And so it began that one evening, the sky, apparently tired of being pricked by the lofty towers of the fair city of Sharn, decided to make it's presense all to well known. It started with one drop, then another, until a veritable invasion of water shards began to bombard the tips of the city's most ambitious buildings. From there they continue to descend to the balcanies and skybridges which provide the residents of the upper city with the convenience of travel that allows them to retain their grand view. The storm, not being the just sort, seeks also to bombard the poorer wretches who inhabit lower levels of the city....But let's forget about them for the moment; after all, who in their right mind would wish to harp upon the cramped, decidedly unfantastic depths of the city?
No out story begins in the upper city. A place usually joyous and majestic, but now simply sparten. One of the perks of living so high is the ability to see bad weather coming, and so the opulant manses are very much boarded up and silent. The locals are obviously inclined to take the beauty that surrounds them for granted...but not travelers. No, they can appreciate alteast the newness of it all even on a night like this, not allowing their curiousity to be so easily 'rained upon' as it were. And our heroes are very much travelers, four in number, but with histories more commensurate with groups many times that number. Some come from hundreds of miles, some thousands, and one is even technically a local, but they are all in spirit 'travelers'.
Travelers aren't often the social types, but the narrow pathways and skyskapes of the upper city tend to forge encounters regardless of the particpants attempts. And so it was with these four, who, from the same number of distinct directions converge on the same smallish garden...
The aformentioned local, Litlow SoggySocks, comes from the south. Amongst other notable traits, he is three feet tall and has pointy ears, consistent with his gnomishness; he also has vibrant blue eyes that scream "I'm cute!!!" He is the most normal (atleast by Sharn standards) as this group will get.
From the east comes a man of median height. He goes by the name of Roger Yerkes, and, given his average frame, you would be hardpressed to take special notice of him in this darkness...or even in the morning's light.
From the north a much grander figure emerges, rain drops bouncing off "his" most magnificant armor, which sparkles and glistens under the storm's attentions as well as that of the everburning torches. Now why would a man be wearing full plate armor in this peacful corner of the city and at this time of night? Oh, but this is Hammer and, with a name like that, you just know that he is one of 'those'.
Finally from the east comes yet another figure, whose pale white features would render the arcane illumination of the city almost irrelevant. Only taller than the gnome, she appears even weaker at first glance, almost sickly. She is the aptly names "Snow in Dusk" and she has traveled perhaps farther than any other, so making any assumptions about her abilities would be foolhardy..unless of course you are the storyteller ...
Many who would watch this would wonder what would happen next....
Proceed.
No out story begins in the upper city. A place usually joyous and majestic, but now simply sparten. One of the perks of living so high is the ability to see bad weather coming, and so the opulant manses are very much boarded up and silent. The locals are obviously inclined to take the beauty that surrounds them for granted...but not travelers. No, they can appreciate alteast the newness of it all even on a night like this, not allowing their curiousity to be so easily 'rained upon' as it were. And our heroes are very much travelers, four in number, but with histories more commensurate with groups many times that number. Some come from hundreds of miles, some thousands, and one is even technically a local, but they are all in spirit 'travelers'.
Travelers aren't often the social types, but the narrow pathways and skyskapes of the upper city tend to forge encounters regardless of the particpants attempts. And so it was with these four, who, from the same number of distinct directions converge on the same smallish garden...
The aformentioned local, Litlow SoggySocks, comes from the south. Amongst other notable traits, he is three feet tall and has pointy ears, consistent with his gnomishness; he also has vibrant blue eyes that scream "I'm cute!!!" He is the most normal (atleast by Sharn standards) as this group will get.
From the east comes a man of median height. He goes by the name of Roger Yerkes, and, given his average frame, you would be hardpressed to take special notice of him in this darkness...or even in the morning's light.
From the north a much grander figure emerges, rain drops bouncing off "his" most magnificant armor, which sparkles and glistens under the storm's attentions as well as that of the everburning torches. Now why would a man be wearing full plate armor in this peacful corner of the city and at this time of night? Oh, but this is Hammer and, with a name like that, you just know that he is one of 'those'.
Finally from the east comes yet another figure, whose pale white features would render the arcane illumination of the city almost irrelevant. Only taller than the gnome, she appears even weaker at first glance, almost sickly. She is the aptly names "Snow in Dusk" and she has traveled perhaps farther than any other, so making any assumptions about her abilities would be foolhardy..unless of course you are the storyteller ...
Many who would watch this would wonder what would happen next....
Proceed.
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