The chapter is meant to be a bit off right now because not everyone has played TTRPGs in the story yet.
ITALICS is meta gaming
...
CHAPTER III:
Oakhurst is a bustling village with many outlying farms. With a wide variety of residents, wide enough to make it the perfect location for the group to gather without notice. A possible home base is yet to be decided.
Covered in travel cloaks of neutral greens and browns, woven leaf-like patterns mimic the flow of foliage as our two 'inconspicuous' individuals travel from shady tree to shaded tree. The design glitters a soft waxy sheen every moment the sun shows itself through. Neither figure speaks to the other verbally. They are in no rush. After all, they had been sent a day, not an exact time, to meet. The taller of our two figures takes a second to situate their cloak. This fidget, more than anything, is now from habit to necessity. Her unattended shifts only take hold during times of great stress.
Wow… it's like this all the time?
It depends on the Dungeon Master, but yeah, it's like this all the time.
Her companion places a reassuring hand on her covered shoulder. "I told you, these guys—they're cool. You can trust them." A sudden pause to find her words. "I trust them," states Erica. She is more forward, this Rogue, more of herself.
They stop attention now solely directed to each other. "Yes, but you said there would be others. More than just—your—friends," answers Eleven. She is softer-spoken but not shy, not with those she knows.
"Okay, okay, you've got a point. We'll be fine. You'll be fine," reassures Erica.
A large cart strolls through the road steadily, obscuring the two from view and blinding them from another pair.
I need you, Erica, Will, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin, to roll a Knowledge Check. Let's see if you guys were paying attention when discussing the plan on who to bring to Oakhurst.
Seventeen, seventeen, seventeen, fifteen, nineteen.
On the other side of the cart, a dwarf walks casually, side by side with an elf. His pace quickens ever so while the elf slows hers. The dwarf animatedly swings his arms. Now and then, he takes a cloth to his sweat-covered forehead. "All, I'm saying, he could have waited for us. He didn't—need—to go ahead, that's all I'm saying," animated Dustin. He wore a leather tunic, his leather belt adorned with different bits and bobs, some filled with a viscous liquid, others simply polished so well they glittered in the midday sun. He fiddled with a large pair of goggles that sat snug on the top of his head, causing his hair to look messy.
The elf chuckled. Her braid sways as she shakes her head in amusement. She stood to be twice his size, and at her slower pace, to all that watched the odd pair, the elf looked as if she were gliding across the cobblestone street. "It will be fine. Where ever he is, we'll find him. No need to worry unless we can't find him," replied Nancy in a reassuring tone. She wore loose but form-fitted clothing, her weapons exposed. All for the intimidation, in her many—many years of experience, you were taken seriously when they could see the weapons. If that did not work, having the naysayers lose a finger, or two, helped quite a bit.
To the left of the pair sat a building, a well-cared building, its outer walls recently washed. Its brick and stone are maintained regularly. Above the door hung a wooden sign, Hucrele's General Goods. Outside, a stand of fresh produce rested against the lone windowed wall.
Further down the street's edge, in an open space, stood a blacksmith forge. In front, an open space, a small square leading to the village hall, next to the hall hidden towards the back, a stout building, no doubt used as the jail. To its left is a shrine, and to its right is a large two-story building, a sign dangling in large letters read Ol' Boar Inn.
The dwarf looked longingly in the direction of the forge. "Later," he spoke under his breath. "The Ol' Boar, we're here. No need to wait outside, Dustin continued. He opened the door stepping to the side for his elf companion.
In the direction of the blacksmith stood three figures, two of them focused intently on a male dwarf. He held up a few daggers, motioning to the swords, convinced he had a sale. The human with the bow and arrow, and dual quiver, held the dagger with one hand twirling its point at the tip of his finger. "You're sure that's as low as you'll go," asked Jonathan. His voice was calm, demure.
The dwarf opened his mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by the least interested of the three. "Is this necessary," questioned Will. Impatience was written all over his face. His cloak was loose, the hood down, hitting his side, was a securely wrapped book, the chains locked with the key he kept protectively around his neck. The dwarf huffed. "We've got somewhere to be… we can always come back." He straightened his robes.
The one with the shield moved his attention back to his companions. His loose clothes were comfortable like all the others. The insignia of his order is a bright blue graphic of a griffen on his chest. "He's right. It's not like we're immediately leaving," agreed Mike.
"My dudes," yelled Argyle. A small gnome, the dust and muck covering his clothes helped offset the bright blues and greens of his robes, the cuffs dragging along the cobbled ground, exited the general store. His bags were packed. "My dudes!" he shuffled quickly along the road. "Look at this haul!" He pulls a handful of mushrooms from his bag. "So cool."
The one with the bow looked back at the dwarf. "I'll take ten arrowheads," spoke Jonathan. "Do you have a bag?"
Inside the 'Ol' Boar Inn' at the tables near the most significant stone fireplace sat a human man, in his lap a crossbow. He rubbed a piece of wax along the string and tightened it. He pulled at the string to check the torque. His leathers are tied tight, always at the ready at a moment's notice.
How do we?
We'll split her character. You do the rolls. I'll tell you what she does, how about that?
Yeah… yeah, that works.
The half-elf with bright red hair looked in the direction of her partner. Her clothes were modest, as all Monks be. However, the top was tied around her waist, revealing an overworn dark undershirt. "Is that necessary in here," she asked? The half-elf swung her leg dramatically, having it land on top of the table. It shook the discarded wooden plates and tankers.
"Of course, it's necessary. You never know when you might need a crossbow," laughed Lucas. He twirled the mini crossbow in his hands.
Roll me dexterity. Let's see if that thing doesn't accidentally go off.
Five.
With a slight fumble, he took hold of his weapon, not noticing his finger on the trigger. He could at least direct the bolt as it flew across the room and into the main entrance door frame.
"Dude! Be careful," yelled Dustin. The dwarf patted his body frantically.
The elf laughed, hand over her mouth. She looked in the direction of the bolt and gave a nod before she noticed a man with slicked-back hair. Insisting, a barmaid pours him another drink with a smile. "I told you he would be here," smirked Nancy.
"There you are, Larry," yelled Dustin. A smile on his face, arms in the air.
Seriously! Come on, man, something better than Larry!
Shouldn't have let him pick your name. Can I continue?
Yeah, fine…