Session 1 - They Fight
Jul 21, 2024Even in a reputable establishment like the Yawning Portal, a bar fight is scarcely worth the attention when more pressing matters require your focus. My pressing matter, at that moment, lay at the bottom of my mug, where I hoped its contents might dull my concerns. The brawl seemed to involve Yagra Strongfist, a formidable half-orc who earned that surname, squaring off against a handful of humans. These misguided souls appeared to be taking her on one at a time—a bold, yet foolhardy approach, destined to end poorly for them.
Suddenly, I noticed a lone figure cutting through the crowd, shouting fervently about “Jesus Chroist,” the deity of Life and Tempest. To my surprise, this zealot intervened, seemingly compelled by some sense of duty against overwhelming odds. In what could not have been more than six seconds, the innkeeper offered a large, ponytailed individual beer in exchange for his aid. Without hesitation, he and his dragonborn companion leaped into the fray. The dragonborn unleashed a torrent of fire upon their foes before launching into a rousing song on his bagpipes that seemed to invigorate his allies.
As the combatants traded blows, the large one—possessed of remarkable strength—seized one of the humans, his intentions clear: he meant to throw the man into the infamous pit. At that moment, a thought crossed my mind—could these individuals be the solution to my particular predicament? While I pondered, a fourth companion, clearly well-acquainted with the others, rose and, in a brilliant display of magical prowess that could rival even my own, put all but one of the humans to sleep.
The final human, having narrowly escaped the pit-related demise not once, but thrice, finally recognized the dire turn his fortunes had taken and attempted to flee. The heroes, however, had other plans! They hurled all manner of items—beer bottles, saucers, and more—trying to halt his escape. Finally, the sorcerer threw wind itself, slamming the door shut just as the man reached it. The poor soul ran headlong into the door, knocking himself out cold.
As the dust settled, the group converged, and it was then that I noticed what bound these eclectic characters together—the noble crests of hotdogs emblazoned on their shoulders. At last, I had found the very sort of adventurers I sought. Yet, as I approached them to extend my offer, someone rudely cut me off, preventing my grand introduction.