This is the official game thread for When The Silence Breaks... Only registered players are to post here. This game will contain violence and coarse language, so discretion is recommended.
Rideygo 30th, 413.
Three months after Starfall.
Lake City Sankirst, Veythor
The first rays of the morning sun, cresting the far eastern horizon, revealed a land readying itself for winter. Plains grasses were yellowing, and most of the trees were bare of their leaves, becoming skeletal for the oncoming cold. Animals were in migration, or collecting enough food to get them through the long months ahead. The citizens of Veythor, too, worked in unity, completing the tail-end of a somewhat hindered harvest and compiling firewood for the winter.

The markets and streets of Sankirst buzzed already, people trying to be the first to purchase the best pieces of warm clothing and imported goods from the recent merchant visits at the wharf. Aside from incoming fishermen out on the icy waters, it would be the final wave of business the harbour district would find itself with until the melting in Mairon.

Aside from the way it had affected the harvest when the sky was blotted out by dust clouds, talk of the starfall had begun to fade out amongst gossip and conversation. Every now and again, somebody would claim that they spotted the warped animals of Dascau roaming their trap lines, or that some Selthani or another had preached the endcoming, but most people simply chose to get on with their everyday lives, and not let it interfere anymore than it had already. It was better for the public well-being, shutting out the thoughts of when the land went dark. Nevertheless, a great number of people had panicked and caught fare out of Veythor on trade ships passing down the Enermine earlier that year.

But for some people, curiosity about that catastrophic incident would seemingly never fade.

The disappearance of intrepid explorer Jauques le Vert was one piece of conversation that still carried popularity about it. Reputed to be the one man to not only cross the great Kei Kessen wall of Rekumaru, but to continue onwards past the World’s Spine, and into The Wastes of Telim Tak, the blasted wasteland to the far, far east, his vanishing wasn’t something that would go unnoticed. When wandering explorers found his shredded journal near the base of the annihilated Dal Aurem mountain, it caught attention with those le Vert primarily kept company with – as well as funded his expeditions. The Zantrical merchant company.

It was common knowledge that le Vert had been key in securing trade routes, finding safe passages among difficult areas in strange lands, and for being among the first to make negotiations with other peoples in the name of business. Such a key component of the Zantrical could not afford to be lost.

Throughout the past month, notices had begun to appear in the shops and alehouses of the great city, offering a chance for fame to those who may never acquire it otherwise. However, due to the criteria listed on the leaflets, they hadn’t gained much popularity except among the most stalwart – or the foolhardy.

"The disappearance of the famed explorer Jauques le Vert has presented an unpleasant obstruction in the name of foreign trade and business, the likes of which, in due time, shall be felt by all peoples of the realm.

It is believed that le Vert still lives, though may be trapped in the frozen northern lands of Dascau amidst the reshaped mountains and ice. The Zantrical is seeking those of steel nerves, strong of arm and wit, and with a thirst for adventure, to travel north in search of le Vert. His return is of the utmost importance, and as such a large reward is being offered.

The one thing all of the peoples of Delmaria have in common is that land grants power and standing in society. A tax-free plot of land is being offered to each head involved in the finding of le Vert. Location is to be otherwise negotiated. A contract for position within the guild itself is likewise offered. In addition, a sum of three hundred Rommels is offered to each who are involved in the search party. A more than generous reward for your troubles.

The owner of this establishment possesses registers which are to be signed and marked with the appropriate information by those parties who shall undertake this task. They are collected nightly to be entered into the Company registry.

May the gods watch and protect your path."
Anybody who knew anything of the powerful merchant guild knew that the deal would indeed be honoured.

And while near every shop and tavern bore these signs upon their walls, most of them lacked anything further than the promise of reward to push people out onto the road in search of glory and a famed explorer. The Burning Treant Tavern, located out in the harbour district alongside the Carheain Lake, had been frequented by a particularly loud tenant the past three days, each day at dawn staking out a place in the common room, and staying until well after midnight, presenting his story each time there was a large turnover in the patrons.

This morning was no different, as that same fur-clad Gano man strode down into the barroom, snagged himself a plate of eggs and sliced beef, and sat down close to the fireplace for warmth. As he polished off his breakfast, he rose up to his tall height of six feet, where all could see him. A number of scars decorated his weathered face, and the signs of not shaving for a few days gave him an especially grizzled look. His eyes were ice blue, and his hair dark brown and wild in appearance. A large wolf mantle garbed his shoulders, and the rest of his clothing was made from deer hides. A large bearded axe hung at his waist, the leather-wrapped haft hanging to just below his knee.

As he spoke to a rather unusual group of patrons this early morning, his thick accent revealed his home to be north, in the frozen land of Dascau.

“My friends. I ask that you listen to me, even if just for a few moments.” As his deep voice rumbled throughout the barroom, all eyes turned on him, included those of the barkeep, Jakkam Gren, a rather rotund fellow who frequently told of past stories of travel and adventure.

“My name is Gunther, of the Eternal Mountain clan. I know of your plight with the missing Jaques le Vert, for he came to me shortly before disappearing. I was there with him when the mountain crumbled, though my courage failed me upon that eve, and I lost him in the gravel storm as I fled.”

Gunther’s eyes flickered at that statement. His appearance surely suggested somebody with more brawn than to flee like that! But then, few people actually claimed to have seen the star obliterate the mighty peak… He quickly regained his composure, and carried on.

“I have been given a second chance to redeem myself for that shameful act. My village’s shaman has had a vision in which le Vert is in danger. He is lost within the ruins of Dal Aurem, and I may regain favour from the ancestors by finding him.

“I cannot do this alone, however, and I seek the aid of a band of those who possess the strength of the bear, and the spirit of the crag lion, to accompany me into the rubble of that great mountain. The future of my village is dependent on this, and I promise a blessing from my shaman in return for assistance. It is the most I can offer.”

At that, the large man returned to his chair by the fire, staring into its lapping flames as the common room slowly returned to its previous state of small conversation and general morning activity. Could it be that this man was a representative of the Zantrical? The timing was pretty good, but he hardly seemed the type to be involved in a trade company. Still, there was a great sincerity in his plea, and although he didn’t seem to be much of an orator, his words still echoed in the minds of those present in the hall.

(OOC: Here we go! Its not the greatest first post, but it shall suffice. Its been a year, for god’s sakes! Anyway. Everybody who has submitted characters to me is present in the room, and has heard Gunther speak, as well as has read the recruiting leaflet at some point. How you act is up to you here. Please be creative with your intros, and feel free to backpost as much as you’d like. Sankirst is huge, so most things can be found with some effort, but any requests can be made through PM. Let’s see how this moves along…)

Liriel shucked her pack and places it between her legs, stepping on one of the shopulder straps, and sat at a table in the corner not far from the fireplace. Her hands and face were cold from a quick wash in a fountain and she tucked her hands under her cloak to warm them. They were half of her ticket to food and a bed.

She went over in her mind the Bill of Fare scrawled with chalk on a piece of slate. She lifted her purse out from under her padding for her chail mail shirt and the clothes she wore over them. It made her look more substantial and less frail, though there had been fools enough to think she was an easy mark anyway. She knew the contents, 8 Rommels, 20 silver pieces and 8 coppers. After breakfast she would have to see the proprietor about singing and playing for bed and board.

Human lands were so strange and inhospitable. Anywhere in an Elven Forest she would have been invited into a home or inn with out her needing to ask, such was the way Bards were treated by Elves. After decades of study, Liriel wanted to set out and gather songs and poems and Epic stories from all the people of the world. It was her secret desire to become a Master Bard of Renown. So it was she wandered out from her forest home to join the foot-traffic of the road, stopping at villages and towns to learn as much as she could, playing for her bed and board, and then moving on.

So it was that she had entered the city this morning at dawn, having come too late in the evening and had found the gates closed, as did a few others who huddled together in a small camp to wait till morning when the gates opened at dawn. Playing for the stragglers got her dinner of rabbit stew and cheese and hard bread. This morning she would have to be frugal, until she could find a position. She waved to a passing serving wench and made her order, 2 hard-boiled eggs, 3 sausages, and a copper-loaf of bread and a pint of mead.

At that moment a big Gano rose up to his tall height of six feet, where all could see him. A number of scars decorated his weathered face, and the signs of not shaving for a few days gave him an especially grizzled look. His eyes were ice blue, and his hair dark brown and wild in appearance. A large wolf mantle garbed his shoulders, and the rest of his clothing was made from deer hides. A large bearded axe hung at his waist, the leather-wrapped haft hanging to just below his knee.

As he spoke to a rather unusual group of patrons this early morning, his thick accent revealed his home to be north, in the frozen land of Dascau.

“My friends. I ask that you listen to me, even if just for a few moments.” As his deep voice rumbled throughout the barroom, all eyes turned on him, included those of the barkeep, Jakkam Gren, a rather rotund fellow who frequently told of past stories of travel and adventure.

“My name is Gunther, of the Eternal Mountain clan. I know of your plight with the missing Jaques le Vert, for he came to me shortly before disappearing. I was there with him when the mountain crumbled, though my courage failed me upon that eve, and I lost him in the gravel storm as I fled.”

Gunther’s eyes flickered at that statement. His appearance surely suggested somebody with more brawn than to flee like that! But then, few people actually claimed to have seen the star obliterate the mighty peak… He quickly regained his composure, and carried on.

“I have been given a second chance to redeem myself for that shameful act. My village’s shaman has had a vision in which le Vert is in danger. He is lost within the ruins of Dal Aurem, and I may regain favour from the ancestors by finding him.

“I cannot do this alone, however, and I seek the aid of a band of those who possess the strength of the bear, and the spirit of the crag lion, to accompany me into the rubble of that great mountain. The future of my village is dependent on this, and I promise a blessing from my shaman in return for assistance. It is the most I can offer.”
Now that would be a tale worth experiencing, thought Liriel, and then remembered the notices she had come across posted all over the town, such a journey to find and recues such a noted man would indeed bring fame to her name.

“Tell me, man of the North,” Lirel stood to be seen, though she only came up to the top of his chest. “Is this quest of yours related to what is posted on the notices about this town.” If it was it would be a perfect chance to further her profession and gain some needed funds. Her pack had become heavier as she had picked things up in her travels, a pack animal, even a riding horse would be indispensible to her, raising her above those of the bardic muse who traveled on foot.

Fair of skin, Liriel had the youthful, ageless face of Elvenkind. Sticking up from under a knitted cap was a braid of coppery-red hair. Her eyes were emerald green, though as she moved there seemed to be flashes of gold coming from them. Her clothes, meant for cold weather were of 2 shades of gray. A bowcase was resting against her table, there was a sword at her side, two daggers one on each side of her hips, and that did not count the ones hidden in her boots. Across her chest was a wide gray roughout leather bandoleer with 5 square pouches lined up from shoulder to hip.

Moto was a typical-looking Duskan, right down to his choice of clothing colors. His brown hair, skin, and eyes complimented the deep-green-dyed leather backing the scales on his armor. The earth-brown cloak he wore had an extraordinarily voluminous hood. Likewise, the haft of his dwarven waraxe was wrapped in alternating brown and deep-green dyed leather wrapping also. Etched into both sides of the head of he waraxe was the symbol of the Three Thirds of Atlam's Angle, an equilateral triangle divided into three smaller triangles. The design was rough, as if etched or scratched into the metal by hand.

Moto had actually intended to stay cloistered at the Temple of the Mighty One for quite a while longer, but was encouraged by the more experienced priests to fill out his knowledge of the world and its people. He was informed that this could only be done by "coq'nef tainn", or "the walkabout". When it was determined that Moto still had no inclination to do as suggested, he was forced into it by the claim that is was the will of Atlam, as told to to all the members of the High Triumvirate. This was not something that Moto could sidestep any longer. He did as he was bid and left, still confused and uncertain at so what it was, specifically, he was supposed to do. The Lesser Mights only told him that he knew what he needed to know, and would learn what he was supposed to learn.

As if drawn, so has he come to Veythor, to Carheain Lake and the lake-front city of Sankirst, to The Burning Treant Tavern, to find -- he knew not what. Only Atlam the Mightone knew what was in store for the stocky Motolov Cogsnail ...

Just as he was entering the place, a tall man stood. A man with skin and hair nearly as dark as Moto's own, wearing skins incolors similar to Moto's own garb, and bearing an axe, as well! This man was more than a chance meeting for Moto. He was THE meeting he was sent to find, the one which he was meant to learn from, as told to him by the Mights of the Temple! He wondered when he himself would develop this ability because, currently, the "how" of it was beyond his understanding Moto moved to find a seat at a table as the man spoke, leaning his axe against his chair and shrugging off his knapsack to place it on the floor, under the table and resting against his leg.

When the man spoke, the voice was similar to the voice of Moto's grandfather when he was in the throes of the "storyteller's muse". By Atlam's Blade! The man was a walking "pillar of portents", he was! And the noticeable accent showed him to be from a home even farther north than Moto's clanhome was. At least that much was different.

His request for even a small amount of attention was wasted on Moto, for the Duskan was already enthralled and entranced by the potential for knowledge the man had already presented to him.

The big man introduced himself as Gunther, of the Eternal Mountain Clan. Moto had only a passing knowledge of the clan, less than most, he imagined. But of Jaques leVert, Moto had knowledge. Not any more than anyone else, but more knowledge of leVert than of Gunther's clan. That leVert was present at "star-fall" was something that Moto envied. To see a star fall from the Heavens! Such a sight devoutly to be wished by many a worshipper -- layman, acolyte, clergy, or priest. But it seemed to have cost leVert dearly, for now he was lost. And the big man blamed himself? For failed courage? What courage wouldn't be shaken by the fall of a Heavenly Object?

Gunther continued speaking, mentioning a second chance at redemption for himself, and a vision of leVert in danger in -- in? -- the ruined peak of Dal Aurem. His offer of a blessing from his village shaman was of more worth to Moto than the wealth offered by the leaflets he had seen. Although the money could be useful in procuring a few needed items. His current purse of 9 silver and 3 copper coins might get him a meal, of sorts, but he had no high expectations of sleeping anywhere but the stable tonight.

After Gunther sat, a reddish-haired woman with green eyes asked a question, which Gunther answered quickly and with little or no elaboration. When he finished, and before he could sit down again, Moto stood, cleared his throat, and spoke, his deep, "rounded" voice carrying easily over the mild din of the other patrons.

"I, for one, know the value of gifts and favours from ancestors and and ancestral gifts. I also know the difference between the two. Given any chance to redeem onself in the eyes of the ancestors is an oportunity not to be taken lightly. For one as short-lived as your yourself and your kind, Gunther, to recognize that is both interesting and impressive. I, Motolov Cogsnail, will pledge myself, and my axe -- both servants of Atlam the Mighty one -- to your cause. There was mention of registry, signing marks, and information? Are you the person to whom I speak to provide these things?

The Burning Treant Tavern, located out in the harbor district alongside the Carheain Lake, had been frequented by a particularly loud tenant the past three days, each day at dawn staking out a place in the common room, and staying until well after midnight, presenting his story each time there was a large turnover in the patrons.

Arianna entered the common room from down the stairs that led to the room she had shared with another traveler last night. She was ready for breakfast and some quiet time to decided what she was going to do next, The roughly dress Northern barbarian, who reminded her more of a grizzle bear than a man, just finished his speech, yet again. She had entered this inn late yesterday and had heard him repeat the same tale several times that night. Arianna had read the notice he was referring to at another shop where she stopped but moved on from not liking the prices. She believed he was sincere but she was not very interested in the quest he was seeking companions for. She turned away to place an order when she hear another voice with a familiar accent to the common tongue speak out in the common room.

“Tell me, man of the North, is this quest of yours related to what is posted on the notices about this town,”came the Dur’mani accented voice in common.

Arianna turned to locate where the voice was coming from. There she was a slender figure, unmistakably Dur’mami in shades of gray, who stood up to address the great bear of a man. Her hair was a striking red-gold while, Arianna’s was of deepest auburn with golden highlights and she wore shades of green to honor her goddess Candri. While Arianna was not a cleric, she still wore Candri’s holy symbol of a full-grown elm tree on a neck cord, Arianna had carved it herself with loving detain out of a branch of elm that had been snapped off in a windstorm. Pale skinned like most elves in that they were similar. Except Arianna’s creamy complexion was tanned by all the time she spent out in the open under the sun.

Arianna was good at noticing things, it was vital to her chosen path, and whether in field or forest or in cities her alertness to small details was crucial. Despite the sword at the woman’s side and the bow and quiver, Arianna did not believe she was a fighter, not with that musical instrument case and the cut of her clothes and her very pale skin. The woman’s skin was not that of a warrior or ranger that lived and worked out of doors a lot. Arianna also noticed how she spoke with her hands and body, a bard of some sort Arianna thought, certainly more bard than fighter.

Another added his voice in respinse to Gunther’s plea.

"I, for one, know the value of gifts and favours from ancestors and and ancestral gifts. I also know the difference between the two. Given any chance to redeem onself in the eyes of the ancestors is an opportunity not to be taken lightly. For one as short-lived as your yourself and your kind, Gunther, to recognize that is both interesting and impressive. I, Motolov Cogsnail, will pledge myself, and my axe -- both servants of Atlam the Mighty one -- to your cause. There was mention of registry, signing marks, and information? Are you the person to whom I speak to provide these things?

Well now Gunther had one companion who had sworn himself to the quest he sought to undertake, The Dwarf was built by nature to do such things as adventuring out in forbidding areas. Arianna hoped that the elven woman would not join up for her own sake.

The morning mists still swirled around Reuban’s feet as he made his way through the streets of Sankirst while the first rays of the sun gently washed his face in a caress of warmth to chase away the evening chill. Winter was fast approaching, which meant much would need to be done before the frost and snow set in. Reuban Vexille, child of Liris, sword of righteousness and shield to the weak; made his way down the paved and cobblestone streets towards the marketplace for some last minute supplies. He had been charged with the vested interests of the church, and to bring a northward pointing moral compass to the expedition of finding the thought lost or endangered Jauques le Vert. Reuban found something comforting of taking these early morning walks. There was symbolism in the new dawn chasing away the darkness of night, the rising of the sun bring light and opportunity to the world, and often chasing away all those things that go bump in the night back to their holes and hide-a-ways. As Rueban approached a local vendor, a blacksmith by trade, his medium blue eyes gazed over the wares provided. Swords, shields, and suits of armor fashioned the walls of the shop, and the cases and racks lining the floor.

“Good morrow and wet met Brathis” Reuban said as the smithy stoked his furnace for another days work. In a city with the wealth and size of Sankirst, Brathis’shop was far from the largest, or finest quality, his raising of a family of three stout sons and a beautiful little girl prevented him the finances to expand or hire extra help. It was for those same reasons however that Reuban preferred to keep what aid he could amongst the small businesses. Members of guilds and conglomerates could take care of their own, money ran like the wine in their gem encrusted goblets, but it was the little people as it were that made the backbone of any civilization.

Brathis looked up, his face clear the only time it would be today, for soon smoke, ash and soot would blacken his tanned complexion from view.

“Good Morrow to you as well Master Vexille. Come for a sharpening of yer blade, or perhaps something else?”

Reuban ran his fingers over the riveted steel of a suit of leather hanging on a dummy, and turned to Brathis, with a smile. “Aye, but not from you today good Brathis. Duty takes me far I find, and I’ll not the luxury of your company, or skill for some time. In your stead however, I will take the knowledge and hours shared in your fine smithy, as well as a few supplies.”

Atharam hefted a large steel shield from a rack, emblazoned with raised rivets of light, spanning from the point to the wider crest of the kite shield. “A shield to protect myself and those around me...” And he walked over to a weapons display and testing the weight of a couple blades, chose a longsword bearing Brathis’ branding upon the blade just above the simple crossguard. “... a blade to dispatch those who would not so readily accept the mercy of the Goddess.”

Brathis nodded his head, and pulled out a small satchel. “Then ye’ll be needing a stone and oils to keep them pristine out in the field. They say a swords only as good as the one who wields it, but I be saying the warrior’s only as strong as the blade in its grasp.” With a toss, Reuban soon found his arms full as he slung the shield over his pack and the blade into a sheath affixed to his belt. “I do wish I could get out for a spell, see more of the world and adventure,” Brathis said. “But my place is here, perhaps my sons will have that liberty.” Reuban smiled and nodded. Placing the appropriate coins upon the counter, and an additional Rommel out of courtesy. Thirty six rommels down, and Reuban was by far a rich man. Perhaps it was his lack of finery that allowed him to interact on a level of compassion and understanding with the common folk, despite his noble standing. He had been offered much finer equipment from his father when he joined, like him the knightly order, but kindly denied, professing all he needed Liris would provide. And she had, for he had his health, his faith, and now, a pair of new items to compliment his mission. With a thanks and a fond farewell, Reuban left Brathis’ smithy, to pick up the remainder of his supplies. A short bow and a quiver of arrows, as well as a package of candles (10), some flint and steel and a couple pieces of chalk would set him back a further 32 rommels, 2 silver and 2 copper, leaving him with 31 rommels, 7 Silver, and 8 coppers. He would hold onto them for now.

Reuban looked at the sun as it rose in the distance, he had a breakfast appointment with a marshal down in the harbor. And thus would his normal routine lead him to a most unusual twist of fate. As Reuban pushed open the wooden door to the The Burning Treant Tavern, the paladin found all eyes and ears given to the large Gano in the corner.

As he spoke to a rather unusual group of patrons this early morning, his thick accent revealed his home to be north, in the frozen land of Dascau.

“My friends. I ask that you listen to me, even if just for a few moments.” As his deep voice rumbled throughout the barroom, all eyes turned on him, included those of the barkeep, Jakkam Gren, a rather rotund fellow who frequently told of past stories of travel and adventure.

“My name is Gunther, of the Eternal Mountain clan. I know of your plight with the missing Jaques le Vert, for he came to me shortly before disappearing. I was there with him when the mountain crumbled, though my courage failed me upon that eve, and I lost him in the gravel storm as I fled.”

Gunther’s eyes flickered at that statement. His appearance surely suggested somebody with more brawn than to flee like that! But then, few people actually claimed to have seen the star obliterate the mighty peak… He quickly regained his composure, and carried on.

“I have been given a second chance to redeem myself for that shameful act. My village’s shaman has had a vision in which le Vert is in danger. He is lost within the ruins of Dal Aurem, and I may regain favour from the ancestors by finding him.

“I cannot do this alone, however, and I seek the aid of a band of those who possess the strength of the bear, and the spirit of the crag lion, to accompany me into the rubble of that great mountain. The future of my village is dependent on this, and I promise a blessing from my shaman in return for assistance. It is the most I can offer.”
At that, the large man returned to his chair by the fire, staring into its lapping flames as the common room slowly returned to its previous state of small conversation and general morning activity. Could it be that this man was a representative of the Zantrical? The timing was pretty good, but he hardly seemed the type to be involved in a trade company. Still, there was a great sincerity in his plea, and although he didn’t seem to be much of an orator, his words still echoed in the minds of those present in the hall.
A trio of patrons had pledged their allegiance to Gunther’s cause, and Reuban felt a familiar swelling in his chest. It was that feeling he got whenever he felt like he might make a difference. He looked around, realizing his breakfast meeting was nowhere to be found, and silently thanked Liris for her subtle guiding hand. Not only did this man seek to reclaim his honor, but the task would fall in the guidelines of the church’s instructions for him.

Reuban stepped forward and slung his pack atop the nearest barstool, the heavy shield clanging against the wooden bar-top. “A man’s honor is more valuable than their weapon or armor, for such a sense of honor strengthens the heart beneath the steel, and the mind behind the blade. It is a dutiful, and courageous thing to wish to recover something so valuable lost. And shows even more character to admit that in your fault where you have erred, to ask for the help of others.”

Reuban approached the man, his right arm swiping the yellow and white cloak of his religion behind him and extending an arm out in respect and as a brother in arms. “I am Reuban Vexille, knight of Veythor, child of Liris, and I am the prime example of one who blessed with a second chance, the mercy of others have risen from the ashes to shine anew as a symbol to the masses. You have the strength of my arm and the might of my faith to see your honor returned friend, and with it Liris willing, le Vert as well.”

Standing there in his gleaming white breastplate and yellow cloak, Reuban stood out in the darkened tavern like the rays of the sun which breached the spaces In the boards or filtered in through the window. Here and now he shone, in the face of the populous, and he would continue to shine through the difficult journey ahead, until all we seen home in victory.

Arianna looked around at those who had pledged themselves to Gunther's quest. A cleric, a fighter and the barbarian himself. Not one of them as familiar with the wilds as she was at one with the natural world. She had come this way to make a name for herself This might just be the start she needed. IT was certainly better than sitting around here waiting.

Arianna stands quietly and moves silently forward from where she was sitting near the hearth. Her dark green cloak elegantly trimmed with embroidered vines and leaves at the hem and front edges. Her hood was still up but she drops it when she spoke. Her features are pure elven though her coloring is rather vibrant from one of her kind. Her hair is a rich dark auburn, and dark very reddish brown. By contrast her skin is very pale like fine cream. Most striking is her great lavender almond shaped eyes with fine auburn brows arch high as is typical for her kind.

In contrast to the to barbarian Gunther she seems more like a child. short, a little under five feet and slender in comparison, except if one is observant her face though ageless in not that of a youth's. There is a keen awareness of herself and her surroundings. and a sureness in her movements. The grace of her races is clearly evident in her movements.

"I am Arianna Evensong, an Elven Ranger. I too would join you in your quest. I know the forest and wilds, and the flora and fauna. My skills can help you pass through the wild lands easier." Arianna's Common is lightly accented slightly and has a lilting song like quality.

Easier on the members of the quest and on the lands and animals as well is what Arianna thought but did not say. Her ways were not their ways.

Still standing Liriel listened as others offered their services. The dwarf was a tough fighter type and as he stated, a cleric. The Human was either a cleric or possibly a Paladin, he would be a great asset, and so to would the Elven woman who offered her services to act as their scout.

To go along on such an adventure could bring her fame and maybe some fortune, but the difficulty would come from not being strong in any one field. She was well practiced with bow and longsword, daggers and Lun's stars. She had some minor magics both divine and arcane and as a trained Bard she had special abilities that could be of great use. That was about all, not much to offer the group, except that she was a good cook.

"I, Lirel,” she does not use her whole name, even Liriel was not her true name but she did not dare use her name openly for many reasons, leaving a trail for her family to follow to find her was her main concern, “offer my services to this endeavor. What weapons you see on me I can use. I speak a number of languages and a have strong background in history. I can also act as a chronicler and a cook.”

It was not an oratory, but then a long speech about herself was not her way and it would have sounded strange to do so only to be turned down. She had seen that Ranger looking at her when she had first spoken. It did not take much to understand that the Ranger did not consider her to be a candidate for this endeavor. Liriel kept it short and simple without her usual waxing words and flowery dissertations.

Rideygo 30th, 413.
Three months after Starfall.
Lake City Sankirst, Veythor
The introduction of four personalities in quick succession caused Gunther to rise from his seat again, and survey them. Two Dur’amani, a Duskarn, and a Syln, from a variety of professions. Diverse as they were, they were the first to answer his plea, and thus, he smiled, and stepped forward.

“I deeply appreciate this, more than you know. With your help, balance can be returned to my clan.” His deep voice was shot-through with sincerity.

To Liriel, whom had first addressed him, he nodded. “This is one-and-the-same, although my plight is somewhat different. The end objective is the same, indeed, but while the Zantrical seeks him for profit, I see him for redemption for myself, and thus, for my people. As for registry,” He continued on, this time to Moto, the Duskarn who devoutly pledged himself from across the room.

“That’s done over ‘ere.” Jakkam Gren, the owner of the establishment, spoke up from the bar. He’d already presented an empty register, which was endorsed by some agent or another, and complete with lines for personal signatures, pledging one’s dedication to this cause, and putting them in position for reward. “Wish I could join you folks, but somebody’s got to stay and watch the Treant, eh? Haha!” His cheer and bravado were inspirational, and the elf and dwarf moved over to sign it.

Next, a shadowy figure dressed garbed in a cloak with a vine and leaf motif approached the Gano at the same time the big knight bearing the symbol of Liris spoke up, announcing his desire to help Gunther regain his lost honour. Hood dropping, the slender figure revealed her face, and spoke of her talent in the wilds. Such a skill, he knew, would be especially useful where they were going, and he surged forward, causing her to flinch at first until she realized he simply wished to clasp her hand. Releasing, he moved on to Reuban, then to Moto and Liriel.

“I thank you, my friends.”

All four signed the register, marking their names in the grab for fame and wealth that the Zantrical promised them. Jakkan took the list back, scanning it before looking up, an eyebrow raised upon his pudgy face. “Not signing?” The question was directed at Gunther, who shook his head.

“My home is not here. I have no use for a plot of land in Veythor.”

“Could give it to me! I could use a place to retire with the missus when the time comes.” Jakkan laughed again, and this caused the tribesman to laugh, and took up inkpen to sign his name, Gunther Artann.

Turning around, he faced his new companions, towering over all but Reuban, the radiant knight. “We will leave as soon as possible, following the Old Kerrn Road North until we enter the Icereach. From there… I will lead us into Dascau.”

Nobody protested, as it was his home they would be entering, and none of them had ever been that far north before. Besides, it seemed direct, and a fast journey would be ideal to shorten their time spent in the cold. As it was, the winter was fast approaching.

“The Elders provided me with a small amount of money with which to procure supplies for the return trip. I shall go and do so, and I would encourage you all to do likewise. It’s a long road ahead of us, and its not going to get any more pleasant than it is here.” Gunther scratched his beard and shifted his heavy shoulders beneath his furs. “I cannot deny, Veythor is a beautiful land…”

Nodding towards the door, Gunther thanked Jakkan for his hospitality and patience, and quickly handed over a fistful of coins. It didn’t seem he’d bothered to count, but the pleased look from the barkeep suggested that he’d been overpayed. The Gano then led the group outside, where the brisk morning air bit exposed skin with a minute tinge before becoming accustomed to it. “In one hour, I would like to meet at the Northern Gate. Please be prepared, since we’ll be sleeping in the rough for much of this, and conditions are going to be harsh. Though…” Looking straight at Arianna, he winked. “Maybe you could help gear them up?” With a booming laugh that echoed in their minds, the burly fellow rushed off down the cobbled streets, away from the harbour district and towards the market.

The threads of fate had pulled these four together in an unforeseen way. Two elves, a dwarf, and two humans, seeking to locate the lost explorer deep within the shattered mountains of the north, and to bring good fortune to a dishonoured tribesman. Four souls drawn by destiny, it seemed, to that one cozy little tavern on the waterfront of the Lake City. Four personalities, seeking wealth, fame, lore, enlightenment, understanding, and…redemption.

Liriel listen as the big man speaks again. The Gano then led the group outside, where the brisk morning air bit exposed skin with a minute tinge before becoming accustomed to it. “In one hour, I would like to meet at the Northern Gate. Please be prepared, since we’ll be sleeping in the rough for much of this, and conditions are going to be harsh. Though…” Looking straight at Arianna, he winked. “Maybe you could help gear them up?”

“What tof the money offered?” Liriel asks before the man turns to go. “Is that to be paid before we leave. I am not equipped for such a trip and lack the funds to provide myself with need gear, and a riding horse and a mule.” She was not going to walk all the way there and back. As for gear she had very little, she was used to singing for her bed and board, and rarely stayed the night in field and forest.

(Reply)

With a booming laugh that echoed in their minds, the burly fellow rushed off down the cobbled streets, away from the harbour district and towards the market.

She looks to the other of the group, hoping they would help her choose the best equipment for the least price, Eight Rommels was not going to go far.

     " ... I would like to meet at the Northern Gate. Please be prepared, since we’ll be sleeping in the rough for much of this, and conditions are going to be harsh. Though…” Looking straight at Arianna, he winked. “Maybe you could help gear them up?” With a booming laugh that echoed in their minds, the burly fellow rushed off down the cobbled streets, ..."
    Moto shook his head and sighed as he watched the big man dash down the street. Humans were prone to celebrate at the drop of a hat. The man seemed to be extraordinarily happy that he had been able to recruit aid to his cause. In Moto's eyes, he should be more serious about it, for this rescue they were about to attempt was serious business, indeed.

But celebration, in the eye of the celebrant, was a subjective thing. It was not Moto's place to judge. It was his place to defend and fight for a cause, whether his own or one that he assumes in the guise of helping another. Thie he would do, without doubt or qualm.

[[ Waits for reply to Gunther's statement from Arianna ]]

"Madam Arianna, Gunther has given quiet praise for your knowledge, in that he feels you could help us prepare for the task ahead. I respect both the praise and the knowledge, and I mean no disrespect to you or your skills, but I will let Atlam the Mighty guide my hands and feet to make the necessary choices I require. I will meet all of you at the North Gate in an hour."

He heads off in the direction of the Market Street, a jaunty swagger to his step as he shoulders his waraxe, whistling as he went. Whether the ditty he was whistling was sorely out-of-tune or it was just random notes to satisfy Moto's mood was unclear, but gradually it faded with distance ...

Rideygo 30th, 413.
Three months after Starfall.
Lake City Sankirst, Veythor
In response to DM…
Gunther scratched at his beard at the mention of pre-payment by Liriel, and sadly shook his head.

“I’m not an agent of this Zantrical, so I have no control over payment. I don’t expect a guild to yield from their set contract, to prevent people from stealing from them.” He looked over her clothes, and shrugged. “I think your gear will be good enough to get to the Icereach, and maybe a bit farther. We’ll try to get you something along the way…”

Carrying on…
An hour later
Completing their pre-journey shopping as best as their funding allowed, the chosen group assembled at the Northern Gate, just as Gunther had asked. There, they found the fur-clad Gano waiting, a pair of mules nearby, reins in his large fist. Draped over their strong, grey-furred backs were pack-saddles, adorned with saddlebags which seemed to be full of something or another. Some heavy blankets were tied to the top of one, while the other carried a clutter of camping cookware.

Accompanying him was somebody they’d not seen before, a red-haired Gano of smaller stature than Gunther, but certainly a less-weathered look. This one had fair skin, and freckles, something that was uncommon among the rough-looking folk.

“I am glad to see you here, my friends. I trust you are all ready for departure?”

A mumbling of agreement came from them, and Gunther smiled widely. “Then we shall be off.” He nodded towards the other Gano who waited with him. “This is Lorin, he has come with me from my home of Dankirr to seek out assistance. It would seem my search has earned more success, though.” He winked at Lorin, who merely shrugged.


Passing through the gates, the group set forth onto the Old Kerrn Road, which snaked out far to the north to eventually creep through the Icereach. It was the main route to the north of Sankirst, intersecting a few major highways along the way before it plunged into the tundra. Wheel ruts had long-since forged two distinct lanes in the road, though it still remained relatively smooth, the signs of Queen Madrigaia’s careful usage of tax money to ensure things remained in working order.

The sun beating down warmed the travelers, but it was anticipated that tonight would be a cold one. Once the sun began to set, the temperature had dropped rapidly throughout the past month, as was evidenced by the skeletons of trees that they passed, as well as the yellowed plainsgrass, drifting lazily in the breeze. A few other travelers shared the roadway, often tossing a glance at the strange group that marched along; two Gano, a Syln, two Dur’Amani, and a Duskarn, along with a compliment of mules and mounts.

Gunther filled the group in on the current conditions in Dascau, none of whom aside from Lorin had ever been there before. It was cold; always. That place never saw seasonal change in the way most of the rest of the world did. The way he put it was simple; it was always winter to outsiders. When somebody asked about the rumours regarding animals, he was silent momentarily before he replied, confirming it. Indeed, wild animals had often become more hostile since the catastrophe at Dal Aurem. Hunters were more often coming back injured, but were unfortunately sent out more often to deal with roaming wolves and other dangerous animals. Some even went so far as to say that Darm had cursed the land, and that his endless pack had been turned upon mankind!

After the talk about the animals, silence prevailed from Gunther for about an hour or so, until he decided to call a halt to their trek. It was time to break for a light lunch. Some apples and stale bread were passed around while the animals were allowed to munch on some trace amounts of green grass near a roadside hill. With the sun beaming down, it made for a nice breaksite.

“There is a town ahead, just off the road, called Evis Nollan. It is about seven hours away at a steady pace, but we won’t be able to reach it before dark. There, we will find a warm inn at an affordable price. While I am content traveling in the dark, I don’t know about you… Lorin and I are much more suited to the cold that will come with the darkness.” He took a bite of an apple and a pull of water from a leather skin, which he passed around. “If you wish to try to reach Evis Nollan, we’ll go through the first few hours or night. But if shelter is preferred, we’ll make a sheltered campsite when dusk approaches, and set out again in the morning. May I ask who is in favour of each decision?”

A little bit of back post ... When Lorin heard of Gunther's quest as a representative, of sorts, of the Zantrical, he recognized a rare opportunity to learn and at the same time be involved in the rescue of his boyhood hero, Jaques le Vert. Lorin didn't miss the humor in Gunther's face when he asked to be included. He had seen it many times before. He just didn't have the look of the experienced adventurer, not in the least. His bright red hair, pale skin, and freckles made him look more like a student-in-training than the man with accomplished skills that he was. So he ignored the humor and asked again, never losing his seriousness, to be included. He was elated when Gunther hesitated only briefly before allowing a nod of approval and advice on what to gather for the trip he intended to take! He thought again of the knowledge he could gain from a venture such as this! Now that was sometihing of worth to Lorin. And to his Order. To be known as one of those who rescued and returned the famed explorer to the world would certainly be no detriment to the reputation Lorin intended to build for himself.

Lorin had decided to find out, if he could, more about the star-fall. He wondered what could cause an event such as that, and what effects that an event such as that could cause. Most of his close family were followers of St Manquo, and though Lorin was no holy-man in service to the diety, the tenets of that faith had shaped his life and desire for knowledge. Lorin may have been slightly different than most of his clan-brethren, though, in that he had decided to take his thirst for knowledge outside his clanhome and the neighboring towns. This was looked upon with disfavor, but not outright contempt. His Brothers-in-Books were concerned abut losing such a one as Lorin, who had skills in finding knowledge locally that some had missed for years. To take that skill outside the clan was to lose it, maybe briefly, maybe permanently, and they were reluctant to lose it at all. But it was the way of the clan, and of the Brotherhood, to gather knowledge and disseminate it, so it would not be lost. Lorin's desire to find something elsewhere was to be allowed, albeit with trepidation.

Lorin had to first speak to Three Bear Silent Ash, the tribe shaman, to get released from his duties as an understudy for the holy man. There, he ran into more reluctance than he had expected, but the man, begrudgingly, did finally release Lorin to accompany Gunther, with the promise from Lorin to return, whole and in good health, to his place.

For Lorin, it was all about finding out more about his world. Learning knowledge that he could take back to his clan. Knowledge that some of his kinsmen and -women may or may not have. And leVert, his boyhood hero, missing? Possibly as a result of the event that so interested Lorin? Too much the coincidence, in Lorin's eyes! Losing such a person as the famed explorer was a loss for the world, for the name "Jaques le Vert" was known by nearly everyone who had ears and eyes. Le Vert had even stopped in Lorin's village once, when Lorin was just a wee lad. When he was reported to be in the village, a crowd quickly gathered in the village square to hear le Vert regale them with stories of his travels. Lorin had no doubt that le Vert ate well that night, for each and every person in the whole village would have fed him a hearty meal and drinks for the news he had brought of the world.

As was customary, conversation was sparse and sporadic on the trip to Veythor and their final destination of Sankirst. It usually consisted of observances of weather, animals, talk of food and instructions from Gunther on cooking over an open fire in the out-of-doors, something which Lorin had never before done, but enjoyed eating immensely! The fresh air gave any preparation a decidedly different, fresher, more pleasing taste. As the pair neared Sankirst, Gunther asked Lorin if he would aid him in recruiting others, as extension and an aid to his cause. Lorin accepted it as a challenge and set to memory the details that Gunther gave him concerning the Zantrical contract. In Lorin's presence, Gunther had mentioned once -- only once -- his desire to regain the favor of the elders and ancestors through this quest, but no more detail than that. And Lorin respected the man's personal "space" enough to leave the curious reference alone.

---

On the road (again) ... When Lorin approached the north gate with Gunther and the mules, he saw a Syln, a Duskarn, and two elves waiting as if for stragglers. The other syln that was with the group was a warrior clad in metal armor of such a type that Lorin winced at the mere thought of the weight the man carried. A holy man, no doubt, for his symbol of faith was prominently displayed and proudly worn. There was a Dur'amani female dressed for wildland travel, and armed accordingly. Lorin guessed she might be a protector of those wildlands. There was another female whose racial name escaped Lorin at the moment. She seemed to have the looks and manner of of an antertainer, but carried a blade and bow, so she was obviously a person of various talents. The dark-and-dour Duskan was armored and axe-armed as well, but his symbol was one that Lorin recognized as that of Atlam, a diety worshiped by a clan currently at war with his own. But this one was not Gano, so there was no threat from him because of his faith. Lorin knew of the sturdiness and hardiness of the Duskans, a matter of pride among some of them. Overall it seemed a goodly mix of skills.

Lorin himself was a little under six feet tall and very slender. His shoulder-length, bright red hair contrasted sharply with the dull dark brown of his leathers and the dark grey of his woolen cloak and cap. From those dark colors, his complexion was also in extreme contrast, for the fair skin and noticeable field of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks made him look more like a mere boy, with not near enough years to be on a quest such as this one. He carried a quarterstaff which, at first sight of him, seemed to be a mere walking stick. As he approached the group, the staff could be seen to have marks of combat against a bladed weapon of some sort, for there were cuts and gouges along it's length.

Lorin was unable to recruit a single person to aid in Gunther's quest, hence the reference at the gate. Lorin accepted the mention as he accepted his failure to gather others as his friend had; it was a reference to a lesson learned, nothing more.

Gunthers comment about "always winter to outsiders" elicited a smile and a short of barely-contained laughter from Lorin. In truth, though, the seasons in Dascau were simply varying degrees of cold. For those who lived their lives there, it was just that -- life. Gunther's mention animals to be encountered in Dascau was of interest to Lorin, so Lorin would softly repeat every word the big man spoke, as if mimicking the man. It was the way Lorin had of committing the spoken word to memory when he could not write it down, as preferred. His mention of the Darm, Howling Master, caused Lorin to nod, even as he softly repeated Gunther's words.

After Gunther's descriptions, a little more than an hour of silent travel ensued, then a halt was called to rest, refresh and eat. Of necessity, and because the stop was meant to be brief, it was a "cold" camp with no fire, so only fruit, bread, and water were the fare. What warmth the sun was able to provide made the stop that much more pleasant. Lorin deigned to speak after a short silence. As he apoke, he bent his arms at the elbows with palms upward for all to view. Tattooed on the palm of each hand is the symbol of the open Libram of Saint Manquo, the Eternal Librarian.

"No warrior, I, nor protector of faith or land or creatures. I am however a keeper of faith, in a way, as a follower of Saint Manquo. I am a seeker of knowledge that has some small skill in the Divining Arts of Magic. I have offered those skills, as well as a few others to this cause, for the loss of Jaques le Vert is a loss for all of the world. He is a hero of mine for his accomplishments, and I will do what I can to help restore him to the world."

Not long after that, as they sat and mused or chatted, Gunther made mention of a town ahead, Evis Nollan. They would not make it before nightfall, and Gunther asked the group if they would rather strike for the town and ride part of the way in the cold dark for a sheltered rest, or if they would prefer to make a sheltered campsite when the sun went down, before reaching the town.

Here, Lorin spoke aloud for the first time other than his "repetitious speaking". "I, for one would favor a warm bed in town. As Gunther mentioned, as a Gano, I am used to the cold. But a warm bed is always preferable to me, when a choice can be made."

Lorin subsides calmly, but with an almost embarrassed look on his face.

Moto traveled in silence from the gate onward, anwering queries to him as briefly as possible so as to save his breath. His intent was to keep up with the others, but was finding it difficult to do so. Until he physically flagged and keeping up became impossible, he would say nothing to the others -- yet. As it was, he got the impression that they were not moving as fast as they could be, for which he was grateful.

His relief when a halt was called was obvious, but there was still no complaint. He actually became more talkative during the passing of fruit, bread, and water, as if the "breaking of bread" was a ritual of acceptance.

At Lorin's announcement of his reason for inclusion in the group, Moto looked from him to Gunther, snorting a laugh. Immediately contrite, he apologized. "My sincerest apologies for that lack of tact! I meant no offense or disrespect to you, Lorin, or to Gunther. My looking at the two of you and your quite different appearances puts to rest the long-held belief of my kind that all of your kind, Syln or Gano, look alike. At least it does in my mind. Oh, if only my father could see you two side by side!"

"As to a warm bed in town or the cold here, I prefer out here. I have found the vast majority of beds made by humans to be uncomfortably narrow for one of my stout, stable stature. I see no reason to believe the next town will have beds that are any more fitting for my frame. But then again, I could always sleep on the floor. No different than on the ground, and a good bit warmer, at that. But, nooooo, I think out here will be fine for me. But I do not speak for the majority, only myself. I will abide by the majority vote without prejudice."

Before leaving the city Arianna shared what she had with Liriel so that she could get proper clothes and winter blanket to protect her from the cold. She made several suggestions to the others gathering for this mission about how to layer their clothes, to waterproof her boots with mink oil and wax melted over the seams, and too made a poncho-like garment of oiled canvas to shed water and wet snow that could serve line a tent or ground cover as needed.

Arianna Even song moved along with the others but her chosen path took her out and about checking around. With the forest already showing the effects of winter many animals had left for warmer climes. others sought hibernation as a way to pass the coldest of the winter months, though there were wnough that continued their busy lives finding food, and shelter even in these coldest of months.

THE journey's pace ws not quick so she had time to look into things. SHe hunted what she could to help with provisions.

When Gunther mention the town ahead and how they could push on for it in the dark., she said nothing because whether they moved on ot stopped really didn't matter to her. But since they were all getting use to each other she thought it only courteous to tell them at least that much.

"It doesn't matter to me, I am not tired and I see well in the dark, but it really depends on the others who are not so use to traveling long and hard." She looks especially at Liriel, who by her own admission was use to sleeping in beds in inn, "The worst thing when it is cold is to get overtired. It depletes the body resources faster and makes one more susceptible to the cold.

"So whoever is tired and needs to stop you need to let the others know this."

Liriel finished eating a meal and drinking a hot mulled cider, then she went out with Araianne to get the needed supplies and to find a proper journal book to keep records of their travels and maps as needed. She went with the Ranger at the appointed time to meet the others

“I am glad to see you here, my friends. I trust you are all ready for departure?”

A mumbling of agreement came from them, and Gunther smiled widely. “Then we shall be off.” He nodded towards the other Gano who waited with him. “This is Lorin, he has come with me from my home of Dankirr to seek out assistance. It would seem my search has earned more success, though.” He winked at Lorin, who merely shrugged.
Liriel took the time to jot a list of those who were heading out on the quest, and when they finally departed and from where.

Passing through the gates, the group set forth onto the Old Kerrn Road, which snaked out far to the north to eventually creep through the Icereach. It was the main route to the north of Sankirst, intersecting a few major highways along the way before it plunged into the tundra. Wheel ruts had long-since forged two distinct lanes in the road, though itstill remained relatively smooth, the signs of Queen Madrigaia’s careful usage of tax money to ensure things remained in working order.

A few other travelers shared the roadway, often tossing a glance at the strange group that marched along; two Gano, a Syln, two Dur’Amani, and a Duskarn, along with a compliment of mules and mounts. ...

Throughout the trek that morning, Liriel would ask Gunther about certain landmarks they passed and the direction they were going. Partway into the morning she began to sing as she walked. It was a very simple melody and words, but after singing it in Elven as it was written, she started to translate it to Common.

Sing with me, I’ll sing with you,
And so we will sing together,
So we will sing together,
So we will sing together.
Sing with me, I’ll sing with you,
And so we will sing together
As we walk along.

We are walking to cold Dascau,
Cold Dascau,
Cold Dascau,
We are walking to cold Dascau,
Cold Dascau, today.


“There is a town ahead, just off the road, called Evis Nollan. It is about seven hours away at a steady pace, but we won’t be able to reach it before dark. There, we will find a warm inn at an affordable price. While I am content traveling in the dark, I don’t know about you… Lorin and I are much more suited to the cold that will come with the darkness.” He took a bite of an apple and a pull of water from a leather skin, which he passed around. “If you wish to try to reach Evis Nollan, we’ll go through the first few hours of night. But if shelter is preferred, we’ll make a sheltered campsite when dusk approaches, and set out again in the morning. May I ask who is in favour of each decision?”
“I, for one, prefer a bed,” Liriel says honestly, not that she had to have it, but with the offer made she wanted to voice her opinion.

She never expected it to be an easy trip, and knew that soon they would be beyond civilized lands. The thought was daunting, but she would not turn aside from the endeavor once she had promised to join the group.