25 Month of the Bear, 1287

The influx of eager adventurers was astounding in both numbers and immediacy.  The notice posted throughout the land drew members of nearly every race in Trozan here to Briedhof, an immense and bustling town, one truly deserving to be the capital city of Trozan.  For those who entered through the East Gate, they had been duly checked in, the guards dressed in chainmail with a green surcoat emblazoned with the Briedhof rose and a right sleeve marked with the image of the sun--Guards of the Sun; for those who entered through the West Gate, the guards were similarly dressed through the right sleeve was marked with a brown bear--Guards of the Bear.  At either gate, the guards were no-nonsense, unwilling to be hurried just because traffic had increased so dramatically since the notices had been posted, making certain that no enemy of Trozan made entry through laxity.

The notices had sent waves of excitement and expectation throughout Trozan.  The center of the city's social activity, the Mithril Claw Inn, rested serenely along Main Street, though within view of the devastation that those local to Briedhof referred to as the "Fire District", a large tract of ruin caused by magical mishap. Often, adventurer-wrought turbulence occurred behind the doors of the Mithril Claw, but only rarely was such turbulence enough to bring the guard who would then demand that combatants choose between taking their fight to the arena, receiving a date for the royal court which would issue a binding judgment, or shaking hands and making peace.

Having secured lodging at the Mithril Claw, those answering the call could present themselves at nine bells to the dock gate, known as the Gate of the Black Lotus, to answer the recruitment call.  Last night, there had been entertainment by a troupe of four human men--the popular Balkin Four--who were talented with singing, dancing, and acrobatics.

This morning, at just seven bells, the Inn's common room was fairly empty--five patrons from the prior evening of a most varied nature--two elves, though they clearly hailed from different tribes, a dwarf, a kuduk, and a slithzerikai.  At one table, not far from the entrance were the only two other patrons--one man wearing the robes of a mage, a golden chain around his neck which undoubtedly led to the green card that he must carry in a secure place beneath those robes, the other a man in chainmail and the white leather headband embroidered with purple and gold telling of his devotion to Peren.  In front of them, on the table, were cooling cups of coffee, plates of eggs and sausages haphazardly poked at, while their primary attention was upon the heavy tome between them.  Behind the bar, a neatly dressed, clean-shaven human man stood ready to take breakfast orders.

The aroma of freshly-brewed coffee wafted throughout the dark but cozy establishment, mingling with the enticing aromas of sausages and freshly-baked bread.  From the prior evening, patrons would recall that the menu currently also included stewed apples, fresh-pressed cider, hard cider, and a variety of ales and mead.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:55, Sun 18 Apr 2021.

Aender had a dull ache where he was sure all the thinking was done.  His memories were splinted in such a way that they were all there, but not neatly connected the way they usually were.  Fortunately, he was surrounded by others who looked as if they had all their ducks in a row.  The nearest was also the smallest.  Aendyr slid over to the Kuduk.

"Say chum, I can't seem to remember why I'm here.  I'm going to assume it's for the same reason as you, so if you could clue me in on that point I'd really appreciated it.  Oh, the name's Aendyr," he said extending his hand for a brisk handshake, but noticed it was already holding a large ceramic boot shaped mug a little under half full of hard cider.

He transferred the mug to his left hand and offered the handshake anew.

"Hey, are you a pirate?  You look more than a bit like a pirate to me.  Not that I've seen many of them first hand.  Mostly heard about them in swashbuckling tales of adventure.  I'm hoping you are an honest-to-goodness pirate because then, you know, I've met one first hand.  But more than the pirate thing I'm interested in why we're here.  You could maybe answer both for me, chum.  Oh, and tell me why there are no women."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:04, Mon 05 Apr 2021.

"I could use some coffee please," Korin grunts quite loudly, his face grimacing and pale. Then something finally clicks in his brain. "Pirate? Are you a pirate?" he asks in delayed reaction surprise, his eyes open and looking the one Aendyr was talking to. "Don't tell me I've signed up for some sort of sea adventure!" Korin says holding his head in distress.He collects himself after several moment. "If you would tell me how you off ward of sea-sickness, I'd be grateful. I'm on the verge already." In looking at his face, Korin truly doesn't look well. He pauses and takes a few breaths.

"I know," he says holding up his hand, "I drank too much but it's that wrenched city guard's fault, going pathetically slow, asking all those STUPID QUESTIONS! Had to drink to forget such a laborious and unpleasant experience. There HAS to be a better way of entering the city!"

Korin pauses, his eyes the different members assembled. "So are you my fellow adventurers in arms?" he asks curiously.

Neo put down his mug of hot tea, and looked at the elf profferring his hand. He didn't speak like other elves that Neo had met and seemed more daft than any elf he had previously encountered.

"Good morning to you, Aendyr.

I can't say why you are here, but I am here in answer to a poster calling for volunteers to fight for Trozan's freedom. I've served two terms in the army, and I thought a third might prove lucky. And no, I am not a pirate.

Why don't you sit and have something to eat...and perhaps you might want to lay off the hard cider for a bit...the brass frown on drunkenness first thing in the morning, anyways."


Neo's head swivelled to see what idiot had asked the same idiotic question as the idiot elf. A dwarf, of course!

"No, good sir, as I was explaining to Aendyr here, I am not a pirate. Just a simple Kuduk scout looking to return to the military.

If you are here in answer to the poster, the chances of going to sea are really quite low.

You may as well join us, we can break our fast together, and then head to the dock gate."


"Excuse me! Could we get three meals please? Eggs, sausages, and bread."

"Awwwww," Aendyr sighed in disappointment upon hearing the little guy wasn't a pirate.

Aendyr nodded.  "I've served my two years in the army too, but it was a while ago.  I can't say for sure that we were fighting for freedom, though.  More like mines, and mills, hardwood forests, and farmlands.  We did free some slaves.  Hey!  That's freedom.  Sounds like we fought for freedom after all."

He pats the Kuduk on the shoulder.  There was brotherhood in armies.  Was he signing up for the army again?  He did remember posters.  'Something something Briedhof!' said the sign.  There was a rose and sword and a substantial pile of gold.  Aendyr had pulled the poster down to show to the caravan master.  They were going that way and happy to have another sword to deter bandits.

He sat down as the Kuduk suggested.

"I won't be laying off the cider, chum, but I will lay into some breakfast.  This place smells like heaven.  I used to be a cook, you know.  Fed the brown rice to the chickens and the white rice to the humans.  That was until we noticed the humans were losing their night sight, what little they have.  Am I right?" he laughed.  "Then we switched it around.  Who cares if the chickens go blind?  The eggs still cook up just as good."

He gave the dwarf a short wave and a salute with his mug.  These guys were alright.  Still, not a peep yet as to why it was just guys.

Meridian sits at a table by himself, not yet having met the others and not being as casually social as the other elf in the room. He doesn't avoid eye contact or interaction, but doesn't seek it out either, until the barmaid comes by, at which point he flags her down respectfully and orders some sausages, bread, and water.

Noticeably, his hair is bright golden, in a manner that no human's would be if not interestingly died or enchanted. For any with basic knowledge of the realms, this marks as him likely as an Nolothrond elf from the Lilymoor province. In appearance, he is neatly groomed and well-dressed in fine clothes appropriate for a merchant or administrator, a silky red shirt worn atop slim dark brown trousers.

When his food comes, he eats in silence, listening to the various other conversations in the bar as a means to pass the time, and perhaps to gather information on others who may have come for the same prospects as he. It was not clear to him how many recruits would be accepted, and these others may well be competition more than companions - at this point.

"Get those breakfasts right up," agreed the man behind the bar.  After a retreat into the kitchen, he returned with plates featuring a substantial portion of scrambled eggs, three nicely-browned sausage links, and a slice of bread which had liberally been spread with a butter which was quickly melting from the warmth of the bread.

Qrox also is seated alone.  Unused to large cities, or being in such a state, surrounded almost entirely by races other than the Slith, is enough to make one nervous.  But it is also very exciting and fascinating.   After a quick discussion with the man serving, during which there is some confusion, finally a mug of fresh cider is brought out along with a basket of fresh uncooked eggs.  Qrox sips the cider, and occasionally tosses a whole egg, shell and all into its large mouth and crunches it down happily.

As the early risers ate their breakfasts, despite the absence of the women who had been present in the evening before, a chubby man with wispy white hair, dressed in simple brown tunic and trousers entered the Mithril Claw. He paused by the table of the two men with the tome on the table, and suddenly there was a cloud of sparkling dust surrounding the duo.

As the two men began sneezing violently, the man grabbed the volume from the table, then ran back out of the inn, the whole event unfolding in an astonishingly quick manner.

"Help! *ah-choo* Catch that *ah-ah-ah-choo* thief," said the armored man, who seemed to be almost completely disabled by the sneezes, the last word followed by a rapid series of sneezes.

The robed man was caught in a paroxysm of sneezes, coughs, and strange combinations of sneeze and cough, unable to gasp out any words for all the symptoms he was displaying.

Korin leaps to his feet and dashes off into pursuit of the man in the brown tunic, flinging chairs and even tables out of the way if need be. He races out the inn and looks for and pursues the man. Running as fast as his short legs will carry him shouting repeatedly as he goes, "Stop that thief! The man in the brown tunic! Make way! Make way! Thief!"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Wed 07 Apr 2021.

"This is the test!" Aendyr exclaimed, springing to his feet.

A test by whom for what purpose would've been important bits to work out in such a theory, but thinking overmuch only served to dull the reflexes in times like this.

"Goodbye for now, delicious breakfast," he added as he rushed out the door with the dwarf.  "I'll be back for you shortly."

He wasn't quite sure his breakfast had caught that last bit, but hopefully it would stick around for his return.  It shouldn't take too long to chase down a fat old man encumbered by a heavy book.

Neo slipped his pack on as he moved toward the door.

"Keep our meals warm," he shouted at the server, "we'll be back in a moment."

With that the kuduk sprinted out the door wondering why he was so keen to chase down a book thief. He followed his table-mates into the street, unwinding the sling around his wrist, as he ran.

For a large person, Qrox is remarkably agile.  Up quickly, moving around to the two men sitting and sneezing, Qrox uses a long strong torso and long arms to reach out and try to pull the men out of the area of effect by the back of their chairs.  First making sure they are okay before heading after the others.

When the commotion begins, Meridian looks up from his breakfast, but his instincts run differently. Rather than leaping to his feet, he watches for several seconds while the party of three charge out the door and the Slith moves to tend to the men. His sharp wit is busy calculating the probabilities of such an occurrence and what its meaning may be.

After finishing his bite, he stands calmly and pushes in his chair, still surveying the room, including the reaction of the man behind the bar and any others in immediately visible sight. If a thief were this brazen, his escape would already be planned, and perhaps the best place to which to flee is nowhere at all. He examines the room carefully, with his keen elven eyes and ears.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:56, Wed 07 Apr 2021.