4e Game Here

[Kevin Conner]

For various reasons, all of you are sitting at the same table. You were hired by an unknown benefactor. You know nothing of your job. All you know is there are four of you ( Providing wraith shows up ).

All of you have instructions:

"Eat at ye olde inn! Introduce thineselves. Dine. Then thou shalt know who I am."

"What a load of crap!" all of you joke. "Who is this? A thespian? Nobody speaks like this outside of the stage."

[Archonares]

Aaren had been in a lot of establishments like this inn. He'd worked at a few too. He feels right at home, sitting there in a somewhat clean pair of simple brown breeches, a stained, once white cloth shirt, worn high leather boots, and a well-used leather vest. His armor are stored in his room, the only thing marking him as more than just another drifter is the exceedingly well kept battle-axe laying on the table in front of him. His long, unkempt brown hair hangs in his deep brown eyes and halfway down his back, and he looks down at the ale in his mug disinterestedly.

He sighs, and you can't tell if the stench of cheap beer is from his mug, breath, or perhaps his short, ragged beard. The man's form is still strong, though he has a slight paunch in the middle. He would probably stand at a solid six feet if it wasn't for the hunched over way he sat. After a moment, he looks up, announcing in a deep gruff voice, "Name's Aaren. And you bunch?"

[revanmal]

Hassaway sipped somewhat unsurely at his drink, and frowned slightly with a wince as the slightly acrid taste washed over his tongue. He set the mug back down on the table and made a mental note to not pick it up again. Thoroughly bored, the young soldier began scratching at the stubble on his jaw line and yawned. If he'd known freelancing was going to be just as boring as guard duty he'd have taken the one with less of a chance of dying.

The scruffy bearded man across from him woke him from the light doze he had slipped into. He shook his head slightly and saluted casually.

"Captain Hassaway Brindle"

[cquail]

Lucian saunders over from the corner of the room. He always feels more comfortable with his back to the wall. A cup of wine in his hand he takes a sip and examines the group cautiously. Lucian does not trust people easily, trust is always earned he believes. But Lucian is not a wealthy man, and he needs the work. "I am Lucian" he says, and takes another sip of wine and joins the table.

Lucian's leather armor looks old and well used. He suspects people think he must have stolen it from some poor soul, although nobody has ever asked. Over top he has a tattered, dirty, musty smelling cloak that's often his only warmth on a cold winters night.

[Kevin Conner]

I'll play the female token:

"Hi! My name is Precilla. I'm a centaur," she taps an amulet around her neck, "This is my human feet. So, what are all of your specialties?"

[cquail]

Lucian says "I prefer to remain unseen and unknown. The only time I want an enemy to known I'm there is after my dagger is already in his back!"

[Archonares]

Aaren looks around at the gathered group, from one to the next, mumbling about being under dressed. He listens to each introduction, committing the names to his foggy memory. The mention of a Centaur strikes him and causes him to look up abruptly at the female. He'd have never expected such a... exotic creature would be standing right there amongst them. Hearing Lucian's comment would give him another slight start. It reminds him of the kind of folks he used to put away.

"Er... specialities?" he asks, realizing he will also be expected to say something, Aaren looks down at his well kept battle axe, then back to the centaur, "I think I'm already spoken for, though most of my gear is in my room."

[revanmal]

Hassaway leaned back from his slouch and used a leather gauntlet to spread his white cloak away from his left breast. His gold Captain badge stood out plainly from his well-kept steel mail.

"I'm a commander. Follow my orders and, together, we can defeat anything."

[Kevin Conner]

"Overconfidence leads to an early grave!" Precilla warned, "Though I do enjoy your confidence!" She paused looking at the empty seats, "It seems we have a few more mystery members, as their sealed letters remain on the seats!"

[Jack Freeman]

Erik, to the curiosity of some and the bewilderment to others, approaches hesitantly to one of the empty chairs.

"P-please excuse my tardiness, it took me s-some time to find this place," he squeaks out, while nervously gripping his staff. "D-do you mind if I take a seat?" he asks, to a table of silent, staring eyes all the while wondering how the events of the previous twenty-four hours had led up to this.

After receiving a nod from one of the strangers, he takes his seat and reminds himself that it's rude to speak unless spoken too.

[Kevin Conner]

"well, OUT WITH IT!" Precilla laughs. "Tell us who you are!"

[Jack Freeman]

"Oh! Of course... I do a-apologise," Erik stutters as he moves his chair back slightly and stands up. "Hello everyone!" he continues, "I'm Erik Glor, I umm.. completed my clerical studies a few weeks ago under the approval of Avandra. This is my umm... first job but I promise I will never let you down, else Avandra strike me where I stand!"

[Archonares]

Aaren eyes the boy warily for a moment, then shrugs, "First assignment, eh? You look pretty nervous... pray tell what you think we'll be doing?"

[Jack Freeman]

Erik looked into Aaron's eyes for a moment then glanced away.

"W-well, umm..." Erik paused for a moment, thinking what to say next, "I'm not quite sure but this was my only option, everyone else has turned me away thus far."

Erik, concerned after this line of questioning, turns his attention towards Precilla and asks "What will we be doing?"

[Kevin Conner]

"What you will be doing," a large man announces, as he stands behind one of the seats at the table. You see two heavily guards flanking his shoulders, "...is obtaining a simple scroll for me from a group of goblins outside of town."

He tosses a map onto the table, "One of you cartographers can take that, I don't care which one. The scroll is a history of magic. Don't worry, it in and of itself is non-magical, but it is worth more than your lives. All of which will be forfeit if I don't receive the scrholl in three weeks time. That gives you one week worth of travel, and another two to figure out some way into the mott and bailey those disgusting little creatures have constructed in the foothills! You can keep all other treasure, but don't try to make off with my scroll. Goodday."

As quick as he entered, the man left. You aren't sure about his threat, whether it was idle or sincere. All you are sure of is he wants that scroll badly.