You walk along the streets of Absalom when suddenly with no warning, you suddenly hear the voice of a man inside your head."I have been watching you for some time. Your actions so far have been noticed and I believe you can help me. I am very wealthy and can reward you richly for your time and effort.Come to Gerald’s Rest and Revelry tomorrow morning to discuss arrangements. Be prepared for travel there is little time.
Gerald’s Rest and Revelry is an average-quality hostel in the market district. In addition to multiple performing stages and rooms for rent, the establishment incorporates a number of private rooms that have witnessed every sort of secret dealing. The private rooms are rumored to be magically protected against observation. The hostel is quiet when you arrive, with a lone bard playing for patrons enjoying breakfast. The host is a perky young half-elf who quickly recognizes you and welcomes you inside, ushering you up a short flight of stairs and into a balcony room that overlooks the stage below.
The host leads you to a second-floor room, partially open to the floor below and with an excellent view of the stage. The sounds of a lute carry above the faint din of breakfast. A number of chairs are arranged closest to the balcony’s edge, and a low table against the back wall of the room is laden with fruits and pastries.
A dark skinned middle-aged human with dark hair and neatly trimmed beard stands near the chairs. You notice he wears a ring on each finger made of varied metals, bronze, steel, silver ect...and five gold rings on each ear. He is apparently enjoying the musical performance. He turns as the door opens, gesturing to the table. "Please, help yourself. My name is Sazed Khaim, and we have business to discuss, which is always more pleasant on a full stomach. Once everyone has arrived I will begin."
Erik slides into the room. Noticing he's the first "guest" here he politely declines breakfast and leans on the balcony rail.
"How do you do Mr Khaim" Erik says, with a gentle nod. "Are you the gentleman who spoke in my mind?"
This is the place, Lysander Tremayne thinks as he enters Gerald's Rest and Revelry. Never been here before... He pushes the door open, sweeping back his high cowl as he ducks down to enter the establishment. Green take my height.
Catching the glances cast his way from the patrons, and their subsequent expressions, Lysander curses another aspect of his appearance, also drawn from his heritage. Not every day you see a gray-skinned elf, huh, folks? he almost says; he can feel the biting sarcasm on his tongue, but clenches his jaw to prevent any insults from escaping. They can't help it, the urban fools; they understand only what they want to, and fear what they don't understand. And they probably haven't ever seen my kind before, considering I've never seen another like me.
Moving lithely and quickly toward the bar, Lysander sees the half-elf smile and gesture to the stairs. He heads in that direction, holding his cloak back over his shoulder, pressed against his bow, quiver, and spear, to avoid catching it against any tables or chairs. He nods to the host and opens the door to the room, slipping inside easily.
Inside, he sees the humans, and quickly takes measure of each. The dark one is older, unarmored... Most likely a mage of some sort, if anything. Probably an aristocrat who fancies himself an adventurer. The other... younger, wearing scaled armor, and a sword. A mercenary, most like. The half-elf keeps his thoughts to himself, though.
To the others in the room, Lysander is a very tall man, almost painfully thin, though his breeches suggest leanly muscular legs. He wears a shirt of patchwork hides above leather breeches and tall boots. His cloak appears to be a mixture of leather and hide, all stitched together, with what looks like a string of teeth and claws tying the shoulder-pieces together.
Most shocking, though, is Lysander's face. Thin and aquiline, with slightly pointed ears, it clearly marks him as having elven ancestry. Curious is the shock of long white hair that flows back from a high hairline; more curious is his gray skin. It doesn't look unhealthy; on the contrary, it looks the skin of a very healthy young man, but gray in color. His eyes are different colors, as well: one is bright green, and the other is a yellow-orange color.
"Well met," he says simply when Khaim introduces himself. His voice is pleasant, but short. "I will wait."
With that, he moves to a wall, reaching out and grabbing an orange on the way. He pulls a small knife from his belt and begins peeling it, uncovering the whole fruit in a single piece, before pulling it apart and chewing thoughtfully.
This is the wrong tread...its a duplicate I made by accident.
Please go post here instead.
http://paizo.com/campaigns/MysteryOfTheKeepers/gameplay&page=last