# Enforcer's Wheel of Time Story Hour [Last Update 5-20-02 (finally!)]



## Enforcer (Jan 20, 2002)

Greetings. I started working on this before winter break, and I only picked it up again tonight. This is the journal of Reimon Jaspur, a noble who's seeking his fortune in the Westlands. His recent adventure with three new friends prompted him to buy a leather-bound book and record his experiences. This is the first story I've ever written (adventure notes don't count) outside of school work, so please give me honest, polite feedback/criticism. If there's an interest in future updates, I'll try to have something more soon.

Stats for Reimon and his friends may be found in the Rogues Gallery Character Stats 
I didn't want to force you to be familiar with them to (hopefully) enjoy my story. Also, after Reimon meets his friends (2 PCs and the other NPC I run besides Reimon), Wheel of Time players may notice that the adventure they have is remarkably similar to the one found in the Wheel of Time core rulebook. That's because I ran that adventure for my two players.

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*Adar the 24th, 998 NE* [Part 1]
The events of the past two days have prompted me to buy this leather-bound book, so that I can record the events of my travels. I wish to one day read this journal and fondly remember both my triumphs and my failures. Mother once said that a man truly knows himself only by acknowledging his past. Although my most recent adventure has certainly been the most unusual experience of my life, I think it best to start with my departure from home—Mother always told me to do a complete job of things.

As the youngest of three brothers, I never really held my father’s attention. My father, the Lord Marcos, was always far more concerned with my eldest brother Nataniel, as he is heir to the title. Father also pays some attention to my other brother, Jeb, in case Nataniel meets an untimely end. I suppose my existence is pointless—there is no need to train more than one replacement heir. I fear the day that Nataniel will take his place with the other Lords of the Land. He is an intelligent, capable man, but Father has taught him to think only of himself. Because of this, Nataniel is selfish and cruel. He once rode down a young boy on our estates with his stallion; he then fined the boy’s father a month’s wages for allowing the poor lad to get in his way. Jeb has a much kinder heart, but he is unassertive and too quick to trust. If he comes to lead our family, many others will take advantage of his weak resolve.

As for myself, I received more freedom than what is usual for a Lord’s son. I spent my youth learning the rudiments of history and heraldry, and I had a knack for the Old Tongue, which I speak fluently unlike most nobles. Mother taught me. Father deemed it unimportant for me to learn diplomacy, so I learned the ways of court surreptitiously from Mother. She took ill when I was fourteen. A traveling Aes Sedai offered to heal her, even despite the harsh laws forbidding it, but Father said he would not let the unclean touch of a Tar Valon witch disgrace his good name. He showed no concern about his wife, the mother of his three sons, just his reputation.

Soon after Mother’s death, Father stopped paying for my tutors. I ended up spending much of my time on our estates. Life was good out in the country. The olive trees there are beautiful in the summer. A kindly old guard named Andreu taught me the rudiments of combat, and Filip the stablemaster taught me how to ride and care for animals. I would wager that Father would take notice of me if he learned that I know how to brush down a horse and drive a plow! Yes, life was simple and pleasant there, and my body grew strong. Topping two paces and weighing eighteen stone, my added muscles made me even more handsome with my wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and olive Tairen skin. Had I not grown so restless there, I would have become involved with Filip’s pretty daughter to the point where honor dictated I marry her.	Thank the Light my curiosity to see the city of my nation’s namesake got the better of me!

When I turned eighteen, I saddled Dovienya—my stout warhorse descended from the best of Tairen stock—and rode from the family estates to the city of Tear with all of my personal belongings. In my letter to Father, I explained my need to make something of myself; that I was not content to rest on the fortunes of my brothers.

The city of Tear is quite a place. The Stone dominates the rest of the city as Daes Dae’mar dominates Cairhien. Certainly any guest of a High Lord would have been invited to stay in the Stone, but the third son of a minor Lord of the Land had to make other arrangements. The inner city is where all the finer houses and High Lord palaces may be found, but unfortunately I had spent most of my allowance in the purchase of Dovienya. I ended up staying at The Dolphin’s Swim, one of the lowest of inns in the Maule, the rough port district of the city. My first night I lost most of my purse learning how to gamble with dice as opposed to playing Chop.

I spent two months at The Dolphin’s Swim, gambling and fighting. While most Tairen peasants would not dare attack a man with a signet ring, the sailors on shore leave had no such inhibitions. Soon word had spread that I was stronger than all but the strongest oarsman was, and my exercise became infrequent as a result. Despite what any other noble may think, I learned more during my two months spent with the bottom of society than I ever did from my tutors (excepting Mother, of course). Peasants will be honest to even the son of a Lord of the Land if you buy them their drinks. They gave me an appreciation of what the common person thinks.

Unfortunately, my time in Tear was cut short by a riverboat captain named Huyen Derniv. Huyen was a tall, stocky man who controlled his crew with as much brute force as yelling and cursing. He and I had been playing at Crowns for much of the evening, and I was having much better luck with the dice than he. After a toss where he lost his twenty-fourth Tairen mark, he decided it was wiser to brandish his oak cudgel than call it a night. I responded by drawing my plainly adorned longsword and dueling with the man outside. Regrettably, the fight ended with Huyen sliding off my blade into the thick mud of the Maule. I did not want to kill the man, but he had no cause to attack me—my dice are fair, unlike those of some others I have played against. Looking back on it now, I suppose it was lucky that Huyen’s men hated him, or I might have ended up dead in the mud next to him, despite Andreu’s lessons.

That did not erase my need to flee the city, however. While it is true that the son of a Lord has every right to kill a commoner in Tear, it was also true that Huyen owed his twenty-four marks and more to a disreputable man named Thad the Hatchet. Thad was awarded his moniker by using a woodsman’s hatchet to dismember a man who failed to pay back his loan in time. He decided that Huyen had diced with money that did not belong to him, and that I was now responsible for the riverboat captain’s debts.

I packed everything I owned into Dovienya’s saddlebags and left that very night. Fortunately my signet ring—my sign is two crossed silver daggers, pointing up, inside a golden circle—and a few well-chosen words allowed me to exit the city while the Hatchet was delayed by negotiating a bribe with the guards. Carried swiftly on Dovienya’s strong legs, I was well gone by the time any pursuit had made its way outside the city walls.

My journey away from Tear was not easy. My luck apparently ended with taking Huyen’s money. By the time I crossed the Goine Bridge into Far Madding, I only had ten silver marks left, and no gold. When the gate guards “peace bonded” my sword—a process that involves the tying of cord around the hilt and scabbard, making the sword very difficult to unsheathe—I cannot say I was offended. If we obeyed a similar custom in Tear, I might not have had to flee Thad the Hatchet and his ruffians.

I only spent a week in Far Madding, but in that time my luck with the dice returned—I had more than doubled the weight of my purse. Nevertheless, word reached the city that the captured False Dragon, Logain Ablar, would be passing through Caemlyn on his way to Tar Valon to be gentled. This was something that I never could have seen back home, and I had no desire to miss it!
I reached Caemlyn the 22nd of Adar, having lost even more coin on that leg of my journey than I lost from Tear to Far Madding. I swear that if for some reason I end up being a Lord of the Land (may the Light forbid that!), I will tax my peasants less so that they would be willing to gamble for more than a few measly silver pennies. I almost hit an elderly farmer who wanted to dice for copper coins. Copper coins! But I digress. My first night in Caemlyn was when things got interesting.

I had paid for a room at the Golden Stag Inn, a nice establishment situated in a prosperous area outside the walls of the Inner City. So many had come to see the False Dragon that the Innkeeper, one Master Ferrin, had set up tables and benches in the stable yard to accommodate his numerous patrons. The winter air became quite chilly with the setting of the sun, and so Master Ferrin had large fires going among the tables as well, making the atmosphere more than comfortable. A fiddler was playing peasant songs in one corner of the yard, but I paid him no attention. Instead, my eyes were riveted to the creamy complexion and flawless features of a Domani woman named Resara. Ah Resara, your name flitters off the tongue like a beautiful butterfly. She had soft blue eyes like the sea and flowing brown hair so lustrous that it reflected the firelight. And her dress…Domani women certainly deserve their scandalous reputations. Oh, how I want her! Unfortunately, Resara’s attentions were divided between me and two other men. 

The first called himself Tarlan, a strong Andorman slightly taller than my own six feet with green eyes, which I found to be an interesting experience. He had the same corded muscles and an even greater grace of movement than I possess. Belted to his waist was a hand-and-a-half sword that the people of Andor call “Warder’s swords,” though Tarlan was obviously no Warder. On the other side of his waist, the man carried a plain dagger. Strapped to his right thigh he bore a short sword and against the wall nearest him lay a boar spear and the tallest longbow I have ever seen! When I asked him about his need for so many arms, he told me that the wilderness that he spends most of his time in requires preparedness, and that he has a handaxe hanging from the pack in his room as well. Nevertheless, Tarlan was a companionable man, though I found him to be somewhat more focused on Resara than myself, the Light knows I cannot blame him.

The other man went by Ronan; he was a shorter and stockier man from Shienar. Despite what I had learned of Shienarans from my tutors, this man did not wear his hair in a topknot. When I inquired about his hair, he guardedly explained that only Shienaran warriors wear it in such a fashion. Despite his claim of not being a soldier, the man still wore a morningstar and a dagger on his belt. At least if he had any interest in Resara, he kept it to himself.

Suddenly, two men, one wearing red and thus showing support for the Andoran Queen, Morgase, the other wearing white in opposition, interrupted our polite conversation. The one in red called the other a coward; the offended man in white replied angrily and drew his dagger. One of Master Ferrin’s bouncers grabbed the poor sod and tossed him into the door of the stable’s large shed, breaking it open. I gasped, and I was not alone, for inside was a horrible creature with the head of a goat, and goat legs, taller than a man by half! I supposed it to be a trolloc, though before that moment I certainly would have called any man who believed in trollocs a fool. I also noticed two more of the monsters stuffing what looked like a small child into a sack. The sight of that made me angry, I had also never believed in trollocs eating humans…

“Who will help me destroy these Shadowspawn?” I asked, loudly so I could be heard above the panicking crowd. I figured that Tarlan might side with me, and even Ronan, but Resara’s frightened, yet determined nod surprised me; that is until she drew forth a dagger from between her ample breasts and handled it like one who knew its use. Everyone else was too overcome with fear to act.

Tarlan was the first to reach the beast, his Warder’s sword held strongly in two hands. His attack was skillful, yet still it was parried by the trolloc’s cruel curved sword. The counterblow Tarlan received cut right across the man’s broad chest. The blow was surely telling, but Tarlan shrugged it off as if such blows were a common experience for him. I rushed in and cut my longsword deeply into trolloc flesh. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed what must have been Resara’s dagger strike the frame of the shed door with a loud “thunk.” Ronan came up to the trolloc on the other side of Tarlan, and struck the creature hard with his morningstar. The monster looked satisfactorily pained. Tarlan had already attacked again, glancing his sword off the creature’s black mail, by the time I struck the killing blow across its neck. It collapsed in a heavy heap. Tarlan bravely made his way over to a bench, dragging his sword in one hand while clutching his bleeding chest with the other. Resara retrieved her dagger, and I noted with dismay that the other two trollocs had fled through the back wall of the shed with their victim.

At least the other inn patrons had collected themselves again. Master Ferrin led the bravest of these back into the stable yard. Everyone was shocked at seeing the dead trolloc; I myself was quite stunned at seeing the body now that the fight was over. When Bennet, the stablemaster, made his way through the crowd, I saw by his face who the trolloc captive was. Trollocs had taken his daughter Sirene.

Everyone began searching the stables and other parts of the inn, but my three new companions and I knew she was gone. Soon the crowd turns from searching to speculating at the horrible fate that awaited Sirene.

“The Light knows you’ve done more than any other, and so I’m hesitant to ask this,” Master Ferrin said, “but Sirene is just a child, and she’s all the family poor Bennet has. Everyone at the inn has treated her as if she was their own. Won’t you please help her?”

Bennet, nervously twisting a handkerchief in his hands, followed this by saying, “Please, every moment of delay is another moment that she’s in danger! Hurry!”

None of the four of us seemed to be stepping forward, so I decided to. “Of course we will help you, I shall not let a child be stolen by trollocs. We leave at once.” I dare say I sounded a lot braver than I felt—I knew there were at least two other trollocs, and a good chance for more. Seeing a maid tend to Tarlan’s wound with healer’s balm did not serve to settle my stomach. Fortunately, the woodsman looked a lot better than he did, we would need him in the battles to come.

[Part 2 coming soon!]

In the mean time, please respond to the poll and/or leave any comments/criticisms/death threats in this thread. Thank you!


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## Enforcer (Jan 21, 2002)

BUMP! SAY SOMETHING!!!

(please?)


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## Talindra (Jan 21, 2002)

I really enjoyed your first post and I am anxiously awaiting part 2.  Good story telling and you seem to have a nice grasp of the setting.  Can't wait for more!


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## Metus (Jan 21, 2002)

Backgrounds are the hardest to comment upon, because they're more factual and linear then pure adventures are.  Thought it was kind of slow at the beginning but really picked up as it went along, and I found the ending interesting.  You might want to be careful about giving too much information to the reader, and tighten it up some.

I think a WoT adventure has great promise because I've yet to see a story hour based on that world (could've missed one if there was, but who knows).  In any case, it's hard to draw too much of an opinion from an intro (which this essentially was), so I'll keep my eye out for more.  Good luck.


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## Horacio (Jan 21, 2002)

It has potential!
It can be a very very good story hour.
And I'm defenitively interested 

BTW, I like a lot your 'Robet Jordan' style, you capture very well the mood of Jordan's works...


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## RaveN (Jan 21, 2002)

Enforcer said:
			
		

> *BUMP! SAY SOMETHING!!!
> 
> (please?) *




when are the cliffnotes coming out?



D:


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## Plane Sailing (Jan 21, 2002)

I find the adventures which are written "third person" easier to read than the ones which are "first person". Mind you, you've already had four people comment on your storyhour, while I've had none... so what do I know 

I like WoT, and I liked the look of the NPCs in the rogues gallery. I'll check up on you and see how the story develops.

Cheers


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## Eosin the Red (Jan 21, 2002)

Enfocer,

I was actually waiting til this morning to give you a good bump. I love the story - well crafted and VERY good use of the setting. I put a link to your story on my website and you obviously know I "outed" you on the WotC boards.


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## Marauder (Jan 21, 2002)

Good start! A great background for the character - very nicely detailed, along with the journal narrative. In my opinion, it's refreshing to see a first person perspective for a change. I look forward to the next installment, although I hope to see more from the actual PC's! Keep it coming!


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## Enforcer (Jan 21, 2002)

I almost responded to RaveN before remembering that he's my suite-mate here at school... I need a brain transplant sometimes...
But, if someone is seriously confused as to what I'm talking about, 'cause they haven't read the novels, I guess I could try to answer any questions you might have. You could always read just the first novel in the series, however, as my little thing takes place in the middle of it. (And you'd be reading some of the best fantasy ever, in my opinion.)

As for 3rd-person vs. 1st-person, I definitely thought about it, but I wanted it to focus on Reimon's perspective. Reimon and Resara are NPCs that I run, while Tarlan and Ronan are PCs. I thought Reimon would have a lot more...er...depth.

By the way, I'm hoping to have the conclusion to Reimon's first adventure up by tonight.


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## Horacio (Jan 22, 2002)

Enforcer said:
			
		

> *By the way, I'm hoping to have the conclusion to Reimon's first adventure up by tonight. *




So we will have an update soon, I hope...


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## Enforcer (Jan 22, 2002)

Sorry...real life hit me over the head last night. I hope to have it soon.


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## Horacio (Jan 22, 2002)

No problem, Real Life has that nasty habitude, always messing with Gaming Life...


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## Enforcer (Jan 23, 2002)

*Part 2 of 3*

Tarlan had just risen somewhat steadily to his feet and had gathered his weapons when a foul odor wafted through the stable yard. The stench was more terrible than even the stink of the Maule, which itself was one of the few things I was happy to leave behind me in Tear. Soon the source of the aroma was walking towards my cohorts and me, the crowd of travelers and merchants parting to allow him a wide berth. Somewhere within the hunched-over mess of dirty garments, I could make out an oversized hooked nose and a piercing gaze. That iron-hard stare would have parted the crowd without aid from its owner’s scent or disheveled clothing. Father had that same look in his eyes when he refused Aes Sedai help for Mother—it is the look of a man ready to kill to get what he wants. I could tell that Tarlan and Resara were taken aback as well, the stunning woman looked like a Tairen lady ready to faint. Ronan was unperturbed; would nothing agitate this man?

“Rol!” Master Ferrin shouted at the bouncer who had inadvertently started this mess, “That wretched beggar is dirtying my inn for the fourth time in half as many days!”

“Should I fetch my dogs Master Ferrin?” Bennet asked. I was more than half hoping the stout innkeeper would let him.

“You need me,” the beggar interrupted even as Ferrin began to nod his head. “The monsters went right by me as I lay in the alley. I can take you.” The man’s voice sounded somewhat like the croak of a man I had diced with once at The Dolphin’s Swim. He was in a knife fight where his opponent had slashed him across the throat—not a killing blow, but enough to make his voice a mockery of its former self.

Ferrin’s nodding took on a different meaning. “He can show the way! Follow him, and quickly!”

“Yes, we have precious little time, let’s be off,” Tarlan said, sounding eager to take revenge for the cruel cut that still showed under his damaged tunic. I could not agree more.

We followed the beggar into the alley, onto a road, and out to the fringe of the outermost buildings of Caemlyn. We each carried a weapon: Tarlan had an arrow the length of my arm nocked in his enormous longbow, Ronan held his morningstar easily at his side, Resara had her dagger ready to throw, and I gripped my longsword the way Andreu had taught me. Looking at our hastily assembled group, I had to admire the strength of character that was being displayed on my companions’ faces. There was fear yes, except for Ronan, but still a righteous determination. Or perhaps I am just remembering us all as looking braver than we actually did. Mother said that men remember things the way they want to remember them, not the way they actually happened.

The beggar stopped and pointed along a hedgerow that led into a copse of trees about 200 paces away. I could only make out the outline in the darkness. “That’s where they took her,” he croaked. The wretch sounded as if he was enjoying all of this.

We had gone perhaps a third of the distance when Tarlan looked over his shoulder. “Good, he’s out of earshot. Ugh, I wish I had gone outside to look for a trail before we agreed to his help. I surely could have tracked two trollocs this far.” He sounded rather defensive about his skill at woodcraft, perhaps because his sword returned to its sheath unbloodied in our first fight.

Resara laid a soft, delicate hand on Tarlan’s shoulder, “I forgot to tell you how astonished I was that you kept fighting after taking such a tremendous blow. Surely you have the fortitude of three men.” The sly smile she flashed him left little doubt as to what she meant. The woodsman could only stammer a few words of thanks in reply as his cheeks flushed a bright crimson. He did square his shoulders and appear more relaxed though—my respect for Resara went up a notch.

In a low voice, Tarlan said, “Their tracks follow along this hedgerow, they may be watching this way for pursuit. It’d be best if we all followed me across the field so we can approach from a safer side. I know it’s hard, but try not to be seen or heard.” It was sound advice that we all agreed to. This Andorman knew what he was about.

We all made it safely to a shallow ravine that lay to the west of the small wood. I was worried that Resara or I would give away our position, given that Tarlan gave us concerned looks every time we made a sound. At least the woodsman and Ronan seemed to be adept at moving noiselessly.

Crouched in the ravine, we looked into the trees. I saw only one trolloc, perhaps five paces away from the squirming sack that undoubtedly held poor Sirene. Fortunately, Tarlan and Ronan spotted the two that I had missed. The woodsman was right; the two trollocs I had overlooked were indeed watching the path along the hedgerow.

When Ronan unwrapped a sling from around his arm, we decided that it would be best if Resara and I crept up to the trolloc nearest Sirene as far as we could (we had no bows or slings), then wait for Tarlan’s arrow and Ronan’s sling bullet to hit it. Resara and I would then rush in to finish it off, if necessary. Then the four of us could deal with the other two, instead of fighting three of them at once. It was also decided that after the one trolloc was down, Resara and I would get in between the sack and the other two Shadowspawn to protect Sirene. And hopefully live long enough for Tarlan and Ronan to come and help us…

Tarlan double-checked his arrow while Ronan readied his sling. Ronan did not look well, his brow shone with sweat and he appeared as if he might sick up. Perfectly understandable, given the circumstances, though I found it interesting that he looked even more resolute than before, if that is possible. Resara and I began to sneak towards our target.

The trolloc had its back turned to us, and so the two of us made it to within ten paces before it whipped around, cruel sword held strongly in its thick hand and howling with hate. The howling abruptly stopped as the trolloc’s chest sprouted the arrow from Tarlan’s enormous bow. A split-second later, its neck exploded. Ronan’s sling bullet must have actually pierced flesh rather than simply strike the beast. A lucky shot. Resara and I were already running towards the other two trollocs as the first fell lifeless to the ground.

I worried for Resara, as she and I were each facing our own nine-feet-tall monstrosity, and she had never received any battle training as I had. Fortunately she seem quick enough to protect herself, though I doubted her tiny dagger would be of much use against her much larger opponent.

The trolloc I faced had the head of a hawk, with a sharp beak protruding where a mouth should be. It tried to rush past my right side, probably meaning to grab the sack, but I made a deep cut across its belly before it could get out of my reach. My blow stopped the trolloc’s charge, as continuing would have only deepened the wound. After my blade was clear of trolloc flesh, I brought my left hand to the bottom of the hilt. Taking the longsword with two hands, I cleaved it into the Shadowspawn’s back. My arms went slightly numb due to the force of my sword severing the trolloc’s spine, but I was just happy that the monster would not be rising to attack me.

Resara, on the other hand, was not doing as well. She showed no injuries, but it was taking her every ounce of concentration to avoid being hit by the trolloc’s curved sword. I reached her a mere moment before Tarlan and Ronan had caught up to the battle. In my haste I thought that I could take advantage of the trolloc’s distraction long enough to strike a killing blow. With animal cunning it managed to deflect my sword enough that my blade glanced uselessly off the black mail that it wore. With the trolloc’s focus on my attack, however, it never saw Ronan bring his morningstar up over his head to crash into its ram-like temple. Yet it did not fall! 

By now the trolloc was frantic, its horns were twisting about with its desperate attempt to keep its eyes on all four of us simultaneously. It realized how futile that was when Tarlan’s Warder’s sword was buried hilt-deep in its lungs. It was over.

As Tarlan, Ronan, and I were cleaning our weapons on ragged trolloc garments, Resara went to the sack that held Sirene. She was such as pretty girl, with long blond hair and cute dimples. I was so relieved that we had succeeded—having to return to Bennet empty-handed would have been unbearable.

Sirene did not seem to realize she was out of danger as Resara was asking her if she was hurt, but received no response. It was only when Tarlan went over to her stunned form and lifted her in his arms that her expression changed. She simply clasped her arms around the woodsman’s thick neck and cried softly into his shoulder as he held her. It must have hurt Tarlan greatly to have Sirene in contact with the chest wound he had received at the inn, but one would not know it to look at him. The man simply looked content.

Our reception back at The Golden Stag was enthusiastic, to put it mildly. Bennet and Sirene were reunited, with the girl not touching the ground as Tarlan handed her into the loving arms of her father. Master Ferrin approached the four of us after fighting through the swarm of patrons who wanted to pay their compliments.

“The four of you stay free at this inn for as long as I can afford it. I’ve even asked several people to sleep three to a room, so each of you can have a private bed. They fought to be one of the ones inconvenienced, if you can believe that,” Ferrin held his gaze to the floor, as if he were addressing an assembly of nobles.

I was about to tell him to look us in the face when the stench of the filthy beggar once again assaulted my senses. He even had the nerve to grab Tarlan by the cloak. I dare say that if I possessed the small size of this beggar, I would never think to grab a man as big as Tarlan. Even being of roughly equal strength to the man, I would certainly think twice first.

“Please sir, it’s so cold out in the alley. Allow a poor beggar the humble reward of your cloak, that I might keep warm,” he croaked, and I thought it a reasonable enough request, despite the man’s greedy and more than half-mad expression. That stabbing gaze still had not changed a bit.

“I’m afraid not friend beggar. This cloak has been an heirloom in my family for as many generations as we can recount. I’ll not part with it, though I’d be happy to buy you one of your own, and new woolen clothes to go with it if you like,” the woodsman replied. It seemed to me that he was ashamed at refusing the beggar his cloak, and was being overly generous to compensate. I learned much about reading a man during my dicing days in the Maule.

Master Ferrin diffused the situation by offering the ragged man some blankets and a place in the loft. Though the beggar seemed far from satisfied, he accepted the innkeeper’s charity graciously enough. As for my companions and I, we were hounded repeatedly to recount the story of our supposedly epic battle. Somehow I was chosen to tell the tale; Tarlan was too busy being fussed over by the maid that had tended to him earlier while Resara was asked to dance by nearly every man in the inn. One look at Ronan’s cold face sent the curious away from him, though he never had to pay for a refill of his mug. 

Late in the evening, we were finally permitted to go to our rooms. I cannot recall a time when I slept more soundly. I dreamt of tomorrow, when I would get to see what I came to Caemlyn for. The False Dragon Logain was to be paraded through the streets.


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## Riekhan (Jan 23, 2002)

This is great so far! I look forward to part3. I read the stats in the rouges gallery, and I was wondering what a wanderer is?  (I've only gotten to book 2 and I have not seen the d20 conversion yet.)


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## Horacio (Jan 23, 2002)

A wanderer, in game terms, is a bit like a rogue... Rand's friend, Mat, is a wanderer. The wanderer has senak attacks, skill focus and a feat that gives a reroll (Dark  One's Own).

The story goes great! Have you already prepared/played next adventure? Will it be a home made adventure or and adaptation of something?


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## Enforcer (Jan 23, 2002)

I've somewhat prepared the next adventure (it's home made), but I don't know when we'll get to play. Tarlan's player doesn't seem to be free, ever, so it could be a while. Alternatively, I could hand the character over to someone else, or make it 3 NPCs and one PC. I've done it before...

Riekhan, Horacio did a good job describing the wanderer, but if you want more, ask away or check out the rulebook at your game shop.

As for part 3 (the conclusion), I have a quiz on Thursday and some other work as well. Grr...I hate homework!


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## Derulbaskul (Jan 23, 2002)

Hi Enforcer,

I also wanted to say that I really enjoyed reading your posts and am looking forward to seeing what else happens.  I confess that I'm also looking for a bit of inspiration to help me put together my own WoT campaign (I'm more familiar with FR and GH) so I'll personally be hoping that you knock over your homework ASAP.

Cheers
NPP


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## Plane Sailing (Jan 23, 2002)

I like the story, and your style is nice - very readable. I'll watch with interest for future installments.


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## Enforcer (Jan 23, 2002)

Derulbaskul said:
			
		

> *Hi Enforcer,
> 
> I also wanted to say that I really enjoyed reading your posts and am looking forward to seeing what else happens.  I confess that I'm also looking for a bit of inspiration to help me put together my own WoT campaign (I'm more familiar with FR and GH) so I'll personally be hoping that you knock over your homework ASAP.
> 
> ...




Derulbaskul: After Reimon arrives in Caemlyn, the adventure I ran was the one from the back of the Wheel of Time Rulebook, so you don't need to wait for the conclusion of this adventure to run it on your own.

Be advised, however, that anyone who runs that adventure should be prepared to possibly fudge some dice rolls. Multiple trollocs are _not_  appropriate for a 1st level party, despite what the rulebook says. They've got something like 15 hp on average and a +4 to hit. They also do a noticeable 2d4+2 with those scytheswords. Challenge code 'A' my...er...posterior.

You may have noticed that Tarlan was the only one to get hit so far, that's because I rolled like...er...doody, whereas the players did awesome. Ronan had something like 5 crits with his morningstar (sigh), though I've changed the combat a little to make it flow more quickly, so you haven't seen all 5 (and won't, probably).


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## Derulbaskul (Jan 24, 2002)

Enforcer, let me make this plain: I want to read your story hour so hurry up and finish it! 

I completely agree with your comments on the challenge code of trollocs. A single trolloc probably meets the definition of challenge code A. Three together would be a B or C. While I understand the rationale for using the A, B, C etc... system in WOT and SWRPG, sometimes it falls down just a little bit more than the CR/EL system.

So if you're not going to finish your story hour soon, wow about posting your homemade adventure to the Call of the Horn site?

Cheers
NPP


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## Lazybones (Jan 24, 2002)

An interesting story; I've long been a WoT fan and I've glanced through the d20 book, and was curious how someone would implement the system as a game.  

Keep writing; you've gotten a lot of views in a short time, and it seems like people on the board like your work.  Plus I think that you'll find that the more you write for fun, the better your academic writing will become (at least that's how it was for me). 

Lazybones


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## Horacio (Jan 24, 2002)

Derulbaskul said:
			
		

> *I completely agree with your comments on the challenge code of trollocs. A single trolloc probably meets the definition of challenge code A. Three together would be a B or C. While I understand the rationale for using the A, B, C etc... system in WOT and SWRPG, sometimes it falls down just a little bit more than the CR/EL system.
> *




Chalenge code for the trollocs is plain wrong!!! Or maybe the wrong Challenge Code system is wrong. In D&D, when you have five CR 2 monsters you know the encounter isn't CR 2. In WoT or SW, three CC A foes is still an A encounter... 

But anyway, I don't use a lot the Challenge Code system in my games, I prefer my own criterium.


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## Pillars of Hercules (Jan 25, 2002)

*Enforcer's WoT Story Hour = Tasty Goodness*

Enforcer,

Just a bump, a friendly word of praise for a well-written story hour and another in the chorus of requests to keep writing it!


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## sword-dancer (Jan 27, 2002)

May the light shine on your swords!


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## Horacio (Jan 28, 2002)

Another bump for this shiny story hour...


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## Pelosan Emperor (Feb 1, 2002)

*BUMP!*

Another bump, and another "WELL DONE!"

I'm looking forward to the next installment!

PE


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## mearlus (Feb 6, 2002)

Gotta bump this 

How's the next installment coming?  I'm anxious to read it 

Keep up the good work!


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## Enforcer (Feb 7, 2002)

*The next installment*

Will hopefully be tonight. I've already done my Spanish homework for tomorrow (Friday), so I'll hopefully have time to finish part three tonight. If it makes anyone feel better, I have the plot for the next adventure in mind. I think it's pretty interesting.


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## Horacio (Feb 8, 2002)

*Re: The next installment*



			
				Enforcer said:
			
		

> *Will hopefully be tonight. I've already done my Spanish homework for tomorrow (Friday), so I'll hopefully have time to finish part three tonight. If it makes anyone feel better, I have the plot for the next adventure in mind. I think it's pretty interesting. *




I propose you a exchange. Next time I help you with your Spanish homework (I'm Spanish, I only live in France) and you update sooner... O.K.?


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## Enforcer (Feb 8, 2002)

*Part 3 of 3 (unfinished...I had to sleep!)*

I awoke in my small but comfortable room to find warm water for shaving. It seemed that our reward for rescuing Sirene extended beyond just a free room. I dressed in my tight gray breeches that attracted a lady’s eye to my calves and my blue silk coat, embroidered in silver on the collar and cuffs. Resara was not the only one of the four of us that knew how to dress to catch attention. Besides, the crowd gathered to see the False Dragon might make way for a traveling Tairen Lord of the Land, whereas they would not budge for a man dressed as a commoner, even one with a sword. I only wish I had some jewelry to go with my signet ring to complete the image.

I came down the stairs into the common room of the Golden Stag. It seemed that life had returned to normal—merchants and travelers were having their breakfast, and the serving girls were performing their duties with good cheer. Tarlan was checking a bowstring for wear as Ronan was finishing a biscuit. Resara was chatting coyly with some merchants. She was wearing another Domani dress—it went from toes to chin, although it clung to every curve and was only barely opaque. The merchants were paying so much attention to her chest that they did not notice when she pocketed some coins from their purses. I doubt they would care if they did. I, for once, had other things on my mind besides Resara and her dress.

“So, shall we head out to the parade ground and find ourselves a good viewing spot? This will be the only chance we will have to see a False Dragon, the Light willing,” I said, not taking care to conceal my excitement.

“I suppose we should, besides, you’ll need someone to watch your back,” Tarlan seemed amused at my anticipation—I suppose I would react the same way to a man my age acting like a child. Of course, Tarlan looked like he was almost ten years my senior, so perhaps he did think of me as a child. Resara seemed to share my eagerness, and Ronan simply shrugged in a manner that might have suggested agreement. I wonder what his reaction would be if I punched him in the mouth…

And so, we gathered our weapons and our cloaks and went outside, into chaos. Caemlyn had been crowded the past couple of days, but this was insane. Tarlan and I had to use our strength to force a path through the crowd, until finally we reached a small square right inside the New City where we had a good view. There were onlookers everywhere: standing on balconies, looking out of windows; but mostly in the streets with the four of us. All we had to do now was wait for the parade.

“You! Halt!” came the cry from a heavily armed man dressed in gleaming full mail, wearing a pure white cloak with the golden sunburst symbol of the Children of the Light. I hate bloody Whitecloaks, I hate Whitecloak officers even more, and this one had a silver lightning-flash emblem that denoted rank. Worse, he was trailed by three more of them.

None of my friends were enthusiastic at the interruption either. Resara looked ready to either draw her bodice-dagger or run, it was too difficult to tell which. Ronan had a hard look in his eyes, of course, though he looked pale and sweaty again, as he did when we fought the Trollocs in the copse.

“Yes Captain, how can I assist the Children of the Light?” I asked. In my experience, it is better to flatter these idiots, instead of breaking their noses as they deserve. Besides, they could find out where I was staying and convince some fool to scrawl a Dragon’s Fang on the door to Master Ferrin’s inn. I would not allow that, not after the kindness he had shown us. Tarlan’s expression illustrated his shock at my good manners—he must have thought I had grown Trolloc horns, being polite to a Whitecloak.

“Hmph, that’s Underlieutenant Arlvin and I’m looking for Darkfriends from the country. Unsophisticated louts who all serve the Dark One. You four fit their description, what’re your names? Do you walk in the Light?” he sneered. Unsophisticated? Unsophisticated! If we were in Tear, I could have had this man jailed, possibly executed. Were it not for the crowd, I would have surely drawn steel. Tarlan had similar thoughts, as his hand rested comfortably on the hilt of his Warder’s sword. I had to diffuse the situation and quickly.

“You see this ring, peasant?” I said in a raised voice, all but hitting this “Underlieutenant Arlvin” in the eye with my signet ring. “This ring bears irrefutable proof that I am Reimon Jaspur, the son of Marcos Jaspur, Lord of the Land of Tear. I may be outside of my home country, but I have friends in high places here, even some who have the ear of the Lion Throne. If I were you, Underlieutenant Arlvin, I would cast your unpalatable accusations upon one who fits your description. Surely you cannot name me an ‘unsophisticated lout,’ and certainly any friends of mine could not ” My statement was bold, and probably over the line. At least what I said was true, I probably could call in a favor with the Rose Crown, though it would be difficult at best. I was gambling here, and the price I would pay if I lost could be most handsome. My only hope was that he backed off.

“Even the noble-born may cast their lot with the Dark One, Reimon Jaspur. See to it that you do not make that mistake, for I will know it when it happens,” he said, though his eyes betrayed his confidence—I had won this test of wills. “Come men, these are not those whom we seek, though they would do well to walk in the Light.” They left, glaring around at everyone as they made their way through the crowd. To my delight, one of the onlookers bumped into one of Arlvin’s men, knocking him to the ground. By the time the Whitecloak had regained his feet, the man had disappeared into the accommodating mob. A Tairen peasant would have prostrated himself before even this common Whitecloak thug and begged forgiveness had he done such a thing, and here this Andorman had done it on purpose! It is no wonder that my people’s skirmishes with the Queen’s Guard rarely met with much success, given the bravery of even the lowest Andoran citizen.

The four of us breathed a sigh of hearty relief as the last of them vanished in the crowd. To his credit, Tarlan gave me a friendly pat on the back and offered kind words about a job well done. I do not think he will look upon me as an intemperate youth any longer.


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## Enforcer (Feb 8, 2002)

Ok, so at least I got something done. However, it's past 5am where I am right now, and I gotta get some rest. On the bright side, I don't have class until noon.

This weekend I'm going to Chicago to visit my girlfriend, but she'll have to go to a MCAT review class Saturday, so I'm hoping to finish part three then.

Horacio: Necesito aprender solo, sin ayuda, si yo quiere aprender algo. A pesar de esto, mi tarea fue muy aburrida--mi clase es una del espanol medieval, y la odio. El Canter de Mio Cid fue bastante interesante, pero ahora estamos leyendo este libro terrible del Conde Lucanor, donde este noble nos cuenta historias con mensajes. Es semejante a los cuentos de Aesop en ingles, pero completamente sin interes. Pero si quieres, puedes corregir este parafo (con el conocimiento de que yo se como usar acentos y tildes, pero no puedo usar los aqui).

Ok, enough, it's sleepy-time for Enforcer. Good night (morning)!


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## Horacio (Feb 8, 2002)

Great update, Enforcer!



			
				Enforcer said:
			
		

> *
> Horacio: Necesito aprender solo, sin ayuda, si yo quiere aprender algo. A pesar de esto, mi tarea fue muy aburrida--mi clase es una del espanol medieval, y la odio. El Canter de Mio Cid fue bastante interesante, pero ahora estamos leyendo este libro terrible del Conde Lucanor, donde este noble nos cuenta historias con mensajes. Es semejante a los cuentos de Aesop en ingles, pero completamente sin interes. Pero si quieres, puedes corregir este parafo (con el conocimiento de que yo se como usar acentos y tildes, pero no puedo usar los aqui).
> *




Bueno, si quieres una opinion sincera, escribes muy bien español. Yo tampoco puedo usar acentos (el teclado frances no los tiene). 

Lo unico que te falta para que parezca escrito por un español es no usar tanto 'yo'. En español solemos "olvidarnos" de el cuando hablamos o escribimos.

Por ejemplo:
"con el conocimiento de que yo se como usar"
yo diria:
"con el conocimiento de que (o 'sabiendo que') se usar", sin el 'yo'.

Y, en serio, tu español es realmente MUY BUENO!


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## Enforcer (Feb 8, 2002)

Horacio said:
			
		

> *Great update, Enforcer!
> 
> 
> 
> ...




Muchas gracias, amigo. Despues de casi nueve anos de estudar la lengua, estoy feliz que un espanol como tu tiene algo bueno para decir sobre mi distreza en escribirlo.


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## Pillars of Hercules (Feb 9, 2002)

*Must... Read... More!*

Enforcer.  This is very well written and I am officially hooked.  

Don't worry about posting too often.  It's not like your loyal readers are hanging on your every word, praying to Great Cthulhu that you will grant us more of your excellent WoT story hour and slowly giving way to the demons of madness or anything...

Just kidding, I hope.  Still, we do want more!


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## Memory (Feb 9, 2002)

Enforcer,

Thanks for posting this!  I just picked up the WoT rule book, and it's nice to see the rules put into action--especially when the story is as well-written and interesting as yours.  Keep it up!


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## Enforcer (Feb 9, 2002)

*Re: Must... Read... More!*



			
				Pillars of Hercules said:
			
		

> *Enforcer.  This is very well written and I am officially hooked.
> 
> Don't worry about posting too often.  It's not like your loyal readers are hanging on your every word, praying to Great Cthulhu that you will grant us more of your excellent WoT story hour and slowly giving way to the demons of madness or anything...
> 
> Just kidding, I hope.  Still, we do want more! *




Hehe, yeah I know that. It's just that the response to this has been overwhelmingly (at least to me) positive, and I feel like I owe you guys a better effort. I don't know, that sounds stupid I suppose. It's certainly an interesting feeling, given my procrastination when it comes to my schoolwork.

An another note, I just finished reading Fires of Heaven for the 2nd time, and it's still good--though I hate how Perrin doesn't have any scenes in the entire book! He's probably my favorite of the three, or at least when Rand isn't being a badass.


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## mearlus (Feb 26, 2002)

Ok, I just have to bump this so no one forgets about it   I, for one check daily to see if an update has been posted   hehe


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## Enforcer (Feb 26, 2002)

This Friday is my last week of classes before spring break! So hopefully I'll be able to finish the adventure during my glorious free time.


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## Horacio (Feb 27, 2002)

So next week we will read a new update!
Cool!

Thanks, enforcer!!!


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## Jairami (Feb 27, 2002)

<speechless>

Besides excellent handling of a low level game, a beautiful backstory that meshes very well with both the setting and the style even down to including the rudimentary differences in Tear and Andor, and of course managing to work in the events of the day at the same time as making the adventure feel significant; you do a tremendous job of translating it here for us to enjoy.

Bravo.


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## Pillars of Hercules (Mar 1, 2002)

*Ba-da-bump*

[Uses the One Power to raise this excellent thread to the top of the Story Hour board]

/Dickens mode

"Please, sir, could I have some more?"

Dickens mode/


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## Serpenteye (Mar 2, 2002)

*Sniff!* Eh... *Bump*,yeah that's better. Bump it is. Bump


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## Jairami (Mar 6, 2002)

/flipmode on

Y'all niggaz had enough, *NO!* gimme some mo'!

/flipmode off



Jairami
--he of the strange references and unfathomable sense of humor


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## mearlus (Mar 9, 2002)

*bump*


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## Little_Buddha (Mar 16, 2002)

*bump*


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## Horacio (Mar 18, 2002)

Almost a month ago Enforcer promised an update soon...
Enforcer, where are you? Your 'glorious free time' isn't as glorious or as free? 

Seriously, Enforcer, if you can and you want, drop us some line, at least to know how are you doing


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## Enforcer (Mar 18, 2002)

There was little time for congratulations, however, as I could already hear the sounds of trumpets and snare drums coming from up the street to my left. A mere moment afterwards, I heard the sound of thousands of Andormen and travelers cheering as they saw the captured False Dragon. And the roar was getting louder.

First came the trumpeters and drummers, scores of each leading the procession with a triumphant march cadence. After these, row upon row of cavalry, flanked with pikemen and archers, made their way past my friends and I. All were dressed in the red and white of Andor; those in the first ranks carried their nation’s banner—a white lion, rampant, on a field of red. Every link of mail shone brilliantly and lances were held perfectly vertical, with red banners trailing from the tips.

Finally, the subject of the parade came into view: an enormous wagon that needed sixteen large draft horses to pull it. Set on top was a large steel cage that held a king as its prisoner—at least Logain looked as if he was a monarch. The man held himself as if this parade was in celebration of his coronation, or his victory in a great battle. Indeed, even the eight Aes Sedai who sat outside the cage on the wagon bed could not match his majesty. As the False Dragon’s gaze swept over me, I was in awe of his tremendous power; even Ronan muttered an oath under his breath. Thank the Light that he had been caged, a man that great was capable of the greatest wrong, though perhaps he also could have done great good as well. It was too late for any of that now; Logain was condemned to be gentled once he reached the White Tower of Tar Valon. Thank the Light.

When I could tear my eyes away from the False Dragon, I saw that he had even more protection. A dozen men, each different in size and appearance, surrounded the wagon on their heavy warhorses. Their cloaks, which blew behind them in the cold breeze, seemed to disappear as they blended in with the crowd on the other side of the road. Those cloaks marked these men as Warders, men somehow tied to their Aes Sedai mistresses using the One Power. By all accounts, each Warder was so well trained that even a veteran Defender of the Stone would give one little pause. Seeing their grace, even in doing something so insignificant as to ride and scan the crowd, I could almost believe it. These men acted as if the hundreds of Andoran soldiers that surrounded them did not exist—they were ready to take on all of Caemlyn if the need arose.

After the tail end of the parade passed us by, the crowd began to disperse; a buzz of the False Dragon was on their lips.

“We’re being watched,” Ronan said, his steady gaze was aimed at a short man with the face of a weasel some 20 paces down the street from us. As we all turned to look, the man’s face narrowed and he vanished down an alleyway.

“After recent events, I wonder if he’s a Whitecloak spy or a Darkfriend sent to watch us,” Tarlan said pensively, giving no thought that some passersby might be interested in a conversation concerning either. Still, I had to wonder along the same lines.

“Either way he must be someone’s toady, and no one of importance alone. We’ll find out what we can about him, though...leave that to me,” Resara looked almost amused that we were being watched. I wish I could have taken the situation as lightly. Still, we needed to find out whom this man was working for.

“Fine, though perhaps you should take someone along for protection?” I said. There was no need to see that pretty face harmed, after all. And if she chose me to protect her...

“What a marvelous idea!” she exclaimed, flashing a smile one could die for. “Tarlan, would you care to accompany me?” Well there goes that plan. The two of them went off to find out what they could, while Ronan and I headed back towards the Golden Stag. Tarlan actually had the nerve to stick out his tongue at me! It seems I have some competition, though I do not worry—I naturally possess the greater charm and looks.

And so, Ronan and I made our way back to the Golden Stag. There, I wiled away the time dicing with the inn’s other patrons. Ronan just sat there, never touching his ale, seeming to be in deep thought. Understandably, I was overjoyed to see Resara and Tarlan return; commoners lack the coin for proper gambling. Then again, any of the High Lords could make me seem like one of these merchants’ guards, gambling only for silver pennies.

“What news of the toady, Resara?” I asked, though I was almost certain the man was a Whitecloak spy.

“I found out his name, Grom Fetchit, and where the man lives. But when Tarlan and I tried to, uh, interview him, he wasn’t at home.” Resara looked most displeased that the man had escaped her, I suppose she was trying to prove her worth to the group, as it certainly was outside of combat. As if I would ever dismiss a woman like that…

“I suppose it does not matter now, Resara, the Whitecloaks would not dare show their faces to me again. I know too many people in Caemlyn for them to risk my displeasure,” I boldly stated. Light! I am getting more full of myself every moment it seems—the things a pretty woman can make one do.

Soon after the four of us were seated, discussing this Fetchit person, one of the inn’s servants approached me apprehensively.

“Please excuse me, Lord Reimon, but that awful beggar is here again. He claims that a lieutenant from the Queen’s Guards has sent him to you with a message.” The woman’s tone indicated that she felt it was highly unlikely that any guardsman would use this despicable creature for a messenger. Mentally, I agreed with her assessment.

“I suppose we shall have to go and speak with the awful creature. Let us get on with it.” The sooner we escaped the foul vermin’s stench, the better.

That smell had certainly not improved since our last meeting, and I had to purposefully keep myself from covering my nose with a handkerchief. “Well beggar, what is your message?” I demanded. I did my best not to tremble before the look he gave me in response. Despite his dress, that was a look any king would be proud to give.

“A lieutenant from the Queen’s Guards asks for you to join him. I can show you the way,” he said, pointing towards the New City gates. Curious, I thought the fellow had a Lugarder accent the day before, now it was Andoran.

“And why would a lieutenant guardsman use you as his courier, you odious little man?” I asked as I sneered at him. Blood and ashes this man put me into a foul temper! I believe the man muttered some nonsense about this supposed lieutenant being too busy from the parade, but I just wanted to be done with this. “Fine, then let us be off.”

We followed the beggar up the street and through the gate leading into the New City. Garbage and debris from the parade were everywhere. At least there were less people about, making it easy to arrive at a plain, two-story building that had the red banner of Andor hanging in its window. The bundle of rags that was our guide pointed through the door at a man in a red tabard sitting at a desk inside, and then mercifully left us.

“Please come in,” the guardsman said, “the cap’n wants to see you.” Captain? I thought we were here to see a lieutenant. No doubt the beggar muddled up the man’s rank. We followed the man into the next room, where two more guardsmen were waiting for us. Waiting with drawn swords.

Resara had turned to flee the way we came, but a fourth guardsman had come down the stairs to block the exit. It seemed we were destined to fight, and Tarlan had already leapt towards the man who had led us to the ambush. Tarlan’s sword flashed once, and the man was now quite dead. Ronan moved to help Resara fend off the man from the stairs, while I charged at the man closest to me. The fourth man moved to intercept Tarlan and his bloodied Warder’s Sword.

The fight was over almost before it had begun. Tarlan had dispatched his second thug by the time I ran through the man I had charged. Ronan had hit the other man in the head with his morningstar, and the man gave up quickly thereafter. Now it was time to see why these men had been prepared for us.


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## Enforcer (Mar 18, 2002)

Sorry folks, but I _have_ been busy. Hopefully the small post above will tide you over for now.


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## Horacio (Mar 18, 2002)

Well, if you think only one update, even one as good as this one, can be enough, you're wrong! 

We want more!  

Seriously, I love your style, is 100% Wheel of Time!!!


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## Riekhan (Mar 19, 2002)

> I thought the fellow had a Lugarder accent the day before, now it was Andoran.




Ack! As soon as I read this I thought "Kill him NOW! He'll cause you problems later on!" I like how seemlessly you include events from the books into your stroy.


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## Enforcer (Mar 20, 2002)

Riekhan said:
			
		

> *Ack! As soon as I read this I thought "Kill him NOW! He'll cause you problems later on!" I like how seemlessly you include events from the books into your story. *




I wish I could take credit for putting "him" (I'll not ruin the surprise for those who haven't figured it out) in the story, but the story's based on the adventure in the back of the Wheel of Time rpg, and they put "him" in there.

Yeah, just so it's clear: the plot for this story is wholly based on the work of the WotC people who wrote the adventure "What Follows in Shadow" that appears in the Wheel of Time rpg.

The four main characters, their dialogue, emotions, and anything else not included in the actual adventure text, is mine.


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## Jairami (Mar 20, 2002)

It is the telling of the story that is impressive and worthy of attention and praise.  The source of the plot is of little consequence, players should make the plot, the DM should just make situations*.  These can-and often are-borrowed from movies, games, modules, comics, and anything else under the sun including the DM's own creativity.  The fact that the situation didn't come directly from the DM is not a demerit, it is a badge of honor that he can take something and breathe life into it so that it becomes an interactive environment that acts and reacts.

Your telling of the emotions, motivations, your handling of the characters and the environment, your transitions, and your descriptions of all of that here are truly excellent.

Keep up the good work!

J

*yes, I know, I need to follow this simple plan--but I figured it out after I set things into motion in my game.  and it's only my second campaign, and the first one ended premature, so maybe in reality it is my 1st and a half?  maybe I'll get it right next time..  or maybe something will happen that will set me free from my plot machinations--regardless YOU are doing Magnificently.


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## Little_Buddha (Mar 27, 2002)

*bump*


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## Pillars of Hercules (Mar 28, 2002)

*Still reading!*

Just a little note to say I really enjoyed the latest installment and I'm dying for more!


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## Enforcer (Apr 17, 2002)

*So where the hell has the author been?!?*

School, finals coming up, starting up with french horn lessons again--all these things take up time. I really regret not being able to write the final part of the adventure yet, but I have been pretty busy, and that's combined with the fact that I'm a known slacker! Rest assured, I will be completing the adventure; I haven't just left this to die a lonely death. No promises as to when this titanic feat will be accomplished, but anytime after school's out (starting in May) is a good bet.

Until then, thank you for your support of this story hour and for your (hoped for) understanding!

--Enforcer


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## Horacio (Apr 17, 2002)

O.K., I will wait 
But not too much


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## Little_Buddha (Apr 19, 2002)

Still here!


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## Horacio (Apr 29, 2002)

It's almost May... Any news about the story?


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## Enforcer (May 20, 2002)

*Done! (for now)*

“Now, scum,” I said, pulling Ronan’s dazed attacker up by his shirt, “you will tell me who hired you to enact this ambush, and why… You do not want to see me angry, do you?”

“Please! No! I’ll talk! It was the beggar that hired us! Five crowns apiece to kill you and take all of your stuff to him! Light, don’t hurt me!” I dropped the man onto the floor again—his piteous wailing and foul breath were most unpleasant.

“What in the name of the Light would that beggar want with our gear? If he had twenty crowns to hire these thugs, he could’ve bought anything he needed, rather than take it from us,” Tarlan said, looking perplexed. Ronan just shrugged. 

“I agree, it is strange. Then again, I rather doubt that the beggar is sane. Tarlan, you and Ronan please watch our prisoner while I fetch one of the Queen’s Guards. Resara, why don’t you collect their crowns, they won’t need them where they’re going,” I said carefully. This was the first real test to see whether they trusted me as a leader.

“Why should you be the one to get the guards? Why do I have to go digging through their smelly pockets?” Resara demanded in a shrill, outraged voice. Oops, maybe it was too early for that kind of test. It was time to turn on the charm that worked so well with Filip’s daughter on Father’s estates.

“Because, my dear, like it or not, the guards will respond more favorably to my signet ring than to just anyone. As for searching the men, I merely assumed that you wouldn’t miss anything, whereas Tarlan or Ronan might not be so thorough.” There. That should do it.

“You honestly think your flaming signet ring will work better than one look at me in this dress?” she responded, arching an eyebrow and taking a pose that instantly put a lump in my throat.

“Ah, point taken Resara. You are quite right I think. Will it be to your satisfaction if we trade responsibilities?” I asked, somewhat hesitantly. Given that I wanted her to eventually share my bed, this was not going well at all. Perhaps if I let her think she could tell me what to do my luck would hold.

With a small smile and a nod, the breath-taking Domani strolled out into the street. With a sigh, I began to collect the gold. As I gave Tarlan his share—five crowns—he looked at it with wide eyes. So soon out of the Maule and already I forget that most people would consider such a sum to be phenomenal riches! Ronan simply slipped his part into his coin purse without a second glance. Blood and ashes, I will get this man to open up!

Resara soon returned with six—six!—of Andor’s finest. No doubt they were all too happy to help a woman who looks like that. The surviving mercenary was put into chains and marched to his awaiting cell, while one guard called for the undertaker’s cart. Resara, to her credit, assuaged any suspicions that the Andormen might have had. I rather suspect that her heaving bosom must have helped at least a little.

And so we made our way back to the Golden Stag; Tarlan, Resara, and I talking excitedly about the adventures we have had since coming to Caemlyn. When we arrived, I gave Master Ferrin one of my newly won gold crowns and told him to supply the room with drink until it ran out. It was the least I could do, given how all of the inn’s patrons had treated us since our rescue of Sirene.

As Resara regaled our latest excitement to several very interested (and very male) patrons, I decided that now was the time for Ronan to speak. I have to admit, I was extraordinarily curious about the man.

“So, Ronan, why did you leave Shienar to come to Caemlyn?” I asked innocently. The man looked up from his untouched drink, as if only now was he aware that Tarlan and myself were seated next to him. How rude!

“Well…my father’s barn caught fire one night, and everyone blamed me for it. I left before they had a chance to beat me,” he said, with some regret in his voice. “I guess I figured that while I was away I’d see some of the big cities to the South.” Hmm. Now I was beginning to see why he was so quiet, despite his story, the man was definitely holding something back from me. Still, I supposed that that was a good enough start for now. Soon after, I left for my bed. Light, does fighting make one tired!

A thump and shout woke me from my rest. By the light coming through the frosted window I could see that dawn was just breaking. The noises that had hatefully roused me from sleep seemed to be coming from down the hall, by Tarlan’s room. I got up and threw a shirt on over my smallclothes, and went to see what the commotion was about.

As I opened the door to my room, a small figure rushed by and flew down the stairs with a cloak under its arm. A moment later, and the smell identified the figure as that same Light-accursed beggar! 

“Stop him, he took my flaming cloak!” Tarlan shouted. He was lacing up his boots while his coat dangled from him with only one arm through it. I rushed back in to get my own boots, and some pants while I was at it. Hurriedly I finished, grabbed my own cloak and my sword, and rushed out into the street to see if I could see the man. Tarlan, Ronan, and Resara were already running after him when Bennet stepped out of a shadow in front of our prey. There was a quick flurry of movement, and Bennet slumped to the cold stones that paved the street. We all rushed to his aid.

“I’ll be alright,” he said, clutching his arm where the beggar had wounded him, his small dagger lying next to him, “I got him back right good! Look, you can see the blood on the street!” And indeed we could! Bennet had left us the perfect trail to find our beggar-turned-thief. Thus, we resumed our chase; and quite the chase it was! The beggar ran as if the Dark One himself was behind him and it was not long before we lost sight of him. Lucky for us, however, the filthy wretch had not the time to stop his wound from bleeding. Bennet’s bravery allowed us to follow him to a cellar somewhere in the Old City.

“Halt! The Children of the Light demand it, Darkfriend scum!” Not bloody Whitecloaks again, the Light damn them all! I turned to look and mercifully there were only two of them. But then a third came from around the corner. Then a fourth and a fifth, and I could hear even more jogging down the street, their chain mail clinking in time with their strides. We all rushed down into the cellar and barred the doors behind us. Still, I was worried. Our barrier would only buy us a little time before they broke through the doors.

After making sure the bar we put on the door was secure, I turned to see what was down here, hoping for some heavy furniture to help our barricade. After Tarlan lit a torch, I could see two beautifully carved stone doors stood ajar…with the Light-knows-what lying between them. It was black, but not as if there was a dark room beyond the entranceway. No, it was a tangible black with a gleam that reflected the shine from Tarlan’s light.

“Wh-what in the name of the Light is that?” I gasped. This…gateway…surely had to be a product of the One Power. I felt as if I was going to sick up. Resara looked as if she were having similar thoughts. Ronan…well Ronan looked curious, if anything. The man must be mad. Tarlan, however, had an even stranger reaction.

“His footprints lead up to that thing, let’s go!” he shouted, and rushed towards the shimmering blackness. When he came to it, he paused for a moment, then stepped through. And vanished. With a muttered oath that bears no repeating in this journal, I and the others joined him.

Into a nightmare. First was actually passing through that black shroud. My skin shivered with the cold. Time actually seemed to slow as I closed my eyes and stepped through, until I felt almost thrown through to the other side. One look at what lay ahead of me made my knees buckle. Suspended in a world of darkness was the platform I stood on, with the horrible gate beside me. All around it was nothing, it was as if the stone were floating in the middle of pure emptiness. Extending from our…island…was a stone bridge, cracked with age. A white line ran down the center of it.

“Come on, we can still catch them!” Tarlan exclaimed. At least now the man was frightened. What was he thinking, charging off into this terrible place like that? My though went unanswered, as the big Andorman started to run down the bridge, taking the only light source with him. None of us were going to be left alone in the dark, not in that place.

Not long after we started to rush down the bridge, we came to another platform, only this one had three new bridges to choose from and some sort of stone tablet with markings on it. Nothing I could read, regretfully.

“Co-Come Tarlan, we have all had quite enough of this, I think. I promise to buy you the finest cloak available in Caemlyn as soon as we get back. Just please! Let us return to the city!” Resara wailed, tears running down her face. I was hardly a comfort to her, given how frightened I was.

“You can go, I want my flaming cloak back,” he replied. Given that he still had the torch, that was that. “Hush, I hear footsteps.” As he strained to hear which path the sound had come from, Ronan nudged my shoulder and pointed above us. Blood and ashes! There was another platform almost right over us, some ten paces up! Seeing that, I concentrated on the way from which we had come, so there would be no doubt as to how to get back.

Before I could feel comfortable with the return route, however, Tarlan had already chosen the bridge to the left and had began to run. We came across two more platforms that way, each time having to make another choice. Finally, after what seemed like years in that dreadful world, we found our quarry.

Standing towards the back of this newest platform, a man wearing simple traveler’s clothes was standing proudly. It was the beggar! His head and hooked nose were held high, in an almost regal fashion. If there was any doubt before about him being just a simple beggar, now there was none. And, at his feet, lay Tarlan’s cloak. More pressing, however, were the two Trollocs who were waiting for us on the nearer part of the platform. My sword already drawn, I rushed down with Tarlan to engage the monsters, just as the beggar said, “Kill them.”

Tarlan had a great idea as he charged down the bridge by my side. When he met his Trolloc—a goat-headed creature with hooves instead of feet—he slammed into it as hard as he could, instead of just using his sword. The beast, caught off-guard, fell back the edge of the platform, its arms wind milling to keep its balance. Resara’s thrown dagger made its efforts useless, and the Trolloc fell off the rotted stonework into the horrible dark. I decided I would not risk the other Shadowspawn pushing me back, and so I led with my blade, rather than my shoulder. Satisfaction tingled through my as my sword sank deep into the ugly being’s side, invoking a baleful groan from it. Ronan was quickly by my side, but the creature’s armor turned away the force of his blow. The Trolloc, fighting to save itself now, tried to push at me with its monstrous arms. Luckily, Ronan grabbed my arm before I could fall off the edge. The Light only knows what would have become of me if I had fallen from that place! Ronan’s quick reaction also had the benefit of causing my attacker to overextend itself, and it fell, hard, onto the stonework. With a yell, Tarlan came up from its other side and pushed it off the edge into oblivion.

Standing up, I looked at the beggar and said, “Now you are finished.”

“Padan Fain is never finished! I don’t need the cloak to kill Al’Thor!” he cried. And with his last words, he jumped off the platform and barely caught the edge of a bridge passing beneath him. He had escaped.

“Can we go back now?” Resara asked, her voice quiet. Tarlan nodded somberly, then went to retrieve his cloak. 

Somehow we managed to find our way back to Caemlyn, the Light only knows how. Later that day, I went out to buy this journal. One thing I will say, being a hero is not as fun as it is in the stories. I cannot remember any heroes nearly soiling themselves with fear, anyways. Hopefully things can only improve from here on out.


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## Enforcer (May 20, 2002)

Well, there it is: the first adventure of Reimon Jaspur with his new friends. So, you ask, when will more tales be coming? Your answer: not a clue. Honestly, we haven't played those characters or Wheel of Time for that matter since that one session many months ago. Now that we're all separated for the summer, we won't be playing together again until late August, when school rears its ugly head once again.

So, ta ta for now! Thanks for reading this!


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## Horacio (May 20, 2002)

Oh, it doesn't finish  

Mqybe you could take the way of Lazybones and invent the ending?


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## Jeremy (May 29, 2002)

What's special about the cloak?

Did Bennet survive his wound?

What are the whitecloaks going to say to the black (*gasp* it must be evil!) gateway in the basement that those people (they must be darkfriends to run from us!) ran into?

Will Resara ever suffer Leanne's Aunt's (Aunt?  Or Grandmother?) mistake and enjoy the concequences?

Will Ronan be forced to reveal his curse?

More!


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