The party meets up for the first time in the barracks, starting off the adventure as complete strangers. Getting off to a stumbling start in knowing each other, they introduce themselves to the others and make some small talk for some time.
Cole Ventulius and Miles Sumner, an Elf and a Human and both rangers, are quick to start fighting due to the former’s whimsical attitude and the latter’s intolerance of bullshit. Nerisora Sinsinger, a Tiefling rogue, introduces herself in a way best suited to her feminine wiles; by (un)intentionally flirting with anything that has even the slightest hint of functioning sex organs. Meanwhile Ghimarii Meneldur, an Elven Monk, is the least interested, but the most amused, by his teammate’s shenanigans.
After Captain Romareo comes to introduce him to our Heroes in a gruff, Drill Sergeant way, he gives each three tokens to use to buy their equipment and enough trail rations to feed the group for the night. Bickering amongst themselves, mostly due to Cole’s continued tomfoolery, the party makes their way to the following: The Smith (whose manhood had been smashed off in an unfortunate smithing accident,) The Secretary (who seemed amused but ultimately uninterested in the flirting of Nerisora while the party gathered armor,) and the Orc (who was even less amused with Cole, and gave Miles some extra supplies for apologizing for his teammates.) All three had hilarious results when the rogue attempted to apply her unusual definition of Trapfinding to them.
At the end of the day, the party retreats back to the barracks in order to rest for the night.
In the course of the night, a new pair joins our crew: Malith Xerrarn, a Tiefling Fighter, and
Tyrian Warborn, a Human Cleric. Surprisingly, there was little hijinx in introducing the new party members to their hapless compatriots. Except, of course, for the obvious trapfinding check from Nerisora.
Oh, and the ten-minute-long fiasco about Miles being the only one using NORMAL Faerun Common and calling breakfast Dawnfry.
[Insert jokes here about jerky and Nerisora’s use thereof.]
Finally, after much fuckery, Captain Romareo shows up and shows our Heroes to their station; the northernmost Gate in the city. The former shift had not left wood to light either the signal fire or the brazier, forcing Miles to use his firewood from the Half-Orc Cook. It is dusk when the party finally is set up, and they settle down for a long night of nothing interesting.
That is, until the scaly nation attacks.
Six strange white draconic-looking things arrive from the North, and start attacking the gate with great ferocity. The Captain leaves after the signal fire is lit to get reinforcements. After a few rounds of this, two larger green draconic-things attack as well, bashing straight through the gate. Malith goes down in the resulting fight, but does not die to the creatures.
Captain Romareo arrives just as the last creature falls with bad news—the North Gate was not the only one attacked, and the North Gate was the least of those hit. Commending the party on a good job, he tiredly continues on with his duty, seeing to it that they get a hot meal and a healer, as well as some assistance getting back to the barracks.
Awaking as tangled balls of soreness, bedhead, and blankets, the party welcomes the morning with as much enthusiasm as a cat shows towards a bath. It becomes apparent that the resident Tiefling Fighter, Malith, is quite familiar with the feeling of being boned by a Minotaur. Dragging themselves out of bed and doing their normal morning routines, the party pulls themselves out of the barracks and goes around the camp refreshing their quivers and getting more food.
It’s nearly dusk once more by the time they find Captain Romareo, and go to the North Gate once again. The gate has been hastily patched, and the towers stocked with firewood; the beacon has remained lit, and the Captain explains that it needs to be put out if the gate is lost. Looking as if he has not slept once in the last 48 hours, he stands guard a few feet behind the gate, while the party flank him and station along the wall.
It isn’t long after dusk when the first of the white Dragon-spawn arrive. The fight gets dirty quickly, culminating in quite a few small ones, two winged Red Dracospawn, and one Dragonborn with orange-red scales. At some point in the fight, the others realize that the lights to the other gates have been going out, one by one. All fall save the
Dovakiin Dragonborn, who retreats only to get an army on the party, after knocking out two party memers, Cole and Malith. The beacon is extinguished, and they start retreating with the Captain to the Keep.
Cue Hell breaking loose.
The castle explodes in an inferno of a fireball, as the marching of an army shakes the ground beneath the group’s feet. A second fireball is shot into the air as the team makes a break towards the docks, looking for a ship to get them the hell out of dodge. They find a strange ship made of metal and pile aboard, finding the crew just about scared pissless due to what they’ve seen. The only thing one of them can stutter out is,
The party, confused by this, quickly figures out what he means as the fireball crashes back to Toril at the far end of the docks. Out from the plumes of fire and smoke, a massive scaled head emerges. A roar cuts through the night, and a second head weaves through to join the first. The dragons see the party in their tin can as it pulls out of dock, and steps forward. As the smoke clears, the party don’t see two dragons—they see one, with two heads.
Fireballs start raining like hellfire upon the tiny dinky ship, and Ghimarii and Miles quickly jump to grab the Captain before he becomes a bucket of fried person. Taking him to the bow of the ship, he gives the order to do… Something, and the ship kicks into high gear. The party sails off into the night, unsure of where they’ll go, and unsure what the future holds for them.