The House of Rath: Prologue

[Chauzu]

Posting guidelines and reminders:

• Please post on this thread at least every other day. If you won’t be posting, due to vacation or whatever, let me know and I will take care of your character in the meantime. If you disappear for longer than 7 days without notice, I will take control of the character until a replacement player is found.
• Please select a color for your characters’ speeches, but don’t use one that another player or myself is already using. First come, first serve. Your characters’ thoughts should be in italics and of your selected color.
• Put anything OOC in spoiler blocks to make things neater.
• Unless told otherwise all rolls will be done by myself.

And without further ado, let us begin…

__________


It is the 24th day of the month of Eleint and all is well in the Cormyrian city of Wheloon (as it has been this past year). The town has grown fairly well. The lord of city, Sarp Redbeard, struck at luck as his wife finally gave birth, and twins they were. The city itself struck at rich as profits skyrocketed for the city’s businesses. And during the last ten months, only three minor crimes were reported. However, this month strange things began to happen. People began to disappear.

Three months ago twelve adventurers entered town for individual reasons. Though they were adventurers they could not bring themselves to depart this town. Their fates were already set, but of course untold. These adventurers have yet to meet each other. During the same time these travelers came to Wheloon the Red Wizards of Thay established a small compound outside of town. The adventurers heard of this, but have not gone to the compound yet. Led by a fledgling Red Wizard, the wizards and their bodyguards of this compound have a small operation in which they produce potions, scrolls, and occasionally minor magic weapons and armor.

A couple of days ago the adventurers heard of rumors of the disappearance of two young men who never returned to their homes the night before. The men were strong, healthy, and fit, working as loggers. The adventurers investigated a bit individually, discovering that the men were last seen at one of the local taverns named the Golden Songbird, speaking with a tall woman with long, dark hair. The men left with her, and the three were spotted walking out of town as a group. A local merchant got into contact with each of the adventurers and asked them to meet at the same tavern where the incident began, offering information on the disappearance. Ironically, all of the adventurers just happened to get to the tavern at the same time. They greeted each other and minded their own businesses. One by one they entered the tavern...

‘Crackle and boom’ bellowed the evening sky above, a collection of dark storm clouds casting an unwanted shadow upon the land. As the adventurers all slipped in through the tavern’s front door, an elaborate door engraved with the tavern’s mascot bird, water began to rain down from the sky. By the second it would get harder and harder as it fell.

“Just my luck as usual!” complained an old, raspy voice from inside the tavern. The golden bird engraved on the door was newly painted and bright, noted with a piece of paper above the engraving stating not to touch. As the last adventurer entered the tavern, she noticed the paint begin to smear down the door from the rain.

The tavern was crowded with all walks of life trying to hide from the downpour, yet to the adventurers’ knowledge they have no clue who this merchant is and what he looks like, for they were all contacted by letter. All but a few bar stools were taken, and it appeared that only one round table was available off in the corner, dimly lit by a torch light sitting in the center of the table.

Crackle and boom. Bump and ‘Pardon’. The tavern continued to fill while the few behind the bar counter were hustling like worker bees. The old tavern owner, Mr. Biskbyr, looked stressed. “Shouldn’t have done that door this mornin’,” he would say over and over again to himself as he filled the mugs. “Next thing comin’ is my newly tiled roof falling apart.”

When he noticed the newcomers pile into his tavern, he greeted them with a sigh. “Welcome to the No-Longer-Golden Songbird…” His fake smile was missing a few teeth and made him look even more miserable. “Enjoy yourself to some shelter and ale.”

[sblock]Your characters have not met each other yet, so spend some time conversing if you shall and find a place to relax as you wait for the merchant to show his face.[/sblock]

 

[Yair]

Atavy, feeling uncofortable in the crowd and being nearly trampeled by the less perceptive "tall-people", picks up a mug of ale and, holding it in both hands, places himself at the furhest chair of the dimly lit table, distancing himself from the crowed as best he can. "Foolish human" he mumbels to himself, "couldn't we meet at a less crowded place?!"

 

[spasemunki]

Kohl nods gravely at the innkeeper, brushing the gray hood back from his face. The tusked mouth and shaven skull of the half-orc draw more than a few curious looks from around the inn, but Kohl does not seem to be particularly aware of them. He seems to be quite taken in by the hustle and bustle of the inn. He speaks hesitantly to the innkeeper:
I'm seeking a man from this town- a merchant. Is he here tonight?
The innkeeper gives a fairly unhelpful shrug; who knows if a nameless man is or isn't in the room? Kohl frowns and steps away from the bar, scanning the room for any sign of recognition from someone in the crowd. Seeing no one who seems to recognize him, he makes his way to the mostly empty table near the corner, where the halfling had headed earlier with his drink. He places a callused hand on the back of one of the chairs near the halfling.
Is this seat taken?, he asks. I was told to await someone here, but they have not yet arrived. Do you mind if I wait here?
Hearing no particular objections, he settles himself into the chair and folds his hands in his lap. He faces out into the room, carefully watching the door for any indication that the mysterious merchant has arrived.

 

[Songdragon]

Nysa lowered the hood of her yellow cloak and with a smile at the innkeeper, Well met to you good Sir and thank you for your warm greetings. A mug Vilhon Cider, if you will." The young woman then looks about the tavern spotting the still rather open table, with a halfling and half orc seated about it's far end. 'An interesting pair', she thinks to herself.

The armored lass makes her way to the table in a slow manner being kind and considerate to others about her as the tavern fills with those hiding from the storm. and comes to a stop before the table looking upon the halfling and orc, "Well met, I am Nysa Dawnbringer. Would you mind if I sat with you? The spare seats are growing ever few." She smiles on both men awaiting an answer before taking up a seat.

 

[Mephit James]

Jand tries to make his hurried gait appear more regal as he enters the building. He is a bit fastidious about his clothing and doesn't want to be caught in the rain, but it also wouldn't do to let these barbarians see him worried about something like rain. Pushing through the door his face turns into a slight grimace, as if he'd accidentally walked into a barn. The raven on his shoulder rustles its feathers slightly and he reaches up with a calming pat. "I know, Pet, I know. It's only a meeting, though." Scanning the room, the wizard realizes that seating is scarce except for the far table where several assorted individuals are gathering. Adopting a determined expression he walks steadily toward the table, ignoring the barkeeper trying to get him to buy something or perhaps concerned about a patron bringing a raven into the eating area. Arriving at the table he settles into a chair quickly. "What do you think, Ramas?" he asks the raven, "They look like adventurers don't they? Perhaps we weren't the only ones tapped by this merchant."

 

[nonamazing]

Glar stands near the entrance for a few minutes--just to the side of the door, of course, so as not to be in anyone's way. A few drops of rain slide off of his cloak. He clutches the mysterious letter in his hands, and pauses to read it over as the looks around the room. For a moment, his eyes fall upon the small puddle of watery golden paint forming beneath the tavern's door. With a sudden burst of youthful whimsy, Glar dips his fingers into the paint, then runs them along the length of his staff, tracing faint golden lines across it. The patterns are abstract, mere waving lines, but Glar fancies that they resemble the graceful motions of a bird in flight, and he smiles to himself as he thinks: Ha! Perhaps in this way the golden songbird will fly--and sing--once again.

As he turns around, Glar discovers that his odd behavior has caught the attention of a few of the tavern's patrons, whose glares are a mixture of confused curiosity and mild annoyance. Glar blushes out of embarassement and pulls his hood a bit tighter.

Suddenly, Glar notices an armored woman sitting at the round table near the back corner of the tavern. She's got long, dark hair! Could she be-- Then Glar spots the travellers sharing the woman's table. If she's the woman I heard about, the one who was the last person seen with the missing men, then those people might well be--gulp!--her next victims!

Glar stands paralyzed with indecision for a moment or two. What should I do? I've got to try and help those people... My only chance is to try and figure out what she's up to--and then maybe I'll be able to stop her!

The young human carefully makes his way across the tavern, nervously trying to dodge between the waving arms of the various patrons. When he reaches the far table, he waves and stammers nervously, "Umm...greetings, uh, fellow travellers. I'm Gl--I mean, um, my name is Dorn, I'm from the north, um, is-it-okay-if-I-sit-here-I-brought-some-wine?" The last part of Glar's sentance is all rushed together in a single breath. Eyes downcast, he fumbles in his bag for a moment before producing a old-looking bottle of blueberry wine and setting it nervously on the table. "My, um, grandfather always said a good bottle of wine is the best way to make friends out of strangers," Glar says, smiling nervously.

Glar takes a chair. He looks warily over at the armored woman. She doesn't look like a dangerous fiend--is that Lathander's symbol on her shield?--but the temple master always warned me that appearances can be decieving. Turning to her, Glar says aloud, "So, um, noble Lady--do you come here often?" He then blushes furiously as he realizes just how stupid what he said must seem. "Er...I mean, have you ever been here before?"

[SBLOCK]Glar is pitiful at hiding his emotions. Nysa (and anyone else at the table) can easily see how very nervous the boy is. In particular, he seems to be literally afraid of Nysa.[/SBLOCK]

 

[Yair]

Atavy looks up at Kohl's impressive stature, and doesn't find it wise to raise any objection. He mumbles something about it not being a problem, and does the same with the others. As Glar takes his seat and stumbles over his tongue, Atavy twists his nose in disgust. He sets two beady eyes upon the boy, and suddenly Glar's head is filled with the halfling's thoughts. YOU ARE GIVING YOURSELF AWAY, BOY. TELL ME, WHY ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF THE FAIR LADY DAWNBREAKER? He smiles. NO, DON'T TELL - THINK.
[sblock]Atavy is using telepathy to talk to Glar; he can pick up any thoughts Glar sends his way, but not private ones.[/sblock]

 

[Songdragon]

Nysa notices the man dressed in red talking to the Raven and thinks, 'A Thayvian? Hmmm...I should watch this one, just to be sure.'

As her drink arrives she sips at the cider as yet another joins the table, setting a bottle of wine out and She looks up to greet the young lad and immediatly notices his fear and wonders what frighten's him so.

She pauses as he calls her a noble, caught off gaurd by such an assumption, 'Does this one know me somehow? I have forsaken them, as they did me, but I still serve. I serve the Dawnlord now!'

"Well met Dorn, I am Nysa Dawnbringer. Nay, this is my first time in Wheloon in a long time, and never have I come to this establishment before." She then removes a small letter and places it on the table beside her mug of cider, "I recieved this letter and came to see if I can help with the disappearances."

 

[nonamazing]

Glar is obviously startled when he 'hears' Atavy's words, but he recovers his composure surprisingly quickly. His eyes grow wide, and after a moment's quick reflection, he shoots a thought back to Atavy: I've heard rumors that a few townsfolk have gone missing, and that they were last seen at this tavern, talking to a woman with long black hair--just like hers! I'm a bit worried that she may be the person behind the recent disappearances...

But Glar's thought is interrupted by Nysa's statement. As he sees the letter, Glar blurts out, "Oh, but I've gotten a note just like that!" Glar then looks up at the woman, surprised. "Wait--did you say that you'd never been here before? Then I guess that means that you couldn't be--" Glar suddenly cuts off in mid-sentence. Uh-oh, What if she's lying? I can't afford to take her at face value--these people's lives might depend on it!

Realizing that the others at the table are staring, waiting for him to finish his sentence, Glar coughs nervously. "Um, then I guess that means you couldn't be from around here, huh? Uh, if you don't mind my asking, ma'am, where might you be from?"

 

[spasemunki]

Kohl observes each new arrival at the table carefully, but makes no effort to open conversation with these strangers. He regards the nervous young man with curiosity; even to Kohl's untrained ears, the words of this Gl-Dorn sound like they are concealing something. When Nysa speaks of the letter she received, he suddenly looks towards her with renewed interest- and then back to Dorn when he reveals that he, too, was the recepient of a letter.

I received such a letter as well. Do either of you know who it is who is attempting to contact us?

He looks particularly at Nysa. This young man seems to know no more than I. But perhaps the woman knows more.