​Some individuals require pomp and ceremony for even the smallest of events. Despite what you may think of said individual it is important that the customs and traditions, no matter how pompous or unnecessary, are followed. This is what Damian, an adventurers’ mentor boasting the same number of eyes as original legs(1), explains to the party of Adventurers gathered before him. After spending two years under his guidance as they sharpen their skills for service of the Adventurer’s Guild of Athkatla they have been selected for a quest to Honiesale, as sanctioned by Galathor— Paladin of Tyr. It should be noted that of the five Guild Leaders, Galathor is notoriously one of the more difficult to deal with, hence the call for a grand ceremony for the bestowing of this quest (2). Galathor is what Paladins are so often painted to be— Gilt in gleaming armor, boasting a large weapon glowing with divine power in his left hand. He is dressed for the occasion, not for battle (though with the Hammer he yields what he chose to dress himself that day would be of little hindrance). A dwarf accompanied him, alternatively dressed for battle rather than ceremony. Little is known about this companion and his relationship to Galathor as he is described as keeping largely to himself. 

 

The party, despite its earlier fumbling and discussion about propriety and behavior, managed to make it through the ceremony with nothing of note as is typically ideal in situations such as this. Off the party went, driven in a cart by Damian, towards Honiesale where they were tasked with rescuing the Magistrate’s captured child. 

 

As dusk fell upon them, the cart came to an abrupt stop as armored humans, bearing a white and black sigil, blocked the cart’s path. As tensions began to rise between their mentor and the group of men, select members of the party made their way from the cart to prepare for potential combat while some shouted insults(3). Despite this, the guards moved on their way with no bloodshed. 

 

It was not much longer before members of the party picked up the sounds of Goblin armor clamoring off in the woods along the path of the carriage. With many already prepared for battle the party launched into combat with the small band of goblins. With highlights such as a broken bow-strong, a glaive accidentally stuck into the wood of their own wagon, and the narrow dodge of a poorly-thrown dagger the party was ultimately victorious with the surrender and then subsequent demise of the Goblin leader. While nothing of value was found on the corpses, all carried a crimson scarf on their person. No one in the party, including Damian, understood the significance of the scarf but it was noted to be a strange behavior. While their tracks were spied leading off to the North of their location, the party ultimately decided to continue on their path towards Honiesale where they hoped to find breakfast and world-class mead come their arrival the following morning.

 

The morning found the party’s cart once again stopped by the Guards. Similarly to the first run-in, tensions rose as Damian spoke with them though the party was not close enough to hear specifics. Damian did inform the group of the band of goblins the party had killed the previous night.  Once again the humans moved on with no blood spilled, but It was at this time that Damian expressed hesitance to move on into the town so long as this Guard was present, citing that the town’s guards present at dusk would be far more welcoming to the party. 

 

Despite these warnings, Cleira separated themselves from the party and continued on the path to Honiesale without the support of their fellow adventurers. His whereabouts are currently unknown.

 

Meanwhile, as they waited for the approach of dusk and clear passage into town, the party found their rest. Vadania in a tree, the remainders lulled by the tale of how Damian lost his leg(4).

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1.  Not two.

2. It was later noted at the conclusion of the brief but audacious meeting that the information given could have easily fit on a parchment and would have lacked the uncomfortable stuttering of the messenger from Honiesale and obvious disdain from Galathor, whose list of titles was long enough to lull an infant to sleep.

3. One. Cleira—High Elf Bard.

4. Imp would like it to be known that if you lose a limb you are allowed to embellish the story so that you do not make your companions fall asleep and become possibly susceptible to an attack.

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