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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mythmere" data-source="post: 433430" data-attributes="member: 7995">The Adventure BeginsTwilight darkened the clouds over the Mistral Verge as the second day of the Febtain Moon drifted toward the third day, via interceding night.  Four travelers were abroad in the rugged hills, each for his own reasons.  Millathos Faimaine, a halfling bred of the cities far from the Verge, made his way painfully through the thistles and gorse, looking for a suitable place to make camp.  He glared up at the crest of the hill before him, and muttered to himself, “It may be a steep climb, but mayhap I can spot a road or a village from the hill’s crown.”  He continued laboriously up the north face of the hill.    Jarsan Hallaser, doughty cleric of Dagnos, hummed as he worked his way up the south face of the same hill, confident that Great Dagnos would eventually provide a tavern and a foaming tankard of ale.    On the west face of the hill, Xes Caradtor paused warily, leaning on his quarterstaff to listen.  Someone nearby was whistling, and the wind carried the sound.  Xes took a moment to slip a leather hood over the head of the hawk sitting regally on his shoulder, in case the bird should cry out, then increased his speed to the top of the hill, stepping from one rock easily to the next, leaving virtually no trace of his passage.    On the east face of the hill, a yellow pony named Britengriseling, reins slack in the hands of a sleeping gnome, wandered up the hill, scenting barley or hops somewhere toward the south face of the hill.  Britengriseling may not have seemed much to the eye, but he was a pony descended not merely from the strong shaggy ponies of the Moonfallows, but on his grandsire’s grandsire’s grandsire’s side from a warhorse (a tribute to the industry of his grandsire’s grandsire’s grandsire, and to the mountain ponies of the Moonfallows generally).  Hence, as four people, one pony and a hawk stepped simultaneously into each others’ view (again, with the exception of the hawk), only Xes and the pony Britengriseling expected anything of the kind to happen, and Britengriseling was the least surprised.  Britengriseling’s soft chuffing awakened the gnome Froedrich just before cresting the hill, and with the reflexes of the barbarian, Froedrich’s eyes were bright and alert as the unusual group stepped into view.    Perhaps the strangest thing, however, was not the simultaneous appearance of the four travelers, for a fifth person already stood upon the crest of the hill.  A campfire has been laid but not lit, a frying pan sits next to the woodpile, and a man with a broad, open face is looking glumly up into the branches of one of the few trees on the hilltop.  In the topmost branches of the tree, there is a dead stag.  There is also a grappling hook badly snagged in the branches near the buck.OOC: You may (and perhaps should, if you can work it in) include a physical description of your character in your description of your response.  For reference, I am including a map of the Mistral Verge with this post.Considerable campaign information, including world maps, pantheons, and country descriptions are located at <a href="http://mythmere.tripod.com/index.html" target="_blank">http://mythmere.tripod.com/index.html</a></blockquote>

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