Day One Red Squadron Open Red Ah, the road is long and hard, but finally I reach Daggorford. A small community with a small keep nestled against the Delimbyr River. It is the last decent town on the last leg of the road to Waterdeep. Only another 150 miles to go, but though I see the crossing bridge before me the inn just before it beckons me enter. I see by the sun that it is about four hours past the mid of day, and how much further could I go this evening, if I were willing that is? I am only a weaver of tales and not much used to exercise of this sort. No, the doors of The Silver Ladle swing gently open at my touch, and even as my weary feet hit the threshold, the bearded bartender grins my way. His hands deftly grab a mug and as he fills it with a dark amber ale, he calls out in a friendly tone, "Ho, stranger, and well met! First one's on the house, friend." My feet seem to dance to the bar, and even as I take a deep draught, he continues, "I am Kyle, son of Tabek. Who might you be? Which way do your travels take you?" I answer softly, though most of the answers are not vital, and only pass the time until another traveller, weary of the road as are we all, enters and Kyle, son of Tabek, goes to serve and greet them. The only true information I have, is of the caravan a mile away to the south. It is making it's way here, though slowly, as one of the wagon wheels is sorely damaged and in need of a smith. This information earns me a quick refill, of which I was much in need. Shortly, I am in need of one more ale, this one to sip at my leisure. After being served, I turn and take a chair at a large round table with it's center cut out, that lies in the midst of the room. Jutting forth from it's center is an outcropping of rock. It is a fire pit, though as yet the logs have not been lit, for it was a warm enough day eventhough it is still Tarsakh of the Storms,(thank the gods it has not stormed these last few days). This is obviously the common table, while along the sides there are a few tables with booths for dining or discussions of a more private nature. As I sit, I peruse the other traveller's who have entered and taken a place at this magnificent treasure of a table. (Jeathrohtl) First enters an elf, stepping lightly in worn leathers with an impish/frolicking gleam in his brown eyes and a perky grin. He is like a small child in that even my twelve year old daughter is already his ht and wt, maybe even more. (Foldis) Then in tromps a short and squat dwarf, yes shorter than most dwarves I've seen. And her face is extremely ruddy with her hair braided down the back and tied with a leather thong. I almost rise up and ask if I can be of assistance, for a painful ache is etched on her face, though she does not seem to be physically hurt. (Cyril) After a few more sips of my ale, in comes a dark complected young man wearing glasses and a robe. Even through the folds in his robe, I can tell he is strong for one of his profession. (Phearez) Then a bony youth, wearing a black cloak makes a quiet entrance. His face is tinged a pale blue with strong, steel grey eyes (which perch a top his bony nose) peering forth quite intelligently. (Christeel Tavvic) Almost directly behind is an elf with well groomed golden hair and vibrant violet eyes, and his mail is polished and extremely well taken care of. (Thad Forinth) Then a human teenager enters with a spry step despite being slightly overweight. One so young, and already a slight paunch developing. He takes quite a look around, and after some whispered words to the innkeeper, he takes a seat near me. Almost immediately he begins to ask me questions about my trade. He is bright and well- mannered and reminds me of a younger me when I first started out, well except for the raspy voice. Certainly I will teach you one of my favorite ballads, I hear myself saying, distractedly. (Onyx Strongarm) And about to, I am, but then the door slams open and in stomps another dwarf. Eventhough this one is male, he is as ruddy complected as his female counterpart. He is a couple of inches taller than her, and shame to say it, his beard is scraggly. Such a thing of pride and it has gone to hell and back it seems. And even as I look at them as a whole, I get a peculiar twinge in my gut that things are moving in the realms and these beings will somehow be a part and parcel to it all. Yes, it seems these seven will be a group to behold, and perhaps I shall do just that. What else would a simple storyteller do? Turn #1 21st of Tarsakh of the Storms Each of you finds yourself seated at the common table as half an hour later, the door crashes open and in comes a large built human bearing a scar from forehead to cheek, intersecting the left eye, which he does not even bother to patch over. At his belt are worn a dagger on one side, and dangling on the right is a coiled whip. His eyes scan the room haughtily and centering on the round table where you are seated, he scornfully says, "My boss is looking for a few caravan guards, though there's not a decent guard among you. Dwarves and gnomes, and no elf ever knew the meaning of hardwork. Worthless, mangy, whoreson's the lot of you. Well, who want's the..." Even while your attention is focused on him, through the door comes a youth, his neck and face an awful crimson hue that rises above his worn leathers. He is not tall, nor heavily weighted, but without even hearing him speak, he draws your attention, with his bright emerald eyes(though now, they flame nearly red), and his strong, bold chin. When he does, speak it is soft, the obvious anger held in check, and just barely loud enough for you to hear him. "Ever since Baldur's Gate, you have been trouble. This is the last straw. Get your stuff. Get out of here!" It is short and clipped, but the scarred man blanches as he faces the manchild. After a few seconds, the youth turns his back and steps toward the table. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle and with just a slight quiver, does his anger still show through. "My apologies to you all. Allow me to buy you a round of Tabek's Red." As the youth motions to the barkeep, you watch as the older man's hands twitch once, twice, and his face visibly hardens. He reaches for the whip, and in a flash it is loose and uncoiled, it's tip lying on the floor behind him. RED SQUADRON TURN 1 CHRISTEEL TAVVIC > [unseen servant] "Now sir I don't believe that this situation needs to come to viloence. This nice young man has offered to by us a drink perhaps you would put down that whip and join us at the table. You may even have my chair, if that is what you would like" I will personally buy you a drink, of course that would mean that you might have to lower your high standards and maybe make a new friend or two. I am somewhat tired from my travels and wish just to put my tired feet up for a little while and just rest. Are you actually going to attack everone at this table just because you are having a bad day. Come have a sit" [If the man attacks, Christeel will try to subdue] _____After the issue is resolved________ "Hello gang and tis nice to meet you, I am Christeel a Grey Elf of many talents but master of none." later on in the conversation. "If we are to become a group, We need to come up with a name for our new group. Let's see something will all have in common. Ahh Red for the drink that we are all having, but it needs something more. Red group, Red troop, Red patrol, Red gang, Red Table Yes, I like it. Red Squad!! What do the rest of you think of the name? ==== Christeel Tavvic ==== ___________________Phearez, turn 1.____________________ Still poking at his 1st drink, but only if it was free, Phearez remains silent and observant. Slouching on chair in a nonchallant manner, he will watch what is about to unfold with the utmost scruitny. His calculating eyes taking in every word and mannerism of his would be assiciates. It seems that there is to be some sort of scuffle, and Phearez will take absolutely no part in it, maintaing his comfortable pose... and watching. There is actually little which would make him move or even flinch from his chair, but if anyone swings, falls, or throws something towards him, he will be as quick as possible to get out of the way. Although he would prefer to remain seated and without a drop of his beverage spilled, if forced to stand Phearez will move away from the fray, still observant... especially of the angered youth whom has unnerved this loud-mouth, scarred, hulk. o o After that is resolved. o o Anyone whom speaks will be observed with a similar, piercing scruitny. Accents, names, mannerisms, etc Phearez will try his best to take mental note of. If a conversation begins, from anyone he will remain silent, and add absolutely nothing to the conversation... unless asked a DIRECT question, two main ones bieng: 1> 'And you, what is your name?' 2> Would have something to do with a job regarding the caravan, guarding it or whatnot. Whomever asks the 1st question of Phearez will recieve a thoughtful look, and a slight pause, before answering in a deep yet soft tone. "My name is Erilyx t'Dargon" (That's like Air-ill-icks). As far as the 2nd forseeable question, Phearez will ponder this for quite a while, and if there is any chance of him thinking things over for the night, he would perfer to do such. One thought is nagging at him, though, and due to the fact that he wants to speak as little as possible, he will wait to pose his question... hoping someone has already thought to ask. But if none do, Phearez will, in his soft tone, inquire "and what became of the previous guards?" [Note: This is assuming that somebody is indeed looking for a group to 'guard' the caravan that was currently a mile to the south. . .] Any other conversation that would stem up, about the realms in general, about a group name, or just small talk, Phearez will merely watch, listen, and learn... not contributing a word. Nor finishing his 1st ale. THAD FORINTH Thad gently rises after Christeel and says in a low gravely voice: "Why, that would be a wonderful idea, for all of us to have a drink and get to know one another... let me introduce myself..I am Thad Forinth..A singer and actor who is trying to get back to my parents farm after losing my job.." "Kind sir, please join us for that drink..In the meantime, I would be more than happy to entertain with a short story i have written..please allow for some leeway, as me being so young have much to learn" "Let me tell you a story, about two friends of mine. Who built a powerful stable with sweat blood and time. The first is named Gregor, a troll with attitude. A gladiator once he stood, no one to beat him could. His home arena he left as many a day before but Never again to see for abducted was he. The second was Trimalcio, a "collector" of fine goods. She has a heart of gold many times sold. She "collected" from the wrong people and found herself imprisoned. laying next to her a troll lashed heavily onto a poll. Quickly friends they became and alliance they formed to get out of the cell and raise a little hell. They slashed and hollered fought and hit until the people left were two aboard this pirate ship." "Well, my throat is awfully tired to continue for now. Someday i will tell the rest of the story.." ONYX STRONGARM I may be caught up in my own sadness, but I will not stand by and watch this bully whip the young man from behind. I will stand up and draw my battle axe. Upon drawing my axe I will see if I can just stare the man down, since using a whip against an axe may not be a fight he really wants. If he so much as twitches the whip towards the youth I will charge forward and try to place myself between him and the youth so I can either foul his whip or take the blow myself. If he does try to whip the youth or myself I will attack him with my axe when I get close enough. If possibly I will attempt to wound him instead of killing him. If he leaves me no choice I will go for a killing blow. If I am able to stare him down I will nod to the youth and return to my seat. Onyx FOLDIS On entering the Tavern Foldis will approach the bar. If the offer of a free drink is extended to everyone she will accept, if not she will order a Strong Ale. After taking her drink she will head for an empty table in a quiet corner of the bar, with a good view of the door, and take a seat. Foldis will not approach any of the other bar patrons but if approached herself will happily talk anybody as long as the questions are not about her family. On the entrance of the two "recruiters". She will not react to the racial slurs uttered by the first entrant. However on the freeing of the whip she will outwardly show no reaction but will quietly rest her hand on her axe "just in case", other than that she will not react unless directly threatened. When/if things quieten down, assuming a fight occurs, she will inquire where the caravan is going and what problems are likely to be encountered. The replies to these questions will determine her reaction to any suggestions of forming a group and accepting the job of guarding the caravan. In reply to CHRISTEEL'S comment about forming a group After having ignored CHRISTEEL's first comment, Foldis will reply to the comment about forming a group as follows. "I really thing we should find out more about this job first, and also a bit more about each other. I for one will not venture into the wilds without knowing more about both my employer and my companions." She will then empty her drink and go to the bar to buy another - if anybody was sitting with her at the table she will offer to buy them a drink but not the rest of the tavern, and definitely not the prospective employer. ONYX STRONGARM When we get a conversation going with the youth as I assume we will, I will listen quietly to whatever is said. If the youth mentions they need a blacksmith (since I have not heard that from the bartender) I will offer my services. I am also more than willing to be a guard if they need them, as it would be a good place to begin my redemption. However, I would like to know more about the job and my companions than I do now, so I will not volunteer for that job right away. I will listen to what he has to say, and to what my companions say before I make my final decision. Even if we do not become guards I offer my services as a blacksmith to fix the wheel Onyx JEATHROHTL Okay the group note was what I do obviously. More subtlely this is a chance I can't refuse. Making every effort to make sure no one sees me, I will tweak scarface preferably in the behind quarters, then throw a taunt spell, something to the effect of the scar through your face makes you look so much better than you use to and using my ventriloquism ability to make it seem as though the youth said it. If I notice anyone at all watching me I will NOT do any of this. If I fail to provoke a fight I will be so disappointed. CYRIL As soon as I got my first Ale I guzzled it and slowed down a bit on the Tabek's Red. Feeling the long travel take its tole I do not say anything to anybody becuase of fear it might come out wrong. Instead I stare intently at the scarred man expressing no apparant emotion. If asked anything by anyone outside of our group I will answer with another question and take another sip of my drink. On the chance of a fight. As this all devolopes and the chance of a fight increases I will ready my dagger under the table while showing no movement in my upper body and go over the spell of Magic Missle in my head. On the descion of the Job If it comes to a vote I will vote against taking this job, I would rather wait until we got to Waterdeep. I'm totally against anything that delays our trip there. --------------------------------------------- Turn #2 STORYTELLER I sit still hoping this trouble passes by. As I said before, I am a storyteller, not a fighter. And luckily there are others who come to the emerald eyed youth's rescue. Though some sit back, I can see they prepare slyly for danger, while a couple try to entice the scarred one to more friendly pursuits, such as the guzzling of a few ales and proper discussion. And the lad, Forinth tries to interest the man in a song. I must speak to him about timing, a very important part of a bard's job. Luckily, it is the sharp voice of the bartender, Kyle, who yells, "Darrin, watch out!" that gets the youth to step quickly to the side even as the whip is started forward. Then things progress quickly, for the dwarf Onyx Strongarm charges in between Darrin and Scarface, but the tip of the whip makes no forward motion, and quickly my eyes spot the moving lips and slight grabbing motion of Christeel's hand, as though he is holding the whip himself on the other side of our table. With a bellow of rage the scarred one, as he is being compared to a famous ugly(and I mean ugly) dancing girl, jumps a couple of feet in the air, while grabbing at his backside. He then turns and runs out the door, calling out threats as he goes, to the effect of Darrin will get his when it is more of a fair fight. (I of course, at some time will get around to telling everyone the story of The Curse of Belladonna, the dancing Queen, and how she was made the ugliest creature alive.) And laughing in his wake is Darrin, with his hand on his undrawn sword, taking none of this too seriously. He, Darrin, orders another round for all, explaining to Foldis and Onyx, that they can have as much as they want. It is as close to Dwarven Spirits as they are likely to find along the Sword Coast, though it is a well known fact that Tabek even studied with a Dwarven Master Brewer in the early days of his brewing career. As the bartender begins to set mugs and glasses in front of each of us, even I your humble teller of tales, Darrin states that he is impressed with them all and could use their assistance. He says Waterdeep is but six days away and he is need of more guards for his wagons. The terms of agreement: 30 golden lions for each upon arrival at Waterdeep. free entry to Waterdeep(at festival time this can cost up to two silver falcons at the gate) Darrin will also be glad to help everyone pick out an inn and if it is one which he frequents, he promises to help get a good rate. If they are for some reason attacked before Waterdeep, the group can split all the loot, for he is only concerned with his cargo. Then the door swings open again, and a woman of brilliant yellow hair enters, lifting the hem of her black gown over the threshold. Her musical voice calls out Darrin's name, breaking his reverie. He stands, a startled look on his features, and with a call to the bartender to set each of you up with dinner, he takes her arm and like a proper gentleman leads her up the stairs. He pauses only to glance back and say, I will be right back, please consider my offer." After a short time Kyle brings you steaming platters of food and more drink and says knowingly, "What a lad that Darrin is, eh?" Bartender Kyle, son of Tabek As Darrin seemingly ignores your questions as he escorts the blond woman upstairs, the bartender calls out to the company..."Hear now, hear now. I can be of assistance. I've known Darrin since he was a little tyke traveling this very trade route with his father Anders Miyar. Who? That's Zorl Miyar's brother that is." Quite a few blank faces look at the bearded barkeep, and throwing his hands in the air, he continues, his voice tinged with exasperation, "Who is Zorl Miyar? How can you not know? True the trading has been hard these past two years what with the bloodshed at Dragonspear Castle, but this is dire indeed. He heads the merchant's guild out of Baldur's Gate. How true the rumors then? It has been said that with the recent competition, the League has serious monetary problems. This makes the first trade caravan of the season so important then. "As for the lad, when his father, gods receive him well, passed on nearly five years ago, Darrin approached his uncle and convinced him that he could move the cargo safely along this trade route. And he does. There is likely not to be any trouble, 'tween here and Waterdeep. "Now the fair-haired lady, I know naught of her, though doesn't mean that I shant fore the evenin' is gone. But I would clearly say that she isn't the type to take hold of that lad's heart. "Cargo. Well, the League is said to deliver whatever the customer has a desire for, as long as it isn't illegal, though there isn't much will fall under that category anyway. From here they always take some of the ale to Waterdeep to sell at festival, and then on the way back they take more home for some of the inns and taverns in Baldur's Gate. Spices, knickknacks, rare beasties at times. And like I said, if a customer has a special order, The Merchant League will find and deliver it, for a price... He stops speaking all of a sudden and cups his ear with his hand. "Ach, that'll be Darrin now, though not with the pretty lass, I warrant." With that he steps back to the bar, though you neither see nor hear Darrin approaching down the stairs, until a few seconds later. But than this barkeep, Kyle, must know every creak and it's portent. Darrin returns to the table after snatching up a tankard of ale. "Well, I can see you all enjoyed the food," he says as he takes note of the empty platters lying around the table. "To answer your questions, my new friends, the cargo is none to precious, though the most precious in my mind is the Tabek's Red, and yet I need the extra guards because we have to split the caravan by a day's ride. The bulk of the wagons will go on ahead of us, while we escort one wagon and a carriage." Then Darrin chuckles to hear mention of this lass of his, "No, She is my cousin and although we are very close, she is nothing more than my uncle's daughter Zeptha. It is for her we even brought a carriage. I will supply horses... though if you prefer, I need two drivers as well." As Phearez asks softly about the previous guards, Darrin grinning replies, "Well you saw the assistant foreman just get fired, and I won't say that I haven't lost a few before this on the trip. I always figure to lose a few, who find other pursuits along the road. I don't stop anyone from following a different path. But since what you really want to know is did any die? Yes...two died just outside of Dragonspear Castle in an orc raid. But mainly, I just need additional hands because my caravan is split up all of a sudden. "And food will be provided, though you all are welcome to shoot any wild game you can to spice up the meals. I would appreciate a good change after almost a month on the road..." Darrin trails off as the door open again and all sense a chilling prescense. Another elf stands in the doorway, his obsidian black skin and hair, and eyes of diamond white, piercing the establishment's calm atmosphere. All eyes follow as the Drow strides quickly towards Darrin. FOLDIS 1st - sorry for missing turn 2. In reply to the request for info about herself Foldis will remain seated and will give the minimum information possible. "MY NAME IS FOLDIS AND FROM MY DRESS AND WEAPONRY YOU SHOULD ALL BE ABLE TO GUESS THAT I WAS TRAINED TO BE A WARRIOR. MORE THAN THAT I AM NOT PREPARED TO SAY AT THE PRESENT TIME." She will eat her share of the food, and more than her share if any is left. After hearing Darrin & the Bartender's stories she will agree to join up as a guard. "AS I'M ON MY WAY TO WATERDEEP ANYWAY I MIGHT AS WELL GET FED AND PAID, I'LL PROBABLY HAVE TO TRY TO DRIVE A WAGON THOUGH AS I WILL HAVE PROBLEMS WITH A HORSE". When the Drow enters she will take no action, except to keep a close watch on him. JEATH As the Drow enters, Jeath rises from the table, muttering something about not buying ale, only renting it. As he heads for the front door his step is a bit unsteady, and he stumbles into the Drow briefly. He instantly apologizes for his clumsiness, mutters something about not being able to hold his ale, then unsteadily continues his trek, pausing long enough to ask the bartender where the best place might be for completing his quest. A few minutes later Jeath stumbles back in, takes his seat and observes the rest of the proceedings. __________________Phearez. 3:2____________________________ As he does with everyone else, Phearez studies Kyle as he speaks, coming to the realization that this local is not at all yokel. More amused by Kyle's almost childish actions than anything that night, Phea... Erilyx feels slightly relaxed, if at all possible. (Must be the two ales.... he never drinks two ales.) Still in his same relaxed position while Kyle speaks, Phearez will straighten his posture when Darrin returns, and regain his indifferent air. Phearez will remain silent throughout Darrin's run-down of how the other 'two' guards died in an 'orc' raid for his semi-precious goods. But once the possiblity of drivers comes up, only the most perceptive would notice Phearez's dark eyebrow raise. When Darrin is done with his spiel, Phearez will be _almost_ quick to say, "I'd prefer to drive, if at all possible." You notice that his tone has an entirely different level of firmness to it.... compared to the quiet and almost self-consious quality it held before. (That is, if you're paying attention to Phearez, or the Drow in the doorway.) With regards to the drow: I can't think of What Phearez would do, so I'm sure of what he would do .... nothing. He'd freeze. If anything his white knuckled grip on his backpack would tighten, with full intent of using it as a projectile to stall anyone or thing on his way out the back door. Making an assumption though, Phearez would sit as far from the door as possible, and would do his best to keep an eye on the portal. For what? Only he knows. If this is indeed the case, Phearez would be a little more at ease, cause so many people are in the way (which insn't saying much, He heard that a drow could point at you and say 'die' and you would). But for this encounter, Phearez will be an observer, and hope that he can regain his nonchallant attitude, while all all eyes are still on the drow. CYRIL I ask Darrin in a squeaky voice "Why did the caravan split, wouldn't it be easier to defend the liquire if it was one group." After saying that I find every thing in the room that is apparant incredibly funny or strange. If someone asked me a question then I point and laugh as if it was a big joke. As this has happened I feel the danger stop and slip my dagger back in to the inside of my robes. CHRISTEEL TAVVIC Christeel with sit up and take note of the drow as soon as he walkes in the tavern. He will follow the Drows ever movement. As he approches Darrin, Christeel will say while looking at the drow "Is it true what I have been told about Drow" Christeel is saying the word Drow to see what kind of reaction he will get out of the Drow and the Aleart Darrin of his presents. Turn 4 "Drow?" Darrin says and looks over his shoulder. He looks back to Christeel, with a twinkle in his emerald eyes and says, "Yes. Probably true. But this is Tag. He just likes to make an entrance." As Darrin seems familiar with the dark one, Jeath moves back to his seat quietly and continues to listen and watch. The dark elf, looks to Darrin and taking a deep breath, begins completely ignoring the rest of you, "The smith reports that the wheel will be repaired by noon tomorrow, Darrin." You all see the stone face crack a little with frustation, as he continues, "I can only possibly make five more miles before it is too dark to continue...perhaps I and the others should just wait up for you, and we will all continue tomorrow." Darrin steps up to Tag, putting his arm around his shoulder familiarly and says, " Tag, Tag...we have to make sure the main cargo gets to Waterdeep on schedule, and this couple hour delay has already set us back. No need to wait for me. Heck, we will probably catch up to you." As he says this the emerald eyed, blond haired youth, turns the black obsidian skinned drow towards the door, and continues, "I'll be fine. This is plenty of additional guards for just one wagon with some kegs of ale and Zeptha's carriage. Now let's go finish loading and I'll see you over the bridge." Tag tries one more time, saying, "Then send the others, Darrin, and I will remain at your side." "No," Darrin replies forcefully as they reach the door to the inn. Darrin turns and says to all, "Listen everyone. The common room is on me tonight. I'm afraid if you wanted a private room, my cousin Zeptha is already using it. I will meet all of you out front around noon." You all watch as his hand reaches into a worn leather pouch and you see the flicker of gold in his hand. He tosses the coin in the air towards the storyteller, whose hand flickers quickly in the air and the coin disappears faster than it appeared in the folds of the storyteller's robe. "A little entertainment for my friends, eh old one." And with that the unlikely pair head out the door. Storyteller on Dwarven Plight You wish a sad story tonight, eh. One that will make the women weep and seek the comfort of strong arms in the night. Such a story I have to tell: The Dwarves in long ago history were once a mighty race of hill and mountain, and their weapons and artifacts were wondrous to behold. But now not much is known of their homelands and kingdoms, yet I will tell you what I can. Before the dragons controlled the lands of Cormyr and the Sunrise Mountains began to spout flames and steam, the Dwarves were a mighty and numerous race. And then the wars began to take their toll, wars with orc and goblin and the settling of the Dragons in Cormyr, and now the Dwarven nation is dwindling in stature and size. No more are their wondrous cities amongst the caverns freely visited. Nay, for the most part their communities are kept hidden and secret, small kingdoms hidden from the larger world. Little is known of the Dwarves of the Far Hills except that they travel to the East to trade their few precious wares. And forgotten also are the enemy occupied holds of Hammer Hall, and the Iron House, those dwarves who had been driven out of the Mines of Tethyamar. However, even as these tales come from the North, there is talk of a great Dwarvish kingdom to the South, beyond the Vilhon Reach. There, a mighty chasm greater than Cormyr in size is supposedly rent in the ground and poised on the rim of that canyon are the towers of the city of Eastheart, while within the walls of the chasm is a huge Dwarven nation called Underholme. There is tell that these southern dwarves are not as dour and taciturn as their northern fellows. In fact they are said to be prouder, more haughty, and more energetic. These great losses of land and life have made the dwarves leave the sanctity of their hallowed mountains and seek a life of trade and adventure in the open world, there to attempt to make a mark on history that will not fade as their race is so doing. Red responses to turn 4 PHEAREZ Sitting in his usual, quiet mode, Phearez will snap to attention when he realizes that someone is actually talking to him. His eyes have lost their gleam, and are glossed with tiredness, after the bards tale. Blinking quickly, the youth regains his scruitinizing edge, but is confused. . . appearently not having heard a word Onyx said. "Pardon?" -He asks. ONYX I just asked Phearez if I could be the second driver. Foldis asked to be one and so did Phearez. I figure as a Dwarf I am not built to ride a horse, especially since I will not be able to reach the stirrups. I figure I will just slow everyone down if I have to ride. So far he has not made a decision yet. > CHRISTEEL TAVVIC > > Christeel speaking to the old man > "Tell me how do you come to know so much about Dwarves, your story > tells of how they keep to themselves and you know much about them?" > Christeel will contiune his conversation with the old man if he is willing > to continue talking with him. The storyteller is glad to inform you that any decent bard should know the tale of the plight of the dwarves. He seems somewhat miffed that you question how he came by the tale. > > After Christeel conversation with the storyteller, he will kick back and > enjoy the tavern's atmosphere and any perty little maidens if they happen > by. A little later he will retire to his room for a bit of sleep. > Upon awakining Cristeel will get ready for guard duty and head to the > common room to get some breakfast (a little bit after sunrise). > He will say good morning to all that are already there and will > with a big grin say good morning to and party members that arrive > to the common room after he does. As for perty maids...sorry, the only server on duty is Kyle the bartender. The only other are women in the inn are their to have dinner perhaps with their husbands. Moose he will take out if flute, and provided that no one has any major objection will proceed to play a tune. He will ask the storyteller if he would care to join in or perhaps they could trade music or songs to pass the time. "I am no Bard mind you but I do enjoy a good song or tune" The storyteller is glad to teach you a little ditty, until it's his bedtime. PHEAREZ Phearez answers quickly to the question, the second time it is asked, a tired simle on his pale face "Oh - I guess you are right... Sure, no problem." This is spoken with a tone of voice that seems extremely weak, even the yourh's eyes don't seem to have a flare in them anymore. But what's more odd than that, you think you notice that as Phearez nods curtly to the table, and excuses himself to the common room - That his face . . . had an odd hue to it, almost a light blue. If anyone cares enough to follow Phearez with their eyes, they would notice his feet dragging along the floor as he solemnly walks to the common room to retire. ONYX After Phearez leaves the table: There is something odd about him. He didn't look right just now. He has been alert and watchful the whole evening until the Drow came in. I don't suppose any of us is a healer? It might not hurt to take a look at him to make sure he is okay. Unfortunately, I have no skills in the healing arts or I would check on him myself. He does seem to me like the kind of person who would need convincing to let someone take a look at him, so I will go along to help with that if any of you have the skills to look him over. CYRIL > I stagger out of the of the bar bumbing in to people and whistling >the tune the bard had sung earlier only baddly out of tune. If any one >watches me you will notice that I didn't make it to the door. Instead I >passed out on the floor just before the door. The only rational thought in >my head is to vow to stop drinking. A drunken mage is a bad mage I always >say, or starting to say, or something to that extent. ONYX Humans just don't seem to be able to handle drink very well. Does anyone want to help me put Cyril to bed? If there are no takers I will do it myself. I put him on the opposite side of the common room from where I intend to sleep and I find a bucket to put next to him in case he needs it.