Wednesday, July 16, 2014
This Will End Well Part 2: Murder Hobos Attacking the Town
A little bit of hand waving had them heading north to Baldur's Gate looking for loose women, drunken debauchery, and gambling that would make Bugsy Siegel proud. They passed under the Troll Bridge and paid it no mind. They wandered through the Low City and fucked not with one person. Then they found the old man (there's always an old man in every role-playing game).
"Hey, you, old man," Tesla called.
"Do you know of anywhere to gamble in this place?"
Ah, I said in a voice that wouldn't warble no matter how hard I tried, if you head into the city proper and go to Picard St you'll find the Purple Worm Casino and Bordello.
"Wait, did you just say it was the Purple Worm Casino?"
"Why do they call it the Purple Worm?"
Because it was built inside the corpse of a juvenile Purple Worm. Old Bal -
"Shit," he said with his jaw hanging low, "that's three of my favorite things: hookers, gambling, and dead purple things! See you the fuck later old dude. I've got whores and gambling to do!"
They made their way inside the main gates and paused at a Chinese Food Cart while some politician rambled on in the square about the glory of Baldur's Gate. Nothing was said that held their interest so after buying some discounted Peking Duck that was about to be thrown away they started pressing through the crowd towards Picard St. and the Purple Worm Casino and Bordello.
It was then that all hell broke loose.
Four big bastards wearing bondage gear and wielding meat cleavers in each hand started hacking down people right in front of them. They spoke in a language strange that burned the listener's ears and drove lesser people to madness.
"I call them all," Tesla boomed as he jumped into the fray with the sort of reckless abandon that had me liking the hell out of him. He rolled well and quickly dropped the first berserker.
"Four on three hardly seems like a challenge for us," New Boy said to me as he missed his attack.
I started rolling my d20 and said, That's because you didn't realize you'd been shot twice.
You've been shot twice, I repeated. There are archers up on the balcony shooting down in the crowd and after your attack two of them fired into your side. You're bleeding, Holmes, and down six points.
"See," Icarus said as he healed Tesla, "that's why you don't talk shit to the Dungeon Master."
The politician jumped off the stage with a long sword in one hand and sheild in the other to confront the berserkers charging the stage. Which was when New Boy added, "See, he's giving us an NPC to help. This isn't a challenge."
I smiled at him as I introduced another big bastard, this one with a black axe that dripped a nasty looking liquid that boiled the stone where it dripped. He attacked their would-be ally while the archers continued to rain arrows down on them from above.
"I love when these campaigns of yours get bloody," Icarus whispered to me. "Especially when the new players think it's what they've said that brought the trouble."
You know me, always trying to give the people what they want.
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