You find yourselves in a covered wagon, travelling on the backroads to Tropez for your new job. Spring is around the corner and the Tropez Garden Inn and Retreat is staffing up for the busy season. In Tropez, the breeze is always refreshing, the air is pure and the experience is luxurious. The who’s who of Gildan and aristocracy from afar frequent this resort town known for its Hot Springs and Baths, and the soothing pink and turquoise Tropez salts. The buildings are made with beautiful sandstone and decorated with white marble. The lush gardens contain rare flowers and plants from around the world. Tropez simply is paradise, for those who can afford it.
As you look around the wagon, you realize how far you are from the life of luxury you’ll be catering to. When’s the last time you’ve even bathed? Are those crabs you feel moving around your pants? Whatever it is, it’s itchy. Maybe this job will be a stepping stone to something better. You’ve always wanted something better. Thank god you were able to get a worker’s permit (one party member has no permit). Without it, you’d be back to where you were before: no job, no money, no prospects.
Yep, put in your hours, keep you head down and you’ll do just fine.
As you’re thinking about this, your wagon is passed by a beautiful chariot of carved wood pulled by four strong white horses. In the chariot, you see 2 beautiful women, a young man and an older gentleman of flamboyant attire. They seem to be having a wonderful time.
“He used to be a dirty pirate. Look at him now” says the old halfling sitting next to you. “I see him every year in Tropez. I’ve been cleaning rooms there for 45 years. I remember the first time he arrived. The regulars showed disdain for this strange looking new member, that is until he started throwing lavish parties with extravagant wines, exotic fruits and strange delicacies. I swear I’ve seen them eating pickled snake’s heads. They even roasted a baby dragon once. I tell you, these rich folk… they think they can do whatever they want. And once you’re rich, no one seems to care how you got your money. They say piracy is illegal. Well it’s only illegal if you get caught if you ask me.”
It’s late afternoon. The weather is beautiful. All the flaps of the wagon are rolled up. The driver, a beast of a man (someone detects orc heritage), hums a song as he chews on a piece of wood. You’ve been travelling since morning. Soon, the party will break for camp.
Off to the right, at the edge of a natural pasture, by the edge of the forest, you notice movement.
A horse is being pursued by what appears to be 4 large humanoids on foot with a pack of dogs. You notice one carrying a large net.
“I don’t like the looks of this” says the driver. “Gildan is a safe place. These look like bandits trying to poach one of the king’s prized wild horses.”
He looks back at the lot of you (there are 10 of you in the wagon), clearly sizing you up.
“There’s 10 gold and a mention of your name to the king for each of you. Now grab a weapon and come with me!”
The old halfling sitting next to you perks up. “10 gold! That’s more than I’ll make in a season!” He pulls out a dagger and hops down the wagon. “I’m in boss!”