In the age of renewal, the Wraithed scar ceases, enveloping cities and its people into the realm of necromancy - the corrupt psykers of magic twisted and warped nearly all of the empire of Torpult, enveloping the lands with blackened blades of once flourished grass, ruined towns and village's of welcoming travellers and parades, now fall silent as echo's of screams from a forgotten past leave a humble people bitter of their once beloved magic turned sour. Still in vassal control of Mor-Folt, their food and labour tripled as the fertile soil yet not blackened by the touch of death. Adventures hear the call from their respective guilds to seek the amulet within Torpult, an unknown figure posting of a single wish in return for this prized possession. Riches? Power? All can be yours for the single occupation of the well-sort amulet, kept in hiding.

You, the ones who answered become intwined within this tale, sitting inside of the half burnt down tavern

The solem feeling with people sitting inside of the half burnt tavern fill you with a sort of a unease, many humans and half orcs fill the room, there is 5 seats sitting in the middle of the room, the bar tender is serving one of his regulars as he see's you enter - giving you a nod. The smell is a mixture of rotten mixed vegetables, musk of labourers and ash from the recently burnt tavern.

What do you do?

I put on my robe and wizard hat. 

I arrive on my malformed and malnourished steed Void. Void has horns on his hand and wide bulging eyes like a drowning fish. His hooves are sweaty, knees weak like spaghetti. He was the worst steed. He was the best steed. Dismounting Hobbs entered the fray taking note of how attractive Victoria was in her robe and wizard hat.

"Whats up, baby" he says in a charming manner. "Rotten mixed vegetables are my favourite dish, how did you know?"

He hopes he rolls a 69 to bone the charming wizard wench.

I put on my monocle and sit at the table nearby Victoria. 

Good evening, I am Sir Reginald Hornsnottem. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.  

Through magical wizard powers Void had been transformed into a donkey. This was likely the work of the local wizardess known as Victoria, known for sporting a magnificant wizard hat and being quite adept at magic.

In a most humiliating turn of events, Void had been appropriated by Hobbs' as his steed, forced to carry the corpulent Vegan Barbarian around, they struck a figure close to that of Sanco Panza and his faithful ass.

As his tormentor made his way into the tavern, donkey-void had no other choice but to make obnoxious braying sounds at the pedestrians passing him by.

_{out of all the dumb shit I've written on this character, this might very well be the dumbest.}

Hobbs felt sad about his deformed malnourished Donkey friend. Was it a curse that did this? Was it an act of God? Hobbs considered phoning his friend and Witcher, Mr Geralt. Geralt was a white haired, handsome guy who fancied his step-daughter (which was legal), but he was also a good man who would fight against evil witches like Victoria.

Who says I'm an evil witch? Just because I put on my robe and wizard hat, I'm actually a ranger. Honestly, you people make the weirdest assumptions. 

So hobbs, it's up to Victoria if they're automatically charmed by what you said - rolling a 69 does not actually work, though i'll have to check the Dungeon master guide... 

Those who arrive, taking place inside the functional ruined tavern, see three guards walk in behind them - you can hear Void, the donkey-horse alerting Hobbs. These three guards look menacingly at the patrons, seemingly having the insignia of the empire, claiming their territory within vassage of Mor-fult. They take their tanned leather armoured attires towards the nearest patron who's in a hooded robe, "You, we told you not to come back.." The officer of the guard calls out, "How about we fix this little situation," 

The three men flash their shortswords, what do you do?

I try to taunt them about the size of their swords and reach for my small hidden dagger. 

"A Hornsnottem will never be intimidated by small sworded rift-raft!" 

Trilla, quite small in stature, sidles her way in past the sword brandishing guards. "Excuse me, pardon me.  I got a call-er of sorts...  Whatever.  I need to be here.  If you wouldn't mind- There..."  She managed to sidle past the obviously irate beings.  But hey, they weren't after her right?  Hopefully she wasn't about to end up with a sword in the back, but hey if she did it was likely just another Tuesday.  In any case, were she left fairly unscathed for her trouble, the tiny terror would cast her glance around the husk of an establishment.  Seeing a trio of people that looked as likely as any to strike up a conversation about why the heck she was here anyway, she would nimbly make her way over to join their company.  Late, but it seems she hadn't been left behind yet.  Story of her life.  Looking between those close by and following their gaze to the soldiers she had just rustled past, she winced a little as she realized that she may have just sidled her way into a hornet's nest.  "Shit."

Donkey-Void had gotten rather lonely outside in the pouring rain. The pedestrians did not seem to respond much to his incessant braying at all and the Vegan Barbarian Hobbs was nowhere to be seen, probably getting drunk on vegan wine inside the tavern.

There was thus only one thing left to do for the disgruntled ass. Donkey-void ripped loose his bridle using the ranger-wizard enchanted donkey strength granted to him by Victoria and walked into the tavern, slamming open the saloon doors.

The bartender looked at him confused for a while, before asking "Why the long face?" with a dumb smirk on his face.

Donkey-Void was gravely insulted and could feel a potentially destructive donkey-rage building.

Roll for donkey-rage.

(I will be doing all rolls just for convience, lets gooo)

 Sir Reginald Hornsnottem stands tall with his hands on his daggers as he lets out a rebuttle to the three soldiers, the three look at him, "Looks like we got a joker," the main officer points his sword away from the robed figure, as the other two keep watch, "You know what we do we jokers" Following through with his sword he throws his weight on an over-head, you step and his the face side of his sword with your fist.

 TrillaSaliyar would see this happen, as well as the donkey whose now raging - (You take half damage and hit harder).

Donkey-Void may have the looks of an ass, the wit of a sloth, be stubborn as a mule, but he also had the courage of a mouse. Being afraid of any and all violence he did not personally instigate, he clumsily galopped outside after witnessing the tussle between the guards and the monocled knight.

His anger at the bartender who made a most outrageous joke against all of equidae-kind would have to be settled later. There was more braying to do anyways.