Prologue: The Morning After
The morning sun crept slowly over the horizon, casting its first golden rays through the grime-stained windows of the Red Divide, the most infamous tavern in the city of Rhenus. The previous night’s chaos—a bloody tavern brawl that ended with the party capturing a hostile captain under the watchful, amused eyes of Marshal Luftwine Naffamir—had left the tavern quiet, save for the early morning groans of waking patrons.
Out in the stables, Pohk stirred from a fitful sleep in a pile of hay. He took a massive swig from his tankard, swished the stale ale around to rinse his mouth, and spat it onto the dirt before wandering back into the common room.
Inside, the rest of the party was beginning to assemble:
- Flack Flint sat quietly, stirring her morning coffee with a carrot, occasionally taking a bite of the vegetable.
- Frank Turgolas was sitting close to William B Blue, still utterly fascinated by the intricate mechanics of William’s detachable arm.
- Serukai slowly dragged himself out from beneath a table where he had crawled the night before, stretching his lizardfolk limbs. “Gods,” he muttered, “it feels like I slept for two weeks.”
- Conall Mhathghamhuin stepped down from his room, looking respectable as he ordered a hearty breakfast of coffee, bacon, and eggs.
Conall looked around at the ragtag group. “I wanted to say thank you again for last night,” he said quietly. “You all proved yourselves quite capable. Have any of you served in the military before?”
“Does mercenary work count?” Pohk grunted.
“Close enough,” Conall replied. “The Marshal proposed a job last night. There is a fair bit of gold involved. If you help me find my way, I will help you find yours.”
Before they departed, Flack approached William. With a quiet prayer, she tapped her fingers against the barrel of his pistol, leaving the glowing, temporary brand of an anvil and hammer—the blessing of her god, Renradak. William immediately began trying to polish the glowing rune off, much to Flack’s amusement.
Sar, the weary bartender, confirmed that the bodies from last night had already been cleared away—much to Serukai’s disappointment, who had been hoping for a “midnight snack.” Sar pointed them toward Vahren Square, where the Emperor was hosting a grand festival to celebrate the conquest of an elven kingdom. He also mentioned that if they were looking for the legendary orc blacksmith, Burguk, they would find his smithy further north near the military barracks.
Chapter I: The Red Bands of Vahren Square
The party took a left out of the tavern and walked for ten minutes before merging onto a wide, bustling thoroughfare. Carriages clattered past, and crowds of citizens marched north toward the Vahren Square.
The square itself was colossal, dominated by the imposing silhouette of the Vahren Keep, which sat in the center of a shimmering lake, connected to the mainland only by a massive, golden bridge. The festival was in its early stages of setup. Laborers rushed to raise wooden stands, and merchants frantically arranged their wares.
Pohk, eager to earn some quick coin, used his towering ape-folk height to help the merchants secure their high rafters, earning a handful of copper for his troubles. Meanwhile, Frank struck up a conversation with a merchant named Tilda, eagerly shaking her hand and offering to let her join their adventuring party, though she politely declined.
As they wandered the square, Conall and several others noticed a chilling detail. Weaving through the crowd were several individuals wearing distinct red and burgundy armbands—the exact same markings worn by the bandits who had attacked them at the Red Divide the night before.
Conall tried to point these suspicious figures out to a pair of patrolling city guards. However, the guards were dismissive, laughing off the threat of a tavern brawl and ignoring the warning. Realizing the local authorities were useless, the party decided to double back to the Red Divide to see if the Marshal’s wardens had returned.
Chapter II: A Warden’s Grudge
Upon returning to the tavern, they spotted Warden Mol, one of Marshal Luftven’s elite protectors, sitting in casual clothes and nursing a morning ale.
“I hope you all rested well,” Mol said as they approached. He reached into his coat and tossed a heavy pouch onto the table. “Here is your reward. Twenty platinum pieces. Luftven wants to know if you are ready to look into the men who attacked you last night.”
The party explained that they had spotted men wearing the same red and burgundy armbands at the festival. Mol, however, scoffed. “Armbands are just armbands. Unless you can prove they are connected, I can’t do much. We haven’t even interrogated the captain you captured yet.”
“Then let us interrogate him,” Conall demanded. “Take us to the barracks.”
An argument quickly broke out. The party teased Mol for “day-drinking” on his day off. Highly offended, the Warden bristled. “I am a Warden of the Empire. I can throw you all into a dungeon. Watch your tongues.”
Hoping to smooth things over without Mol noticing, Frank slipped three gold coins into the Warden’s pocket with a masterful display of sleight of hand. The bribe went unnoticed, but the party followed Mol until he noticed them following behind him. Mol reluctantly agreed to guide them to the barracks checkpoint to ensure they weren’t turned away.
Chapter III: Secrets of the Iron Ring
The journey to the northern side of the city took thirty minutes, leading them to the Imperial Barracks, a massive stone fortress built upon a hill that had once served as the original keep of Rhenus. Mol escorted them past two heavily guarded checkpoints before pointing them toward a sturdy wooden door leading to the brig.
Descending a long, winding spiral staircase, the party entered the cold, damp underbelly of the fortress. They presented Luftvens letter of authority to the sentry at the desk, who led them through a maze of iron-barred cells to the captured captain.
The captain was stripped of his armor, bruised, and wearing tattered rags. He looked up at them with hollow eyes. “The fuck do you want?”
Conall stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. The sheer, unsettling presence of the towering warrior made the prisoner shrink back against the stone wall.
“Look, it was a bad call!” the prisoner stammered, his hands trembling. “I was just a farmer’s boy. I’m not cut out for this. The Empire took my family’s home in Netra… they pillaged everything and left us scraps. The Iron Ring gave me purpose.”
“The Iron Ring?” Conall asked.
“The peasant resistance,” the boy whispered. “They wanted me to kill the Marshal. I thought… I thought if I killed the Marshal, it would strike a blow to the Empire. We can’t get to the Emperor. No one can.”
“What is your name, boy?” Conall asked, his tone softening slightly.
“Oppius Pullo,” the prisoner replied. “Our farm was the Pullo Farm, just outside Aubertios in Netra.”
Conall looked back at his companions. “I have seen the Empire falter, and it has affected me as it has you. We will look into this, Oppius Pullo”
Leaving the cell, the party requested that the sentry postpone the boy’s execution, which was scheduled in a few weeks. The sentry informed them they would have to take that up directly with Marshal Luftven.
Chapter IV: Audience with the Marshal
The party ascended to the upper levels of the barracks and made their way to the Marshal’s lavish office. Marshal Luftven Nahlfeimmir, the imposing blue dragonborn, welcomed them in and closed the heavy doors.
“We need you to hold off on executing the boy,” Conall said. “He has given us valuable information, but we need him alive to verify the rest.”
Luftven agreed, noting that the execution queue was long enough anyway. The party then explained what they had learned about the red armbands and the peasant resistance known as the Iron Ring.
“The Iron Ring is a growing movement out in Serutil, beyond the walls,” Luftven mused, looking troubled. “Mostly disgruntled peasants angry at Emperor Caelus. My own investigators have found very little. If you can bring me concrete intelligence on them, I will pay you 500 gold pieces per lead.”
To aid them in their investigation, Luftven opened his desk and handed out six silver badges bearing the double-headed eagle of the Vahrenian coat of arms. He also gave them his personal Marshal’s token. “These will keep the city guard from questioning you, and the token will command their assistance if you are in dire need. But do not abuse them.”
As they prepared to leave, Luftven noticed a branded mark on the back of Conall’s hand, the mark of a dishonorable discharge.
“Who authorized this?” Luftven asked, his voice low.
“Dora,” Conall replied quietly, referring to his former commander.
Luftven stared at the brand for a long moment. “I have my reservations about working with a branded man, but you came to my defense last night. Keep it covered. Wear gloves. If you succeed in helping me break this resistance, I will see to it that the brand is officially removed.”
Before dismissing them, Luftven pointed out his office window to a large building with a prominent balcony. “That is Burguk’s smithy. If you have business with him, he is there.”
Chapter V: Prizes and Prodigies
The party returned to Vahren Square, which was now fully alive with music, laughter, and the rich aroma of roasting meats. Eager to blow off some steam, they headed straight for the festival games.
The Games of Vahren Square
- Sword Bobbing: Flack tried his hand at the dagger-and-apple game but failed miserably, unable to catch a single apple. Conall stepped up and successfully retrieved two apples, winning a small, handmade beaded bracelet. He kindly gifted it to Flack, who proudly slipped it over her wrist.
- The Archery Range:
- Flack shot first, hitting a green ring and a bullseye, winning a holy amulet made of fool’s gold.
- Serukai followed, hitting a spectacular bullseye and a blue ring, winning a brilliant fire opal.
- William fired his shots, hitting a green ring and a bullseye. In a stroke of bizarre, accidental fortune, the distracted game master handed William a highly magical Ring of Evasion by mistake.
- Frank took the bow last. With incredible focus, he landed two perfect bullseyes. The crowd roared, and the coordinator handed Frank the grand prize: the Ring of Life, a legendary band that instantly surged Frank’s vitality to heroic levels.
- Acrobatics Course: Pohk leaped, bounded, and tumbled over a series of progressively taller hurdles with flawless grace, easily winning the top prize of 10 gold pieces.
- The High Striker (Strength Test):
- Conall swung the mallet and rolled terribly, barely moving the marker and walking away in shame.
- Flack swung next, sending the marker 80% of the way up the tower and winning 50 silver pieces.
- William tried, with William reaching the halfway mark to win 20 silver.
- Pohk closed out the games with a powerful swing, matching Flack’s height and claiming another 50 silver.
As the afternoon sun began to dip, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the adventurers gathered in the bustling square, their pockets heavier, their gear enhanced, and the shadow of the Iron Ring looming over their horizon.