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Ready.
Once, a long time ago, me and my friends, an elf, a human, and a Uruk-Hai were all at a tavern. We didn't know each other at the time, but we would soon. My children, this is our story.
We were all called there to meet a mysterious man. He would send us many places, before dying.
You're in a small town that is little more than a dot on your maps. You've been called to this nameless town by a man who goes by the name of Jerog. Know of you know him, but he has promised great rewards. You all are supposed to meet him, and sit at the counter in the tavern. Next to you is a human man who carries to swords. He is reading a letter similar to the ones you all received.
Sitting at the counter is a slim, silver-haired elf, bearing a couple of large quivers filled with arrows, as well as a beautifully crafted elven-make bow, inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. His clothes are of almost gossamer-thin blue tinted leather, matching his ice-blue eyes.
Daechir looks from one end of the counter to the other and notes the presence of two men and an orc in addition to himself. He takes a deep breath and schools his face to a smooth expression, hiding any reaction to the presence of the orc. The power of the orcs was broken, they are no longer the threat they were with Saruman and the Dark Lord gone... This one may be different, after all, he is here alone. He nods a greeting to each of the others in turn.
"I am Daechir, son of Druindar. I am honored to meet you all..." He looks toward one of the two humans' hands, at the paper held there. "I received such a letter myself.. are you our host Jerog? or did you receive that from him as well?"
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Ghar keeps his hood down, knowing his people where hated everywhere, and almost always killed on sight, he at least kept the Villagers from attacking him in fear... these men, and the elf... he didn't know about them... his huge unwieldy blade hung from his back, one of the relics of his ancestors. He sat down, the chair creaking. "yes... the man came to me, and I don't know why, but he didn't attack me... are you gonna attack me?" as he says this, he looks up, his red eyes glareing at the elf.
Within a few moments of Ghar finishing his sentence, a man bursts in. He looks to the group of four.
"Hello. Are Ghar, Daechir, Marwood, and Zacharias?"
"Not out of hand, orc. There is no need, you are obviously not a threat here and now, and I'm no murder, nor do I wish to be on the receiving end of your blade. Shall we call a truce for now?"
He turns at the intrusion of the man and peers at him. "I am Daechir... are you Jerog?"
Marwood broods over his drink. For a moment, the orc thinks that he may in fact attack when he hears his voice. However, the grim man just scowls and mutters into his drink.
"My name's Marwood." he replies when the man came bursting in. "You?"
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The fourth man says: I am indeed Zacharias.
With this, the new man looks at you all. I am the Jerog you speak of. Come, I have a private table where we can speak more freely.
Daechir follows Jerog to this private table he speaks of.
Marwood rises, wobbles slightly, and tromps over to the new table, where he plunks down his tankard with a sigh. "All right. Lets hear it." he says.
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"Good. You all came. I messaged you all because I need a package delivered. You 4 seem like you can do the job. What do you say?"
"You asked me to come here to make a delivery?" He lofts a brow slightly, but the expression on his face is one of bewilderment and disdain at the same time. "Perhaps you need to explain more."
"You called me here to have me deliver a message?" Marwood grumbles, the insult obvious on his face. "This had better be import-important."
Looking down into his cup, he sighs and waves for a refill as soon as possible.
"Several people want to get their hands on this package. I need you to get it to a contact at the lonely mountain. He knows you're coming."
"Fine, fine." Marwood replies. "What ugly said. Who's our contact, how do we get there?"
"Aye, our reception from the dwarves might be less than open-armed, but we shall see. Answers would be welcome now. Who we are to see and how we are to get there are excellent questions."
"Fine. Time for answers. You are to see Dorven at the Lonely Mountain. The local stables have horses for you to get there. Tell the stables Jerog sent you."
"Well let's go." Marwood says. "We'll figure out the horse thing when we get there."