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The World needs Heroes! Game

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The sounds of drunken blathering and banging metal can be heard just up the dirt road. You spot a rickety wagon being escorted by a couple male guards. From the look in their eyes and of their unscathed armor, they have had little experience with battle or any dealings requiring courage.

 

Atop the wagon sits a dwarf with a clear hatred for sunlight. He appears to be having a brew to wash away his anger, but it appears to not be working very well. His quite violent and rude ramblings, to himself, can be heard by all.

 

He slows down the wagon as he approach's the group of people. He squints and blurts out, "DORNAL!" yelling as much to himself as to anyone present. "Whut thu bloo boots iz goin on heerrrrr!?" He squints around at the odd crowd and lingers extra long on the short ones, as if try to access a part of his memory blurred by liquid. "These panzy meeni elvez givin ya prooblems?!"

 

/hiccup

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Hearing a rucus, and the dwarven voice attached to it, Gimli gets a bit of a smile on his gruff face. "Finally, some class in this rather rag tag bunch of heathens," casting a sideways glance at the half-orc "fairies," grunting at the elves "and whatchamacallitgnomes..." as he chuckles at the hyperactive gnomes. "Got anything good to drink in that wagon, whoever ya are?"

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Kelana looks up but only briefly at the drunken dwarf on the wagon. She then heaves a long sigh, looks toward Sera and says, "It's th' k-kk-kings festival up in Stallanford...d-drunks starting out early this year."

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Distracted by the growing crowd, Pecos Jacks attention is diverted before his gnome friend can react and he diverts course.

 

"That they are. Gotta admit, though, they provide an awfully entertaining show!" Pecos Jack jokes as he approaches the two women sitting on a log. He moves with a fluidity through the growing crowd that betrays his rough looks.

 

"Ladies, Pecos Jack is the name. Squanderer of foul beasts and old gods. Forgive my humble appearance as I've been travelling and adventuring for so long I don't even know where I am." Grinning from ear to ear and not giving the women a chance to respond, he half heartedly bows as he spins away.

 

"Not since wrestling with the spawn of Bahamut have I seen such beauty!" he gleefully exclaims as he hops towards Ophelia, dusting himself off as he approaches. He quickly twists each end of his moustache and exhales into an open hand, checking for stench on his breath...only half suprised to find it.

 

Before he can introduce himself, he realizes that he, in fact, has no idea where he is as mentioned to the ladies on the log. Doing a 180 degree spin he skips over to them and says "Forgive me once again, ladies. Could you tell me where we are?".

 

The grin on his face is now replaced by puzzled look.

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"Barrowsedge's that way", says Kelana, hooking her right thumb southward. "And S-stallanford's that way.", she adds, hooking her other thumb northward. "Wh-Which one were you g-g-going to?"

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"I'm not really going anywhere." the gnome replies, his cheerful smile coming back.

 

"Names Pecos Jack, champion of the nor.......wait, did I already say that? Ahh well." he continues. "As I was saying, I'm not really headed to any specific place. I let the winds and the roads guide me and in turn, I repay the favor to needy travellers. You looking for a guide?" he questions as he unrolls what appears to be a map.

 

He flips it upside down then right side up a few times before a spark lights in his eye. "Ahhh there we go! Right where I expected to be!"

 

Looking up from the map, he continues "If not, I completely understand. You look like the type that can take care of herself!". His smile widens as he places the dusty map back into his backpack and before anyone can object, he plops down between the elf and halforc on the log, his hands happily behind his head.

 

"Where you two fine ladies headed?"

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The dwarf on the wagon flings himself down with the precision of a drunken master. Landing next to Gimli and whipping one arm around him as if he's a long lost friend, the other hand goes up to shade the sun from his eyes.

"Thu namez Bran StoutBrAce! I've got some of me bruthers SummrTime Quintupple Bock n the back, an yoor moor than welcome ter sum."

 

Gazing around at the rest of the people present, his mood seems to change instantly with each new person he sees.

 

"PEEko Jack huh? If I had half thu energee u have, u'd figger I'd use it to pik uh LOcation n go thear."

 

"Me ... Ive got noe use fer standin around n this blazin sun ..... unless u ladees give me uh reeson." He slurs half winking and half swaying and half pointing with his well worn finger, unsure as to the true target of his comment.

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"Oh now, brother dwarf! Whats the use of gettin' to where you're goin' if you've spent all your energy gettin' there?" the gnome chuckles.

 

"Besides, I can't complain about where the roads have brought me." he continues as he winks to the drunken dwarf as he turns his head to both sides, grinning at the elf and half orc.

 

"Now whats this you say about some bock?" he questions as he leans forward, licking his lips in unabashed anticipation.

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"Where you two fine ladies headed?"

 

"Wherever the road takes me..." Sera replies, smiling and watching the antics of the little people. "This road goes to Penhaligon, and thus I was headed there, but Barrowsedge is along the way and there seems to be much interest in the place. "

 

"Now whats this you say about some bock?"

 

Sera grins, capping her water bottle. "If indeed you have a cask, then that would be a most refreshing offer, little one. "

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"O ah fahncy man weeth ah silver tongue thaht theenks he can handle me stout. I'll make ya ah deeelll o wee mahn. If ya cahn dreenk ah pint o my quintuple bock weethouit falling overrr like a seessy garrl ... " Bran takes a moment to look at the ladies present and gives them another wink. " ... I'll geev ya a discount at me shop’n Stallanford. "

 

Bran looks up and across the group "Tha gOes fer any o ya tha theenks they can handle tha POWAH o tha Quintupple Bock! I warn ya though ... it'll put hair on yer toes!! HAHAHAHAHA OOOOOO"

 

Grabbing the nearby dwarves he heads toward the wagon. “Come brothas .. all this yapping, has made me parched. I wahnt ah seat in tha shade befor the light weights starrrt eatin dairt. HAHAHAHAAA”

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"DORNAL!" yelling as much to himself as to anyone present. "Whut thu bloo boots iz goin on heerrrrr!?" He squints around at the odd crowd and lingers extra long on the short ones, as if try to access a part of his memory blurred by liquid. "These panzy meeni elvez givin ya prooblems?!"

“Nay my friend, these folk, like myself are just taking a moment to rest our feet. Though I see that wagon of yours is still capable of holding your arss up.”

 

“now if that be some stong spirits you have. I wouldn’t mind a bit of it m’self” Dornal adds onto the topic of the booze.

 

“I’ve some fine weed here if’n your or anyone else be caring to join me for a smoke?” he adds looking at everyone and holding up a dark leather pouch.

 

 

“So, ain’t none of you folk planning on being in Stallanford for the King’s Festival?” he asks taking another puff from his pipe

 

“Or has the town been overrun with plague rats that’s driving everyone out?”

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Anyone taking up Bran’s challenge of drinking the Quintuple Bock booze must make a Fort DC20 check.

 

If you fail, you feel the kick of the drink, leaving you seeing stars with several minutes of blurred vision.

 

Fail the DC check by 5 or more and you'll literally fall on your arss, with the same effects as above.

 

If you make the check, you are aware that the drink is quite potent, along with what effects will follow if you continue drinking the stout Quintuple Bock

 

No condition is permanent as you’ll be resting at the wayside for a few, with plenty of time to clear the cobwebs. Though if you continue drinking beyond the first pint you’ll have to make another Fort DC20 check with a penalty and the effects will endure for a time after leaving the wayside.

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"Thats what I like to hear!" Pecos Jack laughs as he works his way to the tankard.

 

"Many thanks for the hospitality Bran! This stuff can't be all that bad, I've already got hair on me toes! Hahah!" he continues joking as his mug is poured.

 

 

As he walks back to the log, pint in hand, he questions the elf "So, you say theres much intererest in Barrows Edge, eh? Care to share mor.......oh." He is cut off as she falls off the log from the powerful drink.

 

 

He eyes the mug, looks at her feet hanging over the log, eyes the mug, looks back at the dwarf, sniffs the mug and then shrugs. Spinning cheerfully and backing his way back to the log he exclaims "Bottoms up, my dwarven brewmaster!"

 

 

 

1d20 -> 16 + 0 = 16

 

 

"Yoo guyses brew shome preetty wicked shtuff......I must saaaay." Is all he can muster to say as he struggles to keep the provider of the drink in focus. Luckily the log provides decent enough support for his small frame to keep him upright.

 

"Ohhh...pretty lights" he smiles.

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