12pm, 11th of Planting. 585 C.Y.
The few days that you have spent in Gorsend have been unpleasant to say the least. The filth, the crowds, the poverty; it was if the entire Flanaess had used Gorsend as a place to dump all its waste.
Even the city itself seemed bleak and dismal. It was an old city, dating back to Aerdi occupation in the glorious days of the Great Kingdom. Stone buildings abounded. Old streets of cobbled stone were still functional, even if in disrepair, and the spires, gargoyles, intricate designs on archways, and carved stone monuments to Oeridian gods, all served to provide a sense of sturdiness. Perhaps that's why so many refugees had flocked here?
Regardless, it all served to make the place dismal as well. There was lots of flourish but little colour in Aerdi design and so the greyness of the stone seemed to seep into everyone who stayed here.
It was not until the 11th day of Planting, on Godsday, the day of worship, that you realized just how miserable people here were. Even most of you, with the exception of Manzanita, forgot that it was Tanabat, the Festival of the Seven Sisters. Such was usually a joyous time amongst even nations as far as Geoff and Tenh. The festival dedicated to Olidammara in which even Beory, Berei and Obad-Hai got a mention, and where everyone drank of the vine and celebrated the wonders of the grape.
But such was not to be in this town. A few skerricks of laughter could be heard here and there but it was little and short-lived; the wars had certainly taken their toll if even the reknowned spirit of Furyondy could be crushed.
This all was not your concern, however deeply you might feel for these people; your business was with Tarvoden. He had brought you all here; gathered you like stray sheep and plunked you together in this most unlikely of places. All you knew, was that you were hand-picked for a mission that would garner five-hundred weight of gold.
As you meandered about in the tavern, pacing back and forth, or resting calmly, whichever your personality dictated, all you had to do was talk with your potential companions.
Grenier Elderich, a noble judging by his manner and speech, and a magic-user of some sort who carried an arsenal of weapons. Perhaps paranoid from having his nation, Geoff, overrun by giant-kin?
M'faro, a warrior of the occupied nation of Tenh. His massive stead barely contained within the stables, and his tattered tunic, bore symbols of flames that could be said to be the markings of a military unit.
Manzanita, the half-elven maiden from Fax, who enchanted you with her melodies on the flute. Though she seems athletic and capable with a blade, you wonder if her delicate demeanor could really have been cultured on the Wild Coast.
Bor, the farmer-come-warrior from Concantenated Cantons of Perrenland, seeking his fortune in the southern lands. A large man of only sixteen winters, he yet bears himself as a more than capable fighter.
And then there's
Garik, a mysterious man wrapped in brown cloth in a manner peculiar to the Baklunish people. Though seemingly a warrior, he is silent on the nature of his skills and has so far borne himself in a manner that tells little.
These, then, would be your companions on this mission. Five-hundred weight divided by five companions still meant a decent sum, but certainly not what you had at first expected. Nevertheless, you had come this far and thus would hear Tarvoden speak before deciding what to do.
Upon these musings
Tarvoden interrupted with his entrance.
"Are you ready?"
OOC: The game has now 'started'. Posting rules are in effect, blah, blah... umm... in case you haven't noticed, I give XP on a post-by-post basis. A regular roleplaying post garners 5 XP, with increases up to 50+ depending on how well the characterization and roleplaying is. This is partly to encourage posting but don't count on anything just because you post, especially if you post one thing and then another straight away when yah coulda just edited your original post... that's cheating! 
