You are in Absalom, the mighty City at the Center of the World, and recently an itch in your chest has been present, an itch for proper adventure, beyond the confinements of the city.
To explore one of the countless ruins of failed conquerors that litter the plains outside the city’s walls, after all those adventurers with their boasting and tales of their adventures.
With few seats available, you gather and sit down at a circular table.
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Serge sits at the table, slouched over with his head held up by his palms. His eyes are half open. It had been about two months since the passing of his cousin Brayden, a cousin who was more like a brother to him, and he hadn't been able to shake his depression off nor come to terms with it. And now, he was to enter ruins and explore them. The mission seemed just a little too similar to his cousin's final adventure, and although he felt determined, he was uneasy about the idea.
"A drink. No -- two drinks. Please." He attempts to get the barkeep's attention by lazily raising a single finger. Serge wears a full suit of scale mail and carries a long, thin sword on his side. His hair is reddish brown, his eyes similar in colour. A pencil-thin scar lines one side of his face. He looks around at those who have gathered next to him and does his best at feigning a smile.
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The ifrit sitting next to Serge, slender and athletic, has a very different energy level. The man with the blazing orange hair sits up straight, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. DUM-dududum, DUM-dududum. He gives the smiling man next to him a jovial slap on the shoulder. "Come on, isn't this exciting? Exploring a ruin that has laid barren for years? Unknown dangers to face?"
The golden chains around his neck makes a soft noise as he bends down, patting a red tabby cat that has been playing idly with the scimitar scabbard hanging from the man's belt. "Hey there, Tabbou. Of course you can come as well. As long you keep out of trouble. Maybe you'll even catch a mouse." He starts laughing at the joke, then explains to his fellows around the table. "Don't ask me why, but she's the only vegetarian cat I've ever seen..."
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A nervous looking young man in a dark robe looks from one adventurer to the other. "I'm with him," he says, nodding towards Serge, "I don't see why I can't just read about these ruins while in the library. Still, I don't have much say in the matter, so..."
He chuckles at the antics of Tabbou, and turns once more toward the paladin. "Say, shouldn't you maybe go easy on the drinks? Don't get me wrong, I could go for some applejack myself right about now, put my nerves at ease. But maybe we should save it for when we all get back?"
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Serge lays out his hand, gripping the table in it. With the other, he lifts his drink with what seemed like tremendous effort and takes the smallest sip, setting the glass back down. "Exciting..." His smile inverts as he responds to the energetic creature, and he shrugs. "I'll explore these ruins if nothing else than to keep my mind occupied. And if Ragathiel should allow it, perhaps I'll be sending a few foul creatures to another plane," he says, suddenly looking determined and anxious, as if the ifrit's enthusiasm had rubbed off on him.
Serge's senses return moments later, and he continues to pout. With a flick of his wrist, he slides his untouched beer down the table, towards the Taldan man questioning his drinking. "A fair point. But certainly you must realize I ordered two in case another would like to join me in the drowning of sorrows," he sarcastically adds, a grin on his face.
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Adamondais raises the mug in a salute, then takes a deep drink. Sorry, gov, don't mean to be a wet blanket. Just think we ought to be sharp heading out, is all. On that note, are you alright? No offense, but I've seen Gebbites what look more lively than you."
He takes another drink from the mug, shorter this time, before offering it to the ifrit swordsman. And you, you look like you've seen your fair share of adventure. Either of you have any stories to tell while we're waiting for the others?
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Dalir whistles. "Ragathiel? He fights against demons and devils, and such? That seems a worthy cause. May you bring glory to the one you follow," he toasts, raising his glass of wine.
He smiles at the nervous man in the robe. "Don't worry, it'll be fine," he comforts. "Reading about it is one, but actually living it is something entirely." He scoffs at the young man's mention of adventures. "If you call growing up in Oppara's Narrows an adventure, then yes, I've had some. None really worth telling, though. Dour stuff..." Indeed, he doesn't seem particularly interested in dragging up that period of his past. "What is worth telling, though," he continues in much brighter voice, "is my journey to Katheer. Glorious Golden Katheer, with its wonderful harbor, bazaars that carry anything you could imagine, academies for the most noble pursuits and colleges that teach music and dance. Marvelous, and not a word of false praise!"
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"Ah, you know of Ragathiel?" Serge perks up at Dalir's mention of his god, and he smiles. "I can appreciate your knowledge of my Lord. His worship brings me calm, and his ideals of vengeance are just the thing I need at a time like this..."
Moments later, Serge suddenly reacts, although he does not know to what.
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Dalir holds up his hand in apology. "I'm sorry, I don't. But you talked about sending foul creatures to another plane. I assume you weren't talking about angels." He laughs, then turns serious. "Your Ragathiel strives for vengeance, above all? When I was in Qadira, I was taught mostly about the Dawnflower. She has quite different opinions on the matter, I suppose."
A small gnome bard girl from another table, turns at the praises.
"No false word? All glorious in Katheer?
You must've missed....oh no, he's here???"
The gnome covers her ears in anticipation, as she peers out the window.
A bard in blue and white checkered clothing steps in, and assesses the crowd.
"Jolly good, i will show these folk the product of Katheer's finest."
Most patrons near the door are caught by surprise, as is Adamondair, by a horrible 'singing'. Thankfully Dalir and Serge covered their ears in time.
Whatever small arguments some patrons had, they unified in expelling the latest threat to the public.
A burly dwarf throws his tankard at the bard, and it hits him on the head, and he stops for a moment.
Random patron: "Now! Toss him out, before we go deaf!"
The bard is quickly tossed out.
Outside: "Barbarians!..Ow......"
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Listening intently to Dalir tell of Katheer, Adamondais is startled by the sudden intrusion. As the door opens he tries to jump from his seat, but manages only to slam his knee against the table. Gah! Son of a...what in the nine layers of Hell is that noise!?
As the others laugh at the "bard"'s misfortune, Adamondais sits back down and tries to regain some dignity.
Gnome girl: "That, would be Caco, of house Phonix.
They are one of the more artful noble houses in Magnimar, but he spent some years, to our displeasement it turned out, in Kathleen's academy for musical arts."
"Trying to find an audience that actually appreciates his performance, is my guess. He'll be traveling the world i reckon, not finding that crowd."
"They might shriek in horror...if you ask me, and the people at the inns...and people in general, hehehe :3"
"Scuse me fellers." Says a guy in a wizard get up who looks so grizzled that he might be from the Elemental Plane of Rawhide. "Where'd you get yer sarsaparilla?"
He nods his thanks when you tell him and looks back over his shoulder at what just happened. His old eyes grow misty like he's looking back through time and space and he says.
"Ya know that reminds me o somethin. Way out west there was this fella... fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of Geoffree le Bouescki. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. Mr. le Bouescki, he called himself "The Dude". Now, "Dude" - that's a name no one would self-apply where I come from. But then there was a lot about the Dude that didn't make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise. But then again, maybe that's why I found the place so darned interestin'. They call Magnimar the "City of Monuments." Like a graveyard. I didn't find it to be that, exactly. Too noisy and cutthroat. I'll allow there are some nice folks there. 'Course I can't say I've seen Multhune, and I ain't never been to Nirmathas. And I ain't never seen no Queen Domina in her damned undies, so the feller says. But I'll tell you what - after seeing Magnimar, and this here story I'm about to unfold, well, I guess I seen somethin' every bit as stupefyin' as you'd see in any of them other outside planes. And in Common, too. So I can die with a smile on my face, without feelin' like the gods gypped me. Now this here story I'm about to unfold took place back in the early 4700s - just about the time of our conflict with Karzoog and them stoner giants. I only mention it because sometimes there's a man... I won't say a hero, 'cause, what's a hero? But sometimes, there's a man. And I'm talkin' about the Dude here. Sometimes, there's a man, well, he's the man for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that's the Dude, in Magnimar. And even if he's a lazy man - and the Dude was most certainly that. Quite possibly the laziest in Varisia, which would place him high in the runnin' for laziest worldwide. But sometimes there's a man, sometimes, there's a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But... aw, hells. I've done introduced him enough. He's sittin' at that table over there. Ya'll should 'hi' er somethin'. You might hit it off. I need me a drink."
And with that the old coot walks off toward the bar.
The girl bard has her chin in one of her small hands.
"Maybe he's smoked too much Varisian spice.
But he's the bartender's problem now."
She turns to speak again with the few friends she's sitting with.
A firm built waitress, the friendly aunt type, stops by.
"Care for another one?"
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A lightly armored blue skinned woman bearing dual swords arrives somewhat late to the party it seems.
"I am a bit unsure as to why I am here. Opportunity, wealth, exploration. These things were promised to me, but I am not even sure that I seek those things. I am Sifah. How may my meager talents be of use?"
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"Hey Sifah, can I bum a light off you?" Asks the Dude rubbing sleep from his eyes. He's a big guy who walks with a lazy sort of grace. He seems to be wearing a knit jacket over a loose shirt. He has faded, short, baggy pants and sandals. In one hand he holds a hand-rolled cigarette. With his free hand he plucks a drink off a passing tray. "I'm Dude."
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"Well, hello Dude", Dalir interjects, the words rolling off his tongue as if it takes some getting used to. "My greetings to you as well," he continues as he stands up to make a formal bow to the blue-skinned woman. At her confusion over the Dude's request, he walks over the big guy. "Allow me." He rubs his hands together and gently blows across an outstretched finger to the man's smoke, lighting it instantly.
As 4 of you are at the table, and the Dude very much near it, and old timer walks into the tavern.
Pushing his spectacles back properly, he peers around, in thought.
After speaking at a few tables, where whatever he was asking was waved away, he comes to yours.
"Good day youngsters. Allow me to introduce myself.
I am Herbert Hermant, and i am a professor at Abalom's academy of archeology and history.
I am in need of a group of free spirits, who would like to explore a site of interest to our academy, compensation will be given of course."
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"It is a common misconception that we Undine are spirits. While there are metaphysical discussions to be had regarding if we have spirits, I can assure you that we are not actually spirits. As for 'free' however, we are mostly free, although like many races, there are those that would enslave my type from time to time."
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Noticing the presence of two more now seated at his table, Serge offers a half smile and something of a wave to both Sifah and The Dude. He coughs a few times as smoke billows from The Dude's cigar(ette). "Ahem, just what is it that's burning in that device of yours, friend?"
He turns to the old gentleman standing next to his table, and takes another sip from his glass. "I believe that's why we were called here, anyway. Perhaps you might tell us something about this... site of interest, and its history. Are we to expect anything dangerous?"
Herbert pushes back his spectacles again.
Contrary to his apparent age, his voice is still lively.
"It is the ruin of an old siege fortress, of which several had been constructed in times long ago, in the not too distant vicinity of our fair city.
They were bases of operations for sieging forces, some had later become the hideout for roaming outlaws. We know not what remains of, or within, this particular site though.
I don't know what degree of risk you will be facing, but outlaws have not been spotted in the lands for quite some time."
He looks at the others too,
"We, of the academy, are interested to know what has become of it. Any interior design, art, items of historical significance, whatever you would find of some interest."
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Adamondais stares after the Dude's apparent herald "What is it with the bards in this place...?" Glancing over at the gnomish girl at the next table, he sheepishly adds, "Er, present company excluded, of course."
He nods politely to the Dude and Sifah as they arrive.
After Herbert explains the task at hand, Adamomdais blurts out "Like the Spire of Nex!" For the first time since sitting at the table, he seems genuinely animated. "Well, sort of. Not really, I guess." He seems to temporarily forget his anxiety while discussing scholarly matters with the old man.
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"Sounds good to me man. I'm about as free a spirit as there is."
Noticing the presence of two more now seated at his table, Serge offers a half smile and something of a wave to both Sifah and The Dude. He coughs a few times as smoke billows from The Dude's cigar(ette). "Ahem, just what is it that's burning in that device of yours, friend?"
Trying to hold his last drag in and speak at the same time the Dude says in a strained voice: "You know. Wind, fire, all that kind of thing."
"I know nothing of art and architecture, but I am willing to learn."
"I do a little interior design work. I went to classes and stuff."
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"Exploring a site of interest? Color me... interested. I'm not too keen on interior design and art, but it'll be good to get out of the city." He smiles at seeing the robed man suddenly much more animated. "Well, good to see you get your guts back. You're in, then?"
Dalir's tabby cat jumps on his lap and looks right at him with large eyes, then begins purring softly.
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"As my fiery friend says, I suppose I'd also be interested," the paladin says as determinedly as he can given his current state of mind. "Exploring an ancient fortress is just the thing I'd need, and it'll keep me away from these... Temptations, at the same time." Serge lifts the glass of beer and pounds back the rest of his drink, gently setting it back down.
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At thought of leaving the city, Adamondais' face goes pale, but he takes a deep breath and says "Yeah. I - I'm in. I need to get some field work done before I can continue my studies, and you folk seem like reasonably seasoned explorers. I ought to be relatively safe so long as I stay close, right?"
He glances around at the others gathered at the table, a grim smile appearing on his face. "But we'd best head out soon, before I lose my nerve," he adds with a forced laugh.
Herbert: "I only said 'free spirits', not that you were required to have a career of adventuring, young lady."
"Thank you very much. Ah yes, let me give you some directions."
Herbert pulls out a map from his pack, and points at the location of the city, and then the location of the ruin. "...and that's about it. Good luck, and thank you again."
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Later..
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You traverse rough terrain, leading into sandy dunes and rocky spires.
In the distance, the half crumbled remains of a large building comes into view.
The ruined siege castle now being called the Fallen Fortress
rises out of the churned earth of the Cairnlands. No doors or windows mark the otherwise smooth expanse of the tower’s walls.
The tower is quatrefoil in plan; its eastern wing has largely collapsed, exposing the interior floors to the open air. Only the topmost level seems whole, though its eastern portion hangs precariously over the mountain of rubble left by the collapse.
At ground level, the rubble frames a gaping hole in the side of the building that provides access to the tower’s darkened interior.
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There isn't too much time to gawk at it, however, as some wild dogs have come into view...and they look hungry.
Serge
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Dogs
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Amondais & Dalir
Sifah, The Dude
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"What you mean we have to walk?! I thought there'd be like a cart or something. You know catch a few Zs before all the excitement."
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"F&$% man! Will you look at the size of that place. Pretty inspiring man. You just think of all the f#&$ing work that went into that. Blows the mind. And to think we all came out here and saw it together. Pretty f+!~ing awesome man! PRETTY F~#$ING AWESOME!" He makes explosion gestures about his head throws his fists up and screams some more. Then spent he falls back on pile of rocks. He takes his sandals off so he can wiggle his toes in the breeze.
Then after about a half minute he says "So what's next? I saw little pond back that way. We could go skinny dipping."
"Oh shit!" He exclaims, scrambles to his feet and grabs his sandals.