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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 7469706" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>“You must be Tindul's apprentice,” says Lazarus. He's a half-elf, gray at the temples but still black on top. He is dressed as a scholar, in blue, and was reading a book while he waited for Dzedz's arrival.</p><p></p><p>“I'm Dzedz.” The dwarf extends a callused hand to the scholar, and they clasp forearms. “My master said you needed some help, and he sent me.” </p><p></p><p>“Ah, excellent! Let me get you a bean juice.” He catches the eye of the human behind the counter and raises two fingers. The man hurries over with a pair of steaming mugs. Lazarus smiles and nods, pressing a pair of marks into the man's hand. </p><p></p><p>“That's an expensive drink,” Dzedz remarks, taking a sip. “Thanks.” </p><p></p><p>“It's kind of an acquired taste, I admit, but it has grown on me over the last year or so.”</p><p></p><p>Possibly due the fact that it's mid-afternoon, the place doesn't have much custom at the moment. For a few moments, the two sit there sipping their drinks, enjoying the relative quiet- only a boisterous pair of dragonborn are disturbing the serene scene. </p><p></p><p>Then, Lazarus gets to the point. “One of my colleagues is missing.” He looks pained. “A wizardess. One of the only ones in the city.”</p><p></p><p>“And you want me to help find her?”</p><p></p><p>“If you can. Her name is Mileen.”</p><p></p><p>“Do you know her last whereabouts?”</p><p></p><p>“She was investigating Marble Hall.”</p><p></p><p>“You mean the megadungeon.”</p><p></p><p>Lazarus nods. </p><p></p><p>Marble Hall, properly speaking, is long gone. All that remains is the foundation, and a few crumbling walls. Centuries ago, the dwarves dug a small dungeon underneath the ruins, and broke into an existing- and much larger- dungeon. The place is fairly dangerous, but occasionally, adventurers attempt to delve it, which is why the dwarves maintain a guard on it: to extract a toll from passing adventurers while simultaneously guarding against monsters intruding into the dwarf-works.</p><p></p><p>“Huh,” grunts Dzedz. “Well, if I can find her, I will.”</p><p></p><p>“You definitely shouldn't try to go without some protection. From what I understand, the megadungeon is both quite large and very dangerous.”</p><p></p><p>“Did you say megadungeon?” one of the dragonborn shouts from the other side of the room.</p><p></p><p>“All right,” Dzedz says, looking the two dragonborn over. “I may have have an idea on that score.” </p><p></p><p>With that, he clasps forearms with Lazarus one more time, then stands up. </p><p></p><p>“A round for everybody!” calls the silver dragonborn.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The three of them hit it off instantly. Truth to tell, Dzedz isn't in a hurry to plumb the depths of a megadungeon; this Mileen is probably either fine or already dead anyway. So, instead of going to the famed triple gates of the city, which lead southward, where the Black Gorge (and the megadungeon in question) lies, the party's first adventure takes them out of the city to the north. </p><p></p><p>“There's this guy,” Carl Hungus says, “the Hacker. He's a bandit. I have a line on where he might be hiding out.”</p><p></p><p>“Is there a reward for him or something?” asks Mad Max.</p><p></p><p>“No,” Hungus says, “but he's a bandit. I'm sure he'll have treasure.” </p><p></p><p>“Does he have, like, a band of brigands that follows him?” </p><p></p><p>“Probably a few.”</p><p></p><p>“Who does he prey on?” Mad Max cries. “It's madness!” He pulls out his pipe and mashes a large bud of hempflower into it. His voice is fraught. He takes a long pull from his waterskin, and his lips come away smelling of rice wine.</p><p></p><p>“Probably people going to Red Bank and back,” Hungus answers. </p><p></p><p>Red Bank is a struggling thorp about twelve miles north of Fandelose, in the mountains. Created by Fandelosian expatriates, it is roundly condemned by the Argos as being indefensible and vulnerable. Indeed, periodically, monsters, humanoids, or giants raid the place, killing, burning, and taking people away as food or slaves. Still, especially given the situation with the vote franchise, people- especially farmers who would rather be anything else- still run to it. Supply runs back and forth to and from Fandelose are common, following the river north along the steep hillsides. </p><p></p><p>There is no road, but there is a path that travelers must follow. Some of the farmers who would be anything else choose, rather than life in a tiny collection of huts, struggling to survive on fish and game, a life of banditry. And those supply runs are easy prey for bandits. </p><p></p><p>Hungus knows all about this. </p><p></p><p>The Hacker is notorious in circles sufficiently well-acquainted with bandits. He is vicious. He is cruel. He is knows for savagely dismembering people without even rendering them unconscious first. He laughs while they watch themselves bleed to death. He likes to take slaves and dismember their friends in front of them so that they know what kind of master he's going to be.</p><p></p><p>Hungus figures that the Hacker is a bad enough of a dude that nobody will mind if the dragonborn enslaves him. And if the bandits have slaves or prisoners, who knows? Perhaps those folk will just never be rescued. </p><p></p><p>Maybe they'll just get a new master.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 7469706, member: 1210"] “You must be Tindul's apprentice,” says Lazarus. He's a half-elf, gray at the temples but still black on top. He is dressed as a scholar, in blue, and was reading a book while he waited for Dzedz's arrival. “I'm Dzedz.” The dwarf extends a callused hand to the scholar, and they clasp forearms. “My master said you needed some help, and he sent me.” “Ah, excellent! Let me get you a bean juice.” He catches the eye of the human behind the counter and raises two fingers. The man hurries over with a pair of steaming mugs. Lazarus smiles and nods, pressing a pair of marks into the man's hand. “That's an expensive drink,” Dzedz remarks, taking a sip. “Thanks.” “It's kind of an acquired taste, I admit, but it has grown on me over the last year or so.” Possibly due the fact that it's mid-afternoon, the place doesn't have much custom at the moment. For a few moments, the two sit there sipping their drinks, enjoying the relative quiet- only a boisterous pair of dragonborn are disturbing the serene scene. Then, Lazarus gets to the point. “One of my colleagues is missing.” He looks pained. “A wizardess. One of the only ones in the city.” “And you want me to help find her?” “If you can. Her name is Mileen.” “Do you know her last whereabouts?” “She was investigating Marble Hall.” “You mean the megadungeon.” Lazarus nods. Marble Hall, properly speaking, is long gone. All that remains is the foundation, and a few crumbling walls. Centuries ago, the dwarves dug a small dungeon underneath the ruins, and broke into an existing- and much larger- dungeon. The place is fairly dangerous, but occasionally, adventurers attempt to delve it, which is why the dwarves maintain a guard on it: to extract a toll from passing adventurers while simultaneously guarding against monsters intruding into the dwarf-works. “Huh,” grunts Dzedz. “Well, if I can find her, I will.” “You definitely shouldn't try to go without some protection. From what I understand, the megadungeon is both quite large and very dangerous.” “Did you say megadungeon?” one of the dragonborn shouts from the other side of the room. “All right,” Dzedz says, looking the two dragonborn over. “I may have have an idea on that score.” With that, he clasps forearms with Lazarus one more time, then stands up. “A round for everybody!” calls the silver dragonborn. *** The three of them hit it off instantly. Truth to tell, Dzedz isn't in a hurry to plumb the depths of a megadungeon; this Mileen is probably either fine or already dead anyway. So, instead of going to the famed triple gates of the city, which lead southward, where the Black Gorge (and the megadungeon in question) lies, the party's first adventure takes them out of the city to the north. “There's this guy,” Carl Hungus says, “the Hacker. He's a bandit. I have a line on where he might be hiding out.” “Is there a reward for him or something?” asks Mad Max. “No,” Hungus says, “but he's a bandit. I'm sure he'll have treasure.” “Does he have, like, a band of brigands that follows him?” “Probably a few.” “Who does he prey on?” Mad Max cries. “It's madness!” He pulls out his pipe and mashes a large bud of hempflower into it. His voice is fraught. He takes a long pull from his waterskin, and his lips come away smelling of rice wine. “Probably people going to Red Bank and back,” Hungus answers. Red Bank is a struggling thorp about twelve miles north of Fandelose, in the mountains. Created by Fandelosian expatriates, it is roundly condemned by the Argos as being indefensible and vulnerable. Indeed, periodically, monsters, humanoids, or giants raid the place, killing, burning, and taking people away as food or slaves. Still, especially given the situation with the vote franchise, people- especially farmers who would rather be anything else- still run to it. Supply runs back and forth to and from Fandelose are common, following the river north along the steep hillsides. There is no road, but there is a path that travelers must follow. Some of the farmers who would be anything else choose, rather than life in a tiny collection of huts, struggling to survive on fish and game, a life of banditry. And those supply runs are easy prey for bandits. Hungus knows all about this. The Hacker is notorious in circles sufficiently well-acquainted with bandits. He is vicious. He is cruel. He is knows for savagely dismembering people without even rendering them unconscious first. He laughs while they watch themselves bleed to death. He likes to take slaves and dismember their friends in front of them so that they know what kind of master he's going to be. Hungus figures that the Hacker is a bad enough of a dude that nobody will mind if the dragonborn enslaves him. And if the bandits have slaves or prisoners, who knows? Perhaps those folk will just never be rescued. Maybe they'll just get a new master. [/QUOTE]
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