The story opens with our party arriving at the human trade-city of Krenska, on the border between the human Kingdom of Kreinor and the elven Luchen Alliance. The group enters the city down the main street, making their way towards the center of town to find lodgings for the night. The dwarven sand-city, Peace, was to arrive the next day and the party planned to be on it.
On the way they were met by numerous merchants. One, a one-eyed old man selling meat on a stick was intimidated by the halfling with Stockholm syndrome and his terrifying wolf and graciously offered the group free food. The party moved on farther north down the main road of Krenska. They heard some yelling a distance away in dwarven and they decided to investigate. Along the way their elven compatriot, Feydowere, decided the busy street would be prime hunting grounds for a loose coin purse. The gang trotted onward while Feydowere slipped away and started “bumping” into people.
The first few offered little to no real profit, as the group hadn’t yet entered the richer inner districts of the city yet. However, there was one man that looked out of place. A rich and noble looking dwarf dressed in fine robes looked like a perfect target. Feydowere approached the man but on his attempt to swipe some coins, the nobleman noticed a hand in his pocket. Quickly, he swiped Feydowere’s hand away and pulled a gun on him. The rest of the group responds quickly. Mohammad Akiavar, the coolheaded monk quickly moved in and grappled the dwarf to hold him. However, the dwarf snapped off one shot at Feydowere but Mohammad’s interference caused the shot to go wide and graze a horse, sending it running wild. Upon seeing one of mother natures wonderous creatures injured, the halfling druid Phillip Obaird, pounced into action, pounding the dwarf for his actions. Wanting to hit something as well, Talic comes up and starts hitting the groups new punching bag as well. The dwarf is quickly rendered unconscious and the party swiftly strips him of his things. Guards on their way, the crowd has scattered somewhat and the group hastily tries to cover up what has transpired. Feydowere however, decides this is even more of a perfect time to steal more things and he swipes a lady’s purse as she runs from the fight. Thinking ahead, Jartlfar searches the dwarf, finding two pistols of odd design, a gold pouch, and an interesting little book that was sewn into the dwarf’s suit coat. He then dresses the scene to look like he just shot the horse out of the blue and the group came to stop him.
Two young guards wearing squared caps and carrying long rifles arrive and start asking what happened. Jartlfar says that the dwarf had thought Feydowere was trying to pick his pocket, then he just shot his pistol, hit a horse, and in general went crazy. The guards are reluctant to let the group go and ask them to go speak with their commander, as per protocol. This is also when the group learns that the dwarf that Mohammad is holding is in fact the local magistrate for the World Trade League. The older, and seemingly more experienced guard, notices that Feydowere is holding a woman’s purse, and is clearly not a woman, despite his elfy and feminine features. He asks why he has it and Feydowere responds telling him it is the Dwarf’s. In turn the guard says well, then we will need it to take with the dwarf. The guard reaches out for it and Feydowere looks both ways nervously searching for an out. He finds one. In a feat of extreme luck and sheer will, Feydowere spins around and ducks out of reality. His belongings are suddenly vacant with a poof and fall to the floor. There is a blinding flash and sonic boom. The guards then proceed to freak the fuck out and now raise their guns. The younger one turns and sprints back to the guardhouse to get reinforcements.
Spotting an opening to hit something else. Talic looses his anger and cleaves the lone guard’s head in twain, separating the right and left hemispheres of his brain. Surprisingly, Halthor, the elven cleric springs into action and miraculously manages to stop the guard from bleeding out and stabilizes him. The guard died later that week from influenza. Thinking quickly, Jartlfar gives Talic the purse and tells him to run. Again, making it look like the rest of the group is innocent. Moments later, a much larger group of guards arrive along with a taller human with sharp features and what appears to be an officer’s uniform. He again questions the group and Jartlfar sweet talks them to safety. Col. Strenlan, as he introduced himself, then tells the group to stay the night at a designated inn and warns them not to leave town. The group then departs from the scene and heads to find Talic. Before they get a chance to stop him however, Philip runs down the street back to the main gate, remembering that the weeds he first saw on the way in have potent anti-itching alchemical properties. After successfully gathering a backpack full of the leaves of the plant, he spends a quiet moment to himself as he rubs them gingerly on his skin. All his itches disappear.
Talic is finally found when he stumbles out from an alleyway into the central plaza in the middle of town, around the imposing Trade Spire. He is dressed in a hobo’s clothes that don’t fit right, and smells quite foul. The group then heads to the inn where the Colonel had sent them. They find a bed and food waiting and rest for the night, examining the loot they had acquired. First, the two pistols appear to be an ornate dwarven design, alas, no one in the group is familiar with dwarven tech and cannot operate them effectively enough to figure out what they do. Next, they find out that the dwarf had a significant amount of gold on him. About 1000 gp worth of it. Finally, the black leather bound pocketbook. It is written in dwarven, but in some sort of complex cipher. Clearly this is the biggest find. The purse that Talic had run off with contained some silver pieces as well as a love letter that described a meeting the next day after a parade. While the group then turned out the lights to sleep, rest, or medditate, the halfling, Philip, sought out a mage to investigate the fate of their companion, Feydowere.
He is sent to the central Trade Spire by the bartender downstairs. Once he arrives and the Spire, he speaks with one of the secretaries working the night shift at the lobby. She puts him in for a 10 o’clock meeting with a Dr. Montrovsky and Philip proceeds to sweet talk her into giving him her address for the sexy times. Philip then leaves with his wolf and makes himself a bed out of some aloe leaves he had gathered earlier from the gatehouse foliage.
The sun finally falls and the city goes to sleep. But night is the time where subtlety and thievery are rampant. Will the group sleep quietly like babies? Or have they been caught up in something bigger than they could have ever imagined?