[Game Thread] Prologue: Gladefell

[Dramador]

Nestled between two of the larger tributaries feeding into The Northflow river (the largest in all of Rivemont), Gladefell is the largest city of the goodly races ever founded. Within its shining walls you can find all manner of races; humans, elves, half-elves, gnomes, dwarves, halflings and more call the city home.

This day, late in the Fall with the chill of winter beginning to set in, Gladefell is truly bustling. Adventurers are arriving from all over Rivemont to answer the king's call to arms to assemble a group of worthy heroes to set out to put an end to the disasters plaguing the lands.

Earthquakes occur almost daily in the plainslands of the continent, coastal towns like Southron and Locke's Point are under constant threat of tidal waves, and freak blizzards have begun wreaking havoc in the north around Northbrook. On top of this all, creatures of evil tendencies have begun venturing from their lairs to take innocent lives. Goblins and kobolds have even been sighted from the walls of Gladefell, and the king grows worried. For there is yet another rumor...

You make your way through the Great Gate of Gladefell late in the afternoon with the sun westering. The streets are still alive with people, but many seem to be heading home or seeking the shelter of the nearest inn for the night. The cobblestone streets slowly become illuminated as the Night Watch makes their rounds, lighting the old steel lanterns dangling from their wooden posts lining the streets. You can hear laughter and music coming from many taverns, and drunks already being thrown out into the streets.

Finally, after searching for a bit, you come to a well-lit establishment brandishing a beautifully-carved sign designating it the Tavern of the Lost Blade. Inside you can see a bard playing his lute, many tables full of adventurers, and a lovely roast pig being served by some rather "mature"-looking serving girls.

You enter...

[Brayas]

The large half-orc entered the tavern quietly, holding a some bird carefully to his chest as he looked around. He licked his lips as his eyes rolled over the roast pig. He chose an empty table near the middle of the tavern and sat down carefully, so as not to break the chair. He set the bird gently on the table infront of him, taking care not to press down on it's wing. Leaning in close to the bird, he whispered to it "Don't worry little bird. Gromthak make you better. Me promise."

[Sugars]

Walking up to the Tavern of Lost Blade, Drezdun spies a huge half-orc ahead, entering the same establishment he had in mind. “De be lettin’ any ol payin body inta dis here place” but with a quick self slap across his face, “Stop ye belittlin’ ain’t like yerself not friends wit a drow an dey not too respectable ta most.” With that train of thought to himself, he reaches the door previously opened by the large man as he corrects himself, and enters the tavern.

“Oi, dat der spit is a sight for dese sore eyes,” he proclaims as his eyes gaze upon the feast. Quickly he scans the room to find an open table so as to get to some serious business. Many strange faces look upon him and he tries to figure out whether they see an ugly scarred dwarf or just taken aback by his gruffness. The Tavern is busy and rare is a seat not filled but spying the half-orc already at a table to himself, Drezdun felt he could kill two birds with one stone, but not the song bird on the table that had the man’s attention.

Approaching to the table, Drezdun puts up his most polite front, “Well met good sir, I was hopin I could share yer table witcha. Seems mighty busy, an’ meself is just as mightly hungry for some of dat dere roast. So wit yer company I’d like ta git down ta business,” as he eyes a seat at the table.

[Brayas]

Gromthak lifted his head, but loosed his attention from the bird more reluctantly as he turned to look at the dwarf standing nearby. "Ummm. You can. Me not good talker th-." He stopped half-way through his sentence and went deep into thought for a moment before finishing, "Though." He lifted his leg and slid one of the other chairs at the table out, to accomodate his guest. He held his thick finger towards the bird and watched as it carefully hopped onto his finger. Gromthak raised his arm slowly, putting the bird in front of his face, smiling at it with a big toothy grin before setting it back on the table gently.

[Dramador]

As Drezdun takes a seat with Gromthak, a serving girl of perhaps 17 years of age walks over to your table and bows politely, fanning her blue skirt out to the side for effect. "Evenin', good sirs, may I offer you fine men a portion of our pig roast? Only three coppers and ye get yer'self some honeyed bread and home-brewed ale with it!" She smiles politely, waiting for your answer.

[BangBangTequila]

A light breeze wafted into the tavern, seeming to bring with it a wave of gasps and disturbed noises, along with more then one drawn blade held in adventurer hands as it was followed by a rather clean looking skeleton, longsword sheathed (though few had the experience nessecary to realize the oddity of that) and armour creaking. The frightened expressions and battle-hardened faces alike turned to confusion however, as a man looking rather disturbingly like the previous entrant entered and lead the undead warrior to a table.

I suppose I should have left Cronus outside, the necromancer thought with a slight sigh, but the people of this city are all so frightfully jumpy I'd have most likely brought a batalion of guards down on him. I shouldn't wonder that no serving maid will venture near me without my breaking this wonderful quiet... Despite having already chosen a path, the young wizard held onto the silence for a few moments to savour before raising a hand and crooking a finger at the nearest maid.

"Come now, I'd like a drink, my dear friend here won't cause any harm by vicinity"

[Aakav]

A fairly frail-looking half-elf shuffles into the tavern looking exhausted. His long, pitch-black hair is messily tangled, and both his armor and his wooden shield look to be well-worn, if not just haphazardly crafted. A holy symbol - tucked into his belt beside his short spears - marks him as a follower of Corellon (at least to those who would recognize it), and also appears as if it were poorly hand-carved.

He scans the room, eyes catching for a second on the roast pig: apparently this is more food than he has seen in a long while.
No money, Eldraan, he tells himself. Just enjoy the bard's performance for now, it's the only music you've heard in months.
Scanning the room for a place to sit, and visibly attempting to ignore the animated skeleton and its master, his eyes quickly fall upon the large Half-Orc tending to the small bird, and the Dwarf sitting with him. He approaches the table and frowns sympathetically at the bird's broken wing. He studies the Half-Orc, and decides to try his luck.
"Good eve to you both," he begins, nodding at both the Half-Orc and the Dwarf. Do you mind if I take a seat? It seems you have an injured friend in your care, there, and for the price of a cheap meal, I can easily fix that tiny wing, and have him feeling better than ever. What say you?"

[Dramador]

The hushed silence and whispers slowly begin to die away as the adventurers in the tavern force themselves to turn away from the spectacle of the skeleton and its deathly master. Shortly thereafter a young-looking half-elf enters the tavern and takes a seat at a nearby table with a half-orc and dwarf, and the adventurers and patrons seem to almost breathe a sigh of relief at seeing a more "normal" adventurer. The serving girl you pointed at, Charon, pales a bit at the thought of coming close to such a monstrosity. But obediently, after a reassuring look from the innkeeper, makes her way over to you.

"Y-y-yes, master?" she manages, her voice barely above a whisper, "you c-c-called for ale?" You can notice her legs visibly shaking as she manages an awkward curtsy and begins stumbling back to the kitchen to fetch the ale (while managing to bump into nearly every table along the way).

The bard stalwartly plays on, the only person in the tavern apparently not phased by seeing the animated structure of bones waltz into the common room.

[Brayas]

Gromthak looked at the newcomer at his table and frowned when he mentioned a meal. "Gromthak has no money. Only what he's wearing.." He looked at the song bird, tears forming in his eyes as he thought of the bird's injury. He wiped his eyes with a large hand and shook his head. "Why did bad-man shoot birdie?" He slid a chair out for the half-elf and lowered his head.

[Sugars]

“Me so ungry dat if da lass wit da food makes haste, I will pay for the lot of us tree here,” as he slides a silver from his pouch to the female in blue. The dwarf took note of the walking skeleton and its master as they came into the Tavern, but with his belly rumbling thought it better to get to more pressing needs. Turning to the half-orc, “No worries dere, all we gots to be doing is feeding our faces, talkin only slows dat down in me opinion.” Looking over to the new comer, “Ifn’ you can help da bird, I’d much preciate dat, and yer meal should come long shortly. We all eatin together, my name be Drezdun Deepenvein,” and with that he huffs looking for the wench with hopes a meal soon.

[Brayas]

"Oh. Uh.. My name is Gromthak, the Smasher of Meanies." He stood up triumphantly,sliding his chair back noisily as he lept to his feet. Realising what he did, he quickly sat back down in an attempt to keep from drawing attention, or starting a fight. He gently scooped the bird into his hands and held it out towards the half-elf, almost like an offering.

[Aakav]

The half-elf smiles as he takes the bird into his own hands, then gently sets it down in front of him, steadying it with a hand.
"Excellent. Thank you, Sir Deepenvein. I would have hated to leave this poor creature injured. Hmm, I suppose I'll just do it the easy way," he declares, as he begins to crack his knuckles, as if it's been a long time. "My name is Eldraan --" he seems to pause in mid-sentence for a second, then gives a strained smile and continues. "Just Eldraan. I'm a wanderer, as I'm sure you can tell. He gestures to his shoddy attire, then begins whispering an incantation under the din of the tavern, and waving his hands under the table...

[BangBangTequila]

Charon couldn't help but let a slight smile creep across his features at the maids obvious abhorrance at approaching him and his familiar, though long training kept the laughter well subdued. My, but these weak-willed folk would not last a day in Avanrakash, let alone a night. The young man thought, with no less then a touch of disdain.

He sat for a while, drinking his ale and absorbing the skilled playings of the bard who hadn't flinched at the sight of the undead. Odd that no storms disturbed this night, what with the disasters that had summoned all of the adventurers in the taverns to this city. Perhaps I'd best find a few companions to share the path ahead. Though with Cronus here, that may not be as easy as I'd hoped...

He gestured to his familiar to stand, and as the common room noticed an obvious feeling of discomfort and fear filled the room. All but in a few small patches; an armoured man sitting in the corner, a table of three mixed races near the centre, a woman reading what looked to be Carmenthian's Planar Compendium: The Abyss. Not wishing to limit himself to singular colleagues, the half-orc, half-elf and dwarf made the choice obvious. So he drained his mug, stood and strode over to the table.

"Good eve to you all," he said with a stiff, formal bow, arms locked to his sides, more like the slight bending of an oak then anything, "I came to Gladefell for the same purpose as I'd imagine you have, but few in this place hold anything but fear for my kind and company." He gestured with his left hand to Cronus. "I notice you, however, harbour little of this feeling. If you should find no objections, I would join your group for the duration of the task at hand."

Having said his piece, Charon remained standing, forearms clasped behind his back, waiting for their response.

[Hellstorm888]

Sara moved to enter the Tavern, rubbing her arms slightly at a chill breeze. Inside, the merry atmosphere thawed her slightly. The only table with a space had quite the crowd built up, but she didn't mind much. 'No worse than any other group I've seen.' She sits down with a gentle thump, and digs a silver piece out of her belt pouch.

[Aakav]

After completing the incantation, Eldraan's hand glows slightly. He gently touches it to the bird, and a warm glow encompasses it. Its wing pops back into place, and the wound that caused the injury heals over. Eldraan smiles at Gromthak, then shifts slightly uncomfortably as he notices the necromancer and his pet skeleton approaching the table. He furrows his brow confusion at the necromancer's request.

"Well, I wouldn't be bothered by your company here, so long as no one else objects. But what of this purpose in coming to Gladefell, this task at hand that you speak of? I've only just recently stumbled upon this city...I'm afraid I didn't even know its name until now..." He studies the faces of everyone at the table, hoping for a clue or an explanation. His look of bewilderment is only amplified when a woman comes in from outside and sits herself down at the table. Does someone know this woman?