The wind hammers the heavy timbers of the Sparrow and Briar, as rain lashes the thick-paned, mullioned windows.  A late summer thunderstorm has swept across the plains to deluge Borderton, turning its red clay streets into bloody torrents.  Within the Sparrow, however, its patrons are dry and warm, and the noise of the revelry rivals the huge thundering booms of the storm.

A halfling with a weathered face sits placidly on a wooden barrel doubling as a stool, a pipe cocked in a corner of his half-smiling mouth as a quiet man with long grey hair balances three daggers on the table, each perfectly upright and poised on the tip of its blade.  “Ye’ve neglected yer true callin’, Garryn…an engineer in th’ Imperials is where ye’d have fared well,” laughs the halfling.

A huge half-orc sits in the corner of the inn, sprawled in one of the heavier wooden chairs that groans alarmingly whenever the man shifts his weight.  He is alone, wreathed in a foul scent of decay—seemingly emanating from a sack tied to his belt.  The other patrons avoid that corner of the inn’s common room.  Instead, they are clustered around a small group of roughly-clad figures:  a dwarf and four humans.  Into the inn and out of the storm stumble several newcomers, water streaming from their garments.  The newcomers make their way to the bar, procuring ales served in a variety of chipped, and dented but utilitarian mugs.  As the newcomers turn their attentions towards the congregated group, one of the Borderton men calls out, “Let’s have it again, eh, Master Arkexis?  Fer th’ benefit o’ the newcomers!”

A handsome, middle-aged man at the bar smiles, a small glass of Narvilian port at his elbow.  The man’s face is a bit pale and drawn, as if he has just recovered from some illness or physical trial, but he otherwise appears hale and content.  “Very well, and let these newcomers be welcomed with libations of their choice, and refresh the glasses of the rest.”  His hand extracts a handful of gold and silver coins, and negligently scatters them across the scarred wooden top of the bar.  A chorus of “Right ye are, guv!” and “Who’s th’ man?  Why, Master Arkexis, o’ course” and similar shows of enthusiasm erupt as the coins clatter across the counter.  After a flurry of exchanges of mugs, tankards, and pitchers by the overworked staff at the Sparrow, a relative silence sets in, punctuated by the occasional peal of thunder outside and backed by the white noise of the pouring rain striking the wooden roof of the inn.

“I will begin, as best I can, at the beginning…though this is a rather arbitrary choice of a beginning on my part,” Arkexis states in a voice that reaches all of the patrons in the common room.  “But the central point of my tale is simple:  I am a merchant by trade, and my life was saved by these men,” Arkexis pauses, then points out seven people at the bar.  He has taken on a pattern of inflection and formal vocal delivery reminiscent of the Northern skalds or the Paldorian bards.

“The powerful man you see in the corner…a barbarian of the Central Wilds, for whom family and honor are paramount.  Dangerous, unpredictable, but instrumental in my rescue and subsequent return to Borderton.  He is called Totmacher, and he saved my life.”

Arkexis gestures down the bar.  “Those two are inseparable…a halfling marksman and a human rogue, if I may use the term with no negative connotations.  They are remarkable tacticians and very thoughtful men—adventurers both.  The halfling is called Caylin, the human is Garryn, and they saved my life.”

Arkexis waves his hand to indicate some of the members of the group clustered at the bar of the Sparrow and Briar.  Arkexis smiles, and says, “This man is a monk trained in the mountain monasteries of my native Narvil.  He was known to me as a skilled warrior, and a patient and highly reliable man prior to my misadventures.  I am deeply indebted to him and his colleagues.  He is called Asher, and he saved my life.”

Arkexis indicates another man at the bar.  “This one is a man of Mithras and a follower of the Vagranian sect.  He healed me during my return from my imprisonment and torture, and his soft-spoken and witty conversation helped mend my spirit, as well.  He is a Palonish man by the name of Perrato, and he saved my life.”

“And this one, a dwarven man of the stone and earth, strong and competent.  It was he who guided us back to the walls of Borderton, leading us back to the relative safety of these lands.  He is called Gilrak, and he saved my life.”

“Finally, there is this one—a mage of skill and subtlety.  He accompanied me on our ill-fated caravan, acting as a guide and defender in all things magical.  He is a man of no small power, and I rejoiced to see him alive when I was rescued.  He is called Aidrin, and he saved my life.”

“So,” Arkexis pauses.  “You now have the good players on this stage, my fellows.  Allow me to conduct you through the events that determined where we sit and drink today.  It is no easy journey, nor is a portion of it an unfamiliar journey for some of you here.”
This message was last edited by the player at 15:37, Tue 25 Sept 2007.

Totmacher rises from the pained wooden chair.  The Emnia Oak exhales, squeaking out sighs of relief.
Totmacher juts his arm out parallel to the table holding aloft the odiferous pouch.

“Totmacher counts six times your life saved.  To settle the debt, return life to Villhalas.”

Totmacher then deliberately places the head onto the table in front of Arkexis and stands solemnly.

"Sit, big man," the halfling speaks quietly but firmly.  "An' take tha' feckin' head offa th' table.  'Tis disgustin'."

Arkexis smiles briefly, and bows slightly.

"Ahhh, I see my orations may not be as welcome to some here...no doubt heard as lengthy and tedious," Arkexis says with a smile and glance at Totmacher.  "Allow me, then, to 'synopsize the salient details', as my old mentor was wont to say."

In spite of his protestations, Arkexis seems to have captured the attention of the majority of the Sparrow and Briar's patrons.  As the wind and rain renew their assualt on the windows and walls of the tavern, the voluble merchant continues.

"The caravan routes, as you all know, have been plagued by the vagaries of war, mischance, and the bloodthirsty antics of the Orcish and Ogrish tribes--coupled with the frighteningly unpredictable presence of the Elves and their weird Hunt.  This much is obvious, and I do you little service to repeat what is already well-known."

"What is perhaps less well known is the presence and activities of those who have allied themselves with the emerging powers out of Rimsedge...and the not-so-subtle machinations of the Demonic and Infernal powers that support them."

The merchant pauses, clearly relishing the tension mounting in the room following his words.

"Thralls and vassals of these Rimsedge Lords, then...they were the ones who set themelves upon me and my caravans.  They who pressed and cajoled these mercenary orcs and ogres into their service.  They who have terrorized the peaceful caravan routes, and have driven the twin fair maidens of Trade and Prosperity from our ken."

A murmur of disquiet grows in the largely silent common room of the Sparrow and Briar.  Arkexis waves it off, nodding all the while.

"I know, my friends, I know.  Yet I would tell you of men...men of doughty courage and resource...men who have foiled the plans of these agents of Rimsedge...and saved my life in the process."

Arkexis gestures broadly, encompassing the room, and then points to each of the party members.  "These men, these are the ones I speak of.  These are the ones I wish to celebrate."  The merchant smiles, and looks at Totmacher.  "But what does it avail me to speak at length?  Suffice to say...the mages and those who support them...who attacked my caravans and took me as a prisoner to be put to death or ignoble ransom...working hand in gauntlet with those expansionists in Rimsedge...who might they be?"  Arkexis pauses again.  "You know these ones, my friends.  You know them from days and years and centuries of conflict.  Those who aid the policies of the Rimsedge Lords...those who have decimated the lifesblood of trade along our caravan routes...those who slaughtered my men, my companions, my friends...those who seek to destroy us..."

Arekexis draws another breath, and looks around the room.  "Thrailians!  The old wars reignite, but we have doughty heroes to stand against these sorcerous minions of Hell and the Abyss.  I give you...MY RESCUERS!"  Arkexis gestures again to the various companions.  "They who stood against those sorcerous villains!  Let us drink and rejoice in their prowess!"  The merchant smiles benignly.  "As my mentor also was wont to say...'Drinks are on me, boys!"

With that, the entire clientele of the Sparrow and Briar erupt into cheers, yells of approbation, and a general movement towards the bar.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:28, Thu 05 Feb 2009.