Aiding a Cleric in Need Leads to an Asswuppin' Indeed

Summary:

The evening went badly for the heroes Gilic and Queequeg. After weeks of caravan guard duty in the lands north of Cormyr, the pair found themselves quaffing a drink in the Guilded Lady, a local inn of Tilverton. Relaxed at a table, the two had time and coin for multiple rounds, the grueling, monotonous work done and their purses full.

So busy in their rounds, they barely noticed the shy cleric lurking across the common area from them. He seemed to be studying every patron throughout the smokey common room, gauging them like a farm wife does a melon. Gilic and Queequeg did however notice seven rough looking men who entered in a rush. Their mugs were barely half full and the newly arrived crew bode ill the liklihood of finishing them. Two stayed at the main entrance, two others crossed over to cover the back exit, and the remaining three pushed their way to the conspicuously spying priest.

The apparent leader, clad in chain mail and armed with longsword, stopped before the cleric, smiling grimly as his two goons took up positions on either side.

"Up with ya," the leader sneered.

The cleric cowered in response. The leader leaned closer, took the priest by the collar, and twisted until a holy symbol rose from below, as if my magical levitation. The ruffian grunted confirmation and pulled harder on the man's collar, lifting him clear of his seat. The cleric replaced shaking with cowering.

Queequeg slowly returned mug to table and stood, clawed hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He boomed for the entire room to hear. "What's this now?"

The leader pivoted at the sound and with a motion of his head signaled his gang. The ruffians descended on Gilic and Queegueg like sewer rats on infant morsels. The heroes managed to land a few blows before sweet oblivion took them. They awakened to the sight and sound of bucketed water splashing over them, the inn's waitress ordering them none too kindly to awaken and begone.

The shorter of the two noticed a scroll resting underneath where the cleric had been seated; neither he or the gang of street toughs were in view. Queequeg scooped up the scroll, unrolled it, and read its contents. It was a letter, penned recently, asking the bearer to seek out heroes to help with some cause in the nearby town of Winterhaven. The Cult of Shar was mentioned, some broad evil they were dealing, short on specifics.

Gilic considered the scroll's contents and responded, "So, it's back to caravaning then, is it?"

Queegueg grinned toothily and shook his head. "I think not friend. We just received a year's worth of shellacking here. I should like to repay the favor in kind. Winterhaven will likely reveal the identifies of those we just crossed this night. My instinct tells me our second encounter will go differently."

Gilic hefted his maul in both hands and smiled. "Aye, a second encounter would do Bessy here some good."

So, the two rode hard to Winterhaven. Upon arriving at the town's gates, three dangling corpses hung in greeting. Something is indeed amiss at Winterhaven.

To Be Continued.

Phat Lewtz: None

Line of the Night: Isn't that right CRAIG!