Each of you recently received a cryptic note from Aleanor Pathsteader, an elven ranger whom you've worked with in the past. It read:
Meet me at the Sign of the Fair Warrior in Stormport, on the next new moon. Something extraordinary is happening, and you need to know about it. The ranks of the Elect are swelling.
– Aleanor Pathsteader
Stormport is a bustling mid-size free city on the edge of the northern sea; its population is mostly human, but with sizable minorities of elves, half-elves, and halflings. The Sign of the Fair Warrior is one of the city's nicer inns, owned by a heavily scarred old human veteran known as Handsome John (the nickname is presumably ironic).
You've all made your way here with one day to spare; the next new moon, when you await Aleanor, is tomorrow. The tavern area of the Fair Warrior is, as usual, filled with the hustle and bustle of people chatting and the scent of pipe smoke. The prevailing subject of discussion is the unseasonable snows the land has been having lately: after a harsh winter, the relief of spring's arrival was shut down by some cold snaps and snow flurries, and folks are worried about the farmers' crops.
You can go ahead and do some introductions, RP amongst yourselves, or just dot into the thread before we kick things off on the next day.