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

[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."