Trepus, the jewel of Runewen, the house of the throne. Although the throne has been in the hands of its rightful rulers for almost 2 generations now, there are still signs of damage from the war that scar the city. Crumbled buildings, once paved roads now nothing more then dirt paths. Yet the city still manages to look as beautiful as ever.

Many come to Trepus, whether to seek new fortune, find a better lot in life, or to take on a life of adventure, many flock to the city. Due to this the market place and the Inns are constantly bustling, and the guard ranks swell to keep up with the population. Day in and day out people flood in to and out of the city. Some get lucky and find what they're looking for, others simply move on to less crowded pastures.

For whatever reasons, you five have found yourselves drawn to the city of Trepus. Arriving early in the morning you find yourselves with plenty of free time to meander through the city and explore at your leisure. As evening draws the day to a close, you find yourselves at an Inn called the Brass Cat, a pleasant looking 3 story Inn nestled between a stable and what looks like a house almost the same size as the Inn.

Inside the atmosphere is loud, boisterous and filled with many sights, sounds and smells. Townsfolk and travellers alike share tables and drink, as they talk about recent going ons in the area and the land as a whole. Many barmaids rush to and fro taking orders, delivering drinks and food, and trying to avoid some of the more rowdy patrons. The Brass Cat even lives up to it's name as you spy a small statuette of a cat on the mantle of a large fireplace in the back of the room. The night is yours and you have yet to find work from the city, but now is not the time to worry about that, now is the time to unwind and relax from your long journey to the jewel of Runewen.


((OOC: I know some of you are still discussing how characters met, if they've met, etc. Feel free to post as you see fit, if you want to describe how you came to Trepus, definitely what you do during the day after you arrived, and up to the present as to what you do here in the Brass Cat. Posting is now open!))

A couple of weeks before...
With a final slash of her Kriegmesser, the 5th and final kobold fell before her. Wiping her sword clean with her tattered cloak, Zilvra eyed the scattered bodies. Though it was never a bad thing remove such creatures, Zilvra had not been planning on tracking a squad of Kobolds. Coupled with the fact that now her real target would be harder to find, this put Zilvra in a foul mood. Taking the small bag the Kobolds had of preserved food, Zilvra stormed off.

Later that night, Zilvra sat by a small campfire and her tent. She looked over the overly treated meat the kobolds had, before devouring some of it. It was stringy and dry, but that was no matter. Pulling out the crude map she had drawn previously, Zilvra realised she'd have to back track. From what she had decided before hand, a second set of tracks was heading towards Trepus. Although she doubted she could find the tracks again, she had a start. She'd be at Trepus in a couple of weeks... then what? She was running out of money and supplies. Along with asking around for her target, she probably would try to get a sellsword job as well. After washing down the bits of the meat with some water and putting out the camp-fire, Zilvra retired for the night.

3 days before...
Zilvra woke up much earlier than she had planned, due to a fit of coughing. Clutching her head, she rolled over in her bedroll. Her throat felt like it was on fire, her head like a dagger was shoved in it, and she had a wet cough to boot. Laying on her back for a moment, she let the world stop spinning. It had been a long time since she had been sick. She groaned as she stood up. Apparently, it was going to be an early morning.

Current day...
Although Zilvra was not as sick as the days before, she was still feeling the lingering effects. The cough was persistent. Entering the town around evening, Zilvra pulled her torn grey cloak tighter. It was a purely false sense of anonymity. She carried her large Kriegmesser strapped to her back, along with a shield. The shield was battered, with a dirty black fabric crudely nailed across its face. Her armour was scratched up; however, it was still noticeable that she had carved off some sort of insignia on its chest with a dagger. Though she herself only stood at 5'7, and was a slightly more muscular than average build, her face was much different than normal. In shape, it fit with normal half elves; smaller pointed ears, a somewhat angular face, and so forth. However, her skin was a sickly white grey, her hair was off white (shoulder length when combed backwards with some strands falling in front of her face) , and her eyes were a silver blue, with nearly non-existent pupils. She stared down at the ground as much as possible while looking for an inn. As much as she would have liked to wear a helmet, that was bound to raise suspicions.

She came across the Brass Cat Inn. She strode inside, and went for the nearest empty spot, whether it be at the bar or a table. "Barmaid!" She called, "Something strong, and cheap!" A short fit of coughing punctuated her sentence, as she leaned back the best she could in her seat.

(OOC: Hand seems to be holding up okay, though I may get Kamina to post for me for a little while.)

Sirion was glad that was over as he walked out of the store in which he had found Katarina a job. He wondered how long she would actually work there. He had a feeling her roguish tendencies would lead her elsewhere soon, but that wouldn't be his problem anymore. His problem was getting her here. With that thought he headed towards the Brass Cat, an inn he had seen on his way into town.

The sorcerer found his favorite type of seat - near the fire. He enjoyed leaning against a wall with his feet to the fire and talking to the others that would invariably be drawn to the flames. As he waited for the tavern to fill he enjoyed a glass of wine and a bit of bread and cheese while reflecting on the events of the last month. He had entered the village of Stonebridge just as he had entered many previous villages - just passing through and trying to see the world. What he found was a village in an uproar - a group of goblins had recently attacked one of the outlying farms and several people were missing. This was not a location where goblin attacks were likely, so Sirion was as curious as the others were angry. When they asked for volunteers to try and deal with the issue, he volunteered.

Then he saw who else had volunteered. Real warriors, clerics or wizards? No, a trio of farm boys and the baker's daughter, all looking for adventure. They knew what end of the sword to hold, but not much more. The big lad named Blago - he wasn't very tall, but had a build that would make a dwarf say, "now that boy is stocky!", seemed capable of flinging a goblin through a stone wall, but didn't seem to have the skills to catch one. The girl, Katarina, was quick - both mentally and physically. The others, Solomon and Asher, were the usual solid farm lads - with strong arms but no training. They insisted on coming.

Somehow over the next couple of days those kids had survived their first adventure and cleaned out the small goblin horde. Thankfully it had been small - a mere 6 goblins. Few enough that Sirion seriously wondered why they were there. Still, the kids had their adventure and managed to survive it, even if just barely and with a few scars. And a lot of help from a sorcerer. When the adventure was over Solomon and Asher seemed to have had their fill of excitement and wisely decided to go back to the farm - with stories they would be able to tell their grandchildren of the day they vanquished the goblin horde. But Blago and Katarina had gotten the taste. They wanted adventure. As Blago stated, "around here I'll just be an ox my whole life - the muscle to get work done. Maybe elsewhere I can do something. That goblin really flew apart when my ax hit it!" Katarina had just smiled, knowing full well that when that one goblin had been crushed, two others had been about to jump on the young man's back until blasted away by fire. But she said nothing, hoping to also find something bigger.

And so Sirion found himself headed to Trepus with two young "adventurers" in tow. They might someday prove worthy companions, but what they needed first was training, and Sirion had an idea about how to get them that. Blago was the easy one - Sirion simply marched him up to the town guard and enquired about a job for the young man. They were more than happy to take on a potential warrior of his build - it didn't take a genius to see that he was twice as strong as anyone else in the room. His story about crushing the goblin didn't hurt either. Katarina was a bit harder, but he found her a job in a shop and insisted that the city would provide her opportunities to learn things.
Then he ran. Actually, sorcerers don't run from teenagers, they walk proudly while praying to the gods they don't believe in that they won't hear another, "Hey! Could you,"

He got away. And now he was seated in the Brass Cat enjoying some peace and wondering what would come next.

Preface: Origins
Xaikon had left home soon after his 18th birthday to seek a life of adventure. His people believed that a life on the road was a series of experiences and trials that form a path to enlightenment. So he had set out, blade in hand and the wind to his back. He found rather quickly though that most of the people he crossed paths with were quick to distrust him simply because of racial prejudices that were stubborn to fade out of the minds of humans, elves, dwarves, and the like. After being run out of a small village by a handful of racist mouth breathers he began to consider giving up on his journey and returning home to live a boring, unenlightened life with his tribe. Then salvation found him in the form of Bantaldon Tathos, a wandering Elven duelist who took the young tengu under his proverbial wing and taught him to wield the Elven Curve Blade, a task which Xaikon proved a natural for with his already considerable skill with a blade. After a year of training and traveling with Master Tathos the young tengu set out on his own again, with a couple parting gifts from his master and friend and a new outlook.

Into Trepus
Xaikon had been on the road now for nearly a week, heading nowhere in particular. On the horizon he could see the rooftops and lights of Trepus, the self-proclaimed jewel of Runewen, which he had decided was as good a place as any to find something to do, or some trouble to get into. Approaching the gates (I assume the capitol would have gates, correct me if I'm wrong...) he pulled his travel-worn cloak forward over his feathered head in an attempt to hide his features and avoid potentially unwanted attention. He manage to slip in unnoticed with a merchant caravan that happened to have been at the gate, and even palmed a few small trinkets from the caravan which he would later sell for coin to resupply (I'll leave it to you of course what value may be placed on anything he may have snatched, or we can assume it's already factored into the funds I have on hand and leave it at that).

Once in the city proper he broke away from the caravan and slid into the back allies between a few buildings, and set off to explore the city's shadowed areas as he was keen to do when entering an unfamiliar city. Once or twice he would spot a stray cat rummaging through refuse and would pitch a small stone at it, as he had a very obvious disdain toward felines as a whole. Otherwise, the day seemed to pass uneventfully, with the keen-eyed scavenger not even finding a dropped copper piece in the shadows. As the sun began to set though he decided it best to make his way to an inn or tavern and get himself something to eat as it had been a long day.

The first inn he came across just so happened to be The Brass Cat; a name he was not thrilled with, but it would have to do as he was not too keen to keep looking. He adjusted his cloak again, stepped through the door and found himself an empty seat in one of the darker corners and waited for a barmaid to take notice of his presence rather than draw attention to himself.

((Xaikon is, as you may have gathered, a tengu. His feathered body falls short of 5 feet tall at a meager 4' 8". His frame is not muscled as if that of a warrior, but he walks with a grace and bearing of someone who can handle himself in a fight. He wears a rapier on his hip and a Curve Blade sheathed across his back, both perfectly balanced and maintained. He wears a simple, if faded, travel cloak pulled over his head and tends to wear his studded leather when traveling as he can never be to sure as to when someone will try to accuse him of stealing just because he is a tengu.))

The night goes on, slowly the Inn fills until it's totally packed for the night. The drinks are downed, and the food keeps rolling out of the kitchen. As you sit at your respected seats, and the night wears on, you can't help but start to feel a bit more relaxed in the atmosphere of the Brass Cat.

Eventually the crowd dies down as husbands return to angry and worried housewives, travelers to their rooms, and the guards to their barracks. Eventually it's just you and a few stragglers left in the common room of the Inn. The bartender, a well groomed dwarf with a short black beard, walks over to the dying fire with a bucket. He tosses the water on the embers. As he walks back to the bar he says to everyone still in the common room "Unless you've paid for a room it's time to get going, open again in the morning. Rest of you are welcome to grab one more drink before I pack up."

With these words, a majority of the stragglers drag themselves out of their seats and make their way out of the Brass Cat and the others to the stairs. Looking from behind the bar to the rest of you the bartender asks "Any of you want a last drink? 'Bout time I get going here."

Xaikon hopped up from his seat in the corner, making his way to the bar at the far end of the common room. "I do believe I'll have another to warm my blood before heading out." Fiddling with the belt pouch in which he kept a small handful of gold pieces he placed 5 coins on the bar, "I trust this will cover the balance of my meal earlier, this drink, and maybe a little extra for you."

Sirion had enjoyed his evening. He always enjoyed sitting in a tavern's common room talking to the crowd. Well, almost always. Sometimes there were drunken fools who thought they were tough. But it was rare that he didn't find someone interesting to talk to while sitting by the fire. Tonight had been no different. A small group of locals who were constantly amazed by the new folks crowding into their city and a couple of glasses of wine had made for fine companions.

But perhaps the night was done. After tossing water on the fire the sorcerer had been enjoying all evening, the bartender offered one last round. With a smile Sirion shook his head. He didn't need anything more. In a few moments he would gather himself and head up to his room. He wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, but he supposed he needed to do something.

Zilvra remained at the bar, trying to find solace at the bottom of her glass. She hated remaining idle. It gave her too much time to reminisce on the past. All the pain and mistakes that had occurred... she shuddered slightly.

Quickly, she ordered another drink. She leaned forward, letting the feelings of numbness overrun her. She sighed. Leaning forward, Zilvra continued her drink.

As the night progressed, Zilvra booked a room, and bought a meal. And a 3rd drink. Silently, she brooded to herself at the bar.

The crowd in the inn began to slowly disperse. Zilvra paid for a final drink... as did a Tengu who had taken a seat at the bar as well.

Setting down her 4th drink, Zilvra rotated slightly on her seat to face him. " You seem to be a capable warrior, Tengu. What brings you to Trepus? I have been out of contact with current events for a couple of months."

Xaikon was shocked that another person would address him so cordially, even after knowing his race. Perhaps this one was just so far removed from current events he was not aware of the typical prejudices his people faced on a daily basis. "My people believe a life of adventure is the path to enlightenment, and I had grown weary of the road so I stopped in to enjoy the comforts of civilization as much as I can before my welcome expires. Then it will be back to the road for me, back to adventure and honing my skills, back to the journey that is life."

With that he brought his drink up to his beak, taking a long drink. Learning to drink from these glasses had been a difficult trick to pick up, as they were generally not designed for his features, so he always looked awkward when doing so.

Zilvra coughed before responding, the sickness still ailing her. "Indeed? Ah well. I was hoping you might have some work for someone of my...ah.. skill set..." she said, gesturing to the large sword strapped to her back. Shrugging, she said, " I am trying to earn some money. My current ventures are not based at all around profitability, so I am hoping to find something to regain all that I have lost so far."

With rising of the sun the next morning came the start of another bustling day in the city. As you make your way to the ground floor of the Inn your greeted by the same dwarf from the night before. The Inn itself was not anywhere near as busy as it was the night before, yet a few tables were filled with workers wanting to eat or drink before the start of another long day.

While the quiet of the morning is pleasant it ends up being broken up within an hour. A group of 4 city guards walk in to the Inn and immediately make their way to the bar. you don't really hear what they say as they talk to the dwarf but you can see he is obviously flustered and having a hard time answering them. After almost 10 minutes of this the guards finally leave. As they do the dwarf starts yelling someone name through the doorway to the back before walking in there himself. Some of the other patrons seem just as perturbed as you are, while the rest continue on eating or drinking as if nothing had happened.

Zilvra excused herself, and headed up the stairs to her room. She grumbled to herself as she peeled her armour off, dropping the pieces to the floor. She pulled off the gambeson, then was standing there in her grungy, formerly pristine white tunic. It had been a long time since it had last been bleached. Eyeing the bed, she realized just how long it had been since she had slept in one. Less than once a month since...

She shuddered slightly, before regaining her composure. Sighing, she fell onto the bed. This was hardly the nicest bed she had slept on, but it was nice not feeling the rocks in her back, or the dampness of a cold foggy night.

Zilvra woke up, with the room lightly illuminated from the sun. Not that it made much of a difference to her. She could see well enough in the dark in such a small room to not care particularly much. Instead of her banded mail, she dressed in her studded leather. Until she went outside of the city, she probably wouldn't need it. She strapped her banded mail to the bottom of her backpack, then headed down the stairs. It wasn't the most quiet of things, as the metal armour clattered against itself. Rubbing the pommel of the longsword on her left hip, she took a seat at the table. Breakfast, the a job search. That was the day ahead.

The guards came in, and discussed matters over with the dwarf owner. Keeping her head low, Zilvra waited until they had left. As the dwarf stormed into the back room, Zilvra slipped closer, trying to see if she could hear anything more about the situation.

Xaikon had never been one to stay in an Inn when visiting a city, he always liked to know the best way out of a tight spot, and being stuck in a room with one way in or out was not his idea of safe. He had spent the night instead in a back alley across the street from the Inn, his ebon feathers blending nicely into the shadows. When the sun had risen he too rose, donning his armor and checking to make sure that his gear had not found its way elsewhere. Satisfied that nothing was missing he strapped everything into the proper place before picking up his pack and heading back to the Inn for a quick meal. He had found another secluded space in the corner and was awaiting a waitress to take his order when the guards had burst into the Inn. Bad business that, guards tend to mean trouble, even if they themselves make the trouble... He consciously pulled his hood up further to hide his face and watched casually out of the corner of his eyes to make sure they were not coming toward him. When the troop had left he relaxed a bit, but the tension returned when the Innkeeper seemed to get visibly upset over whatever news they had brought.

Scanning the room he spotted the lady who had spoken to him the night before, clearly she had stayed the night here and was now easing closer to the bar. He recalled something about her saying she was looking for work during their brief conversation and assumed that she must be looking into the commotion in hopes of finding gainful work. As she had spoken with him the night before without judgement he decided she must be okay. He moved across the bar, careful to avoid eye contact with any of the other patrons and found a place close to her. Leaning toward her he whispered, "I do not know if you remember me from last night, but I was curious if you had any idea what this was about just now?"

With the rising of the sun, Sirion also rose from the bed provided by the inn. He had learned to appreciate a good bed when one was available. The sorcerer had slept well and looked forward to the day. He wasn't quite sure just what his plan was, but he supposed he needed to get a plan. Work, a place to go, something that needed doing. Something. Something would come up, it always did.

When he entered the common room he took his usual place near the fireplace. He always sought such a seat. He loved the warmth of the fire and it usually was a gathering place for those most willing to talk. But this mornings opportunity to talk with the locals was disrupted when a group of guardsmen entered and spoke with the tavern keeper, clearly upsetting him.

Sirion briefly considered going over by the back door to hear what was being said, but decided against it. Usually getting mixed up with the town guard was a bad idea. Besides, two others had moved closer to the door to hear and three would clearly be a crowd. But that didn't prevent him from being curious.

Sirion looked at the locals sitting hear him and asked, "Anybody know what that was all about? Or who he was yelling to in the backroom?" He also tried to feel them out for their general impression of the local guard. Some towns loved their guards, others, well, not so much.

(OOC: Assumed that there would be locals sitting near Sirion since he sought what I would think is a coveted area and would want to sit by others. If I'm wrong, just ignore that last paragraph.)

A few townsfolk looked to Sirion as he asked his question. A couple of them shrugged and went back their drink. One middle-aged man leaned back in his seat and spoke to Sirion. "Aye, I have an idea of wot they was talkin' bout. I could bet ya five copper they was here to just cause trouble." Hearing this another man spoke up. "Bah, just here to cause trouble. They were most likely here to make sure no ones harbouring any fugitives. There's always unsavoury ilk in our fair city. People who think they can hide from the law. It's places like this that draw em!" With the last sentence he gave a flourish with his hand to the general area around the group.

Near the bar, Zilvra and Xaikon sat and could hear muttered conversations from behind the door. The Dwarf came back out, having seemed to have calmed down and walked up to the two of them. "Anything you two'd like to order this morning?" As he spoke he wrung a cloth between his hands, as if to distract himself.