town guards

Royal Guard Dogs: [OCT. Contest Pic]

Finally…FINISHED!! This took waaaay longer than I thought it would…fun, but kinda tedious really; didn’t mean to make it so big. But I will say I’m pretty proud of the BG for someone that kinda despises BGs…I’m gettin’ better! So all-in-all, mmyeah I’m pretty happy with this…~ :p
…I’ll be honest though, can’t wait to move on to somethin’ else.

The Law According to Dungeons & Dragons

By d20source:

Here are five reasons why you don’t want to live in the world implied by the Dungeons & Dragons rules - unless, of course, you’re an adventurer.

1. Theft is legal if the owner is already dead

Dungeons never belong to anyone. If they did, you wouldn’t need traps and monsters to guard your treasure - just an alarm spell that calls the police. Likewise, if you kill someone, it’s perfectly legal to take their stuff.

2. Orcs don’t have rights…

Neither do kobolds, goblins or ogres. You want to live in uncivilized tribes, you don’t get the protection of law. In fact, it’s considered polite to murder you on sight. The exception is if they’re an adventurer. If you’re a crazy enough orc to steal from dungeons instead of raiding caravans, the law begrudgingly accepts you as a good guy.

3. Adventurers pay no tax, ever…

Somebody must be paying for all these town guards, city walls, roads, abandoned fortresses and cultist-infested public sewers. The king evidently funds all of this with some kind of tax, but nobody ever taxes the adventurers. Impoverished farmers pay ten percent of their crop while millionaire dragon-slayers waste their savings on personal fortresses and marginally sharper magic swords.

4. Prices are fixed by the government

No matter where you go, a Magic Sword +1 costs the same amount. Whether it’s 2,000 gp in your kingdom or 360 gp, you’ll never get a better or worse price. Why? Clearly, the king is secretly price-fixing to control the supply of magic items. Otherwise, supply and demand would eventually let every peasant own a magic sword and the people would overthrow their tax-happy king.

5. Beggars are the richest peasants in town

If you’re a farmer, you maybe earn the equivalent of one or two silver pieces a day. A hundred gold pieces is more than you’ll see in a year. Imagine how much more profitable it is for the beggar in a major city, when a high-level adventuring party drops him 100 gold in “spare change”. All he needs to do is sit outside any tavern with adventurers staying in it, and he has a hard-working man’s annual salary. No wonder the peasants are fomenting rebellion.

Cryptic Graffiti Messages Appear Throughout City

By Risri Elthron

On Thursday evening, shortly after eight bells, throughout the city almost simultaneously, five cryptic messages appeared on walls leaving guards questioning nearby individuals and looking for clues. Each message was left within minutes of each other, leaving authorities suspecting a group rather than one individual.

A guard patrolling in the Mage District was the first to report the vandalism to the base of the mage tower. A second call came over the dispatch channel within seconds as the guard patrolling the Cathedral district found another. Two more messages were quickly discovered inside the Keep Garden and on the side of the Stockades leaving the guard searching for more messages across the city. A fifth message was found in Old Town.

The guards now search for those responsible. The messages were short, one sentence lines with arrow symbols on all but the one on the Stockade.

Found at the base of the Mage Tower:

Found behind the Cathedral:

Found in the Keep Garden:

Found on the Stockades:

Found in Old Town:

Were the messages a prank or is this a sign of some group trying to make their presence known?

The vandalism was cleaned off the walls after being documented. The guard asks that if any more messages are found to report the location immediately.

Witnesses who may have seen anyone near these areas around eight bells are being sought. Any with information are asked to seek out a member of the Stormwind City Guard. The Royal Courier will continue to track this story.

@thestormwindguard

*bangs fist on table*

Garrance AU where Garroth is a visiting prince a rather small and simple town-territory that outskirts his kingdom. The purpose of the visit is to convince the town to secede itself and join their kingdom, because there been a number of years of clashes at the border & the town unshakeable refusal on joining the kingdom. The king wants the land for one reason or another, and originally wanted to send Zane but Garroth volunteers, believing that Zane’s cruel methods of forcing the town to join would only lead to resentment.

Anyways, Garroth saddles up to the town leader/lord’s house, wanting to speak to them but instead a rather pretty guy waiting there, strumming on a lyre and looking rather bored up until Garroth steps in.

The two exchange some words, the man introducing himself as Laurance, and seems to amused when Garroth addresses him as Lord.

Little did Garroth know this was actually a trap, and soon his guards are taken out, while he’s knocked out.

He wakes to in a rather nice room, though the windows are barred and the door is reinforced. Apparently, the town was banding together with some villages/territories within Garroth’s kingdom, and now Garroth is gonna be used as a bargaining chip.

Everything hits it off from there. Garroth is rather calm, feeling a little foolish actually because this should be expected– he is the crowned prince after all. And Laurance feels a little bad, because it would’ve been easier to hate Garroth if he was some sort of self-centered prick, but he isn’t and now he has a nice guy as a hostage, which gonna have to babysit until everything blows over.

-I was allowed to add Spanish to proficient languages after this session.

So for the first game of DnD that I am playing ever, I decided to make my character a sort of strange ‘homebrew’ sub-race of humans. Anyways, as a six and a half-foot tall insane clown monster, Vuuvie (his name) can be intimidating with the great-axe he carries around with him everywhere. 

So at one point, the ‘leader’ of the rag-tag group he has landed himself in has assigned him to questioning certain civilians around the entrance of the town for information about an assassination of a local political figure that had taken place about half a day ago. So, he agrees and leaves to see what the heck is going on. Upon approaching the front gate, the following situation ensues:

DM (OOC): “Vuuvie approaches the front gates of the town where there are two armored orc-guardsmen.”

Town Guard #1: *Spots Vuuvie*  "HALT! Who goes there?“

Vuuvie: ”BUENOS TARDES, MI AMIGOS! COMO ESTA!?“

DM (Doesn’t know a lick of Spanish): “Uh…”

Vuuvie: “Me llamo, Vuuvie Jaster! -y tu?”

Guard #2: “Um… What kind'a tongues are you speakin’ in?”

Vuuvie: “Psh, oh yeah. I almost forgot that mexico isn’t a thing in this realm. Sucks that you guys don’t have Mexican food then.”

DM (OOC): “The guards unsheathe their swords to you." 

Vuuvie: "Que pasa?”

//The remaining players are nearly dying with laughter.//

Guard #1: “State your business, Clown. Lest you meet your fate at the edge of my blade.”

Vuuvie: “Oh yeah! I’m here to question you guys about… about something…”

//The DM is giving me a questionable gaze, by now.//

Vuuvie: “Oh well, I guess that means that I can skip the questions and go straight to 'interrogation by brute force’.”

Me (OOC): “Vuuvie grabs the second guard by the face and slams them into a wall repeatedly until they start giving answers.”

DM (OOC): “-But you haven’t even asked anything yet-” *They see me holding my dice and sigh. “-Roll for strength.”

Me: * rolls 17 + 5 Modifier.

DM (OOC): “You smash the guard into the entrance gate three times. On the third time his head shatters like a melon.”

Me (OOC): “Vuuvie drops the corpse on the ground, and approaches the only remaining guard.”

Guard #1: “W-what do you want from me?”

Vuuvie: “I want answers. Where you eat- Where you sleep- What your shoe-size is! I NEED ANSWERS, DAMN IT!”

//The DM looks mildly annoyed.//

DM (OOC): “… The guard flees the scene; leaving a trail of urine where they once stood.”

Me (OOC): “Vuuvie pursues them.”

DM (OOC): “Really?" 

Me (OOC): "Really, really.”

ipunchvampires  asked:

The town was on fire and it wasn't their fault.

It was an easy mistake to make, to think they’d set it ablaze––and certainly the town’s guard seemed to think so, given the pounding boots on the dirt roads behind them––but really they’d had nothing to do with it. A classic example of wrong place wrong time. 

Hardly unusual, given their luck.

“Scanlan,” Vax panted, dragging the gnome off the main road and down a narrow side alley, “remind me to never go drinking with you again.”

“Now Vax,” said Scanlan with a comforting pat to his leg, fixing his instruments more comfortably across his back, “where’s the fun in that?”

Careful what you wish for

Context: M spouse and I are very experienced players, and our friend wanted us to join his DnD 4th ed homebrew campaign with our Rogues, one happened to be a female Drow on the run from Lloth, the other a male Drow who was her former family slave that she rescued from the Underdark. When we jumped in the campaign, the party was in the middle of a fight at a tavern that the group’s Barbarian caused with a group of bandits, and soon the town guard got involved and the tavern was abandoned as the fighting moved to the streets. I don’t think the DM knew what to do with a couple of Chaotic Neutral Drow Rogues on the run from Lloth.

DM: Okay, so everybody in the tavern has fled, the rest of the group is out fighting against the bandits AND the town guard in the street. What are you two doing?

Female Drow: There’s nobody in the tavern?

DM: No one.

Female Drow: Can I roll perception to make sure?

DM: (after successful roll) Yup, you guys are all alone.

Male Drow: I start going through the pockets of the dead in the tavern.

DM: Uh… there’s a fight outside?

Female Drow: I pocket some of the bread left on the tables, and then look for the strongbox behind the tavern counter.

DM: The… the fight’s outside.

Male Drow: Can I go upstairs and see if there’s some weapons or valuables left in the rooms for rent?

Barbarian: (trying to help the green DM) Can I take a free action and yell for their help?

DM: Uh… uh… sure?

Barbarian: GET YOUR LAZY DROW ASSES OUT HERE OR YOU WON’T GET MY GOLD.

DM: You hear him, what do you do?

Female Drow: I sit and drink my mug of ale. If he dies, I can still loot his body.

Male Drow: I take my time to get up to the top of the tavern and wait at the window for an attack of opportunity to use my crossbow and snipe a few of the attackers. If the Barbarian lives, he can probably lead us to more gold.

Female Drow: You’re always such a bleeding heart.

Male Drow: That’s why you rescued me Mistress.

Female Drow: Don’t forget it.

DM: …..why did I ask for Rogues.

A Competent Town Guard

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While this certainly isn’t true in all cases, I get this sinking feeling that villagers and the town guard can’t hack it in their daily lives. It’s as almost some of these places merely exist to get saved by dashing level 3 heroes. I don’t like it. I am a civil servant, and I lament the fact that heroes are constantly bailing out befuddled town guards.

I admit, if system worked, we wouldn’t have much of a story. When the town guard is properly equipped with magical crossbows (the D&D equivalent of MP5s), there is no reason to keep around unstable, fickle heroes. Imagine the kind of campaign that occurs when the local evil necromancer is apprehended by the town guard, and, due to minimum sentencing laws, spends the next 57 years animating corpses for local PSAs. 

The heroes, murder hobos as they are, would have nothing to do. The world is a happier, healthier place but the campaign is over before it started. There is no story to tell when the system works.

In reality, towns have a plan
The standard fantasy setting includes a ridiculous number of things that want to kill you and animate your corpse. Any borderland town will plan for local threats. Sure most of the town population probably can’t write, but they aren’t stupid: they realized that building their homes near a place called the “Tombwood” required some additional planning. 

Quick aside: back in the days of yore, King Edward the III basically required all able bodied men to learn how to use a longbow. The King wanted a population that could be drafted to die whenever he itched to fight wars in France. There was no need for the threat of monsters to spur this idea of a competently armed populace, killing one’s own species was enough.

Towns, especially those that experience trouble on the regular, should have some plan to deal with threats that they experience. Do zombies continue to march out of the Tombwood? There is going to be a watchtower on that side of town, maybe a wall even, and all able bodied people will know the drill. If they lived there their entire lives, they are probably even good at it.

There is tension here. If a town exists, it’s pretty good at taking care of itself, but invariably, to make the story epic, defenses have to be rendered sufficiently helpless or corrupt as to make the heroes existence a necessity. That’s the whole point.

So how do we balance the need to show the town and its officials as competent while still creating a campaign?
Well here are some of the tried and true traditional methods:

  1. Ignore it. Easy enough. There are lots of little things about the standard fantasy setting that we just accept. The townsfolk are weak as kittens, but somehow managed to survive out here all by themselves. 
  2. Town as Safe Zone. It’s a point of light in the darkness, and anything outside the walls is fair game. This makes the town appear competent from time to time, and still allows plenty of low level adventure. 
  3. Epic Evil. The town can normally handle 50 orcs, but now there are 200. Help. This is really useful when your players get higher in level.

Honestly? These can be employed effectively and will probably work wonders for your campaign. No one will question this. But to me, they seem hollow. I want something else.

Another way: Town guard as a faction.
If you are a good DM, you’ll have multiple hooks, objectives, or locations for the players to choose. Maybe, while the adventurers are out murdering the kobolds, the town guard takes care of the zombie problem all by themselves. All zombie loot would become property of the city due to a robust civil forfeiture law. After that, the local lord realizes that all of the tombs in the aptly named Tombwood are basically filled with treasure and it’s time to start mounting expeditions.

From there, the town guard becomes a character or faction in your campaign, functioning as a resource for your characters. They can help in times of need, provide hirelings, and gobs of supplies. The faction can also become a hindrance. What happens to Lord Dunnywit and the guard when they recover the Corrupting Obsidian Skull?  They turn evil. This could be especially effective if characters are close friends with Lord Dunnywit. What if he is their patron? Total. Drama. Bomb.

This can take away from the feeling that the heroes are special, but treating the town (and its guard) as living breathing entity as opposed to ducklings that need to be saved can lead to a more vibrant experience.


“My armour is like tenfold shields

my teeth are swords

my claws spears

the shock of my tail a thunderbolt

my wings a hurricane

and my breath death!”

Roll an Escape Artist Check Please

*Context* Chaotic evil group has come across a ravine of trapped undead and want to draw the undead away from one of the party members backpacks that fell in.
Half-Orc Fighter: “I want to tie Nugget (Town guard they betrayed and removed all his limbs) to a rope and dangle him over the edge to draw them away from the backpack”
Me Dm: “Yeah sure, roll and Escape artist check to make sure you do a good job.
Fighter: *Rolls a 1*
Me: …
Party: …
Me: “Yep, as far as you can tell, this is the most secure knot you’ve ever tied… there is no way at all it will come undone leading to Nuggets ultimate demise…

A Talking Peanut, a subterrean summer, a wandering weirdo, a sun princess, a magical princess, a latina princess, a cool mouse, six big hero’s , the mysteries of a town on oregon, a guard of the pridelands and a talking worm from the future , 7 dwarfs, duck adventures, a part time hero and the list goes on……

Photo mquang

Disney Television Animation like where creativity and dreams come true

why not celebrate Father’s Day with @handofhonor​ w/ a bucket full of angst & feels

          watching the vastness of the Wall appearing in the horizon was a dream come true, and Jon Snow felt as though he’d scarce had HAPPIER moments in his life. by that point, it was taking all he had to keep himself somehow atop the horse, and he was so feverish Hobb might make use of his forehead to fry some bacon on. he’d managed, however — he’d made it back, even after losing track of his way at least THRICE since he set off from Queenscrown and somehow even ended up threading through Mole’s Town instead. 

          the guards at the gate gave him looks that were a mix of wonder & repulse, most like due to the sheepskin cloak he was wrapped in, but let him through nonetheless, and the young BASTARD thanked the old gods the moment he set foot into Castle Black’s yard once more. as a traitor and turncloak and breaker of vows, but he’d fulfilled his DUTY entrusted to him by the Halfhand and was home at last. 

          limping his way over to the armory, Jon peeked inside and had to smile despite himself, finding Donal Noye’s sturdy face staring back at him immediately, eyes wide as saucers. NO DOUBT, most of the sworn brothers would have thought him dead or deserted by then, and had no hope to catch glimpse of him again lest it was as an ENEMY following Mance’s host. before he was allowed chance to even say hello, however, another man came from behind the smith and, for an instant, Jon felt as though his knees would give up on him & have him FAINTING like the maids Ygritte had so liked to make fun of.

          …it cannot be, were the first words blaring in his mind; repeating over & over again like a mantra. it can’t be, he’s dead! it can’t be, i’m hallucinating from the fever… WHY was the vision walking towards him then, with such a concerned expression? WHY was the vision’s hand coming to touch his face camouflaged by dirt and dried blood and scarred from Orell’s talons long ago? Noye slid his one remaining arm under his own & allowed him to lean HEAVILY on him, while asking about the state of his torn thigh, yet Jon heard none of it. dark gray hues fixated on the figure of Lord Eddard Stark, all he could do was to mutter with a dumb look on him — as though he had no idea about the boundaries of the real world anymore.

…Father…? 

Who wants some words about my ocs that is interesting to nobody except myself

Boysenberry Bop’s roadside diner is situated in a tiny little village in the middle of nowhere, and one of the few structures in the town is a royal guard post. Pretty much as soon as the diner opens it becomes popular with the guard ponies as a place to pick up a caffine fix or a meal before or after their shift. The most regular and memorable of these customers are Sleepless (K)night and Dandelion Burdock. Boysenberry is smitten with Sleepless immediately, as she’s prone to superficial crushes and finds him handsome. Unfortunately she’s never had a very good poker face.