he paid, he can call it whatever he wants

Vithujin the Elf, occasional survivor of the dangers under Dundagel, has returned once more to the guesthouse at the Abbey of St. Emmet. Once there, he immediately begins making arrangements for a celebration he calls the "Woed Ruckus", a week long marathon of feasting and wenching. Reaching into the pouches at his belt, he pulls forth gold, and even platinum coins* to pay the locals for their various services.


As a joke, Vithujin has payed for some fliers to be made up. He intended to send some invitations over to the scoundrels at Le Lepin Bleu (Hugo le Bâtard's manor), but due to heavy drinking and gross overpayment the fliers end up in every settlement surrounding the Abbey.

Let the Woed Ruckus begin!

Our generous host Vithujin the Elf, the Pantless Pilgrim, the Demon Freezer, and only person to have successfully prodded the Dragon of Dundagel and been remortaled to talk about it; is throwing a party.

Already in attendance are those persons possessing a gentle spirit, quick wit, or firm backside.

Now the rest of you need to show up.

The plan is to fill the Abbey with songs, stories, and seductions for a full week.

St. Emmet's antennae will be flailing wildly.

*DM's note: this is the first appearance of platinum pieces in the Wessex campaign.  They are stamped ARTHUR REX.