You are sitting in the Twisted Monkey Inn, on the slope of the Saru Mountain, just one of the many mountains that make up the Chenlun Mountain range, a massive range that stretches almost the entire width of the southernmost peninsula of the continent of Tian Xia. The mountain range cuts through the nations of Nagajor, Dtang Ma and Xa Hoi. One lucky thing about being in Chenlun Mountain Range is the hot springs born by the ranges volcanic activity. From your location on Saru Mountain, you can see, far in the distance, a lone peak, towering up into the sky, bellowing black smoke into the stratosphere. Nothing to worry you here though.
A elderly man stands up on a chair. Helped by a young looking woman. He clears his voice as he addresses each of you. "Many of you came for rumor of treasure, others came for the adventure about to unfold." some people laugh in the back of the inn while others just stare on. "Do not take this trip lightly, for it has taken the life of many a young man and woman. Several years past, it took the life of my own son, Francis, for he has yet to return. I ask you as you travel down into the Silent Caverns, look for his remains and bring him back." The man steps off of the chair and walks away.
Gargon lurks in the shadows watching the group of adventurers. He doesn't want to get too close, he doesn't want to get smacked again. Impulsive though he may be, his travels have taught him a little caution.
These look like hunters. Maybe I can hunt with them. I can bite and I can eat. Maybe some coins too for special meat. I have hunted alone for too long and I want bigger prey
The mood around the inn was dark and dreary; that much was certain. Yet, on one side of an old oak table that everyone had seemed to gravitate to, even before the old man's speech, sat a rather odd looking elf. Reclined back in a worn, splintering chair that had seen too many bar fights, this elf was dressed in a durable leather jacket, leather breeches, and leather boots; all of them of dark tan. However, that was where the normalcy ran out. Sleeves thrust out from either side of the jacket with a purple and teal pattern akin to jester's stripes.
White hair poked out in every direction from a purple, ratty, and holey hood that had obviously seen some better days. The buckled, calf-high boots, which reclined nicely upon the table top, wiggled to and fro at a rhythmic pace, almost as if they were deep in thought. Yet, when one looked plainly at the figure dressed in explorer's gear, they could not help but smile at how lost from the world the elf seemed; or rather, lost in a book.
Bright green eyes lifted up from the pages of a thick, teal embroidered tome to glance about the table as the old man left. Speaking out in baritone, the elf said, "I guess this is where we start the introductions. My name is Vemarus, and I will be your mage, if you so need one."
The room is bustling with activity after the old man spoke about his missing son. No one really notices anything amiss as several figures move through the crowd, stopping to talk to this person or that person.
Taking a swill of his ale Unbeugsam sighs for a moment. "Bad news for a parent not to know its child has been buried. No promises lad!"
Seeing the ugly thing in the tavern the dwarf spits into a corner.What´s next... a zombie. A well it would look and most likely smell better than that!
Stroking his wellworn warhammer he looks at the elf. "Aha, so you know how to spitshine my shoes. Well, let´s hope you are worth taking along! If you need a name ... call me Unbeugsam!"
Hob raises his cup to the man. I'll do my best for you. If we find him alive or dead, I vow to do what it takes to bring him back to you. Hob felt the promise was a small price to pay for the opportunity to gather a treasure of knowledge from underneath the ground.
The archaeologist nods at the others. Hob Prentice, Well met.
Gargon motions to a passing barmaid. As she approaches he mimes drinking from a mug and eating. Staying in the shadows and sitting alone (who would want to eat with a goblin) Gargon continues to observe the patrons of the tavern.
I will watch them a little longer. They look like hunters, but will they hunt me? That one with the book is reading. I don't trust him. All those words stolen out of heads. What if he steals mine?
When his mug of ale and plate of roast beef arrive Gorgan places a handful of coins on the table. The barmaid takes what she needs (and more than she needs truth be told) from the small pile on the table. Gargon puts the remained into his belt pouch then looks toward his meal. Shaking an epic amount of salt onto his meat he takes another deep draft from the mug and using his hands he set about devouring his food
Well that one's certainly abrasive. Mariah thinks to herself noting the arrogant dwarf's immediate dismissal of the elven man. He had the look of an academic, which in a new environment wasn't to be underestimated. Of course this Unbeugsam probably considered them all useless for a foray into the caves. He'd be in for quite a surprise at that.
Sitting in a dark corner, her hood pulled up Mariah observes the other patrons quietly, noting the weird goblin studying the others as well. The strangest thing was watching him actually pay for his food......with money.
To Vemarus' attention, no one truly trusted each other in this establishment. Dwarves demanding their shoes to be cleaned, and multiple individuals sitting in the shadows. This adventure already seemed to be set on a rocky path.
Nodding to Hob, the elf replied, "You, as well. It's good to see a fellow academic in these parts."
A dark leather backpack rest against Vemarus' chair, and lazily putting his tome away, the elf returned his attention to the people at large.
"If we are to venture into the tunnels, we must make attempts to get along. Obviously, the dwarf has societal inabilities when sylvan folk are involved, but I'm sure he can make do. To everyone else here, my aim is to keep everyone very much alive and well throughout our venture together. If you have issues with that, please state them now."
"What do you mean with inabilities... well no matter. As long as you manage to aid a bit... allis well Hello Hob, nice to meet you!" With that he takes another swill of ale and comfortably strokes his hammer with a silent smile before laying his boots on the table and taking out a cigar, biting the end off and start to smoke it.
As the tavern becomes a den of socialization and introductions are made, Shellin takes a look over the crowd from his table near the door.
He spends a time looking at the adventurers in quiet contemplation.
If now is the time to trade names and stories before the delve, I guess it would be best to join, but I doubt anyone here will be very interesting...
Upon hearing the elf's introduction, Perhaps it might be nice to talk shop with another weilder of the arcane...
Then noticing Hob, However, I think I won't be for want of intellectuals to talk too...
Upon hearing the Dwarf's reply to the man request, a wry smile crosses Shellin's face. Uncle Jaun would probably find a comrade here, but perhaps I'd best leave him to his drink...
Noticing Maraiah, And perhaps that one to her shadows. Hmm
Finally, his eyes fall on Gargon, and he almost literally lights up. A Goblin! Never had the chance to put it to practice!
He strides over to Gargon's table and quickly takes a seat across from the goblin.
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Gargon readies humself to leap at Shellin teeth first until Shellin speaks. Shellin. A smile comes to his face as he answers Shellin, his mouth half-full of meat.
Shellin will regard the half-lunge with curiosity, a half smile crossing his otherwise neutral face. He will stop a barmaid to order the same meal as Gargon, with a juice to replace ale. He keeps his attention with Gargon, clear blue eyes focused.
Seems like I guessed right! Glad he didn't finish the lunge, but back to the matter.
"I'll have my own meat soon, worry not. I've never actually gotten to speak with one of your kin before, Gargon. The few I've met didn't give me time to practice in your odd tongue! Tell me, do you all like you meat thus salted?"
Gargon finishes his plate of meat and hungrily eyes Shellin's. As the barmaid makes to leave he holds up the empty mug, hoping for a refill.
Shellin's eyes go wide at mention of canibalism. Gods above, they eat their young...aweful yet curious. If they all have teeth like his perhaps they eat a lot of things.
Well, no cultural insights then, but as an observation very intriguing!
"Hunting is it? Tell then friend, what do you love to hunt? Soft prey? Swift and clever prey? Or perhaps you prefer a mighty predator-become-prey?"
Perhaps a few more insights from interaction...
Searching the room for a moment, Shellin's eyes again fall to the lone Mariah in the corner.
Oh now that would be cheeky... But perhaps?
Shellin will again flag down this awefully busy barmaid. "I'd like a glass of wine sent to the cowled one in the corner, with an invitation to join us." He hand over coin for his meal and the request.
Seeing Shellin speaking to the barmaid Gargon wonders what was said to her. He sees Shellin gesture to the female in the hood.
That female in the hood looks like she can survive in the wilds. She moves like a predator.
Watching the tall, bookish looking man sit down next to the goblin and strike up a conversation definitely comes as a surprise. 'Well at least he's not full of himself. Definitely not everyday you see that." she thinks before she notices the stranger looking in her direction.
When he flags down the barmaid and whispers something, trying to subtly gesture in her direction she frowns. 'What the hells is he up to?'
Shellin will seem slightly distracted for a moment as he notices the wine and invitation delivered to Maraiah
Well, I'll hope this place has a decent vintage.
Returning his clear blue eyes and light half smile, and with them the weight behind his gaze, to Gargon. He pats his packs on the floor as he talk, pointing to the spears tide to his pack.
"I hunt... on occasion, but my ancestors did not bless me with those mighty gnashers you have, friend. I'm an alright shot with these javelins here, but what my father blessed me with was my head. Thus, I hunt with my head the same as you hunt with you teeth. I eat with mine as you do, but the things I devour are less physical."
Hob was more of a liberator of artifacts than an academic. He wasn't about to correct Vemarus. Perhaps we should discuss areas of expertise. I, for one, am an expert in traps and locks. I'm also excellent at scouting and supporting magic. I'm also fairly adept with a whip. At fear of being immodest, I would be a valuable addition to any scouting party.
As the Inn becomes a little more crowded with people drifting in from the fields, the barmaid thinks nothing is odd about the small creature ordering a drink from her. She has dealt with his kind before and if he causes trouble, she will deal with it as she would a any wild beast. A man starts to talk to the creature, making the barmaid relax. If he can talk with a human, then he isn't a wild one that has come up from the cavern.
A professor type is talking among a few of the people, talking about the achievements he has made in his long years.
A human woman sits at the bar, watching this strange creature the she might not have encountered before, but does notice it looking at her from time to time. When the man joins the little thing, she think that it is odd but doesn't do much to approach them.
Another man is sitting at a table with his bag resting against his chair. He wishes not to intrude upon anyone and just enjoy his beer alone.
In the corner, you can see old man playing with a young child. They are tossing three daggers at a board and writing down something on a piece of parchment.
All this time, the shadowy figure is watching and talking with those in the bar. He notices you, but you don't notice him. Even as he walks within five feet of you. You feel a chill down your back as he is near, but who he is or what he is.
The chill will almost visibly shock Shellin, and he will take a moment to look around the room, eyes aglow.
Suddenly distracted looking around the room, Shellin will mutter to Gargon
"Though, collecting knowledge of many things can bring about fear for those things which are unknown."
You detect over 30 different magical auras in this room. You've also drawn the eyes of several people by casting magic in this area, while most have understood what you cast, some are not 100% sure your intentions.
The Magical auras range from low level to some so powerful, you are unsure as to why you didn't detect them before. For the most part, they are stationary whit a few wondering around. But you can spot the owners of those auras.
"Che... too much interference..." A tick of irritation crosses Shellin's face at the great shining. Well, While I have the time...
Shellin eyes will inevitably fall on the brightest, most distracting aura.
You hear a voice in your mind, "Pay no attention to the man behind the shades." it whispers to you.
As the barmaid brings her wine and an invitation form the man at the table with the goblin that looked wilder than any she'd seen before, Maraiah considers her response. She is still debating her course of action when she notices the scholar suddenly go rigid, and begin looking around, acting as if seeing something she couldn't. Even stranger what that whatever he did caused a number of the tavern's patrons to look at him.
Magic? That's the only time you see people react to "nothing" like that.
Preparing herself for just about anything she gets up and approaches the table.
Irritated at the magical embargo, and obviously uncomfortable, Shellin tries to project a single sentence before allowing himself to let this question go:"I merely paid attention where it was drawn, nothing more."
Shaking himself slightly, Shellin returns his focus to the inn and the table, notices Maraiah arriving. "Thank you or joining us! I trust the bar's vintage is to your liking?" He motions for you to take a seat with them. "I am Shellin Threllson and this," he gestures to the goblin, "is Gargon, whom I hope to will soon be my, whats the word,"
He smiles lightly, before continuing with "I hope you'll forgive us for so abruptly interrupting the solemnity of your table, miss...?"
He trails off, leaving his question to beg the answer.
After a momentary distraction by the man who cut a swaths through the room Gargon grins widely at the woman who has approached the table. In the hopes that she too speak goblin he speaks.
marhabaan , aismi Gargon
The shadowy figure watches as the room settles down from the little display of magic from the little arcanist. The more powerful wizards int he room paid him little mind, but once his powers were cut off, they tried to figure out what happened, just to have their powers sealed off too. Unnerving some and causing them to leave the inn somewhat in a hurry. One wizard just blinked away, dropping the cards he was holding to the table. 3 kings and 2 queens. a winning hand.
soon the absents of the wizards caused some other major people to notice, but they don't bother with magic stuff. So they eventually went back to what they were doing, those at the card table swept the wizards winnings into a bag and handed it to the inn keeper. They know better than to mess with a powerful wizard.
Maraiah, Gargon and Shellin have joined the same table, two talking in goblin while the other wondering what they were saying. Unbeugsam, Hob and Vemarus at another, talking about something.
The shadow smiled as he saw these six gathered. They might be what I need. he thought to himself. He raised his hands.
The lights dim and the movement in the inn stops. Only you six are able to move. As you look around, you see a shadowy figure standing in a small clearing, a clearing in the middle of a dark forest. It is as-if he has invited you to his domain.
Looking around the dwarf checks the dark forest. How did I get here. What the heck. A well seems the others are here too. Well let us listen what he has to say!
The figure responds to Unbeugsam's inner thoughts as if they were spoken out loud. his voice booms in the clearing.
Shellin recognizes the voice as the one that spoke to him a little earlier in the night.
Well, that goes without saying Says Hobb who is not privy to other peoples thoughts. With all due respect, Why?
The shadowy figure turns his head and looks at Hob,
He looks over the group and stops on Gargon, he lifts his hands and a ray shoots out of his hand, enveloping the small goblin.
So, you're too big to enter the foxhole, and you will instead send your dogs. Before I roll over, What do you offer as a treat? Hobb arches is eyebrow
"You're telling me that something powerful enough to stop time, transport us to wherever the hell we are now, and magically teach language with minimum effort, is blocked and you expect us to go deal with your issue and not get ourselves killed?" Maraiah asks incredulously.
He looks towards Maraiah, [bibber]"YES."[/bigger] he turns towards Hob, when his hollow eyes fall upon you, you feel the coldness of a thousand winters seep into your bones.
Shellin seems lost in himself as you arrive in the forest clearing. The smell...the chill...its just like the night dad died...
Awakening from his internal revelrie, Shellin locks eyes on the new figure. That voice...what is this thing that can sever our magic!?
Blue eyes staring, Shellin's voice carries a hint steel born from hate or anger,"I request the name and any subsequent title of that which seeks our aid." His voice carries tones of ritual formality, as of a courtier unaware of the status of his conversational counterpart.
"Well to promise one wish... at the end sounds nice, mind you, but maybe something in front. If it is that dangerous... a means of protection or healing?"
The Shadowy figure looks towards Velithin, "To give you the full list of what lies below would be useless as monsters from all around the globe have settled into some part of the depths of the Silent Caverns. Those beyond the barrier are powerful, but you won't need to worry about them for a while." he turns towards Shellin, "I have been known by many titles over the eons. Those who give me the title always come to seeking me in the end, be they king of beggar. It makes no difference."
The Shadowy figure raises his hands. "Something to help you on the journey might be needed." a black mist surrounds each of you, but once it leaves, you are unsure what it has done. for it seems that nothing has changed.
Then only one question remains. What is to be retrieved?
"You will be retrieving a smoke black staff. Try not to use it, for you won't be able to stave off it's powers."
He was a decent man, Shellin thought, if only he'd been around to be decent to me and mom...
With a sigh, Shellin resigns himself to their situation. I have always despised being a pawn on someone's board.
At the mention of the staff, Shellin's brain will churn
Quietly, almost to himself, Shellin will ask "...how did someone steal an artifact from one powerful enough to disconnect us from magic and to call us here on a whim?"
You are unable to identify the staff.
The Shadow figure looks at Shellin "For as powerful as I am, there are somethings that escape my attention. It was at a time such as this that the item was taken away from me."
"Should we manage to pull this off, where are we to take this staff? Or will you know and just show up?" Maraiah asks, clearly intrigued despite herself.
He starts to fade. "I'll know." he says.
Gargon looks quizzically around. The conversation seems to not match what is going on. He hefts his newly improved greatclub, looks around at the group, and speaks to all for the first time nervous aboout his new language.
Which way shall we go? I want to get my teeth into something.
Ill appreciate you to cease mentioning my father. The cold thought came unbidden to Shellin's mind, and he was mildly surprised at the venom the thought evoked. This he buried as he moved to address not only the shadow, but also his party.
"You say this staff's power will overwhelm us, and that is all. I am not my father, I would know the force you have us trifle with. What is the staff, and who it is what stole the staff from dear Old Man Death?"
Shellin will then watch his new comerads for their reactions.
Upon hearing Gargon speak Common, Shellin will weight him with his gaze for a moment, making a mental footnote of Death's gift to his interesting new study, before returning his eyes to the larger group.
Unbeugsam is pretty awed by the being in their presense!