Chương 183: Chapter 182 [First Session]

The following day the group headed back to the pub, character sheets in hand. Rika practically skipping ahead with Torren and Shai trying to keep pace, the trio's excitement bleeding into everyone else despite two of the lads' best efforts to stay unbothered about the whole thing.

"You don't have to do voices," Sam was saying, mostly to Phil.

"I never do it. When CJ played with us he put on this cockney voice for his barbarian, but that's the most anyone ever does. Leo gave it a go, got embarrassed about it thirty seconds in and went back to his normal voice. It's totally optional. Just say what your character does."

"I know that," Phil said.

"I just don't want to look like even more of an idiot than I'm already about to look."

"Yeah man, no need to worry. I'm right there with you on this at least," Leo confirmed.

"Lauren might do them, though. She seems the type."

"What's the point in doing voices?" Parmo asked.

"Immersion," Leo said.

"It's pretty cool when someone can do them and is fully into it. You gotta be confident though, and I found out I'm really not. Jesus, the memory makes me cringe." Sam laughed.

"It wasn't even bad. I think most people get in their heads about it if they try to do anything other than a jokey Scottish accent or something." By the time they got to the pub, the usual table had been rearranged again—chairs pulled tighter round it, a cardboard screen already set up at one end, dice sitting in little piles. Everyone settled in, Rika practically vibrating in her seat as she picked up her own dice and turned them over one at a time.

Lauren asked for the names and classes of their characters, before noting them down on a bit of paper behind her screen.

"Right," Lauren said, once everyone had a drink.

"Everyone ready? Any questions before we start?"

"What's with the screen?" asked Phil.

"So you can't see my rolls or anything I have prepared."

"Can I kill Phil's character if he complains constantly?" Rika asked, entirely serious. Sam laughed. Lauren didn't.

"You can, technically. Bit of a short campaign if you do it in the first session, though."

"Fine." Rika turned to Phil.

"Keep complaining and I'll kick you under the table instead." Parmo grinned at Phil, delighted, right up until Rika's attention swung his way.

"That goes for you too."

"I haven't said anything!"

"I know what you're like. It's the same thing."

"Right," Lauren said, tapping her screen.

"Let's begin."

"The tavern's busy tonight," Lauren said, her voice dropping an octave into something deeper and a little more theatrical.

"You each find yourself in the taproom of the Salty Flagon after a long day, relaxing with an ale in hand. Smoke rises from the hearth, conversation and clattering mugs fill the air. It's a normal evening in the town of Ashenvale... right up until the tavern keep slams a heavy mug onto the bar.

'Oi! Anyone fancying honest coin, get over 'ere! Got a job needs doing!'" She looked around the table.

"Most of the patrons ignore him. But a few of you step up. Sam, kick us off. What does Tywin do?" Sam leaned over his sheet.

"Tywin's sat in a corner booth, quietly polishing a silver sun emblem resting over his chainmail. When the barkeep shouts, he sets his rag down, tucks the holy symbol back beneath his tunic, and walks over with his hands folded neatly in front of his robes.

'What's the job, my good man?'""Ooh, polite," Rika whispered.

"Proper holy man vibes."

"Tywin doesn't rush," Sam added, tapping his sheet.

"He lets the barkeep acknowledge him properly first."

"Solid," Lauren said.

"Leo?" Leo cleared his throat, bracing himself.

"Titus stands up, grabs his glaive, and shoves his way past a couple of farmhands. He's built like a brick wall, and slams a hand on the counter." He tried putting a tiny bit of grit into his voice.

"'Coin and a fight? Count me in.'" Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

"Look at you, doing a voice!" Phil poked him in the ribs.

"Shut up, I barely changed it," Leo muttered, flushing red while the table snickered.

"Phil, you're up," Lauren urged. Phil sighed, looking down at his sheet.

"Sylas is leaning against a pillar nearby, tossing a dagger up in the air. He saunters over—""Ooh, saunters," Rika purred.

"Edgy."

"—he saunters over," Phil shot her a glare, "and goes, 'Depends what's in it for me, old man.'""Nice. Very rogue," Leo said.

"Luka?" Lauren asked. Luka sat up straight, puffed out his chest, and projected his voice straight across the table in a booming, dramatic theater-kid cadence: "Did somebody say adventure?! Barry Big Bollocks, at your service!" The table immediately dissolved into wheezing laughter.

"Is that—is that actually your character's name?!" Sam gasped, wiping a tear from his eye.

"You fucking idiot!"

"Committed to the bit, mate," Luka said, completely deadpan.

"Barry Big Bollocks, Bodacious Bard, at your service."

"Jesus Christ," Lauren laughed, shaking her head as she made a mark behind her screen.

"Right. Parmo, what's Steve doing?" There was a long silence. Parmo was staring blankly at his character sheet, one thumb slowly tracing the edge of his d20.

"... Parmo?" Leo nudged him.

"You awake?"

"Yeah, man. Just... getting into character," Parmo said smoothly. He leaned forward, rested both elbows on the table, and looked at Lauren with total, unhurried focus.

"So. Steve doesn't live in Ashenvale. Steve lives in a little wooden hut about twenty minutes out in the woods." Sam frowned, glancing over.

"Wait, I thought you picked Druid so you could do nature magic?"

"I did," Parmo said.

"And nature provided. Steve grows... herbs in his garden. Herbal remedies. Organic stuff. He came into town tonight to do a drop-off for a few regular customers, had a bit of his own supply behind the tavern to wind down, and now he's sitting at the bar trying to remember where he left his shoes." Phil burst out laughing.

"You made a weed farmer?!"

"He's an agricultural specialist," Parmo corrected, completely serious.

"Anyway, the barkeep slams the mug down and shouts about coin, and Steve sort of... blinks. Slowly. Turns around on his stool, looks at the people standing there, and goes..." Parmo dropped his voice into a lazy, gravelly drawl: "'Whoa. Are we all going on a hike?'" The table cracked up again.

"Wait a minute," Leo said, pointing at Parmo's sheet.

"Did you write this backstory yourself? I thought Sam helped you with your sheet."

"Sam helped with the numbers and explaining what everything's for," Parmo said proudly.

"I did the soul work. Steve's just a guy trying to fund his garden, man. The universe led him to the bar, and now the universe is telling him listen to the barkeep."

"Is he wearing armor?" Lauren asked, fighting a grin behind her screen.

"No way. Restricts the flow," Parmo insisted.

"Robes, wooden staff, a bag of his best crop, and a deep, spiritual connection to the forest."

"He's going to get us all killed," Phil muttered, rubbing his temples, though he was grinning.

"He's literally high in a medieval tavern."

"He's vibing, Sylas," Parmo said in-character, nodding slowly.

"Don't bring that negative energy near me, man."

"Right," Lauren said, clearing her throat to regain control before the table completely devolved.

"So we have a holy priest, an angry half-orc, an edgy rogue, a theatrical bard named Barry Big Bollocks, and a stoned druid..." She turned her gaze to the rest of the table.

"Rika. Aura. What's your move?" Rika slammed both hands on the table, bouncing in her seat.

"Aura is ALREADY THERE!" she shouted, in-character.

"I want the job! Pick me! What are we killing?!"

"Whoa, chill out," Phil winced, pulling his head back.

"She's going to blow my eardrums out."

"What's Aura wearing?" Lauren asked.

"Oh yeah. Robes, pointy hat, wizard staff. Is that right, Sam?" Sam nodded, grinning at her over-the-top excitement.

"Shai?" Lauren asked, turning to her. Shai leaned forward, her voice soft, deliberate, and icy calm.

"Lydia doesn't say a word. She just steps into the light, bow in hand, and stares at the barkeep."

"Cold. I like it," Lauren nodded.

"Torren?" Torren looked down at his Half-orc Barbarian sheet, let out a deep, chest-rattling rumble, and grunted.

"Hmm."

"That's it?" Phil asked.

"Bjorn has said all that needs to be said," Torren stated with complete certainty.

"Give us a description of Bjorn, please," said Lauren.

"Oh, sorry. He's a tall half-orc barbarian. He has a double-headed battle axe and is wearing a loincloth."

"I feel bad for whoever sits in his seat next. Put on some trousers, man," said Sam with a laugh. Torren shifted back into the gruff voice.

"No. Restricts flow." Parmo grinned as the rest of the table chuckled. Lauren tapped her notes behind the screen, suppressing a grin.

"Right. Eight complete strangers—including a man named Barry Big Bollocks and a druid carrying questionable narcotics—are now standing in front of a very overwhelmed tavern keep." She shifted back into her DM voice.

"'Well then,' the barkeep says, blinking at the massive crowd.

'More hands never hurt. Goblins have been raiding the storehouses out past the eastern ridge. Took supplies, coin, and a sealed chest. Tracks lead to the caves two hours out. Clear 'em out, bring back the loot, and there's fifty gold pieces in it for the lot of ye.'""Fifty gold total?" Phil broke character immediately, looking at Sam.

"Is that good? That sounds like garbage split eight ways."

"Phil, stop haggling with the imaginary bartender," Rika groaned.

"Just say yes so we can go stab some goblins!"

"How are we going to get better gear with no money?" Phil protested.

"Sylas," Lauren warned with a smile, "the barkeep is starting to look like he might just hire someone else."

"Fine, fine," Phil grumbled. He turned back to the table and tried a sleek, raspy voice: "We'll take the job, barkeep. But if there's extra silver in that cave... it's finders keepers."

"And with that," Lauren declared, slapping the table, "our disaster of a party sets off for the Goblin Caves."