(The following game contains mature content. Viewer Discretion is advised.)

Highsun, 8th of Ches: Darromar; Tethyr
The once great land of Tethyr has recently emerged from a decades long civil war which left hundreds of thousands of people dead with two new monarchs. Queen-Monarch Zaranda Star Rhindaun and King Haedrak III have risen from being long forgotten scions of once lost noble lines and been placed on the throne. It is through their love of the lands and its people that they make motions to revitalize Tethyr and see it prosper once more. Seated now in the new capital city of Darromar, the populous is in a fluster as news of the Queen’s newest prospect reaches their ears. Proclamations and propaganda flood the streets, and the taverns and common rooms are abuzz with talk of adventure, danger, wealth, status and more.

Throughout the city are flyers and posters of interest regarding the Queens newest undertaking. Easily found anywhere, they read the following.

Citizens of Tethyr, for years we have fought to regain our lands from meddlers, foreigners, and sadly ourselves. With the blood, sweat and tears of our people we have overcome many of those obstacles, and even now we see comforts and prosperity once thought forever lost. However, outside our walls still lies an untamed countryside, and beyond that, foreign interests which seek to impede our progress or covet the land so recently and with steep price won by the lives of our countrymen.

So, to repay those of you, our countrymen and women of Tethyr, I offer both a challenge, and a chance, to rise above ones current standings, for as we all know, land equals status. And land, is what is up for those brave enough to take the opportunity presented.

To the Northwest, nestled between the forks of the River Sulduskoon and under the shadows of the Starspire lies a keep. Abandoned long ago at the outset of war, it has since been overrun from all accounts by goblins and their ilk. Once an important halfway point for those forced off the Trade Way and through the Wealdath, as well as a common ground for the elvish emmissaries who once frequented the civil lands regularly.

The task at hand my people, is to clear the keep and it’s surrounding lands of all dangers, that it may once again serve it’s purposes as both a defensive structure, and respite for travelers. This task is not to be taken lightly, and those unprepared or inexperienced should not risk what they do have for false hopes of grandeur. However, to those who clear the keep in the name of the Monarchy, the title of Lord / Lady will be appointed, and all the responsibility’s and benefits of noble standing shall be bestowed as well, along with a purse of 200 gold pieces to each member of the team which successfully clears the dangers from the keep.

For those interested, please arrive at the Darromar central courtyard at sunrise the 9th of Ches, where teams may be assembled under the leadership of one of four different sponsors.

To the victor go the spoils, and the respect and gratitude of the kingdom.
Queen-Monarch Zaranda Star Rhindaun

She caught sight of the flyer as the wind carried it by her. She snatched at it and fumbled with it for a few seconds before getting a secure hold in the paper. She read it, and nearly tossed it away, dismissing it. A general flyer such as this would attract all sorts of riff-raff and want-to-be saviors of the land. She wanted adventure, but in a more unique way. Not as one of hundreds vying for the same prize, grand as it was.

But she didn't toss it, not right away. She simply stood and wondered. The new ruler would have to know what this would cause, and he did mention there would only be 4 sponsors. Would that mean only four "teams"? That would certainly lessen the competition and make it more of interest, and therefore more do-able ... She held on to the flyer, folded it and stuffed it into her pouch. It was only time wasted to check it out, and not wasted even then if it caught her interest.

And so she stands, gathered with numerous others in the courtyard mentioned in the flyer. Awaiting a presence, an announcement, a reason and/or a purpose ...

The flyer was found on the table she sat down at in a local tavern. She was about to use it to wipe the remnants of someone's meal off the table when she noticed the words "gratitude of the kingdom" and sat down to read it further. She snorted and smiled. At least this was not a land-rush to settle a newly-acquired tract of land, such as one in which her parents had participated. But the effect would be the same, she wagered. Something like this would get every thief, vagabond, robber, -- and maybe, just maybe, a few good, honest folk -- involved in a rush to become a land-owning noble.

Linnix was glad that she had no such aspirations. But it twanged a chord in her that she thought she had silenced. It had been years since she had been delving. She had given the adventuring life up willingly, preferring to do the research necessary to lessen the chance of failure on her ventures. She liked the ability to choose her own agenda, the freedom to be or do what she wished.

As she sipped her ordered drink, she read the flyer again. The offer was a reminder of days that made her feel alive, challenging the unknown and having to adapt spontaneously to circumstances in her own unique way. She had the experience to do this ... and she could return to her current method of "work" and almost any time. It just might be an interesting venture, at that. But only if she wasn't going to be competing against a hundred more who would just as soon get her out of the way as look at her. No, if that was the case, she would stay where she was, doing what she was doing. But she woldn't know unless she checked it out ...

And so, today on the ninth of Ches, she donned a skirt, blouse, and light shoes and headed for the square. On the way she purchased a pocketed white apron and donned it, stuffing some of the pockets with various items. Thinking that she had sufficiently disguised herself as a midwife, and seating herself in the square as if taking a break, she awaited the annouincement she had come to witness, noting various others -- numerous others -- arrive as she waited.

The sun hadn’t yet risen when a lone figure mounted on an elven steed of dapple black rode towards to the guard station outside the walls of the city. At the horses side was a huge hybrid wolf dog. In the lark before down she looked to be s smoky black with a few scatter spots on his back. In the flickering light of the torches about the guard station the cloak figure resolved itself in more detail, A long deep green cloak covered the rider, though when closer one could see embroidery on the edges of a variety of lighter green foliage intricately intertwined. The deep hood lined in fur shaded the rider’s face. The black elven steed stopped at the guard station without a obvious signal form the rider. The big wolf dog sat when the horse stopped regarding the guards with a gimlet glare but not showing any hostility nor growling.

Loriel neared the city guards shifting her weight slightly to cue her mount to stop. Long slender hands moved out from her cloak as she dropped the hood of her head to reveal her face. was a pale oval with aquiline features that made it clearly evident that she was of pure elven blood. Her hair seemed dark, almost black but for some lighter locks scattered throughout the dark tresses.

The sergeant of the guard stepped forward, “What business do you have here? Are you coming in response to the Queen’s offer? If so, ye’d better hurry. Meeting is at the central courtyard at sunrise. Just follow that main road leads you right to the center o’the city. Here take this with you it tells you everything you need to know.” The guard handed her the flyer trying to backtrack last know whereabouts of her half brother.

Loriel had other reasons but the one the guard offered was good enough for her. “Yes, I am, Thank you.” She responded in a melodious and obviously feminine voice.

“Okay then. Open the gate, Private, and let her in.”

Loriel rode Moonshadow pacing alongside of Moira, her horse, into the city proper following the main street as the sergeant had said. While she did she perused the contents of the flyer which even in the false light of dawn she could read it well enough.

Two names catch her attention Sulduskoon River and Starspire. Her brother had mention those in one of his letters to his mother. Perhaps if she took part n this she could find someone or something to lead her on to the nest step in finding where he was.

Loriel rides on until she gets to the central courtyard. Still mounted, Loriel maneuvers Moira off to the side of the courtyard. Moonshadow moves with Moira as if she was the horses’s shadow. Loriel wanted to hear clearly what was going to be said, which was the only reason for moving forward. Her vantage point from horseback gave her a clear view from about anywhere. She pulls up her hood and waits as the light from the false dawn begins to brighten to true dawn. Finally she saw the first rays of the Sun touch the highest spires in the city and gradually move down them as the sun rose into the sky. It shouldn't be lon now.

“What is he?”

Her voice came out as a whisper as she peered closely at the unfamiliar creature cowering before her. Her slender fingers brushed against its cracked skin and faded hair, but each touch she stole sent it scurrying further into the narrow crevice in which it was hiding.

“Ah, so it seems as if you found the human. Good, I was getting tired of the chase.”

A chill laugh echoed around the narrow cavern, followed by a low sibilant hiss. A moment of dread swept through her as a dozen snake-headed tendrils slithered over her shoulder and towards their prey.

The screams went on for hours….
Aelistae shivered in the cool, night air.

“You alright, Miss?”

The woman turned quickly, startled by the sudden sound. Her hood partly slipped from her head as she did so, and revealed for a moment skin the colour of midnight shadow. Yet if the ferryman noticed, he did not show it, and soon her face was obscured once more beneath the garment.

“I’m fine,” she replied simply, in an accent that betrayed how unused she still was to conversing in the Common tongue.

“Well it won’t be long now before we ‘it Darromar. Those lights through the mist are the buildings along the waterfront. But, if you take my advice you’ll be moving swiftly through ‘em. A nice lady such as yourself can get in a lot of trouble there at night.”

Aelistae responded with a sigh. She was drow, and, although in part she was indeed anxious over how the citizens of Darromar might treat her, that was not what troubled her at this moment. What concerned her was how she would be able to treat them.

She focused on the slow, rhythmical splashing of the ferryman as he inched his craft across the river. It helped to drown out the sounds of the screams of that human she had found, so long ago….

-----

Aelistae glanced down once again at the grubby note. It was stained with ale, and the ink was blurred, but even so she could make out most of the lettering.

“To the victor go the spoils, and the respect and gratitude of the kingdom,” she read out again, a thoughtful smile forming over her lips.

“There you are. Enjoy!”

With a heavy thump, a large tankard of a brown, viscous liquid was placed upon the table she was sitting. From the safety of her cowl, Aelistae stared up at the barmaid who had placed it there.

“I ordered some water, not…well not whatever this is.”

“Well I know you elfy types likes your water, but to be honest you’d be safer drinking this,” she explained with a wink.

Aelistae smiled and shook her head perplexedly. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever understand them.’
OOC: I'll post Aelistae's arrival at the square a little later.

Nebulos opened his pack and pulled out a collection of flyers. He had at least two dozen of them that he had found around town. Every time he saw one he had grabbed it up and tucked it away, remarking Looks like a challenge as he placed it with the others. This was his third such pile and he was ready for another display of his power.

Holding the stack of flyers in his hand he conjured up arcane flames to surround his fist as he watched the paper consume itself into ash. The less people show up, the more glory and recognition I might find. Besides. How hard can some goblins be? Surely one man, as powerful as he, could destroy them all with one finger
Nebulos was a proud man, although time and age showed itself clearly on his face, around his eyes, and in the grey of his beard. He was old, but not dead. His times in his study had provided him with a lot of knowledge and his love of a good fight had served him well for a long time. But he had not taken up adventuring until recently. He had decided, a while ago now that Knowledge without Experience was Empty and had set out to make a name for himself.

He arrived at the correct place at the correct time and waited to see what would unfold. He wore his red robes and stood proudly among the people like a proud sage. He gladly gave conversation to all who would listen showing off his great intelligence and power.

Aelistae squinted her eyes uncomfortably. The sun had only just begun its assent when she reached the square, but, even though she had spent decades upon the surface of Faerun, the memory of the searing pain it had caused her when she had first glimpsed it was hard to forget. For several tendays she thought the burning sensation in her eyes would leave her blind or drive her mad. In the end it didn’t do either, and she had grown accustomed to its presence. Or rather as accustomed to that fiery ball in the sky as a creature born in the lightless Underdark could be.

‘Thankfully the Lady favours the moon and not the sun,’ Aelistae concluded, and pulled the hood she wore even lower to shield her eyes.

Several men, women and one gnome had already gathered in the courtyard, but the drow priestess shied away from their presence and found a more secluded and shaded spot at which to wait. It was a patch of flattened earth nestled beneath a tree. The only problem seemed to be that a human woman seemed to have had the same idea.

Her colouring seemed exotic to Aelistae’s violet eyes, possessed as she was with blonde hair and fair skin. Her garb, though, was simple and betrayed no sign that she was one of those looking to answer the summons.

“May I join you?” Aelistae inquired politely to the woman, in her lilting accent.

[Assuming Linnix agrees]

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding her thanks.

Aelistae sat under the canopy of the tree and pulled her legs to her chest. A flash of dark skin was evident along her thigh where her skirt and armour parted, but she made no effort to cover herself. She was confident that the shade of the tree would make the blue-black of her skin seem like a trick of the light.

‘Besides,’ she thought, ‘there will come a time when these people will have to learn what I am.’
“Are you here for the…gathering?” she asked the woman beside her, although she was unsure if she had hit upon the right word.

Linnix watches as the figure approached and deduced early that no man could walk with that kind of grace or smoothness. When the woman came closer, she squinted slightly to peer into the darkness under the hood of the cloak. She was surprised at the accent carrying the words directed at her, asking permission to join her in this semi-out-of-the-way place she had chosen to sit. She had only heard a similar accent twice before, and both times had been on the run from the speaker after a brief and violent encounter. But she thought that those types only came out, or were only comfortable in the darkness of night or, in extreme circumstances, in an eclipse.

As she nodded assent and smiled, she spoke quietly, "By all means. You have as much right to sit anywhere you wish as I do. My name is Linnix Wolfette, and I would be happy if you would join me here."

As the woman seated herself, Linnix saw the flash of darkness under the skirt as it parted briefly, and thought for a moment that she had seen fine armor, but then corrected herself. No metallic sheen on that surface, nor did it have the shine of enamel. Skin? Maybe. But if so ... a dark elf? In daylight? Odd enough, that, but moreso since she asked for permission to sit here, seemingly as a courtesy. What she knew of the dark folk -- and that wasn't much, by a long shot -- would dictate belligerence and forcefulness from her, not courtesy. That courtesy deserved courtesy in return, and she was sure that if the dark woman was what Linnix thought she was, she would not jeopardize herself to "thump", or expose, another. So she answered truthfully to the next question, asking her purpose here.

"Actually, yes. I am here for the ... gathering ... as you put it. Nice choice of words. I am just waiting to find out if I have a chance at gaining some wealth and, maybe, a little notoriety as one of an elite group chosen. If there is about to be an army descend on this place, I'll be wanting to stay away from it. So I wait and learn." Her own curiosity about the other female would be submerged in silence. She was not asked for her history, and so she would again show the same courtesy and keep questions to herself. But she did hope for an opportunity to learn something about this one, this soft-spoken enigma. So tgether they waited ...

A crowd had gathered in the courtyard of the town proper, Darromar was now home to a hundred different warriors, vagabonds, and would be heroes of all different walks of life. However, as the sun broke over the eastern wall casting its reaching rays across the city, the newfound illumination brought into view a royal attendance, Queen -Monarch Zaranda Star Rhindaun, flanked by a contingent of six bodyguards. Two were donned from head to two in gleaming full plate, longswords hanging at the hips while tower shields and spears bearing Tethyr’s standard filled their gauntlet covered hands.

Two more stood farther back, donned in gleaming chain mail of finest mithril, silver cloaks sweeping the ground behind them while they stand like living statues, longbows held at the ready, an arrow already gripped for easy knocking should the need arise. Finally, kept close to the Queen-Monarch’s side, stand two elderly men of scholarly stature, dark blue cloaks covering their entire forms save twin staffs wrought of white elm, each twisting into a wooden cage to house large green gemstones at their crown held in their right hands. The figures gaze out across those gathered, and each seems to bore into the hearts of those who fall under their watchful stare.

As the Queen-Monarch rose, first a great cheer rose up over the crowd, which caused her coterie to reflexively move closer to their charge, before a hush settled over those gathered anxious to hear her speak.

“Citizens, and travelers who have gathered hear today I thank you for choosing to separate yourselves by standing out of the crowd, and into the limelight. Today, we gather to find those who have what it takes to help rid the lands of a constant threat.”

The Queen-Monarch swept her hands out across the peoples and brought them together in a clap, which resounded like a thunder boom as four individuals appeared, two on each side of her and her entourage.

The first, and farthest on the left was a man in gleaming armor, spikes protruding from every visible area from his breastplate to his knee caps. This black armor was polished to a pristine finish, his black beard and short cropped hair matching his dark ensemble.

Stepping forward he smacked his black gauntlets together, fist to open palm with a loud clank.
“I am Zacharai Magnus, owner of the grandest smithy in all of Tethyr, if not the Sword Coast. I will sponsor the team which throws those green skins out on their arses and then everyone will know the Iron Horse Smithy be the grandest place the buy ones wares in all the Realm. To those whom I deign worthy I shall bestow a weapon of unparalleled quality to see this endeavor through to success. Take no prisoners, give nothing back, and only those of skill and strength need apply.” With a guffaw of a laugh he bellowed out over the crowd, before moving to the side with quill and parchment, allowing the other’s to speak.

On his left stood a man dressed in silk fineries, jewelry laden fingers and bejeweled accents are seen all over his person. His rather foppish hat and flamboyant dress seemed like he should be a sultan in Calimshan more than the merchant and jeweler he was. “Gentle people of Tethyr good morrow. Doesn’t the sun look especially beautiful this morning? It shines like a precious gem hovering in the sky. And this keep off in the wilderness is like a diamond in the rough, and with a little polish and hard work, I shall make it shine anew. To those who I choose to represent my good name, Gareth Glass-stone, I will bestow a gem of stunning quality and beauty, whose wealth shall be worth no less than 100 gold pieces, enough to feed your families for a year or win the heart of nary any a woman, for love enables us to do wondrous things does it not?” With a flourished bow he too took a step back and removed a quill and parchment. “

On the Queen’s immediate right stood a man who radiated something darker than Zacharai’s choice of clothing. The man was gaunt and pale, hunched over and leaning on a cane wrought of bronze and bone. He radiated great magic’s and his lab coat wafted in the wind to reveal his right leg was nothing more than skeletal bone. Taking a step forward he slowly raised his head, his one good eye surveying the crowd while his other, long since useless eye lolled lazily in its socket as he turned his head. He spoke in a raspy accent as though he were forcing breath through a lung punctured with holes. “I am Gafgerion, proprietor and scholar of ‘The Realms Arcane Consortium.’ This venture interests me, for I have need of new testing grounds for my research, and a remote keep will serve my needs-- and the needs of the kingdom well.” his one good eye flashed over to the queen who seemed to not have changed her chagrin smile throughout the patron’s pitches.

“So. Those who will represent my interests, I shall bestow a magical item of some use, relevant to the task at hand. Succeed and keep it with my thanks.” The mention of magical items sent a murmur throughout the crowd, more audible than before. Most people would go their entire lives without seeing anything even remotely beyond the mundane, and an excitement was building in those gathered. Which only caused the old man to curl his thin lips into an almost cruel smile as he took out a quill and parchment paper.

The man on the far right however was about as out of place as anyone could be. He was dressed as a farmer, for indeed that was what he was. He had attempted to ‘dress up’ a simple tan tunic, clean but unimaginative, and pleaded brown pants made from the same material of potato sacks. He staggered forward, his voice almost lost to the sheer volume of those in attendance. “H-hi there everyone. My name is Bartholomew James, though many of you might know me simply as Bart from down the lane. I well… I come here this morning not able to offer weapons of steel or gems or magical trinkets, in fact I really cannot offer more than rice and some bread with which to feed your stomachs, and oats to feed your steeds. I am a simple man, but I hold aspirations of something more than the mud and mulch I was born to. My father was a peasant, my father’s father a peasant, and he before him the same. I’ve a wife and four children who depend on me, on our farm, but the bandit’s and monsters who roam free outside the walls of the city have led to most of our harvest being ravaged or stolen and I fear we will not make it through the winter at this rate. That is why I have put the farm up for sale, and will gladly give all that I have at the chance to see my family moved into a solid structure with stone to defend against marauders, fields under the watch of a garrison, and the financial backing with which to start a colony where all those who have dreams to rise from the stalls and fields like myself may have a chance to actually do so. “

Many in the crowd, particularly those with violent or martial experiences in their past let out uninhibited laughs at the poor farmer, many even called him a fool for risking what little he did have on the ridiculous notion that the Queen would allow a farmer to become a Count. Bart stood firm to their ridicule, wiping a single tear from his sun weathered face. Refusing to back down. “Please good people, this keep could hold new beginnings for …” He was drowned out by Zacharius’ cheers of battle and glory, and Gareth’s tossing of coppers into the crowd which only roused them further. Gafgerion tapped his cane and great showers of light surrounded him, and he smiled that creepy grin once more.

As cheers and yells echoed throughout the crowd, the Queen raised a delicate hand and silence befell the entire crowd. “Enough, good people, enough. These four men I have deigned to sponsor this excursion. These four men offer a wide range for an even wider variety of vested interests, and each and every one of you should be able to relate to someone here. By signing the parchment of your given sponsor, you enter a contract to see this endeavor completed, though your signature will only appear on the page if your heart is pure and intentions true. Fear not, for I know well that even the pickpocket can utilize their grace for a cause that is just, even if the method is not. Consider this an opportunity to change not only your lives, but potentially change the lives of many others. A chance for prosperity, wealth, and status. For heroes are born from tasks such as these, so come forth those willing to risk it all for a chance at glory, I await you would be heroes on baited breath.

As she finishes, a handful of those in attendance choose to turn away from the gathering, but many other’s begin lining up for those whom they would have sponsor them. Most lining up before Gafgerion, many before Zacharius and even a fair share for Gareth. As for Bart, only a single woman, garbed in simple white robes bearing a holy symbol of Tymora approaches, signing her name and falling back into the crowd.

Aelistae nodded as Linnix introduced herself, causing a stray lock of silvery-white hair to escape the confines of her hood.

“I am honoured that you would share your name with me, Linnix. I am called Aelistae D’Vrann.”

After sitting down and asking her question, Aelistae smiled as the blonde woman explained her reason for being at the courtyard.

“You’re wise to be cautious, I think. If one moves in a herd of rothé, the predator can quickly become the prey,” she replied, echoing a saying common among the soldiers of Menzoberranzen. “Sometimes, though, there is no alternative but to do just that.”

Aelistae fell silent as the Queen-Monarch appeared and introduced herself. To the drow’s eyes she carried herself as any Matron Mother might, except for the fact that she did not command but asked. Those assembled were given the option of aiding a boisterous smith, a glib merchant, an enigmatic wizard, a humble farmer, or to just walk away and refuse their Queen.

Aelistae found herself liking the practice.

It was the last speaker, however, that caught her attention. He spoke of his poverty, his desire to build a home, and to provide a refuge for all those that wished it. But, more than that, he offered a chance for Aelistae to exorcise feelings of guilt that had long plagued her.

“I don’t know which path you’ll choose to follow, Linnix, but if it is different from mine I hope that one day I will be able to repay you for the kindness you have shown me.”

With that said, Aelistae pushed her way through the crowd, and to the only patron that most of those assembled would rather avoid.

“I will aid you, if you choose to accept my help,” she said simply to Bart. “But first there is something you must know.”

The drow priestess moved her hands to her hood, and slipped it off her head. Wide, nocturnal eyes framed below narrow tufts of stark white hair were revealed to the farmer. She unveiled an angular but beautiful face that was the colour of midnight shadow, and freed the chaotic bangs of her silvery hair. She had decided it was time to disclose her heritage. It was a risk, but one that she had no choice but to take.

“I am drow, but please I mean you no harm.” Aelistae crossed her arms diagonally across her chest to emphasize the point. “Your Queen spoke of this being a chance for even a criminal to re-write their fate. I ask only for that same chance. Let me sign your parchment, and I will show you that I mean you no ill-will.”

[Provided Bart agrees (and Aelistae isn’t arrested!):]

Aelistae signed her name quickly, having no desire to linger under the gaze of those that might object to the presence of a drow. With the deed done, she replaced her hood and slipped back into the crowd.

After hearing the announcement of the Queen and the sponsors she introduced, Barrb's first move was to stand in line in front of the Magus, Gafgerion. A magical item of any sort could be useful in her line of work. And if the item, as hinted, was tailor-made for this venture, she would be sure to get that one very useful item.

She had to chuckle at the short line in front of the farmer. But he actually had a couple of folk sign his sheet, in spite of the fact that he admitted to not having anything of worth to offer. And he had the boldness to figure on cashing in on the work of others to make him a noble? Then she saw one of the signees of the farmer's sheet throw back her hood and reveal herself to be Drow! Here in front of the Monarchy's entourage? Was the woman crazy? But the dark elven female signed quickly and left just as soon as she could. Not typical Drow, not by a long shot. Barrb knew. She had been in one skirmish with a party of Drow -- only one -- and she and her friends had lost miserably and were forced to retreat, without a few of their number. No, this one was willingly out in daylight, in the midst of folk she had to know would not be friendly to her. And she didn't seek armor, wealth, or magic which would also be typical.

Barrb glanced back and forth between the farmer and the long line she was in to be sponsored by the mage. She wanted to be chosen, but would she stand out enough in this group vying for the attention of the spellcaster? It only took a few seconds for her to decide. She moved to the farmer's sheet and signed it. As she did, she felt just like she had when J'Hannik Foebender had singled her out to be trained by him as a castle guard. She had been given an opportunity to become what she now was, and for that she was proud and grateful to her now-deceased mentor. Now it was time for her to give someone else an opportunity to become what he could. But oh, how she wished that he had something of value to offer. Something other than food ...

She stood back after signing and waited to see what would happen. She wanted to make sure that if she was to be contacted, she would be as available as she could be. She would take nothing for granted. She began to wonder even if something would happen, for the only ones to sign were women, and only three so far, including herself. A wait was definitely in order. She may yet have a chance at one of the other sponsors ...

Xaris wandered through the city streets, collecting some stares as he went by. Its not every day that you see a gnome of his race walking around a city. Personally he despised them, they only being reminders of the life that was once on the ground the city now stood. It also reminded him of his own home city, one that did not tear down the woods, but went around. He was a Forest Gnome, and for 200 years he had lived in silence with his clan deep in the woods, until war had devastated the land around them, and drove many out of their home, with much death in its wake. But enough of that now, this wasn't the time to think about it.

Xaris was only here to collect a few supplies he needed, some new clothes and fresh food. Its not like he couldn't find food in the woods, it was just a better convenience to stop here.

He had bought a new green tunic, with some brown pantaloons, and nice leather shoes, brining him down a good amount of gold. But it was needed, as his others were, destroyed.

He had only spent a day here and he was ready to leave, to get ready to exit this horrendous place. But something caught his eye, a flyer. He picked it up, and studied the weird markings on it.

He desperately tried to make out a few words, but couldn't.

" Uhh, hello. can you read this to me?"

He tugged at the shirt of a wandering pedestrian, who in turn looked quite confused as to why a forest gnome with a mini great sword and armour was asking him to read the paper. But none the less ,he read it.


" Thanks."

Was all he Xaris said as he turned and left, walking off. maybe he would stay one more night in this city. Something had just tugged at a long forgotten and sensitive chain within his mind.

- The next morning -

Xaris woke up,and wandered back into the city, slowly making his way through the streets. He thought he might of needed an extra hour or two to find his way, as it is hard to get to a destination when you cant read.

Eventually though he found his way, the massive crowd of people drawing him closer. He quickly disappeared into the crowd, blending in at knee level.

He listened to the queens speech, and also to all four of the leaders who had their own gains. Only one really spoke out to him, one who related on his level. And that was James. They shared a common past, and that was they both lived off of the earth, and both had hard times keeping those lives stable. Only one of them had theirs crash into oblivion. But if he could keep Jame's life from doing the same, then something good was done. And also, just maybe, Xaris could be one step closer to redemption.

Xaris walked slowly through the crowd, pushing legs out of his way. He made his way up to the table, following behind a woman. He looked forward and a figure had de-hooded herself as a drow, right after they got inline.
Xaris winced slightly at the fiend, but then over heard her conversation, and realized that his immediate reaction was one of bad taste, for he was too a foreigner. After she was done, Xaris stepped up to the table, his head just making it over the side.

" Umm,uh, James. I want to join you. You seem like the only one with...uh... the truest and most selfless reasons. I wish to sign your papers."

Xaris reached for the pen and paper with his greyish-green hands and took it down to his level, signing Xaris Vhathei. He put it back and walked to the side, waiting to see who else might join them.

Loriel waited for the press of those signing up to resolve themselves into lines before the various sponsors. She had listened carefully to each as they made there offers to those who would follow them to rid the keep of the goblin invaders. A superficial perusal would probably send one to sign up with the smithy, or the mage, perhaps even the jeweler attracted by there offers,. That because few here would weigh their words and offer with the years of experience and knowledge that Loriel possesses.

Here was a farmer, a simple man who daily worked hard to coax crops from his fields and tend his animals. What glory does this provide him? None. What fame does it garner him? None. What riches does he gain? Not much but the produce of his efforts. So what did he have? He had him Inner strength, the strength born of daily confronting all that nature can and will throw at him. Here was a man use to working hard every day, a man capable of long term planning and a steadiness of purpose to prepare, sow, tend and reap his harvest. However, he was probable out of his league when it can to battling goblins, but Loriel wasn’t. She had experience and skills that could help him succeed and now of the other sponsors touched her as did this simple man who stood up there despite the ridicule and made his offer. If he had the strength to do that then she could certainly respect that man. With her talents and skills she could perhaps help him with his dream.

As the crowds began to thin Loriel wove Moira around the edges of the courtyard to where the sponsors were placed about the area signing up those who have decide to give this a try. Despite signing their name many would not complete this mission. She knew that for a fact. Those not firmly dedicated would fade off when the going got tough and no signature on a piece of paper would stop them returning to the more comfortable and safer niches in life. A few would stick it out. Some would go for the money and rewards offered, some for the fame, some for glory. some for honor and pride of country, some went to fulfill dreams. Those whose purpose was strong would stay the course; those less committed would not.

Loriel planned to stay till the job was done. As the lines grew shorter Loriel noticed how few went forward to sign up with the farmer, Bartholomew James. That did not stop Loriel, her mind was made up and her parents knew once she did she could not be easily dissuaded from her chosen course. She watched a Drow sign up with him and that did surprise her but it did not deter her. Loriel dismounted and walked with her mare form Moira on one side of her and Moonshadow on her other side and move forward to sign up. They were a team..

A long figure, horse in hand, a huge wolf dog on her other side approached the sign up table there Bartholomew was. A gnome was there signing up, talking to Bartholomew and so the cloaked figure waits her turn. THe gnome feels a warm breath on his neck. When the gnone turns around there is a huge wold dog immediately behind him. the dog actually had to drop her head to look the gnome in the face. "Don't worry comes a voice from the cloaked figure. She likes gnomes."

Loriel then turns to Bartholomew, “I will sign with you,” came the melodic voice from under the hood of her elegant deep green cloak. A slender hand, gloved in supple tanned leather reaches out for the pen. In flowing scrip she signs her full name.

Loriel drops back her hood, and looks to Bartholomew, antithesis in coloring to the Drow who had signed up before her. Loriel’s skin was pale; her hair black with electrum frosting, her eyes a soft shade of violet. “I am Loriel Glyndara Isilimoren, an Elven ranger. I will follow you to wipe out the goblins in the keep. I am ready to ride now. And I think as soon as the last signs up we should go if we are to get there first.”

After her brief conversation with Aelistae, the two lapsed into a surprisingly comfortable silence waiting for, and then listening to, the announcement of the queen. At it's conclusionm, Aelistae was quick to rise and make known that she had made he decision already. She moved forward purposefully to the farmer, Bart, to sign his sheet. Linnix, who had made a habit of thinking about possible consequences of hasty actions, watched drop-jawed as the dark female did so. And she was not surprised that, when Aelistae threw back her hood before signing, her assessment was almost correct. She had assumed a mixed-blood drow, not one of full-blood. She shook her head and stood, then began to untie and remove the apron and roll it up as she tried to decide which line to file into. And most were already lengthy, she had waited so long already.

She didn't need armor. Not in her profession.

Gems or jewelry? She would have to convert them to local tender, and lose something in the exchange, as was typical.

Magic? Okay, now that sounded alright. She could use it or sell for a tidy profit. A win-win situation, no?
Nothing up front? From the farmer, who offered nothing of real value as a sponsor, she could get something as valuable as gold, gems, or magic. She could get local information. This, she knows, is always valuable for one in her line of work. Whether immediately or in the future. Knowledge thus gained has kept her out of the courtrooms and out of gaols, certainly. She hesitated only few moments to tuck the apron into the waistband of her skirt as she approached Bart's sheet to sign, falling in behind a smallish warrior-type, and a cloaked figure with a wolf-dog. The little warrior seemed a little gruff, but courteous to Bart. And he seemed to be the only male to sign the farmer's sheet -- so far. The next one, the cloaked figure, spoke in a voice that had a slight accent and a female lilt to it.

As she herself signed the sheet, she quietly nodded and smiled at Mister Bart James. She began to feel the rush of uncertainty that had made her adventuring days a bright spot in her memories. She began almost at once to envision possible outcomes, what she would do it this or that came to be. She shook her head again, and stood up to move away and wait with the others nearby ...

“I thought you were after wealth and notoriety,” Aelistae remarked to Linnix with the hint of mirth in her voice, after she had signed Bart James’ charter. “Well regardless of your reasons, I am glad that we’ll have the chance to journey together.”

What surprised the drow priestess even more than Linnix’s decision was the fact that others had chosen to eschew an easy reward and sign the farmer’s parchment. There was a half-human woman, who towered over Aelistae and who bore the scars of a hardened warrior. Shortly after came a diminutive gnome bearing the trappings of one used to living in the wilds. Finally there came an elf, whose eyes matched Aelistae’s violet hue, but whose features betrayed both a sun and moon elven heritage.

“My name is Aelistae. It would honour me to learn the names your mothers gave you,” she remarked simply after she had picked her way to the small group, and inched her hood back to reveal more of her face.

“May the Dark Maiden bless you Sister,” she added in the elven tongue to Loriel. “I can assure you I mean you no harm, despite the colour of my skin. I hope that in time, you will allow me to win your trust.”

OOC: I’m concluding that for an elf (even a drow) spotting that Loriel is of mixed heritage isn’t too difficult. If you’d rather Aelistae not know that Brianna, I’ll happily edit the post.