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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Balrog" data-source="post: 1655340" data-attributes="member: 3543">The Wizard's Amulet, Part I2nd of Harvester The name of the inn was the Starving Stirge,  and the 6 adventurers gathered about the large table were not so different from any others in this establishment.  But already there seemed to be a common bond here, a fellowship of fate.     The youthful leader of the discussion was a wisp of a man named Rythannian, who did not appear armed, and dressed simply in robes.  At his side was the taciturn Galdar, a priest of the god of Justice and Law, Forseti.  He admitted to all that he was following Rythannian for his own reasons, and had not answered the advertisement which the others had seen.  He said something about carrying out his duty and seeing justice done, and that was why he was here, and going on this adventure.    The woodsman Phadian Gess was here by chance it seemed.  He had come in from the cold, evening air after a long day outside the city.  He had come in for a warm drink and maybe a bed, and some news.  He purchased a drink, and then his eye caught the posted advertisement.  It mentioned seeking a wizard’s tower to the north.  To the north was Fairhill, the region where Phadian had been raised.  The land he knew like the back of his hand.  The land he longed to return to.  But his longing would not override his caution and sense.  He had fled his home in a hurry, and carried with him a heavy burden, a sorrowful burden.  But with that burden came the realization that he could not run for very long, and justice must be done.  He must seek the answers for what had happened.  Galdar’s talk of seeking justice stirred in Phadian a feeling of righteousness, a desire to right whatever wrong had been done to his home, to his family.  Maybe by going with this…..Rythannian….. he could accomplish that.  He fingered his longbow in thought. Yes, he would definitely be going with these two.    The next man was a brown-skinned stranger, well-travelled and darkened from the sun.  His name was Parkadius, and his arms and armor spoke to the fact that he was a warrior.  He carried a longsword, a scimitar, and a crossbow.  He seemed to be a man of integrity, courage, and conviction.  And he had the confidence to make others follow his lead.  Very soon, he began to take the lead in the discussions.  So far, he sensed that this Rythannian was not telling everything, but he had confidence he would get to the bottom of this very soon.  He resolved to do everything he could to make this mission a success, and if that meant that he would have to take over the leadership role of this group, so be it.  He was ready for that task.  He had been born ready to lead.    Next to the Wulgash Paladin sat a very bellicose man dressed as a peasant.  He introduced himself as Rocbul, and said he was raised a farmer.  The only weapon he knew was the scythe, but he would use everything his body, mind, and spirit had to help the group.  He only wanted a chance to kill some orcs, particularly the ones he had tracked from his farm in the south. They had killed his family and razed the farm.  Rocbul wanted revenge, and these people seemed to be going just where he wanted to go.  Revenge and justice sometimes went hand-in-hand, or so he had heard in his youth.  So he would follow that path now.  Rage flickered within him.  And a dust cloud covered him.    The last companion was a strange-looking Dwarf with a patch over one eye.  His name was Kos Fargost, and he had the appearance of a well-travelled outdoorsman.  Kos was dedicated to preserving the lives of those who could not defend themselves,  especially if they be animal lives.  He was a Ranger by trade, but he also claimed to be a former pirate and skilled sailor.  His very skin seemed to be made of stone.  Beneath his eyepatch was perhaps the secret of the very ocean itself.  Kos was a man of many mysteries, and he was explaining none of them.    Rythannian was eager to be gone, and was reluctant to answer questions.  He gave vague answers to those questions, merely promising treasure and glory to those who followed him.  The way of his words was not inspiring to others.  His intellect told him that others should follow him because it was the best, most intelligent choice, but he did not have the charisma nor the wisdom to persuade others to this choice.  He left the persuasion to others, and planned for the journey ahead.  His secrets he would not give up to anyone, not even Galdar, unless the very Gods deigned to reveal them to all.    Rythannian’s hair blew about him as if he was floating through the air or falling down a deep rift.  But he was not.  It was the Mark of the Mistress of the Winds, Akadi, and Rythannian bore it proudly, stubbornly.        As the party finally agreed to move out and seek Fairhill, a black bird flew away from the windowsill of the inn, returning to its master with its diabolical intelligence.          Very soon, the first battle for the Wizard’s Amulet would begin.</blockquote>

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