The Sans Arcana

A Time of Troubles

Session 1 Prologue

After coming to a vague agreement of your next moves the party went about the day to day tasks of an adventuring group – Some of you slept for a few hours, some made their way to the bar and others went into the town to visit the blacksmith and the general store. (Anything in the PHB is available here, you are able to buy those items. If you want to attempt to barter, don’t deduct your gold yet and we can do a skill check when we first get together – But equip your characters with whatever items you intend to buy) the only issue was getting the blacksmith to make adjustments to Keled’s new armor and bartering with the man who owned the carriage at the Inn, It would take another day or so to accomplish these so the group settled in for the night.
Something wasn’t right. You chose to sleep at 50% (Half the party on watch, half the party asleep) From the window in your large room (You essentially rented out one of their common rooms for your entire party, including retainers) you saw torches approaching the town all throughout the night. Small groups of people started coming in, trail worn and weary and carrying as much as their bodies and horses could hold. More often than not, through your shift that night, your hands found themselves resting on the hilts of your weapons, on gripping the fetching of an arrow or bolt.
Morning came and with it so had a new world. Your group stepped outside and saw dozens, maybe even hundreds of trail wore travelers of all races huddled in groups around their gear and supplies. After talking to a few of them and some of the patrons in the Inn you found out these were refugees from the Free-Cities. Just as you were made aware of this information a column of Delanoric soldiers rode into the small town, and at the head of the column rode Zandar Thornic, The Knight Captain you had seen when you first came to Middleton. As if to fit the mood the skies opened up and the rain began to fall.
It was a blur. The soldiers began corralling the refugees. From the supply train of the column of soldiers came posts and boards. a makeshift wall was erected, the refugees that resisted were publicly beaten, dragged into the streets, whipped and pummeled. Within just a few hours Grossden went from a quaint town to an internment camp. The streets, once packed dirt turned into thick mud, everywhere, footing was hard to find and the mud was tracked into every building.
You felt relatively safe, throughout this whole process no one had come to your group or threatened you in anyway. You did overhear one of the soldiers ask the Inn keeper about you, but he hold them you had come from a town, Blineth, further in the south and had been caravan guards for the mayor of that town who had passed through. After the soldier seemed satisfied with that answer and left, the Inn Keeper offered Keled a knowing smile and nod, but you got the impression that his debt to you had just been paid and he wouldn’t be sticking his neck out any further.
Your group struggled with the internment. Some literally had to be held back from going out and trying to help the refugees from the Free-Cities. There were now dozens and dozens of soldiers and eventually it became clear it would be suicide to attempt anything now. You did get your carriage and armor though and began making preparations to leave. Your hearts leapt into your throats as Leo sounded your silent alarm that someone was approaching your rooms.
The soldiers kicked in the door next to yours and you heard thrashing and yelling and then someone being dragged out into the streets. You gathered around the two windows in your room, looking out at the man was dragged through the streets, a soldier under each arm, and the mans legs dragging through the mud. Zandar stood several feet away with some parchments in his hand which he held up as he yelled to the crowd. You were able to make out, “Letters addressed from Sunford, the ”/wikis/trystan" class=“wiki-page-link”> Trystan capital, begging their son to come home." and he pointed to the young man who had been dragged to his feet. It was then that you noticed the makeshift gables that had been erected behind Zandar.
It took almost all of you to hold Keled back. Leo and Glore tried to talk sense into him. Falco stood with arms crossed, a flask in hand tucked under his arm, staring out the window. The man dropped. The fall wasn’t enough. It wasn’t supposed to be. He dangled, choked, kicked, and eventually died. He wasn’t cut down, he was left as a symbol, a symbol to the world you now lived in. One you needed to leave.
That night you were one horseback, with your new carriage, you thanked the gods no one stopped you and in the darkness you left.

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Marcon

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