Mid Fall, Harvest Festival.
Saint Lo, Asturias.
Saint Lo is a large city, both refined and rough & tumble. Close enough to the capital of Asturias Castran to have airs of sophistication, yet near enough to the Western Reach that the frontier spirit that made the city never quite leaves the air. Straddling the Belkan River, Saint Lo is known for it’s silver smiths and for being home to the main branch of the Lumber Consortium.
The Lumber Consortium, rumored to be the most powerful entity in Asturias aside from the Senate and Emperor, owns logging rights to every major forest in the country. Most of the commoners in the Western Reach work for, have worked for, or have family who have worked for the Lumber Consortium.
The party find themselves in the midst of the fall harvest festival. It’s 3 day long celebration of well earned revelry. Families celebrate the return of their wives and husbands from the summer logging camps, and the completion of the years harvest. Travelers from all over the area flock to Saint Lo for these three days.
The Silver Carp Inn
Dockside District, Saint Lo.
Day One of the Fall Harvest Festival
Mid Evening Bell
Summarization of the introduction to the campaign
(Addressing the Party) The atmosphere in Saint Lo is jubilant, and the populous has begin celebrating in earnest. The streets are full of dancers, drunks, partiers and those just out for a good time. Pushing your respective ways through the crowd, each of you knows you will need to find a bed for the evening, and the later it gets, the less likely it is one will be found, if there is even a chance due to the influx of travelers. Taking a quick turn into one of the better-lit alleys in the Dock District, you come across a well worn sign featuring a rather dull fish. Perhaps at one time it had been painted to appear silver, only the barest hint of the metallic color remains. Seeing through the wax paper windows, light and hearing a low murmur of patrons, you decide to try your luck for a place to bed down for the night.
As each of you arrives (Separately or together), you take a moment to look around when you enter. The Silver Carp Inn has definitely seen better days. Knobby chairs, and well worn tables are setup haphazardly on a slightly buckling floor. A bar sits against the back wall, with a greasy fat man wiping up a spilled ale. Glancing up at you as you enter, he smiles and says, “Welcome to the Silver Carp Inn, the finest establishment this side of the Belkan River. Can I get you anything?” Settling onto a stool at the bar, you begin inquiring about room and board. Thankfully there seems to be one or two rooms available, despite the odds being against you.
Each of you finds yourself at the only table open that doesn’t have chairs with splinters. The bar is getting more lively as the evening passes. The owner, Helmut Buckle, has begun turning away travelers who are looking for lodging. It appears you got the last room. And it wasn’t a cheap room, Helmut charged a price he can only charge due to the Festival going full swing. You are painfully aware that your funds are getting precariously low. Without saying anything to one another, sobering looks into your coin purse, and a glance at one another leave little doubt each of you has seen better days.
After discussing your situation, and introducing yourselves to one another, Helmut piped in from the bar that he knows someone who is hiring protection for an exploratory logging expedition. The table, being close enough to the bar that Helmut’s practiced ear was able to pick up the off comment on the sorry state of your finances, and his honed eye took in your patchwork coin purse the second you paid for the room and meal.
Pointing at a table not far from yours, Helmut introduced the man, named Benthan Marti to all of you, clearly saying that the man is hiring for a logging expedition into the Arthfell Forest to the west.
Joining you at the table, Benthan introduces himself as manager of a grand logging research expedition, to boldly seek out new cuts, and new lumber opportunities. To determine if the forest has recovered enough from the logging done one hundred years ago, to produce new masts for the shipyards to the south. Benthan, speaking with a slight lisp and gesturing expansively with his fingers and hands, claims the job would pay extremely well and is a fine opportunity to advance ones career. Benthan points the group to the Consortium Headquarters, saying they will need to apply there for the guard positions. He is looking to leave the morning of the third day of the festival and suggests going first thing in the morning.
Davor, after the conversation with Benthan is harassed by orc hating patrons in the bar. One of them, seeking to pick a fight with him, throws a punch. Responding with a thunderous blow from his rock hard fist, Davor laid out the man, much to the admiration of Benthan.
Insert PC Name, taking the opportunity to explore the city and festival a bit, drunkenly wandered out of the bar and staggered off for some adventure. Returning late in the evening, he passes out in a drunken stupor.
Insert Swashbuckler name stayed in the bar, having ben offered a free tab by a drunken Davor. Picking a well off woman for a dalliance, he ran up a large tab and retired for the night with the woman.
Insert gunslinger name turned in early, and woke fresh in the morning.
As everyone settled up the bill from the previous night, sorcey PC found out that while he wandered the city, he was pick pocketed and lost all his remaining money. Davor, ends up paying for everything.