[EBERRON] the Extraordinaries, 'A Terror Awakened, the League Reborn'

(occ no posting by players yet... just some intro stuff to get people thinking about it

Also...
OCC for the game is Here

Rouges Gallery of League members is Here
/occ)

///Prologue 1, Zol ( third day), First Week of Olarune (late winter), 998YK///

Somewhere in Sharn, deep within a large hallowed out cavernous room beneath Cliffside, lit only slightly by the greenish glow of turned down everburn lanterns. The room is lined with large book and scroll shelves, a number of small tables and a dozen or so comfortable chair. There are only two men present, the first standing and lighting another cigar of talentan weed. He is tall and rail-thin, with unnatural long arms and fingers. Bald, with small ears and eyes, and weak chin, he does have an unusually large nose. His pale complexion stands out all the more with the black suit that he is wearing. The second man is sitting, handsome with a well-trimmed black beard and hair, streaked with gray. His shadowweave suit is royal blue, with a black patch over his right eye. He is the first to break the silence of the room. His voice, while rich and full of authority, drips with contempt toward the other "Must you smoke that infernal weed man? Not even the Halfling barbarians smoke as much as you indulge yourself in it."

The thin man bows while hiding a slight smile, but none the less snuffs out the cigar. Shaking his head the gentleman says "If we can continue with the reason I am here - these Extraordinaries of yours. You are sure that they will be able to succeed where all the those I have employed in the past have failed?"

Bowing his head towards the speaker, the man referred to as 13 replies "They will lord. I have spent almost two years seeking them out. Testing and watching them, even if they did not know it. They are the best of the best and they will put an end to Sa'Goloth threat once and for all".

"They had better… my diviners are warning that the stars and signs are not good. The Last War will look like a minor skirmish compared to the wars that could come" the one-eyed man says. He takes a good pull from his ironroot brandy and continues "If this cult of the Devourer Wyrm already posses one of the Daelkyr's Teeth then they could learn where the others are. And with all five, we could no longer hold the Nightshard Seal. We are at a distinct disadvantage already."

They are both silent for some time, each lost within his own thoughts of what 'could be' and it is the gentleman who again is first to break the silence "Alright then spy master, call them to Sharn. Work your magic and find me either the lost sealing-stones or any part of the Sa'Goloth. Where will you start?"

Nodding the thin man replies "With Gillen d'Cannith's journal of course. We need all the clues we can get."

Grunting the one-eyed man says "Really? I thought it destroyed when Cyre was lost?"

"No my lord, it still exists… or at least my research leads me to believe it so. The first 'job' of the Extraordinaries will be to recovering it."

The one-eyed man nods again, stands and starts for a side door saying as he leaves "If they survive there, then perhaps they are truly worthy the name…"

(OCC OK a quick thing about posting, rolling, etc.

If your character is speaking, please put it in “Quotes” (if you want to use other colors sure), Thoughts in Italic

If your character is doing something your Actions should be in *Asterisks*

You roll all your own rolls – attack, damage, skill, saving throws, etc (unless you ask me to OR there is some secret roll I will make them). Post the roll, modifier and total at the bottom of your post. If you wish to spend an Action Dice include that there.

So for example…

*William charges and attacks the Orc with his longsword*

[OCC – Attacking the Orc, Charging +2 to attack -2 to Defense. Attack roll is 4 +6 +2 =12, I spend an Action Dice for +3 more, total of 15. If I hit, Damage is 1d8+4 =7. I am using my Dodge against this Orc /OCC]

Click to expand...

or

*William will try and Bluff the barman to give him the location*

[OCC – Bluff roll 12 +8 =20 /OCC]

Click to expand...

OCC questions and comments should be marked and put in (Parenthesis) for questions and comments, [Brackets] for rolls, action results, etc.

Any questions? Try and post most of the over in the OCC /OCC)

///Prologue 2, somewhere within the northern Icehorn Mountains, Sul (first day), Fourth Week of Olarune, 998YK///

Every surface within the very large, rectangular chamber has been polished to a mirror-like sheen. Quarter-circle pools of lave in two of the room's four corners augment the light provided by the numerous, large everburn lanterns (each six or seven feet tall and at least a foot across). The massive double door that exits the room to the east, are carved with a strange five-pointed star and contain a huge eye at its core. But an immense, oval carved stone table dominates the chamber. It to bares of the eye and five-pointed star symbol. Eight chairs surround the table, one at the head the largest of them.

Each of the chairs has a being sitting upon it - or in the case of one, above - but the rest of the chamber is empty. The one sitting on the largest chair stands out only because he is so 'normal' compared to the others assembled here. The dwarf's wool clothing and cloak are as black as night, and the only visible badge of 'office' that he might bare is a large mithral ring; a snake eating its own tail. The eyes of the 'snake' are midnight-blue khyber shards. He is smoking a thick cigar of Eldeen leaf tobacco, and when he speaks, his voice is full of authority and power "Report, Priestess Alxanta."

The nearest on his left is a woman with short red-hair and wearing black plate mail; she might once have been beautiful, but the years of hate and war have taken their toll, such that her heavily scared skin is almost gray, and her voice raspy and dry "The Flamewarders in Karrnath have penetrated into the lower values of the Sentinel Tower and evidence is promising that the Panlith Scroll will be found there. With it, the location of the Nightshard will be within our grasp."

The dwarf nods and says "Ardeth Webb."

Another woman, with small goat like horns protruding from her forehead, and dressed scantily to show off the multitude of tattoos across her body, smiles towards the dwarf and almost lazily says "My Mistwarders have informed me that they have strong evidence now that the Green Tooth may in fact rest within the Vile Marsh and are on their way too scout out possible locations and gather more evidence."

The dwarf nods and turning to the next, saying "Shebeleth Regidin" a tall and gaunt bald human, with a black, diamond-shaped crystal embedded in the middle of his forehead "We have almosssst completely deciphered the Xanik Text and are confident that it will reveal to ussssss the location of the losssssst city. We expect it to be reveled to usssss with the year, by the time of the great alignment."

The dwarf nods and turns his attention to next creature, which is not sitting, but instead floating a foot or so above it chair. "Vhalkindress" he says, as the being's nine eyes turn onto the dwarf leader. With its large mouth full of jagged teeth, the being says "Know that, this one, has eliminated Q'Barra as a possible location for the Black Tooth. This one now turns his eyes upon the lands of southern Valenar… the foolish Deathless there are to catch up in their petty wars to notice this one. This one will continue its search there, and is confident that it will succeed soon."

The dwarf then turns towards a large winged draconic warrior, clad in light chain and holding a huge spiked flail in one hand, "Zarrik'dhor'khna." It nods and speaks, its voice a hiss "I have seen too it that the Frostwarrens are moving on the so called Princes of Trebaz Sinara. I remain confident that the White Tooth is among one of the lost values there. It will be ours within the month."

Taking a long pull from his cigar the dwarf then looks to the next to the last being; a Gnoll, well only the body of a Gnoll, for life had fled it long years ago. Now malice and hate animate the body of the thing, with mail armor and chains riveted into the it's skin to help hold it together. Its dead eyes focusing on the dwarf when its name is spoken "Muggoss." Nodding it speaks, with trouble and some spittle of died mucus "The compact with the Daughters of Sora Kell is almost complete and a detachment of their mercenaries will should boost our armies gathering in western Breland when the time comes. We have provide them the location of the underdark tunnels that will get them on the other side of the Greywall Mountains and into the Grey Blairs. Their raiding will turn Breland's attention away from our activities in the Blackcaps. If the Blue Tooth is there, it will be ours"

The last being, looks up at this, and grunts. It is a mass of pinkish skin and greasy flesh, a grotesque blending of hairless ape and a corpulent toad, with no visible neck and huge hunchback like shoulders. Horribly, upon its loathsome head, a small, stunted body seems to have grown out of it. Small arms and legs, and a head are always in motion and it seems to be moaning in pain. The creature's speech is barely understandable, as it were underwater "There may be more to worry about from the lands of Breland … I have heard whispers that the they have learned of the existence of the Sa'Goloth and have put in motion plans to seek out its' parts or the lost sealing stones that might interfere with the artifact's use."

The dwarf looks at the being "I will expect that this will be dealt with immediately. What do they know? What are they seeking? What do they posses so far? Who knows what? No matter what they know or have, eliminate them all after you have answered my questions. Use third party assassins that cannot be traced back to us, we are to close now. I expect an update when next we meet Dyr'Ryd."

The being known as Dyr'Ryd smiles, showing hundreds of small yellowish teeth and adds "Of course. Tirok Coalfire and its' band of cutthroats have worked for me in the past, but know nothing of Khorvaire, they should serve us well".

The dwarf nods and the meeting ends… the fate of the worlds in motion.

///Prologue 3, Northern Jungles of Xen'drik, just past midnight, Mol second day), First Week of Therendor (early-spring), 998YK///

The drow moved into the clearing, his step as silent as junt mouse in tall grass, his reddish segmented armor of scorpion chitinous, molded perfectly to his body, and might as well be silk so perfect is its fit. He approached a throne and those assembled around it with a steady, proud march. Those surrounding the throne are mostly female drows, in this best skins and spider silk-weave clothing, but there are also four male guards with steelwood spears and finest chitinous armor. Bowing his head to the female upon the throne of giant bones with flayed skin cushions, he says "Night Mistress, the oracle has spoken, and the holy artifact of ancient Kobullats is reawakening. The unbelievers of the north are fighting to gain it. What is your wish?"

Sitting forward the drow queen sneers, her necklace of bones and rough rubies ringing lightly "Defilers! Infidels! Heretics! They have no right, it is ours! Do these apostates have it assembled?"

The male drow shakes his head "They do not Night Mistress"

She nods, maddness reflecting in her eyes, and sits back into her throne "Good, that is good. Gleodites, you will take your Scorpion Guard and seek out those heretics that do defile us with their iconoclast ways, and you will teach them what it price it is to dare defile the Drow! We will make our presence known upon the world, and they will know fear! Go… GO!! KILL!! Let Queen Spider and King Scorpion know that their children heed and obey the laws, let those that statutory offense against the true gods suffer!"

The male drow throws back his head and screams in mad joy, as do the assembled in the dark clearing, full of wild cries of animalist lusts and urges!!

(occ OK just about ready to start... so hold posting for just a little while longer /occ)

///Prologue 4, Sharn, four hours ago (early morning), Sul, Third Week of Therendor (also known as Therendor 15, the 'Sun's Blessing', 998YK///

Looking down at the King’s Bridge, Neville Rathbone is again struck by how much the city has changed in the years he was 'lost', and two years here has not changed that. The bridge is huge, connecting a number of towers on southwestern Hightower ward of the Central Plateau to the Medthis Plateau and the University District. The bridge then continued on, all the way to southern Dura and the Ocean View district. Spanning a total of some 5,000 feet, each arch almost 2,500 feet alone, and it was at least 150 feet wide. Six giant statues, like great silent sentiencys, were set as anchors for the bridge at each span. They were knights of old, each bearing a sword held at 'salute' to the King and each were some 400ft tall.

The festival of Dol Arrach, the Sovereign Host of Honor and Light, also called the Sun's Blessing was the day the city chosen to celebrate this huge bridges' opening. Flags, acrobatics, streamers, singers, carts, cheering people, wagons, dancers, animals, vendors, pickpockets, barking dogs, and screaming playing children filled the span of the bridge as far as Neville could see. Why in the world did he want to meet here? Could we be in a more public place?? he thinks. Wondering not for the hundreds time why he does not just leave these civilized lands for the peace of the wilds again.

“Ah there you are my good man” a sharp voice shock him out of his thoughts. Turning, Neville sees the man he is here to meet… 13 what kind of bloody stupid name is that anyway? “So good to see you again. I trust your are enjoying the view?”

Neville simply grunted, causing 13 to smile his unnaturally with his large mouth that could so unnerve a man “Ah that is what I like about you the most Neville, your way with words. It is so refreshing from those that I normally deal with”

Looking out over the bridge from their vantage point of a balcony off of the Airship Docking Tower (the highest tower in Sharn), 13 is silent for a moment, taking in the view “Beautiful is it not? These grand constructions show all of Khorvaire the power and majesty of Breland don’t you think?”

Before Neville can answer, 13 continues “Now then on to why I have called you here. Your nation has need of you again old boy. Not just our nation though, mayhaps the whole world needs your help. I am forming a team of… special… individuals to take on a very dangerous, but important job. I need someone who can control their various personalities and direct them to getting the job done as quickly and as effectively as possible. That someone is you old boy.”

Smiling, 13 draws out two cigars from an inside jacket pocket, and offers one to Neville “Talentan red weed, the best. Have one.” Lighting his own he continues “We can get into specifics when you meet the rest of your team, but for right now, take comfort in the knowledge that there are those in high places that pushed for you as the natural choice to fill this role. They and myself have every confidence in your abilities my good fellow”

Looking straight into Neville's eyes, 13 puffs on his cigar and says “Now then are you ready to meet your team… your League of Extraordinaries?”

///Now (midday), Sharn, midday, Sul , Third Week of Therendor (also known as Therendor 15, the 'Sun's Blessing'), 998YK///

So this is the place huh? Rather nice… for a cave. Looking around, these others are a very strange looking lot. Who in the heck are they anyway? And just what is this ‘job’ you have all sign yourself up for anyway?

Thinking back over the last month or so, it all started with a strange flowery letter inviting you here to Sharn, with promises of gold, glory, wealth, renowned, amnesty from past crimes, help seeking a lost love ones, asylum from those hunting you; whatever your hearts desire the letter promised. All on the condition that you would come work for some branch of the Breland’s government, as a ‘specialist’. That your unique talents and skills would be put to use for the betterment of not just this country, but also all of Khorvaire.

The letters included gold enough to book you passage on ships, gallons, lightning rail or whatever else to come to Sharn before the Third Week of Therendor, 998YK, the 'Sun's Blessing' festival. You were to call upon the Ja’Korn’s Manor that is on the 111th floor of Melden Tower within the Deathgate district, an adventurer's ward. After arriving. you found the manor built onto the side of the tower, facing the Dagger River. There you were meet by a older gentleman, dressed all in black, and standing rail-straight, who introduced himself as Phol Rook, the manservant of Ja’Korn’s Manor. He took you inside to a private room within the manor. Offering your food, bath, and a change of clothing, Phol informed you that you would be meeting your employer later that very afternoon.

When the appointed time arrived, Phol gathered you and all of your luggage (and for the first time you saw the other ‘specialists’ that most have been gathered for this mission) and lead you down a flight of stairs, through a number of doors, down another flight of stairs. And then some more stairs and doors, down, down, down deeper in the cliff you travel. Never once seeing another soul, lit only by everburn lanterns. You pass dozens of hallways and see other doors that you do not pass through, as Phol leads you through the maze. Soon, the walls become rougher… less ‘worked’ then above. Moisture clings to the walls and you figure you might very well be below the water table now.

Finally you were lead into large cavernous room you are in now. The ceiling is about 20 feet above the tallest head among you and the room is around sixty feet long and thirty wide. Two of the walls hold huge, long scroll and bookracks that extend to the ceiling and are filled with all kinds of dusty tombs and rolled parchment. Along another wall are pictures and portraits. At the other end of the room there was a large wooden table with twelve comfortable chairs. Other chairs and sitting tables are found throughout the room, Near the door is a brandy & wine tray with a number of bottles and glasses. The room is lit with everburn lanterns, controlled from a master switch that Phol turns up so that you can better see within the room.

“Your host will be with you shortly m’lords. Would anyone like refreshment? Brandy, Wine, Chilled water mayhaps?” Phol had asked, walking over to stand with his hands behind his back by the brandy table.

And now here you are, awaiting your ‘host’ and possible employer, with a stranger band of misfits you have never been in the presence of… you begin to wonder, just what did you sign up for anyway?

Finally a door opposite the one you entered opens, and in walks a tall, rail-thin man, with pasty white skin, small ears and eyes, a weak chin and large nose. Dressed all in black, the man smiles – and it is not a smile that looks good on his face - as if he were a predator looking at a new born prey – and says “Ah good you are all here”

Another man follows behind the first, older and dressed like an explorer or woodsman. The speaker takes a seat at the head of the large table and motions the woodsman to take a chair, saying “Please, everyone take a seat if you would… ah, my dear ‘Fury’ is it not? I am afraid that we have nothing that will accommodate your weight, I will make sure that is corrected in the future, but for now if you do not mind standing…”

Once all – but Fury – have been seated, the strange fellow speaks again, enfolding his long fingers before him as he looks at each of you “Now then, no time for long pleasantries I am afraid. The nation – the very world – maybe in peril and we not a moment to waste. As you may have guest I am your new employer. You may call me 13 – my… mother, had something of a strange sense of humor” to which he giggles at his own private joke “I am going to have to ask you to hold any and all questions that you have until I have finished. I promise that I will answer each to the best of my ability, but we have much to discuses and little time to waste.”

Taking a deep breath is begins “I have gathered you together because the Sa'Goloth artifact is in danger of being reassembled and if that happens, it again threaten the Five Nations with another all-out war.”

“'What is this Sa'Goloth artifact' you ask? Well it is little wonder that you know nothing about it… 90 years ago it was shattered by the dragon Mel’borneDom’khanya, the Gold. He and other members of his – Chamber – then worked magic so powerful that all knowledge of the Sa'Goloth artifact, written or known, vanished from mortals' memory. But now, somehow that magic is waning and the knowledge has creep back into the wrong minds. They seek to restore the – artifact – to it original glory. If they succeed, well let us say war the like of which the Five Nations has never known would break out and lay waste to all of Khorvaire.”

“I suppose a little history lesson is in order, for none of you would know any of this. Just over a 100 years ago, the explorer and archeologist by the name Wilium d’Tharashk, lead an expedition into the heart of Xen'draik to seek a lost city of giants there. No one knows the city's name, but it is old, very old. Within the heart of the city there was a giant step-pyramid to some lost god or goddess, and within the temple they found something – the Sa'Goloth artifact. They did not know what it was, but so powerful was their desire to posses it, that Wilium killed the other members of the expedition and smuggled it into Khorvaire, to Karrnath actually.”

“Somehow he activated the devices and it killed him, but not before it set off a chain of events that lead to the Last War. Each of the leaders of the Fire Nations where so filled with the desire for conquest and power, it blinded them to all else. How you might ask? Well, the artifact is an ancient device of Daelkyr design and somehow it corrupt and control their minds, in ways no one can understand – well no one mortal I would guess. The dragons know and fear the device and so shattered it and erased all evidence of it. But, again, they did not do a very good job it would seem.”

“We learned through various networks, that something called the Red Daelkyr Tooth was found within an abandoned tomb within Demon Wastes two years ago. The ‘Tooth’ is a part of the Sa'Goloth artifact, and lead to us to rediscovering its' existence. There are five of these ‘teeth’, each made from the tooth of a different colored Chromatic Dragon. Together they form a – base or stand of some kind – for a huge Khyber Shard. It is said to be the largest Khyber Shard ever found; black as night, with something sparking inside. Together these artifacts create the Sa'Goloth. If it is reformed, the Daelkyr will again be able to open a doorway between themselves and those they wish – mainly those in charge. With this ‘control’ they could start another War, and it appears that this time the dragons will do nothing.”

13 sits back in his chair, looking at you each with now serious stares “I have gathered you all together to make sure that this does not happen. You see, in the past, whenever Breland has been threatened – both internally and externally – there have been those within the government who have called upon a special few to help defend it. These specials have been called the ‘League of the Extraordinaries’. There have been twelve pervious such times that this League has been formed. Twelve times Breland – if not the world – has been saved by past Leagues. And now, for a thirteenth time, the nation and Khorvaire again have need of them.”

“Of course, these individuals are unknown to history, keep secret by those of us who formed them. For if the common people were to learn of the dangers that they had so often faced, panic could very well be the result. It is better that they do not know how close they come to destruction, don’t you think?”

Nodding to himself he continues “Each of you has – for your own reason – agreed to work for us; agreed to join this League. And never has there been a greater need. So many of the old heroes are dead or gone. So few remember that which came before. It is a perils journey ahead, but I have every confidence in each of you.”

Pointing at the woodsman that accompanied him into the room when he first appeared, 13 continues “Neville here has been chosen to lead this League for us in the field. Now you are not in the army, so do not worry over much about military discipline, but we must have someone in charge and Neville is the best man for the job.”

"Now let me warn you again; those that wish to reassemble the Sa'Goloth artifact are deranged and evil to the core, but they are also cunning and not without their own resources. Their nefarious plans have been in play for at least two years and we have only just started. You will be outnumbered and working blind, for we have no idea where even one of the pieces might be.”

“Our only lead at the present is a journal written by an Arcanix wizard and one time League member, who was serving in the royal court of lost Cyre named Gillen d'Cannith's. He was able to somehow ‘seal’ this journal away from the dragon magic that destroyed all other knowledge of the artifact. We don’t really know how, but he did. He disappeared with the destruction of Cyre, we assume killed in the calamity of whatever magic was wroth that day. Yes he was well over 100 years old, quite spry for a human”

“Through my own research I have come to the conclusion that not only did his journal survive the destruction of Cyre, but that it still resides within his tower – deep in the heart of present day Mournland! Your first mission – a most perilous mission indeed – is to recover this journal.”

Pointing toward one of you, he says “Enden here is the captain of the Air-Gallon, the Endless-Fury, and will get you to the edge of the Mournland Death-Grey Mist Wall, but I strongly suggest that you not take that gallon past that point. We tried not three months ago, and the gallon was lost. It seems that the magic that powered the ship drew things called ‘living spells’ too it like flies. They were attacked by these – ‘spells’ – almost as soon as they cross through the mist wall, and they did not survive more then six hours.”

“My suggestion is to take travel to Vathirond and then cross by foot, to the wizard’s tower. I will supply you with any food, water and gear that you require and I also have a map of where the tower was located before the destruction. The land has changed in the last four years, but it should still be there. The journal should be located in the top floor of the tower, where Gillen had his special library.”

Sighing he continues “As most of you know something about the tales and legends of what it is like in the Mournland – well they are all true and far worst. No known healing magic works there, undead and spells that are sentient are everywhere. The air itself has a stale and rank with a foul smell that is unhealthy to breathe. Those few things that somehow did survived the destruction of the nation, have been warped and driven insane by the magic there. They are beasts no long, and now exit only to feed, breed and kill. You are well advised not to eat or drink anything found there.”

“'How oh how will we survive in such a land Mr. 13?' Well, first, I have every confidence in your abilities. Second, I have found that the Rope Trick spell does allow healing magic to be used within it, as one is ‘detached’ somewhat from the normal prime material plane. I have sent expediencies into the land before to experiment with this idea to prove it to be true. The only problem is that instead of the hours the spell would normally run, this ‘pocket plane’ lasts mere minutes. But this should be enough time for at least healing now and again to take place. I will supply you with ten Rope Trick scrolls.” (occ cast at 3rd level, so each will last for 3 minutes /occ)

“Time is not on our side, so I would expect you to leave immediately. The Endless-Fury should be able to get you to Vathirond by tomorrow morning. If you encounter no obstacles, it should take you five days of walking to get to Gillen's tower. Figure another day or two to get in and find the journal, and then six total days to return. So then, if within three weeks, there is no word from you, I will assume that you have failed and will see what I can do next – but know that the very fate of Khorvaire may very well now rests in your hands… ”

Finally, 13 closes his eyes for a second and takes a couple of deep breathers “I am sure that you have many questions. But first, why don’t you introduce yourself to your fellows. You are going to be working together for some time now and it might be good to at least know each others names…”

(occ Whoa, that was long OK post away, intro yourselves, etc. Then post any questions you have for 13 /occ)

FURY, Warforged Fighter/Monk

The massive warforged nods his head towards 13 and his new companions in greeting. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” His voice is thick and heavy, with a metallic ring. The greeting sounds alien to his tongue, as though he had just heard it for the first time this week. “I am Fury.”

“The words spoken by our host are true. I have spent countless hours roaming the dark battlefields of that forsaken land. There is little sustenance for your kind there, and the dangers should not be underestimated. I would be remiss if I did not mention that all present should put their affairs in order before entering the foul battlefields of Cyre.”

Taking a step towards the table, Fury raises his fist to his chest where it hits his metal skin with a hollow clang. “I pledge to serve the interests of Breland in my actions, and vow to protect the League with my existence, if need be. You have my oath, sir.” He performs a stiff bow towards Neville.

Once finished, he steps back and goes still. The lack of motion in his body is eerie. Fury stands in perfect still silence, as though a giant statue of adamantine and sinew.

Marcus, Human Cleric/Urban Ranger

A tall, slightly lanky individual dressed in a long black cassock, wearing the holy symbol of the Silver Flame, with long hair tied into a ponytail and a close-cropped, neatly clipped beard leans foward from his chair, gripping a finely carved bowstave.

"My name is Marcus. I am a student of the arts of inquery and exorcism. I have not yet had the opportunity to journey into the lands of Mourning...but it should be an interesting experience."

Marcus then takes up his glass of brandy, as in a toast.

"To saving Khorvaire from those who would harm her."

Neville Rathbone, Human Ranger/Rogue

A thin framed old man sits near the front of the table. As he listens to 13, he nervously tightens the curl on one side of his large, white moustache, and then extends his arm and straightens his sleeve with the other hand. Upon the conclusion of 13's discourse, he straightens himself in his chair and then rises to his feet. He is a man who appears to be in his late 60's to 70's, and not quite able to stand up as straight as a younger man would, making his clothes looks larger still, on him.

The old man clears his throat and addresses the room, "My name is Neville Rathbone." he pauses, looking around the room for some sign of recognition. Assumedly being met with none, he continues, "It is an honor to make your acquaintances."

His eyes begin to lower, looking nervously at the tabletop, "I cannot be quite sure why 13 and company have chosen me to lead this expedition.", he says. "I have not been to the Mournland in it's present state, nor do I fancy myself a warrior or some captain of men.", he continues. Quite abruptly, Neville looks at the ceiling and puts a finger to his forhead, as if surprised to recall something, and says, "Although, I believe that I have led parties to just about every other corner of Korvaire....and parts of Xen'drik....and there was that affair at the borders of Argonessen...", his voice trails off, as if he is busy remembering these events for the first time for himself. After a moment of silence and a few odd stares from the room, he snaps back to attention as if woken from a daydream, "Yes, quite."

He scans the room trying to get a size of who he is dealing with, and continues, "As 13 has said, the matters at hand are of dire importance. I would take it that one agrees, seeing the ends and means by which he and associates have taken to bring us all here." Looking about the room quite jovially, he says, "Now, Master Enden, is it? Why don't you tell us about that most spectacular ship of yours." Neville retakes his seat, and sips his drink, listening intently.

Azreal, Half-Celestial Paladin/Warmage

‘Why am I even here?’ Azreal wondered as he looked across those assembled. He mind briefly darted to a more existential phrasing of that very question, but dismissed it to pay better attention to the thin one known as 13. ‘13 is an odd appellation . . . even I have a name . . . several actually,’ Azreal continued to muse.

Azreal leaned forward on the chair, resting his forearms on the table. In this position, he arched his back and allowed his wings to unfold and re-fold behind the chair back. His black curls hung over his face, but piercing blue eyes could be seen beneath.

‘Questions?’ Azreal thought to himself in response to 13’s ending. ‘I’ve got questions . . . like are we getting paid for traveling and risking our lives in some forsaken place. Helping the needy of Sharn is not a cheap venture, and I have quickly used most of the meager coin I arrived with. To loose my scimitar so soon before this meeting . . . stuck with this poorly made weapon . . . of steel even.’

Azreal absently slapped the scimitar slung at his side, almost hitting it for even existing – which made Azreal think back to the question which started his thoughts.

Needless to say, Azreal didn’t contribute to the conversation in a meaningful way . . . at least, not yet.