Session One, Part One
The scene is above Sharn, nighttime. At the hilt of the Dagger river, you can see the myriad lights that pinpoint the various communities within the city, some brighter than others.
The scene is above Sharn, closer now. The countless towers dominate the skyline, and even this late in the evening, the bustle of activity is hard to ignore. The city comes alive at night.
The scene brings us closer now, to the Firelight district, where a gang known as the Macabre Theatre is barreling through, narrowly avoiding bridges and their occupants with a recently-stolen elemental vessel.
Grinning beneath his mask, one of the gang members remarks, “I think we lost ‘em.” He looks back over one of the bridges, where Sharn’s guard is on foot, trying to find a path to cut them off. The vessel soars through the air with ease, with another member of the gang at the helm.
It’s an unusual vessel; one half of it looks strikingly like a boat, as many elemental vessels do, but the other half has a high wall, curtains, a raised stage – the billowing ring of air that supports it flies through an aperture cut into the wall. This ship was made for mobile performances; just the sort of ship that the Macabre Theatre has been looking for.
Turning back to his superior, the lookout on the vessel confirms his previous thought, “Yep. No way they’re catching up to us now.” Having more fun than he’s ever had, the pilot barnstorms yet another bridge. As they pass under it, there is a thud; a half-dozen new forms appear on stage. S.P.I.R.E. has made the scene, seemingly out of thin air.
Enters Bastion Vice, a mad Q’barran dragonborn; Echelon Thrice, inventor, explosives expert; Pepper Pinchpenny, an invoker of the Flame itself; Ironwood, a vine-covered warforged; Nocturne, an ever-changing shadow; and Rayan Kirsdarken, a storm summoner, if nothing else. Six cameos in a play that the Macabre Theatre was hoping to get rave reviews in. And now it’s looking like they’re about to be upstaged.
Not a moment is wasted, as the members of S.P.I.R.E. and the Theatre clash swords and all manner of other weapons. The Theatre is clearly outmatched, however, as they’re more accustomed to play-acting than actual sword-play. Bastion engages half of the Macabre crew by himself, while their leader (wearing the most ostentatious of the costumes) draws swords to try to fend off Nocturne and Ironwood.
It’s almost over before it begins. Echelon began, immediately, empowering his allies armor and weapons as they entered into the fray. Rayan and Pepper make use of the elemental ring, and fling a pair of the gang into it, sending them spinning and flying off into the night of Firelight. Bastion, distracted, catches a swift kick in the dragonbits from one of the gangmembers, and may have overreacted in his retaliation – only the smell of a strong acid, and the sloughed-off skin of the offending gangster remained. Ironwood held their leader in position whilst the sly Nocturne introduced a few superfluous holes into him, filling the air with arterial spray, after which Ironwood knocked one of the remaining cronies between Pepper and Rayan, two seemingly towering figures now.
Wordlessly, Rayan looked down upon the cowering Macabre member; throwing his sword aside, and throwing up his hands, he said, “Alright! OK! I’m done! But…” looking over towards the melting remains of a fellow gangmember at Bastion’s feet. “You killed our pilot.”
Nocturne wiped off his blades, sheathed them and said, without an ounce of worry on his voice, “No problem. Echelon can pilot this thing.”
Echelon, a bit less confident, looked up at Nocturne, and asked a simple question, ”...what?”