Teal through the first day. Ah, the road is long and hard, but finally I reach Daggorford. A small community with a small keep nestled against the Delimbyr River. It is the last decent town on the last leg of the road to Waterdeep. Only another 150 miles to go, but though I see the crossing bridge before me the inn just before it beckons me enter. I see by the sun that it is about four hours past the mid of day, and how much further could I go this evening, if I were willing that is? I am only a weaver of tales and not much used to exercise of this sort. No, the doors of The Silver Ladle swing gently open at my touch, and even as my weary feet hit the threshold, the bearded bartender grins my way. His hands deftly grab a mug and as he fills it with a dark amber ale, he calls out in a friendly tone, "Ho, stranger, and well met! First one's on the house, friend." My feet seem to dance to the bar, and even as I take a deep draught, he continues, "I am Kyle, son of Tabek. Who might you be? Which way do your travels take you?" I answer softly, though most of the answers are not vital, and only pass the time until another traveller, weary of the road as are we all, enters and Kyle, son of Tabek, goes to serve and greet them. The only true information I have, is of the caravan a mile away to the south. It is making it's way here, though slowly, as one of the wagon wheels is sorely damaged and in need of a smith. This information earns me a quick refill, of which I was much in need. Shortly, I am in need of one more ale, this one to sip at my leisure. After being served, I turn and take a chair at a large round table with it's center cut out, that lies in the midst of the room. Jutting forth from it's center is an outcropping of rock. It is a fire pit, though as yet the logs have not been lit, for it was a warm enough day eventhough it is still Tarsakh of the Storms,(thank the gods it has not stormed these last few days). This is obviously the common table, while along the sides there are a few tables with booths for dining or discussions of a more private nature. As I sit, I peruse the other traveller's who have entered and taken a place at this magnificent treasure of a table. (ANDREW) Almost right behind me is a young human of average height with deep green eyes, under a mop of brown hair. He wears leathers and a white tunic and quickly peruses the residents of the inn and then chooses a seat near me. (CLAVEL BLUEHEART) Behind him, enters a man with coal black hair and dark blue eyes that pierce whomever his gaze rests upon. He sits quickly on my other side and impatiently his hand drums the table top as if waiting for some great occurence. (VALIMAR MORNINGMIST) The door opens again and another human enters, cleanshaven with shoulder length jet black hair. He wears common enough clothes and as he walks towards the table his azure eyes catch mine for but a second before he sits and relaxs. (ALMAR ZIR) Next enters an elf, light on his feet, and a twinkle in his eyes. He glances casually about him and then lands a spot unobtrusively at the table. (CRAELAN STORMBORNE) Soon after in walks a human, tall and lean, with shoulder length black hair, and eyes as grey as a wolf. He looks strong and well able to care for himself, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. (METHOS WARCHILD) And thinner by far, a wild elf enters the establishment next, a bow slung over his shoulder, and a weary look in his eye. Light footed he takes his place at the table, pulling his hood down, revealing his brown hair braided for battle And even as I look at them as a whole, I get a peculiar twinge in my gut that things are moving in the realms and these beings will somehow be a part and parcel to it all. Yes, it seems these six will be a group to behold, and perhaps I shall do just that. What else would a simple storyteller do? Turn #1 21st of Tarsakh of the Storms Each of you finds yourself seated at the common table as half an hour later, the door crashes open and in comes a large built human bearing a scar from forehead to cheek, intersecting the left eye, which he does not even bother to patch over. At his belt are worn a dagger on one side, and dangling on the right is a coiled whip. His eyes scan the room haughtily and centering on the round table where you are seated, he scornfully says, "My boss is looking for a few caravan guards, though there's not a decent guard among you. Dwarves and gnomes, and no elf ever knew the meaning of hardwork. Worthless, mangy, whoreson's the lot of you. Well, who want's the..." Even while your attention is focused on him, through the door comes a youth, his neck and face an awful crimson hue that rises above his worn leathers. He is not tall, nor heavily weighted, but without even hearing him speak, he draws your attention, with his bright emerald eyes(though now, they flame nearly red), and his strong, bold chin. When he does, speak it is soft, the obvious anger held in check, and just barely loud enough for you to hear him. "Ever since Baldur's Gate, you have been trouble. This is the last straw. Get your stuff. Get out of here!" It is short and clipped, but the scarred man blanches as he faces the manchild. After a few seconds, the youth turns his back and steps toward the table. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle and with just a slight quiver, does his anger still show through. "My apologies to you all. Allow me to buy you a round of Tabek's Red." As the youth motions to the barkeep, you watch as the older man's hands twitch once, twice, and his face visibly hardens. He reaches for the whip, and in a flash it is loose and uncoiled, it's tip lying on the floor behind him. TEAL SQUADRON RESPONSES TO TURN #1 METHOS WARCHILD At the first sign of attack from the scarred man, Methos grabs a bowl from the table, and lobs it above the head of the manchild toward the scarrd man. At the same time, he shouts, "Attack from the rear" to the manchild. Then he will stand and move to the side of the table, wanting to witness the power of this manchild, drawing his sword and dagger at the same time in case things get out of hand. ANDREW Andrew cries "watch out" and, watching closely the elf's actions,(he has never seen an elf before, much less a wild one ), he stands up and searches for his dagger, getting ready for action. SIR CLAVEL BLUEHEART Sir Clavel Blueheart reacts very swiftly to the threat. Hearing the others already giving warnings, he merely tosses the boy his dagger, "Here! Catch." Clavel then steps away from the table, giving himself a clear unobstructed view of the whip-wielding man. He mumbles something under his breath, unsheathes his long sword, and prepares himself for the mans reactions. Will the boy be attacked? CRAELAN STORMBORNE Craelan, at the first sign of sourness, upon the scarred mans face draws two daggers, the first he places on the table in front of him, with his left hand. the second remains in his right hand, ready for a throw. Just as his companions begin throwing things he says.. 2 scarred man- " now ya see yer in for a fight, think quick or we'll test yer luck!" ALMAR ZIR Almar leaps to his feet and begins to draw a bastard sword from its scabbard, stopping when 3-4 inches of steel are showing - enough to let this fellow know the consequences of that whip coming his way. VALIMAR MORNINGMIST Valimar sensing trouble quickly move into a safe corner of the bar. (There he will watch the confrontation and intervene when the confrontation turns ugly). Valimar waits patiently for the outcome of the confrontation. Turn #2 STORYTELLER I sit still hoping this trouble passes by. As I said before, I am a storyteller, not a fighter. And luckily there are others who come to the emerald eyed youth's rescue. Though there is much anger in the group and drawing of blades as they shout out warnings and throw objects at the scarred one, it is the sharp voices of Methos and Andrew who yell "Watch out!" that gets the youth to step quickly to the side even as the whip is started forward. And perhaps it is the imposing figures of several of the group stepping up to him, or the number of people shouting warnings that perhaps convinces the scarred one to rethink the situation. He turns haughtily, as though he fears none of these people, but why run then is my only thought. The young man laughingly turns and begins to thank each of them. He does not even appear shaken and softly he says, "Well, it is what I should have expected of that scoundral." He reaches out a hand to Clavel and says, "No. Do not give chase, my brother. He is not worth it, and I tell you honestly that he is nothing but a craven coward, and there truly is no price on his head." With that he leans in close to Clavel and whispers something in his ear. The young man, calling himself Darrin, orders another round for all, and as the bartender, Kyle, begins to set mugs and glasses in front of each of us, (even I your humble teller of tales), Darrin states that he is impressed with them all. He says Waterdeep is but six days away and he is in need of more guards for his wagons. The terms of agreement: 30 golden lions for each upon arrival at Waterdeep. free entry to Waterdeep(at festival time this can cost up to two silver falcons at the gate) Darrin will also be glad to help everyone pick out an inn and if it is one which he frequents, he promises to help get a good rate. If they are for some reason attacked before Waterdeep, the group can split all the loot, for he is only concerned with his cargo. Then the door swings open again, and a woman of brilliant yellow hair enters, lifting the hem of her black gown over the threshold. Her musical voice calls out Darrin's name. He stands, a startled look on his features, and with a call to the bartender to set each of you up with dinner. He takes her arm and like a proper gentleman leads her up the stairs. He pauses only to glance back and say, "I will be right back, please consider my offer." After a short time Kyle brings you steaming platters of food and more drink and says knowingly, "What a lad that Darrin is, eh?" Teal turn 2 responses METHOS After returning his sword and dag into their shealths, and regaining his chair, Methos takes a big swig of ale, wiping his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve. "Since we have not been properly introduced, I am called Methos, an elf who has travelled many miles in search of adventure. It would be an honor to be in league with such hearty adventures such as yourselves. This Darrin lad has provided us with a tempting offer, one which I advise we accept. There will be adventure on the road, and if we're lucky, we may come out with our lives and some loot. Either way, it may make this whole trip worthwhile." ANDREW Andrew sheathes his dagger and sits down. Then he asks Kyle: "do you know him? has he ever been here before?" then, after Kyle's answer he adresses the others and says:"I am called Andrew, humble server of Mystra" ( he shows the goddess' symbol with reverence and pryde ). "Who are you, travellers???" CRAELAN Craelan sheathes his daggers and tips up his mug. Having finished his drink. he surveys the room, at the same time he begins to talk to all listening: " I am Craelan Stormborne, the offer sounds tempting, I am in need of some travel and hopefully battle. Though I believe a group has been formed here this day, and I would like to see what we, together may accomplish. So if you are all in agreeance perhaps we should make a group decision." With that he motions for a drink to replace the last, and removes a small leather strap from about his wrist and ties back his semi-clean, raven hair. Speaks again: " though perhaps someone here has heard of a better offer, or a different challenge?" CLAVEL Sir Clavel Blueheart seems to be preoccupied. He listens to the others exchanging greetings. He nods curtly to them, "Well met. I see we share the same feelings toward ruffians." Seemingly in a hurry, he forgets to introduce himself. You seem him walk up to the barkeep and order something to drink. ALMAR ZIR Almar replaces his sword in it's sheath, returns to his seat, mumbles something under his breath and makes several brief gestures with his hands while glancing over his shoulder. Turning his attention back to the table he says, "Well met, good fellows. I am Almar Zir, hailing from the Woods of Sharp Teeth, near Baldur's Gate. I left my tribe to travel the lands of Faerun and I am currently en route to The City of Splendors. If we band together I believe we can all travel quickly and safely to Waterdeep." Almar picks lightly at the food placed in front of them. DM In response to Andrew's question of Kyle, the barkeep. Here is what he knows of Darrin. Bartender Kyle, son of Tabek As Darrin seemingly ignores your questions as he escorts the blond woman upstairs, the bartender calls out to the company..."Hear now, hear now. I can be of assistance. I've known Darrin since he was a little tyke traveling this very trade route with his father Anders Miyar. Who? That's Zorl Miyar's brother that is." Quite a few blank faces look at the bearded barkeep, and throwing his hands in the air, he continues, his voice tinged with exasperation, "Who is Zorl Miyar? How can you not know? True the trading has been hard these past two years what with the bloodshed at Dragonspear Castle, but this is dire indeed. He heads the merchant's guild out of Baldur's Gate. How true the rumors then? It has been said that with the recent competition, the League has serious monetary problems. This makes the first trade caravan of the season so important then. "As for the lad, when his father, gods receive him well, passed on nearly five years ago, Darrin approached his uncle and convinced him that he could move the cargo safely along this trade route. And he does. There is likely not to be any trouble, 'tween here and Waterdeep. "Now the fair-haired lady, I know naught of her, though doesn't mean that I shant fore the evenin' is gone. But I would clearly say that she isn't the type to take hold of that lad's heart. "Cargo. Well, the League is said to deliver whatever the customer has a desire for, as long as it isn't illegal, though there isn't much will fall under that category anyway. From here they always take some of the ale to Waterdeep to sell at festival, and then on the way back they take more home for some of the inns and taverns in Baldur's Gate. Spices, knickknacks, rare beasties at times. And like I said, if a customer has a special order, The Merchant League will find and deliver it, for a price... He stops speaking all of a sudden and cups his ear with his hand. "Ach, that'll be Darrin now, though not with the pretty lass, I warrant." With that he steps back to the bar, though you neither see nor hear Darrin approaching down the stairs, until a few seconds later. But than this barkeep, Kyle, must know every creak and it's portent. ANDREW Andrew looks directly to Almar Zir and says: "Excuse me good sir. You are an elf, aren't you? Is it true your race is very skilled in the ways of magic?? And is it true elves are pratically immortal? I read about this in a old book my late master gave me once, but I didn't believe it". Then he waits patiently for Almar Zir answer. His hunger of knowledge gleaming in his green eye. CLAVEL You notice that Sir Blueheart has been conferring with the barkeep for sometime now. The delicious smells of the served food waft into the air. It seems that they have peaked Clavels hunger for he returns to the table and takes a seat. Smiling at the others he lifts a glass of wine into the air and salutes them, "Dine well, friends. May your stomachs always be full and your thirst slaked with excellent wine." Teal Turn 3 Darrin returns to the table after snatching up a tankard of ale. "Well, I can see you all enjoyed the food," he says as he takes note of the empty platters lying around the table. "To answer your questions, my new friends, the cargo is none to precious, though the most precious in my mind is the Tabek's Red, and yet I need the extra guards because we have to split the caravan by a day's ride. The bulk of the wagons will go on ahead of us, while we escort one wagon and a carriage." Then Darrin chuckles to hear mention of this lass of his, "No, She is my cousin and although we are very close, she is nothing more than my uncle's daughter Zeptha. It is for her we even brought a carriage. I will supply horses... though if you prefer, I need two drivers as well." "And food will be provided, though you all are welcome to shoot any wild game you can to spice up the meals. I would appreciate a good change after almost a month on the road..." Darrin trails off as the door open again and all sense a chilling prescense. Another elf stands in the doorway, his obsidian black skin and hair, and eyes of diamond white, piercing the establishment's calm atmosphere. All eyes follow as the Drow strides quickly towards Darrin. Responses to Teal turn 3 Entrance of the Drow CRAELAN Craelan steps to his feet and away from the table. A hand straying to the hilt of his long sword, another to a dagger at his belt, though he doesn't draw either. He merely stands ready, watching the scene unfold. If the Drow turns out to be friendly, Craelans hands will return to normal positions and after greeting the drow he will return to his place, and have another big drink!! ANDREW Andrew is awed with the dark, mysterious stranger, he stands up, so he will be ready if any action occurs. He waits for any sign of hostility from the drow, and says to the others: "Take it easy, friends. Let's see if this is not one our new employer's servants. He seems to choose them well, remember the fellow with the whip????". Andrew keeps standing up, ready for reacting if any harm comes to his new employer. ALMAR ZIR "Thou art wise, Andrew. Let us lead with our mouths instead of our swords", say Almar as he rises from his seat and moves quickly to step between Darrin and the dark skinned fellow. With the biggest smile he can muster Almar says, "Greetings, friend. Won't you join us at the table for some fine drink and food?" METHOS Methos stands to the side, wanting to get a better view of this meeting between the Drow and Darrin. Although he has much distrust for Drow, he has learned many times not to judge anyone merely by their race. No need to be pulling out swords at the first sign of a stranger. CLAVEL Clavel watches the drow with interest. He doesn't seem a bit worried. He continues to drink his wine comfortably, pushing his chair slightly away from the table to watch the unfolding scene. VALIMAR Valimar's attention is suddenly focussed on the drow that had just enter. This is is first time he had ever seen a drow. Question are spinning wildly in his head as Valimar try to guess what is actually happening. He waits patiently for any sign of trouble from the taproom. Turn 4 Who is that Drow? You all hold your breath as the dark skinned one, comes to a stop a hairsbreadth from Almar. His eyes gaze through him and he doesn't make any acknowledgement that he has even spoken to or about him. His voice harsh and cutting through the calm atmosphere, he sneers directly to Darrin, "Are these who you have decided to hire?" "Yeah, and I was just getting to know them, when you gotta make your usual entrance. You sure know how to spoil a good time," Darrin says with a chuckle. Darrin shakes his head and continues aloud, "This is Tag, everyone. He's my friend. Don't mind him being snotty," he continues with a huge grin. The dark elf, ignoring Darrin's last remarks, looks past everyone and taking a deep breath, begins completely ignoring everyone else in the bar, "The smith reports that the wheel will be repaired by noon tomorrow, Darrin. I can only make five more miles at the most tonight." As you watch, the obsidian face cracks just a tiny bit with frustration, as he continues, "Perhaps I and the others should just wait up for you, and we will all continue tomorrow." Quickly Darrin moves to the side of his friend, "Have I chosen that badly for my new friends?" Tag's eyes glare at each of the companions, lingering briefly on each one and then his eyes resting on Clavel, he answers his friend, "No...of course not. But, perhaps your judgement is clouded by..." Darrin puts his arm around Tag's shoulder familiarly and says, "Tag, we have to make sure the main cargo gets to Waterdeep on schedule, and this couple hour delay has already set us back. No need to wait for me. Heck, we will probably catch up to you." As he says this, the emerald eyed, blond haired youth, physically turns the dark one towards the door and begins to guide him away. You can hear him say softly, "This is plenty of extra guards for one wagon and Zep's carriage. Come on. I'll help you finish loading and see you over the bridge." At the doorway, Darrin turns and says to all, "The common room is on me tonight. I'm afraid if you wanted a private room, my cousin Zeptha is already using it. I will meet all of you out front around noon." You watch as his hand reaches into a worn leather pouch and you see the flicker of gold in his palm. He tosses the coin in the air towards the storyteller, whose hand flickers quickly in the air and the coin disappears faster than it had appeared into the folds of the storyteller's robe. Darrin calls out, "A little entertainment for my friends, eh old one." And with that the unlikely pair head out the door. Storyteller on Dwarven Plight You wish a sad story tonight, eh. One that will make the women weep and seek the comfort of strong arms in the night. Such a story I have to tell: The Dwarves in long ago history were once a mighty race of hill and mountain, and their weapons and artifacts were wondrous to behold. But now not much is known of their homelands and kingdoms, yet I will tell you what I can. Before the dragons controlled the lands of Cormyr and the Sunrise Mountains began to spout flames and steam, the Dwarves were a mighty and numerous race. And then the wars began to take their toll, wars with orc and goblin and the settling of the Dragons in Cormyr, and now the Dwarven nation is dwindling in stature and size. No more are their wondrous cities amongst the caverns freely visited. Nay, for the most part their communities are kept hidden and secret, small kingdoms hidden from the larger world. Little is known of the Dwarves of the Far Hills except that they travel to the East to trade their few precious wares. And forgotten also are the enemy occupied holds of Hammer Hall, and the Iron House, those dwarves who had been driven out of the Mines of Tethyamar. However, even as these tales come from the North, there is talk of a great Dwarvish kingdom to the South, beyond the Vilhon Reach. There, a mighty chasm greater than Cormyr in size is supposedly rent in the ground and poised on the rim of that canyon are the towers of the city of Eastheart, while within the walls of the chasm is a huge Dwarven nation called Underholme. There is tell that these southern dwarves are not as dour and taciturn as their northern fellows. In fact they are said to be prouder, more haughty, and more energetic. These great losses of land and life have made the dwarves leave the sanctity of their hallowed mountains and seek a life of trade and adventure in the open world, there to attempt to make a mark on history that will not fade as their race is so doing.