To say that Lhosof had been dealt a bum lot in life would be an understatement. The son of a well-known (and not in a good way) harlot that went by the name "Rose", Lhosof was left to his own devices from an early age and soon fell in with the River Rats, a notorious gang of ragamuffins that prowled the hard-scrabble Narrows. Lhosof was a keen young lad, and were his lot different in life, he probably could have amounted to something respectable, for he possessed a good heart and an indomitable spirit that was in some ways, uplifting. If this kid could scratch a living out for himself, then by Avandra's good fortune, anyone could!

Lhosof had a way of finding out all manner of things. He traveled widely through Stormhaven and seemed to be known in all districts. Even if people did not know his name, they knew he was: that adorable little red-headed street urchin with one arm. He did possess an uncanny smile that put people at ease, and to which he used to good effect! He was quite the character to be sure. Pint-sized, yet a tremendous ally who was a well-spring of all sorts of information.

So it was that one evening he sauntered into The Rusted Nail with a toothy grin and a twinkle in his eyes that made it plainly clear that some good fortune had visited him. When he bellied up the bar, his legs dangling a full foot off the ground, and ordered a round of ales for every man in the tavern, it sent a shockwave through the room.

"Hip Hip! Huzzah!" Mariners started cheering in all corners of the smoky taphouse. The barkeep became nervous. This was quite a gesture for a young man who lived hand-to-mouth.

"Proper way to be lad. Fine bit of kindness," the barkeep responded in a deep-chested timbre. "But, kindness doesn't pay the tab, y'know." He winked at the young man seated before him.

Lhosof plopped a large sack down on the counter with a thud, "Ah, but you've no need to worry 'bout that. None 't all..."

***

When each patron had been served, they raised their mugs and toasted to Lhosof's health. "Hear here," the seamen called out in unison.

Men drank aplenty that night and the mood was quite joyous, none perhaps moreso than young Lhosof who had become quite inebriated as the night wore on.

"So then young lad," the barkeep said while leaning in close to the young man who heartily drank from the frothy mug, "Care to share where you stumbled upon such a fortune?"

And this was where the normally keen young lad stumbled, for he began to weave a tale that was too good to be true. Piles of riches, deep beneath the city's sewers in a hidden grotto, unguarded, and free for taking.

But, he did have the hefty leather sack to at least lend some credence to his tale...

Still, there were doubters, and perhaps they used that against the young lad to get him to spill the location of such a hoard. And spill he did, may the gods and goddesses bless his little, naive heart. Men of questionable repute moved in and began to work the young lad. By this time Lhosof was quite drunk and he begged off, stumbling out into the foggy night.

Lhosof could not have possibly known what occurred when he departed. In dark corners all over the room, men began talking in hushed whispers, perhaps plotting expeditions below Stormhaven to see if what the young lad said was true. What did they have to lose?

There was a saying in Stormreach: 'When Avandra's fortune shines down upon you, seize the day, for only a blind fool travels in darkness.'

This was one of those times. It would undoubtedly be a race and to the victor would go the spoils!
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:18, Tue 03 July 2012.

As some of the patrons hurriedly depart, Ben squeezes in through the same door like a salmon swimming up stream. He spies a discarded piece of chicken, lying half chewed in the sawdust on the floor, which he stoops to pick up. Chewing on the dusty piece of meat, he gathers together some tankards and pours the dregs from all into one and washes down his impromptu meal.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looks at the others and says "what did I miss?"

Saliq looked up from his glass of chilled wine and wrinkled his nose in disgust as Ben's presence hit him. Luckily he had not been eating at the time or he'd definitely have lost his appetite.

"Young Lhosof says there is a forunte in gold just lying beneath the sewers - unguarded!" The illusionist glanced at the backs of the rapidly departing patrons and shrewdly added. "Or at least it was."

A smile teases across Ravick's face as several of the unsavory patrons force their way through the door.  "I hope they have a someone who can mend bones and suture wounds," he says to himself.  He picks up his drink and approaches a fastidiously - appointed man eating chicken.  When he reaches the man's table, his smile is crushed by the oppressive odor of a rather gaunt-looking newcomer.

After regaining his composure, Ravick smiles down at Saliq and says, "Avandra's blessing be upon you, friend."  He playfully raises his wooden stein. "My name is Ravick, friend.  Would you mind if I had a seat at your table?"  As he sits, the fleet-footed symbol of the god of good fortune clacks against striations of leather and iron.  He brushes aside a sword that is tethered to his hip, leans forward, and pinions his elbows upon the table.  "Who might you be?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:59, Sat 04 Feb 2012.

Saliq, noticed the medallion the priest was wearing and smiled - the luck goddess was a deity he had a soft spot for.  He gestured to the empty chair beside him and (with more reluctance) to a second chair should the malodorus Ben wish to join.

"Greeting Ravick, I am Saliq, late of the southern lands and an illusionist by trade. Tell me friend, what do you make of Young Lhosof's tale?"

In reply to Saliq Musfara (msg #5):

A vulpine smile spreads across Ravick's face.  "I would love to test the tale's veracity alongside folk as curious as yourself."  His eyes regard Ben, and he says, "I suppose that you're interested in this tale as well, correct?"  The priest's eyes narrow.   "You strike me as the type of fellow who knows how to wriggle his way over, and through, most obstacles."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:51, Mon 06 Feb 2012.

"Oh, yes indeedy!" Ben licks his lips, leaving grease from the recently consumed chicken on his unkempt moustache. He'll save that for later.

Sularius couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust at the smell, and actions of the small dirty human that had walked into to bar.  But, like the others that had seemingly congregated around him, Sularius was curious about the tale of riches and wished to explore this grotto.

Walking over to the table he nodded to the group and spoke in common heavily accented by his elvish tongue, "If you gentlemen are to explore this grotto, I wonder if I might accompany you?"

"The more the merrier, my friend" says Ben, who can't quite seem to get his eyes in order. One eye seems to be looking at Sularius, the other looking for him.

"Ben Scristos, at your disservice!" Ben spits in the palm of his hand and profers it to the elf, before making a comic show of getting both of his eyes to point in the same direction.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Mon 06 Feb 2012.