The game will begin as soon as The Cast page is filled out and character sheets have been submitted.  Please review your private messages, the prologues, and the setting information to keep from getting lost, and get ready to have fun!

***

CHAPTER 01
The Hitchcock Inn, Hae'driel
Two hours prior to midday one fortnight after August's first full moon

There were many hotels, lodges, inns, and taverns in Hae'driel, but none were as accommodating as the Hitchcock.  Countless hundreds of celebrities had flocked to its venerated halls over the years, partaking in masterful cuisine and an enviable selection of liquors, wines and beers from locations scattered throughout the world.

Baldwin sat at a large table covered with exotic meats and cheeses, each paired with tankards of dwarven ale, gnomish cognac, elven wine, and more.  A steward stood patiently nearby, his countenance the very model of patience.

So many adventures have started right here, Baldwin thought.  So many parties have gathered, with so much promise.  How many more must perish before I find a true hero?

"How many are you expecting this time, sir?" the steward asked, breaking the silence.

"Five, I believe.  We have a promising lot, this time.  I have high hopes for success."

If the steward had any doubts, he kept them to dutifully to himself.

"Very good, sir.  And when shall they arrive?"

"Well, we are at the designated place at the designated time.  The table is set, and our situation has grown more dire than ever.  I expect they'll meander in presently."

The steward simply nodded, his expression betraying nothing.

"I look forward to meeting them, sir.  And I remain, as ever, at your disposal should you need anything."

Baldwin smiled.

"Thanks, Filbert.  If you'll be so kind as to show them to this room when they arrive?"

"Very good, sir."

The steward bowed with the natural stiffness of one accustomed to a lifetime of formality and departed toward the lobby.

Alone again, Baldwin turned his attention to a battered map pinned to the wall behind him.

"Yes, the table is certainly set for our guests," he mused, circling a few points on the map.  "But as for whether they're up for the banquet prepared for them?  That remains to be seen."

***

Each of you is currently located somewhere in the city of Hae'driel on the day of the meeting.  Whether you go or not, and how timely you are, is up to you.  Feel free to describe where you are, what you're doing, and any minor interactions you'd like to have en route to the Inn (or while ignoring the Inn, if you'd prefer).

It's an open forum, so have at it!  Once everyone has described their activities leading up to the meeting, I'll consolidate a response into a timeline that makes sense and we'll go from there.  This is what I meant by a leisurely pace to begin with... :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:55, Thu 03 Oct 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

Keef stood for some time with eyes wide, nearly getting run over by more than a few carriages and horse-carts.  Thus, standing in the middle of a busy road, he learned both a little of the wonders of Hae'driel, the largest city he'd yet set foot in, and also of the most horrible language it's inhabitants can spew at a moments notice.

Yet, in his thirteen or so years of life, he had never been so proud.

Keef took a rumpled letter, which he'd read several dozen times already, out of his pocket and read along, though he had it memorized long ago.  He then folded it with great care and placed it inside his dusty dented leather armor at his left breast.  He tightened his grip on the weapon at his belt and marched down the street head held high.

Endless sensations, all new to him, assaulted his ears, eyes and nose.  Colorful displays, baked goods and sweets, fanfares from exotic instruments, strange beasts and wares, all of these and more tempted him at every turn.  Only the letter, and the promise of adventure it held, kept Keef from straying off down each alley, from stopping to poke at each merchant's wares, and from skipping off after each passer-by with shiny armor, a beautiful star-spun dress, or a voice carrying an accent from far away.

That being said, Keef found himself taking the most circuitous route to the tavern, and despite his good intentions, he was horribly embarrassed to find that he arrived a good half hour late...

Keef dusted off his boots with one gloved hand as best he could.  He tightened his belt and smoothed his hair ineffectually.  His mind spun, running through everything in his well-used backpack, making sure he didn't forget a single piece of equipment.  He tried at once to recall everything he'd practiced for and everything he hoped for each time he fell asleep each night.

Keef fished the letter, now in a crumpled roll, from his armor.  He walked up to a man he assumed was the steward or host and announced himself to the world.  Given the difference in height, Keef was forced to reach up, holding the letter in one fist directly in the man's face a mere inch from his nose.

Good sir, I am Keef and I am here to meet with the great Baldwin of Blakehaven!  Please let me pass!
This message was last edited by the player at 18:18, Mon 16 Sept 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

The woman--well, woman was perhaps a generous title; girl really-- who walked into the the inn was at once unremarkable in appearance and yet somehow familiar..  You can't help but feel that you've seen that face before.  In an illustration, maybe?  Surely not.  At any rate, the most interesting thing about her is surely not her face but rather the wicked-looking polearm she carries with her.  Maybe you've misjudged the young lady.  Young she may be, but she holds the weapon as if she knows how to inflict some damage with it.

She hesitates at the threshold.  Then, as if making a sudden decision, she strides confidently to the bar.

"That's quite a sidearm, miss," the barkeep says good-naturedly.  "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Nothing for now.  I'm expected, you see."  The young woman pulls a folded piece of parchment from within a traveling satchel.  "I was told to ask for. . . Filbert. She hesitates over the unusual name.

The barkeep stares at the girl, rather more serious now.  "I see.  And if I were to take you up to this Filbert, what name would I give him?"

"Maeve"

The barkeep chuckles.  "Well that's not much to go on, now is it?  Maeve what?  Maeve Pigsticker?" he says with a grin, nodding toward the polearm.

"Just 'Maeve' will do nicely for our purposes."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:58, Mon 16 Sept 2013.

Boreas strides up to the tavern entrance, confident, like he's a regular.  In truth, he's only ever seen this place once before, in his youth.  A filthy tavern on a filthy street, or at least Father said as much.  He used to dread when his business forced him to the city he mockingly called "High-driel," after its denizens' alleged snobbishness.

The confidence takes a bit of a strain - Boreas hasn't been in a city for at least a year now.  But it works well enough.

Sir, I'm afraid you'll have to...

The attendant was cut off by the piece of parchment briefly waved in front of his face.  Boreas blew right past, making his way toward a small group of people.

The bard sees me.

He hung back from the group, taking stock.  His eyes - eye - pass over the young woman with the mean looking polearm - a glaive - no - guisarme, if memory serves.  Not bad, and she's well armed, at least.  Stands like a warrior.

The boy on the other hand - scrawny, ill-equipped.  He won't last long.

They just met.

Sensing the right moment, Boreas walks up to the group, a slight, calculated smile on his face, and looks the bard in the eye.

I hear there's adventure to be had.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 4):

Keef looks on with wonder at the imposing figures before him.  He eyes Maeve's weapon with great interest, glancing down at his own meager armament.

Keef risks a first questions. Is it heavy? He asks gesturing to the polearm.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he launches further into inquiry.

I'll bet it's heavy, can you throw it?  I'll bet you could... I've seen them before you know, but never this close up.  Captain Teeg of the Satin Guard had one too... but it was bigger... but he was half ogre so...

Keef cocks his head and turns to Boreas.

How did you lose your eye?  Did it hurt?

Throughout the inquiry, and in fact since entering the tavern, Keef has been so excited that he has forgotten about the letter he carries.  It remains rolled up in one fist more or less outstretched from his body the whole time as if it were a magic charm or something too fragile to let go of.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:57, Tue 17 Sept 2013.

In reply to Keef (msg # 5):

Baldwin chuckles at Keef's antics, then holds up a hand.

"Such vibrant energy will serve you well, but only in its place.  Peace, young one.  There will be plenty of time to get to know each other in the days to come."

He pauses, appraising each of the three individuals who have gathered before him for a moment before reaching across the table to pour himself a generous glass of elven icewine.

"You want answers, I know.  And you shall have them.  But, as eager as I am to begin our grand venture," Baldwin continues, wiping the rim of his cup with a napkin absently, "I'd rather tell this particular story exactly one time."

He glances expectantly at the doorway, and then at three empty seats that remain at the table.  Only two of these are set with empty cups, plates, silverware, and cups, while the third seems entirely bare.  Behind him, attached to the wall by some unknown means, are three maps of what appears to be a nearby location, each representing progressively more zoomed-in features and covered with handwritten notes.

"While we're waiting for my remaining guests, I implore you to please take a seat, set down your burdens, and sample some of the Hitchcock's famous fare.  I assure you, you're quite safe here, and you'll need your strength for the road ahead."

His sky-blue eyes glitter for a moment, and a smile plays across his lips.

"And don't be bashful about the cost.  This meal's on me."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:28, Tue 17 Sept 2013.