Test Drive!

[ardanians]

Scenario 1: It's a normal day in the city, with no giant rats in the immediate vicinity. Wander the royal gardens, check out the bards in the gazebo, maybe take a trip to the gambling hall...

Scenario 2: SUDDENLY THERE IS A TROLL. No, literally, the damn things appear out of actual nowhere. Usually near the marketplace though because apparently ten foot high, regenerating green things have a lot of use for gold?

Scenario 3: Welcome to the wilds of Valmorgen! For some reason, there are swamps adjacent to desert; it's probably the fault of some ancient wizards. Treasure chests, monsters, and ruins are scattered liberally across the landscape.

Comments

Scenario 3

[facepunching]

Soren picked his way across the rocky desert. He was lightfooted, which helped his cause somewhat, but it was also damnably hot -- especially with a tome or two tucked under one arm.

"This is a fool's errand. We should be traveling at night, not roasting during the day. Likely the other travelers will have picked through most of the treasure already."

Re: Scenario 3

[ardanians]

"You shouldn't have worn black," Perrilon said, glancing back at her companion. "And the creatures about these ruins are fonder of darkness. Besides, the gold isn't the only treasure to be found."

She herself was in a long cloak, but a flowing white one rather than Soren's black and black on top of black... which was not only bad for heat, but dead boring too. Some of these outlanders had no style.

psst soren's archsage costume is white

[facepunching]

"It is the only treasure I'm interested in," said Soren. He picked a small tangle of dried-up brush from the sleeve of his robe in the manner of a cat cleaning itself. Disdainfully.

"You know this area better than me, do you not? Lead on, then."

well SHE STILL THINKS IT'S GAUCHE

[ardanians]

"No?" Perrilon raised an eyebrow with a faint grin. "I suppose you wouldn't be interested in any history that's to be found, but there are some potent and potentially valuable magical artifacts... not easily recognized by the typical lair-bashing hero."

She proceeded towards a low clump of masonry sticking up out of the hardpan. Thankfully, desert ruins meant very little in the way of damp and slime. Behind the stones was a stairway into the darkness, quite narrow and steep. "There are bats, but they're not a threat if you don't disturb them," she said. Other monsters had difficulty getting in and out of the place.

Re: well SHE STILL THINKS IT'S GAUCHE

[facepunching]

Soren began descending the stairs, watching his step in case some of these stairs weren't quite as solid as he might have liked. Why did she have to mention bats? That more or less guaranteed that they'd have to deal with them during their time underground.

"You're sure this structure is stable?"

[ardanians]

"I've been here twice and it hasn't collapsed on me," Perrilon said, giving a dismissive wave. Now thrice might be a different matter, but what was treasure-hunting without a little risk involved?

The interior was cool and dark, with a few gaps in the ceiling that let light (and heat and sand) into the narrow stone chambers. Perrilon led the way into the closest, where a crumbling altar stood at the far end--this place had likely been a shrine of some sort, though to whom she hadn't discovered yet.

Behind them, an insubstantial figure detached itself from the shadows and hissed ominously. Apparently, having two people invade the ruins was too much for it to handle.

[scionoflegend]

"All the more reason for haste!" Owain followed behind the mage, sweating through his clothes but determined to keep up the appearance of a stalwart hero, which meant not letting on just how badly he wanted to be anywhere but in this desert.

"We cannot allow the fabled sacred spear of the Enigma King to be plundered by baseborn brigands and looters! Should they befoul it with their unworthy hands, fearsome shall be the curses that rain down upon humanity! We must find it first! And it is here still, I know it." He turned his face to the wind, closing his eyes and cupping his chin in his hand dramatically thoughtfully. "Hmm... yes, its voice calls to me on the breeze..."

[facepunching]

Soren kind of hated Owain. You know. Just a little bit. It didn't keep him from working with the man -- he had skill and experience and occasionally it paid to hang out with someone who was a little more used to navigating the morass of unspoken upper-crust social conventions than Soren was, but god the shouting. And the theatrics.

"The Enigma King, is it? I thought it was only yesterday that you were going on about the famed sword Sieglinde. Well? What is it telling you, then?"

[scionoflegend]

Owain, for his part, was quite oblivious to any contempt Soren may hold for him. He actually rather liked the grumpy little mage. A good sidekick served to balance out the temperament of the hero, after all--a dark to his light, a yin to his yang. Together, they made an unstoppable duo!

Except when it came to navigating deserts, apparently.

"The message is vague and mysterious," he answered gravely, "as if oft the way of legendary weapons. But if I understand if correctly... we must seek out the hidden village, and there learn an ancient rhyme that will guide us to its resting place."

That was how the last desert Owain had traversed had worked, anyway. And how different could deserts possibly be? Same sand, same rocks, same... sand.

"...Hidden villages are usually located in sandstorms, right? So all we have to do is find a sandstorm, and Sieglinde will be as good as ours!"

(Sieglinde, spear of the Enigma King, what's the difference?)

[facepunching]

Soren managed to keep his palm from his face, but he wasn't quite able to keep a long-suffering sigh from escaping his chest. "A hidden village? In the middle of a desert sandstorm? We aren't even prepared for that kind of -- "

Just over a rocky bluff, he caught it: the glint of desert sunlight on metal. Soren quickly took cover behind a cluster of tall boulders, grabbing for Owain's jacket to pull him along.

[scionoflegend]

"Gah--HEY!" Owain was tugged rather ungracefully behind the cover of the boulders, and he glanced at Soren in confusion for a moment before peering out from their hiding place, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand.

"What is it? Bandits? Risen? Risen bandits?" He caught sight of it then--sunlight reflecting off of what was probably either weapons or armour. Or perhaps both; it was too far away yet to be certain. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and he smirked.

"Hmm. They think they can claim the treasure before us, do they? We'll see about that!" He turned back to Soren. "So, you're thinking of ambushing them, right?"

[facepunching]

"I believe it's our only choice," said Soren quietly, sneaking a quick glance over at what looked like a small band of brigands. "Circling around them will be difficult. The question is the location of their watchman. If they're halfway competent, they will have posted a sentry somewhere... ah."

There on a tall, rocky outcropping and half-obscured by scrub brush was a lone bowman. He was drinking something out of a flagon and looking bored -- probably why he hadn't spotted them.

[scionoflegend]

"Great!" Owain grinned. It wasn't often that he got to take part in ambushes. His comrades were always against bringing him along, for some reason. "I am a champion of the element of surprise, a veritable master of stealth," he declared. Loudly. "I shall strike like the viper and fade like a sigh on the wind! Let this henceforth be known as Operation Fangclaw Dragonflame!"

...Thank goodness for strong desert winds whistling through the rocks, or no doubt the sentry would have heard him by now, drunk or no.

The brigands were drawing close enough now to discern their number; only about ten of them, but that didn't mean there weren't more hanging around nearby. Owain gripped the hilt of his sword eagerly, looking as though he was barely restraining himself from leaping out from his hiding place and into battle right then and there.

"So, O wise and insightful tactician, when and where shall we strike first? ...I call dibs on that big ugly one."