The bard’s presence, of course, served as a distraction for the rest of the taproom and very few people took notice of a small group of adventurers coming in from the cold. A Dwarf was in the lead and upon hearing what he knew to be an all-too-familiar ballad, he made straight for the bar. Following the stout fellow was a female wood elf who winced slightly as the tune carried over to her ears. There was little hesitation as she followed her dwarven companion towards the bar. Moments later, two humans, one a very tall young lad and the other a turban-wearing fellow with a large black cat at his side, enter, both picking a table nearest the bar and their companions.
Last to follow suit are a pair of elves, one moon and one sun. The moon elf takes up a seat on the other side of the wood elf female and absently listened to the ballad, taking note of how it was sung. The sun elf, takes a seat at his companion’s table and orders a glass of Elverquist.
“Hmm,” said the moon elf, “he’s exaggerating some parts, but it’s not too bad a performance.”
The wood elf leaned an elbow on the bar and put her hand to her forehead. “Oh, I can’t believe it’s made it as far south as Daggerford!”
At the table, the younger human made a rather large guffaw at mention of a large bag down in Undermountain. At the bar, the elf woman stiffened.
“My father’s going to hear that, someday,” she muttered, then took a pull from her mug.
“Your mother already has,” said the gold elf, mischievously.
“And that’s when I killed him, sir magister,” she replied in a rather sarcastic yet overly-cheerfully tone.
“Hmm, seems it’s been added to,” the dwarf said thoughtfully. He turns his attention to the wood elf as the barkeep refills his empty tankard. “Cheer up, lass. At this rate, news of our dear wizard’s more amusing exploits will be sung in no time.” Both let out a quiet laugh at events past, much to the chagrin of the sun elf.
“Master dwarf,” said the turban-wearing human, leaning over the back of his chair to speak to those at the bar, “I’m curious. The ballad says that Alton the halfling struck the killing blow on the Manticore, but from the way you tell it-“
“Just drop it, druid boy,” replied the dwarf, sourly.
There were several moments of silence as they all listened, each with either growing consternation or amusement. Oddly enough, they were all much more interested than the rest of the taproom.
The bard took another sip of the firewine, giving pause as it warmed his insides. After a moment, he cleared his throat and turned back to the crowd that had gathered. As he continued his tale, other patrons took interest and congregated around him. Within moments, the entire bar had shuffled chair and stool or claimed a space on the floor nearby to hear his heroic, all be it strange, tale.
“Now, you might still be asking yourselves, ‘What is it that lead them to naming themselves after an exploding privy?’”
“Would you believe it started with a joke?”
Part 2 – The Birth of The Company of the Combustible Commode
When we last left our intrepid band, they found themselves about to be executed near a toilet they believed (for the past 3 months of real time) was about to go up in flames. Their salvation came in the form of their monk, a young lad known to hit the liquor bottles quite often. During the meal, he had consumed quite a bit of alcohol which, in turn, lessened the effects of the toxin (Done for the sake of story). With the aid of Alten, the halfling who had separated from the group in the castle and never got caught, the group was able to break free and chase Illyana back into her keep (After some creative distractions).
The battle with the warrior woman as well as both Bernal (Her lackey cleric) and Blackmaer, the mercenary swordsman, was difficult, but in the end, they ended up driving them from the castle. The crafty woman created her own distraction and slipped out through a secret door along with Bernal and Blackmaer. The group gave chase, but unfortunately lost them in the woods beyond the castle.
Satisfied that her plans of conquest had at least been deterred, the group began to make their way back to the Penhaligon Estate to check in with Sherlane and Kerin. As they left the immediate area, a loud explosion was heard behind them, coming from the vicinity of the castle. Following that was a small shower of stone and wood. They were not quite certain why their previous idea for a distraction took so long to actually go off and why such a loud and rather oversized explosion occurred. And no one was interested in finding out why.
Eventually, they arrived at the Penhaligon estate, apparently just in time for a wedding between Kerin and Lady Artiris (A noblewoman from Waterdeep). Apparently, their foray into Kerin’s basement to find a tiara and sword for him was all for the wedding between these two.
During the festivities, they met again with Sherlane who ask for the group’s help once more. Given that Illyana had escaped from the players, Sherlane wanted them to hunt her down and bring her to justice by any means. Agreeing to aid him, Sherlane told them to head for Silverymoon while he uses his contacts and resources to find out where she was heading.
They remained on the Penhaligon estate for a short while before making beginning their trip to Silverymoon. Along the way, the group agreed that they work well together and decided that, if they were to stay together as an adventuring band, they would need a name to call themselves. Several names were tossed about though none were permanently decided upon. During the conversation, Junior spouted off with the name The Company of the Combustible Commode. Of course, the name was shot down immediately though they still never agreed upon what to call themselves.
After several days of travel, they arrived in Silverymoon and sought rest at a local inn (The name of which escapes me right now – Sarah? Help? ^_^). There they met with Xyphiel, a bard in the employ of Sherlane. He delivered a note to them from Sherlane stating he has discovered Illyana was traveling to Waterdeep. After discussing their upcoming travel plans, they decided to rest for a few days before setting out on the long trek. During that time, they made friends with Xyphiel and regaled him with their tales of adventure (short as they were so far).
Enamored, Xyphiel decided he would chronicle their adventures and was invited to join the group. However, during the telling of tales, Junior made the unfortunate, though intentional, mistake of referring to themselves as the Company of the Combustible Commode not only to the bard, but to all those he told their tale to.
With that, the name was stuck (no pun intended) and thus began the tales of The Company of the Combustible Commode.