(Story conveyed by Aeolaric. He looks shifty)
We begin our adventure in the most tedious of ways, waiting. There was some banter, a loincloth, and feats of incredible dexterity. Finally, our teleportation request is answered by an abomination to taste and reason: an elf with a shitty beard.
As the party goes to leave the Stonewall College of Magics, we purchase a modest and understated sandshark sled. We head east across the desert, in the pursuit of Arcane Recovery. Our magical map eventually points us to the small town of inbred market-goers named Verdigris.
This village proudly refused admittance to any who worked magic, via a copper sign. This refusal seemed to irk one Rona Ironheel. She drew a heretofore unseen dagger and defaced said prejudicial signage once she was alone.
As we made our way into the village, we were greeted by an excellent dwarfbeing, Dunwold. The ranger’s eyes proved more capable than some magic servants, and the party headed deeper into town to investigate a suspicious domicile. Thrognar was able to whip the marketgoers into a reasonable facsimile of a mob, and applied social pressure upon the domicile (and eventually, upon the rogue wizard directly).
Zephyr and Lamberton choose to infiltrate through the most common means of house-entry: the old false-crate-leads-to-a-hole-in-the-wall trick! Meanwhile Rona, Dra’alde, and yours truly stole silently up and into the second floor. My quick wits spotted a scroll for Dra’alde, and a number of the tomes we were sent to retrieve. As we proceeded down to meet up with the other ranger and the other wizard, Rona’s inexperience caused her to overlook a trapped step. Being a dashing, handsome, and selfless being I threw myself upon the hazard.
Thrognar eventually won the trust of the rogue wizard, and the magus invited us further inside and down. Dra’alde and I hang back to investigate the rest of the chateau, and retrieve the last few books requested by the College.
The rogue wizard showed us to the ruins below the city where we met… him again? Time magic is weird. Don’t think about it too much. Stop it. I can see you thinking about it. Just… don’t okay? Okay. Anyways, we meet him again. He explains that we’re trapped, the whole village is, in a bubble of repeating but also accelerating time. Don’t ask. Don’t. Seriously we just talked about this.
Dra’alde and Rona stayed behind to ultimately resolve the situation, so what exactly transpired I do not know. Our glorious victory left Rona feeling exuberant and rambunctious. She dashed into town despite the entire rest of the party asking to simply leave. What transpired next was a confusing blur. I spot the damage done to the town’s proud, discriminatory sign, and a copper-scarred dagger in the top of Rona’s boot. Being a lawful citizen I stride into town, seeking to see justice done or whatever.
I accuse Rona of the crime which she undoubtedly committed, she pleads her innocence, and then Dunwold deploys some kind of electric attack, rendering her functionally unconscious. Dunwold demands to detain her. We refuse, and take our zappèd ranger and flee. We return to the college, extract payment for a job well done, and some Arcane Duelists take interest in the handsome, heroic, and handsome elf.