It’s the year of the Desert’s Fury in the 190^th King’s Age, but most people from Tyr call it Free Year 11. With the advent of the great earthquake, a series of problems has plagued the city, which the Tyrian Council of Advisers has yet to bring under control. The natural disasters have turned a significant portion of the population into frightened mobs. Natural disasters aside, other changes happening in the world have inspired panic of other sorts. Currently hordes of monsters, frightened out of the mountains by continuing tremors, flood the valley in search of stable ground. All in all, a ripe time for a group of individuals to try and make a lasting change and have their names praised in King’s Ages to come.

Welcome to the free city of Tyr, where everyone who works earns pay, slavery is a thing of the past, and all citizens participate in the process of government. The recent earthquake hasn't changed Tyr very much. The crowds are still as thick as an ock 'n on a mekillot and the chaos of freedom still reverberates off every wall. There are signs that the disaster has touched the free city, however. Cracks decorate buildings and walls, and a few structures have collapsed altogether.

There are also more refugees than before - people from the client villages who have sought safety behind the city walls. These fugitives have the look of poverty about them, for they haven't been able to find work within the city, and nor have they mustered up the courage to return to their lives in the villages.

The harsh, relentless sun was ascending towards its apex and the city had become hotter than usual. The dust was thick in this plaza as many feet trampled by disturbing the ground. The crowd of people gathered unceremoniously bump into you as they pass by; throats were as dry as an inix hide. Sweating bodies crammed together gave off a stench that was almost overwhelming and you start to question your decision of coming to the central plaza of the Free City.

The crowd was mostly made up of poor, hungry souls but your trained eye discerns the typical thieves and thugs who are always around when a group of people bunch together trying to make an easy theft. The only respectable people seem to ignore the crowd, you were just about to leave when you spot two half-giant dressed in the city's uniforms trying to reach the plaza's center. Curiosity getting the better of you, you decide to endure your discomfort a bit longer and hear them out.

The two half-giant guards split the crowd apart and make way for their half-elf templar master. The brutes are sweating freely under their hide armor; each one wields a 5 foot stone club as if it were a matchstick. The templar is also as slick as a mekillot's tongue under his traditional black cassock; an iron short sword, symbol of the Tyrian wealthy iron mines, strapped to his side. The small entourage of the government's representatives finally reached the center and takes its stand in the main plaza. The templar shows an air of supremacy as he looks down on the people around him. You realize that it is going to be very hard to hear what he has to say so you start to get closer when, much to your surprise, everyone involuntarily quiets as the half-elf templar begins to speak.

"Let the word go forth! The Council of Advisors needs able-bodied adventurers for a special mission. This trial is not without danger…," the templar stops, scans the crowd and continues, "but a healthy pursue is included for those willing to provide this service to the free city."

A rugged looking man, obviously drunk, makes for the half-elf and yells out "Givess mess ze money now…" The man's speech is cut short by one of the half-giant guards who efficiently picks him up and throws him back to the crowd. The drunk crashes into a crowd of whelps who had somehow squeezed themselves all the way to front rows. The children quickly attend to the drunk by searching his pockets without any concern of anyone watching. When they find no money on him, they merely leave him stretched out on the floor. A few of the shorter ones climb on top of the now unconscious man to get a better view. The templar chuckles to his guards, "I hate these scums, we would have killed him if all-mighty Kalak was around but we can't touch him now lest the council think we are too rough." Both guards resume their postures and grin back at the templar as if laughing at their own private joke.

The templar resumes his smog posture and continues, "We have recently received visitors from the West. It seems that there are villages we never knew existed past the Ringing Mountains and past the Forest Ridge." The templar stops and involuntarily grunts as his parched throat reminds him of the hot sun. He uncorks his water skin and takes a long slip of water. He smiles when the miserable crowd "oohed and aahed" as water carelessly drips from his chin. He passes the skin to his guards and continues, "These villages are populated by civilized pterrans who sincerely wish to establish commerce with the Free City. Unfortunately, the path the pterrans came forth was sealed by another of the tremors following the Great Earthquake. A new path must be forged, and for that we need brave people willing to make the trip and then come back with a detailed map route."

The templar wipes sweat from his brow, looks at his miserable crowd and continues, "The Council needs you. The Free City needs you. Come to the council hall immediately and offer your services."

The crowd grows restless once again and yells could be heard everywhere. "We need food and water" "Give back what you have stolen" "Why don't you work like the rest of us" The half-elf grows impatient and orders his guards around, "Let's go. We won't find anyone useful in this sorry lot." The half-giants raise their stone clubs and start pushing the crowd apart. Everyone tries to get out of their way and the few unfortunates who do not, are viciously pushed aside by the brutes.

The group of people soon dissipates as quickly as they had gathered; every beggar resigned to continue their pitiful existence. You find yourself wondering if this was not what you are just looking forth. Your thoughts wonder back to the past few days in the city and you make up your mind; anything to get out of this dammed city. As you question if you are good enough to take on the job, you suddenly remember that the templar had asked for a group of people and not just one person. You curse your bad luck and try to make your way out; your thoughts linger on the possibility. All of the sudden, you see others around you who look like they could be of help …

 OUT OF CHARACTER

Introduce yourselves in character please. In this first turn, I'm especially interested in what your character looks like so that other people can get a mental picture of him so "I´m playing a male human fighter" is not enough.

Also add your name or whatever you want to be called, where you live (I'm interested in Time Zones) and anything else that you want the rest of us to know.

L8r,

Fabian