Sheldon”, a man with a broken down cart, on the way to Oleg’s. Immediately wary of an ambush, the party’s suspicions seemed well founded when an arrow hit “Sheldon” in the throat. A figure emerged from the woods, covered in scars, though his face was obscured by a strange bone helmet.

After a few tense moments and one sword swipe later, the party stood down. The man approached the badly wounded “Sheldon”, calmly placed something in his hand, and killed the helpless highwayman. Saying little else the masked figure simply walked away, and Shafir gave chase in the hopes of asking a few questions. Alazan, upon examining the corpse, found a single white rose petal in the highwayman’s hand.

Our adventurer’s continued onward to Oleg’s, bickering all the way about hippies and knife ears and racism. Upon arriving at the trading post they discovered the place was run down and nearly empty, an old converted border fort barely maintained by the gruff Oleg Leveton and his more cheerful wife Svetlana. Though Oleg had been told to expect a score of soldiers or so, upon learning that the Levetons had been subject to repeated bandit raids the party offered their assistance.

Our adventurer’s set up a cunning plan to reverse the roles and ambush the bandits. The five thugs strode into the trading post the next morning, and just as one of the bandits turned to see Victoria, she dropped the massive gate behind them. A bloodbath ensued, the panicking bandits quickly (and literally) fell to pieces in the wake of the paladin’s vengeance. At Alazan’s urging one was taken alive, having been punched repeatedly in the face, manacled, bound, and with a noose around his neck. Sated with revenge, the Levetons gladly offered the four adventurers a base of operations; free food, free beds, and a place to offload and purchase supplies.

A thunderstorm now sits over the trading post, and the first few drops of the spring rains fall. Victoria points to a series of horse tracks coming from the southwest. The trail leads into the uncharted Narlmarches, a muddled mess of swamp and forest that stretches for a hundred miles.

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Elim_Rawne

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