Dear Sir or Madame, You may not know who I am, but I know who you are very well. Hieledran, this land that we all love and adore, she is falling into darkness. A great and powerful evil lurks among us now and threatens to choke the life from all. It has already begun to affect many places, trees once so tall and mighty now slender twigs. Prairies and grasslands that were once so beautiful with their emerald shades and their colorful flowers...they are nothing more but vast fields of ash and blackened soil. My heart weeps as I write this letter to you, for I....I was too late to stop it, to seal away the horrors that emerged from that wretched tower. But you, your time has come. You are all warriors of Hieledran, brave, cunning, and wise. You have skills, attributes that are far beyond those of your fellow men. That is why I have called upon you. For the fate of all, I ask that you meet at Hearthstone Inn in the city of Vaele. Once you have gathered, journey South of the city to the Temple of Agatha. There is where I will meet you, and I will explain more. Hieledran rests in your hands now, as does the fate of her people. May the Goddess bless and keep you O brave warriors of Hieledran, and may my love be with you as well... That is what the letter said, the thick black ink slightly smeared in some words, as if written by a shaky hand and small stains that appeared to the eyes of the Dunenmer woman as...tears. Tears shed for whatever reason but the painful words that reflected such a grim and heartfelt emotion. She sighed rolling the tan colored parchment back up that the letter was printed on and tucked it into the crevice between her chainmail and her thick, iron cuirass. Never once did it occur to her who the letter was from, nor to whom it was truly sent. In all honesty, Nariah assumed it was meant for her father, but even if the gray man of sixty five years could still wield a hammer, the woman knew her father couldn't manage the long journey. Old age was already getting to him, even the mighty hand that forged the hot iron and steel of the mountains began to tremble with time's passing. While she waited beside the hot fires of another forge in the city, her mind drifted, caught by the the sweet scents of the city, such pleasing allurements, the pungent, smoky flavor of freshly cooked meats and fish upon a crackling fire of pine and spruce wood, the heart-warming aroma of baked breads and sweets and confectioneries, cinnamon buns drizzled with a yummy vanilla icing or fresh tarts made with the bounty of the Earth Mother, the sweetest of fruits like strawberries from the Faelands or pomegranates and apples. Then, noises flowed through her ears. Not the natural sounds of the forest like meadowlarks chirping in the tall trees or a brook of fresh melted snow trickling through the jagged rocks of the mountains, like she was used to. No, it was the voices of the merchants and the fish mongers shouting their typical banter of, “Fresh salmon, straight from the fjords! Salted haddock filets anyone? Only five pieces of gold! Aye! You there, sir! You look like you could use a nice mud crab for dinner!” But the more familiar sound of the city was the telltale clank of a hammer striking searing hot iron against a rusty anvil. KLANK! KLANK! After he was done sharpening her blade against the grindstone, the dwarven smith dusted off his thick leather apron of shavings and handed over Nariah's weapon looking good as new. "There ye are, lass." He proclaimed with a hearty chortle while stroking a few bits of steel from his stringy red beard. "She may feel light as a feather, but I assure you I've tempered the steel till it's hard as dragon scales." Nariah smiled lightly and gave the blade a few swings, making sure not to harm any as she did so before sheathing the heavy sword behind her back, her expression noting her satisfaction with the way it whistled through the air with each cut. "Aye. A fine job you did indeed, good sir." She said in gratitude while fishing a few coins from her leather purse at her side. "How much do I owe ye?" "Awww not much, lass. A few pieces should cover it." Humbly the smith replied. Nevertheless, Nariah placed in his calloused, rugged hands a generous sum of gold, plenty to go around what with the traveling she's done and it seemed to her the lowly smith needed it more than she did. "Ahhh....The gods bless ye heart, kind lass. Me wife and me boy will surely appreciate this too." "Ah tis nothing, friend. May Tha'agorn bless yer forge as well, and thank ye for the work ye've done to me sword." And with a fond farewell, Nariah carried on her way through the city of Vaele, towards the lingering aroma of a warm fire and freshly brewed mead luring her towards Hearthstone Inn. This was the place as the letter said, the place where she would meet the others who have come to this mysterious person's call, to band together and protect their land from some dark, unknown evil that leeched from it like...well...a leech. Hearthstone, what a fitting name it was Nariah thought, for as she opened the wooden door to the inn, like a blaze from a dragon's mouth the heat hit her as did the smell of food and drink. Been a while since she's had a good meal and a good drink come to think of it. Unsheathing her weapons and relinquishing the thick pelt that hung over her pauldrons, the woman sat them beside the door along with her heavy shield and took her seat in the midst of the homely tavern, pulling off her intimidating helm and revealing the rather charming face it hid, not to mention releasing her snow white hair to flow down her back smoothly. Twas a bit lonely here, only a few patrons at the bar casually chattering amongst themselves, clinking tankards full of ale and brandy here and there, and there was the lovely voice of a female bard plucking softly the strings of her lute and singing a song of old, a ballad of past heroes and their endeavors. Perhaps when this journey came to an end, Nariah mused, that very bard would sing songs of her endeavors and those of the others she had yet to meet. "Can I get you anything, sugar?" Her eyes trailed from the bard over to yet another lovely lass, the tavern wench at her side. "Aye. Mead and a leg of goat, me fair lass." Nariah said with a smile. The wench returned the smile and off she was to the kitchen, returning with a roasted leg of meat fresh from the fire and a tankard full of sweet mead. Nariah thanked her and handed her her gold. While she ate, she kept her eyes upon the door. Any moment she figured someone would step through there, and that someone would be carrying the same letter as she. Until then however, she merely ate in peace and enjoyed the beautiful melody of the songstress.

An apparition of a figure came into sight as Adelisa came closer and closer to the hectic village. Her cloak was cast down over her face to hide her hideous visage. A woman stopped her and begged "please! Save my daughter! She is very ill!" Adelisa smiled softly and said "of course. Please, bring the girl here." The woman smiled in relieved excitement and grabbed a small girl in a blanket from the crowded environment, holding her up to Adelisa. Adelisa helped the small girl onto her mare, Albus. The little girl, her face flushed from illness, looked up at her with wide eyes (probably able to see the long scar on the Raven haired girl's face. Adelisa removed her hood to take a good look at the small brunette and said "would you mind if I hold your hands, young one?" The little girl shyly held her hands. Adelisa smiled and grabbed her hands, holding them softly. She concentrated on healing this little girl and slowly started seeing the color return to the freckles of the sweet little girl. The little girl smiled and hugged the strange woman, thanking her continuously. Adelisa smiled, loving the feeling of yet another person being helped by her healing touch, then returned the adorable child to the woman. She continued her journey to the Inn. Her mind wandered to the letter she received from a mysterious woman, knowing her presence was indeed needed. Dear Sir or Madame, You may not know who I am, but I know who you are very well. Hieledran, this land that we all love and adore, she is falling into darkness. A great and powerful evil lurks among us now and threatens to choke the life from all. It has already begun to affect many places, trees once so tall and mighty now slender twigs. Prairies and grasslands that were once so beautiful with their emerald shades and their colorful flowers...they are nothing more but vast fields of ash and blackened soil. My heart weeps as I write this letter to you, for I....I was too late to stop it, to seal away the horrors that emerged from that wretched tower. But you, your time has come. You are all warriors of Hieledran, brave, cunning, and wise. You have skills, attributes that are far beyond those of your fellow men. That is why I have called upon you. For the fate of all, I ask that you meet at Hearthstone Inn in the city of Vaele. Once you have gathered, journey South of the city to the Temple of Agatha. There is where I will meet you, and I will explain more. Hieledran rests in your hands now, as does the fate of her people. May the Goddess bless and keep you O brave warriors of Hieledran, and may my love be with you as well... Adelisa memerised the entire note word for devasted word. She came up to the tavern in which she was to meet the others and was glad to see it was real. This was all too real she thought as she climbed off her beautiful white mare. Adelisa noticed the comfortable feeling surrounding the atmosphere, but she could tell her horse thought otherwise. She turned to the horse with a small smile and said "I will be out after meeting the others that will join us on our journey. There is no need to fear my safety." She walked the mare to the wooden post and tied her to it, taking a carrot out of the bag attached to the horse and feeding it to her while patting her nose lightly. Adelisa walked away from the horse, throwing the hood of her ivory cloak on to hide the jagged scar on her otherwise feminine features. She opened the door and, like a ghost, glided into the bar-like area. Her eyes searched the room to see a beautiful woman singing the soft lullaby that filled the active air. She saw the bar wenches taking orders and suffering the harrassment of the drunken fools. These poor fools have to resort to intoxicated risks and cheating wives rather than take care of their problems she thought to herself. Yet, she sympathized with the bitter hooligans. Adelisa looked over at the woman who sat alone, her snow white hair making her stand out like a sore thumb. She walked over to the woman, hiding her face deeper into the fabric of the cloak. "excuse me, I wanted to ask if you are one of the people I am here to meet? I recieved a note telling me to meet a group here." Her voice came out in a calm and soft tone. She held onto her cloak and bag, a small alertness overcoming her.

Dorje had walked for nearly a week with neither food nor water eastward before coming to the town of Vaele. He mused as he walked past the gates, feeling the lingering gaze of the watchtower guards, Must not get many of the order here. He'd noticed that the days were growing darker, as if he were approaching the evil upon the land, either that or it was growing stronger; both possibilities were frightening. He walked through the streets, not quite sure where he was going, but eventually the winding streets led to the inn he sought, it's chimney puffing quietly. Hearthstone, such an odd name; were not all hearths made of stone? He opened a thick wooden door, feeling the heat of the fire warm his skin. The music was pleasant, but not loud. His eyes soon adjusted to the light, and he saw that the bar had four patrons, six counting the two strange women, one in full plate armor, and the other in some sort of robe-ish thing. If anyone was to join him on the quest, it would probably be them. As he approached the table and nearly collapsed in his chair, a girl approached them. "You need anything?" She had the sweet tone of a person who genuinely enjoyed seeing contented looks on patron's faces, and didn't have to make herself smile. "Mead, and cheese and bread, please," He said, leaning back and relaxing against the back of his chair. She sauntered away, and as she did, Dorje commented to the girl next to him, who had just finished gnawing on her mutton. "She's quite pretty, yes?"

Sure enough the first to come through the door, a strange young lass who hid her face under a cowl that seemed to glow amidst the crackling orange flames of the hearth emanating heat, immediately she strolled up to the armor clad woman chewing on roasted goat meat and ripping another tender chunk off the bone with her gnashing teeth, inquiring of Nariah about what else, the mysterious letter. Twas surprising as Nariah didn't even know the woman entered the lowly inn, at least not until she spoke with a voice as calm as a temple priestess. "Aye." Curtly Nariah returned before swallowing down her meat with a gulp of mead, sweet and heavy upon her parched tongue. "So you were sent one as well, am I correct?" She set her tankard down with a clatter and a gruff sigh. "Ye look tired, lass. Have a seat and a drink, on me." A sly wink she gave to the woman, not smarmy of course but rather a friendly gesture. After the woman came yet another, a young man, a fairly built one too. By the look of him, Nariah figured he hailed from the eastern lands, places of exotic cultures and traditions. His clothes and the manner in which he carried himself seemed to reflect such to the northerner. He took a seat next to the woman and ordered him a bit to eat and drink as well. With a light chuckle, Nariah answered him, "Indeed lad. As pretty as the flowers of the Faelands." A strange feeling, she assumed that this wasn't all, that there were more who would eventually arrive, and so Nariah awaited their arrival, though with a bit of a jest, "A'right." She laughed. "So which one of ye was it who sent the letter? Was it ye lass? Or was it this burly feller over here?"

Dorje took his own letter out of his pack and waved it in the air a bit as his mead came, of which he took a large gulp. "Not me, The letter came to the monastery two weeks ago. Though I presume since our benefactor hasn't shown his face, it must be that we are not all here yet, yes?" He took another drink of mead, feeling the honey and fruit tastes mingle pleasantly. The barmaid walked by and he leaned slightly to see past the armored woman. He grabbed the small metal knife that came with the bread and began to fiddle with it, taking another drink of mead, this one finishing the tankard, and held it up for the barmaid to notice. "Been a long time since I had mead that good." he turned to the one with the goat leg between her teeth. "So, What brings such a fair, yet rugged, lady as yourself to answer an unknown summons?" he said, pointing the small knife at her nonthreateningly. "Surely the money must be good, yes?"

Adelisa blinked as the other woman winked at her. Of course, she sat silently next to the young man that entered, his build being the one thing she noticed about him. As they spoke of the woman gathering their provisions, Adelisa glanced at the pretty woman. She wished she was as pretty, but she kept that to herself because one must be careful of what one wished for. She snapped out of her thoughts and answered the young woman clad in armor, "I am just as wary of this as you are. Also, to answer you, I do not drink." She bit her bottom lip, contemplating on whether to remove her hood out of curtesy of the other patrons or leave it on. She looked down at the table and removed her hood, her raven black hair covering her disturbed features. She was not shy, but she also did not want to make the others uncomfortable. Adelisa went back to her silent demeanor as the man spoke his peice.

The last morsel of meat was picked from the bone clean and Nariah sat it down finishing off her tankard and leaning back in her chair with a small smile to the woman across from her. "A shame, lass." She chuckled. "Some of the best mead in Hieledran, if I do say so, though not as good as the mead in the north. Must be a different honey they use." Then she turned to the lad, "As for me, the note I believe was meant for me father, but I went in his stead. Old man's rugged as any proud Dunenmer, but with time his bones ache and his hands shiver. Not even he could've made the long journey from our homelands to the city of Vaele. Twas strange, neither of them were the authors of the letter, a letter that spoke of something grim and malevolent, something of...a tower too. Neither of the likes Nariah had seen nor heard of, even as she made the arduous trek from the snow capped mountains, braving the elements and whatever else the gods threw in her path. As she sat there, her eyes trailed over to the woman having removed her hood and revealed her face, not to mention the scar running from her brow past her cheek. Quite the nasty mark it was, but it didn't distract her from the pretty face it tried to mar. "Wait a second." Then she remembered, bringing her armored clad hand to her face. "Ach! What a fool I am. The letter said we'd be meeting this...whoever..at a temple devoted to this goddess Agatha. I've never even heard of Agatha."

Dorje grabbed the full tankard offered him by the barmaid. "And yet, for all your talk, the only things I know about you is your taste in mead and that your father is an old man." He leaned a bit closer, coming off the back of his chair and leaning his elbows on the table as he bit off a piece of cheese. "Tell you what, you tell me your name, for starters, and we can go from there. I like to at least know a lady's name before traveling with her," he said, taking another drink from the mug. He knew he'd be traveling with others, but hadn't thought that they might be deceptive. He smirked a bit, not like he had anything valuable on him anyways.

Adelisa's head instantly went up at the mention of Agatha, knocking her graceful and calm demeanor as a Cleric. "Agatha?" she said with excitement, her green and blue eyes lighting up by the mention of the mysterious goddess. "No cleric in any generation has seen the temple of Agatha! Not even the most experience of them!" She paused for a moment as she thought of the amazing things that could be discovered. She glanced at the man for a second before going back to silence. She knew that the need to socialize with these people was crucial, but she couldn't trust them. She trusted absolutely no one.

Dear Sir or Madame, You may not know who I am, but I know who you are very well. Hieledran, this land that we all love and adore, she is falling into darkness. A great and powerful evil lurks among us now and threatens to choke the life from all. It has already begun to affect many places, trees once so tall and mighty now slender twigs. Prairies and grasslands that were once so beautiful with their emerald shades and their colorful flowers...they are nothing more but vast fields of ash and blackened soil. My heart weeps as I write this letter to you, for I....I was too late to stop it, to seal away the horrors that emerged from that wretched tower. But you, your time has come. You are all warriors of Hieledran, brave, cunning, and wise. You have skills, attributes that are far beyond those of your fellow men. That is why I have called upon you. For the fate of all, I ask that you meet at Hearthstone Inn in the city of Vaele. Once you have gathered, journey South of the city to the Temple of Agatha. There is where I will meet you, and I will explain more. Hieledran rests in your hands now, as does the fate of her people. May the Goddess bless and keep you O brave warriors of Hieledran, and may my love be with you as well... Finn had received the letter as he was traveling to Vaele. The courier had stopped him, and handed him the paper, which had been folded as to be easier to carry. He read the letter and sent the courier on his way, dropping two gold coins in his hand for his trouble. Deep down, he knew that this letter was real. It wasn't a hoax or a trap. He had felt a disturbance in the magic of Hieldran for a while now. Though he could never pinpoint it. That was two days ago. As he rode into the city, his gold steed clopping down the cobblestone street, he inhaled deeply. Finn had always loved Vaele. The hustle and bustle of life. If he was ever going to settle down somewhere, it would be here. The excitement of the city was enough to keep anyone happy in Finn's opinion. Once he reached the inn, he dismounted and tied his horse to a post. "Stay here Belroch. I'm off to save the world," he said, patting his horse on the neck. Belroch responded with a whinny, nudging Finn towards the inn. Finn had received Belroch many years ago, from his father. His father had claimed that Belroch was descended from the same horse that the first Elven king had ridden into battle. Seeing as how Belroch had saved his life so many times, he almost believed him. Many a bandit had been trampled under Belroch's hooves. Finn finally stepped into the inn, Hearthstone Inn to be exact. He looked around, letter in hand and watched for anyone who seemed as if they were here for the same reason as he. He spied a group of three people at the bar, two women and a man. The man had a bo staff on his back, and long black hair while one of the women had snow white hair and chain mail on, while the other had a cowl pulled over her head. And in her hand, she held a letter. But he also felt drawn to them. As if something knew that he needed to walk over to them. So he sauntered over, taking a seat next to the woman with the cowl on her head. He turned to face the group and smirked before asking, "So who's ready to save the world?"

Dorje felt another person enter the bar. It was odd to others, but if one was focused enough, one could sense many things. The motion of the air as the door opened, the strange new scent in his nostrils, the sound of the door creaking ever so slightly, playing a tempo under the bard's singing. He stuffed the last bit of bread in his mouth, he'd been famished, walking for a week with nothing to eat or drink. He heard him speak as he sat next to the smaller woman. "So who's ready to save the world?" "Apparently you seem keen on it," Dorje said, looking up from his mead, spying the characteristic sharp features and pointed ears of elvenkind. He'd never seen an elf before. "I've never seen an elf before," he said, leaning to the side so he could see him better.

Adelisa looked over at the new gentleman joining them and noticed the pointed ears almost instantly. It wasn't as if they were hidden well, so obviously she would look at the man's ears. She soon looked back at the long haired man and nodded slightly. She didn't want to save the world. It was her duty to help, not 'save the world'. She felt this world might be beyond saving, but helping could lead them a step closer. "You are much too prideful if you believe we are to 'save the world'" she said softly, as if knowing the evils that have shown their ugly faces. She had known those evils. She knew them too well if the scar marring her face was anything to go by.

Finn looked at the long haired man and grinned. "Well take a good look because I'm probably the best looking one in Hieldran." He then turned his attention to the hooded woman. "And last I checked, this letter," Finn fished his letter from the pocket inside of his robe and placed it on the bar, "said we were to stop the darkness that is currently overcoming Hieldran. And my guess is that it won't stop there. Although, if you are suggesting that we may fail, well I think it's best that you know, I don't lose." After Finn was done talking, he waved down the pretty bartender and asked for a mead. She hurried off to get it after hesitating for a second to look at his ears. Finn was used to it by now. Many people hadn't seen an elf and so, the pointed ears of his people were a sight to see for most men and women.

"Nariah." She replied to the shapely lad next to her. "Of the clan Stormblade. I hail from the north in the Dunenmer peaks. That enough for ye, lad?" A bit matter of factly she said before calling for another fill of mead, but then chuckled lightly with a small smile. Through the door she heard another enter, but twas not by sight she recognized who this other fellow was, but rather by...his unmistakable scent. Suspiciously Nariah sniffed of the air, her smile fading, her nostrils flaring and her eyes narrowing as she caught the stagnant odor of...what else? "By Tha'agorn." She muttered crossing her arms and glowering at the man who approached their table. "I'd recognize that scent anywhere. What do ye want pointy ears? Come to save the world, yah? I thought ye damn elves were too busy enslaving it for the past thirty moons? Hmph! Typical of ye to be so high and mighty." A bit cold, as cold as the chilling winds of Icy Auriem, but when did elves ever deserve sympathy, especially from the proud Dunenmer?

The horse trembled with each step beneath Raffy and walked with a lulling rhythm, so much so that the redhead had almost fell asleep. The stolen horse mis-stepped causing Raffy to almost tip off of it and she startled awake. Blearily blinking, she signed under her breath when she saw the town come in view. With stiff fingers, she reached into her pocket and removed the letter from it. Dear Sir or Madame, You may not know who I am, but I know who you are very well. Hieledran, this land that we all love and adore, she is falling into darkness. A great and powerful evil lurks among us now and threatens to choke the life from all. It has already begun to affect many places, trees once so tall and mighty now slender twigs. Prairies and grasslands that were once so beautiful with their emerald shades and their colorful flowers...they are nothing more but vast fields of ash and blackened soil. My heart weeps as I write this letter to you, for I....I was too late to stop it, to seal away the horrors that emerged from that wretched tower. But you, your time has come. You are all warriors of Hieledran, brave, cunning, and wise. You have skills, attributes that are far beyond those of your fellow men. That is why I have called upon you. For the fate of all, I ask that you meet at Hearthstone Inn in the city of Vaele. Once you have gathered, journey South of the city to the Temple of Agatha. There is where I will meet you, and I will explain more. Hieledran rests in your hands now, as does the fate of her people. May the Goddess bless and keep you O brave warriors of Hieledran, and may my love be with you as well... The paper slipped from her fingers and onto the ground before being trampled over by the stolen horse’s hooves. “Shit.” It didn’t matter now, it was gone. She just hoped that they didn’t expect any proof or anything. When she got the letter, Raffy had first not wanted to go, but decided that it was best to save the world or whatever was expected of her. It wouldn’t do much good to steal from a bunch of poor people ravaged by evil. And, so, with a heavy, bored heart, she stole the plain brown horse beneath her that was so average that Raffy named it Mediocre and made her way to Hearthstone Inn. Raffy bit her lip, kicking the back of Mediocre’s hide and urging him forward until she came upon the inn. She dismounted Mediocre and left him untied, deciding that if he left she would hitch a ride upon the horse of another…or just steal a more useful horse – but Raffy had a sinking feeling that Mediocre would still be around by the time she finished. When she entered the inn, heat blasted her face and sweat immediately beaded her forehead. So much so that she removed the cowl that covered her face and removed the hood from her head, exposing the blood red hair that made her easily spotted. Sighing under her breath, Raffy easily located the group of people she would be travelling with. The mere thought left a bitter taste on her tongue. The people were obvious. They were fighters, just by the weapons they carried, and dignified with the way they carried themselves…not to mention there was an elf amongst them. Why else would an elf decide to tarry in such an inn as this? Raffy scowled. They looked most annoying. She approached them and stabbed a dagger into the wood of the bar for mere intimidation – the bar wench gave her a nasty glare but a nastier glare silenced her. “I would like a tankard of mead, dearie.” Raffy turned to the others and narrowed her eyes, her shoulders hunching and she looked much like a vulture sitting on a branch, scoping out a dead corpse. “Are ye fellows those who I shall accompany? If ye say nay, I shall fall to me knees in thanks.”

Dorje smiled at the woman. He hadn't had so much conversation in a long time, certainly not conversation as lively as this. It was pleasant, he thought, to look at the unknown again. The Great Teachings were well-known and taught, and where they were vague, even the different branches of them were defined rigorously. "For now, I suppose. I am Dorje, a monk of Chardak-lan," he said, turning to the elf. He was about to speak when the door opened and a girl walked in, removing a hood to expose the brightest red hair he'd ever seen. Guess you see a lot of new things when you leave the monastery, he thought as she stabbed the table in front of him as if he'd done something to offend. He forced himself not to flinch as she turned to survey the reaction she caused. "Seems you got the same letter we did, yes? Though our benefactor seems to have a penchant for fair ladies, it seems, myself being the exception. And you are?" he trailed off, eyeing the knife on the table.

Right as the dagger plunged into the thick pine wood of the table, instinctively Nariah reacted grasping at her side, only to feel nothing but the cold iron plates of her tassets at her hips and not the sharp steel head of her war axe, just now realizing she left it over by the door with the rest of her armaments. Dammit all... She muttered in her head before turning to the fiery haired lass leering down at her with eyes, eyes that seemed to reflect a longing to be elsewhere but here. "Quite a nice blade ye got there, lass. A wee bit brave ye are showing it to us as well." Nariah laughed heartily, but consider the girl lucky she didn't have any of her blades by her side, otherwise the poor tavern wench would be mopping up more than spilled mead. "Aye. I suppose ye too have received one of these fine letters. My bet every damn sellsword and spellcaster probably got one." And just as she could tell the stuffy elf was a spellcaster and the brawny bloke to her side was a monk, Nariah could tell right off the bat who this new arrival was, "So I see yer one of them sneak thiefs, eh? Better not be stealing any of me own coins. Hate to harm that pretty face of yers, lass." Jesting she smiled and plucked the dagger out of the table setting it aside, watching as the flustered barkeep returned with the girl's mead and eyed her hesitantly before scurrying off.

Finn hadn't had a chance to react with anything other than a glower at the woman who had insulted his people. As he was about to open his mouth, another woman had plunged a dagger into the wood of the bar. He turned around to get a look, his hands tingling with magic in case he needed to shoot a quick blast of flame at an attacker. He could tell that the woman didn't like them, based on her scowl and greeting. As he sipped his mead that had been brought to him a minute or two ago, he watched the door. He sensed that their final companion was on their way. And he figured they didn't have time to lollygag about in an inn, getting drunk off of cheap mead. Once their final fellow hero stepped through those doors, they'd have to be off, south to the Temple of Agatha.

The city of Vaele was hectic and full of life as Conan walked through her streets. The sounds of chatter from the people who lived there, the clanging of the blacksmith's hammer at his forge, the creaking of the wheels of carts. It was far too lively for his tastes. The sounds were so loud and unnatural that he could feel his mood souring the longer he was there. Living all those years in Hieledran's forests had left him unaccustomed to such noise and he longed to be back amongst the quiet, organic sounds of the forest. Unfortunately it would have to wait until this business with the strange letter was resolved though. If he was lucky it would be a joke and he could return and put Teacher's mind at ease. When she read the letter she insisted he go even though it was probably addressing her. But he respected the woman and owed her much, if she wanted him here he would go and face whatever darkness the letter talked about. He held the letter in his hand to check that he had the correct inn. "The Hearthstone Inn? How Creative." He scoffed to himself and stepped inside. The inn was mostly bare save for a few drunks at a table, a bard, and people at the bar. He was perceptive but he didn't even need to be to figure out that they were the ones he was looking for. They were armed for one thing and way too diverse to be good chums simply enjoying a drink for another. Rather than waste time he merely took a free seat at the bar and slapped his letter on the table before puling his face mask down and addressing the bar-wench. "Mead. Stronger the better."

Adelisa jumped slightly when the dagger entered the wood and glared at the redheaded she-devil. She hadn't had time to respond before looking over at the gentleman who joined them and shifted uncomfortably. She was the only one not drinking? Even the monk was sipping his mead. She looked over at the redheaded woman and said "there is no need for such theatrics, miss." She hated the whole idea of a group rescue, but she had to do what was told of her. "Just drink your mead and sit down. You are not the only one at this table who has questions." She looked at the rehead, still pondering on how different this group was. She was slightly dismayed that she was the only one marring a scar and she had been the peaceful one this misfit group had. She noticed two drunken patrons about to start a fight and she stood to her feet. Without hesitation, she walked over to the two men and said calmly "gentlemen, what is this arguement consisting that you must fight?" As the spoke of their arguement about the black tower, Adelisa looked at them with interest, as if listening to the two was the most entertaining thing in the world. They both seem to calm down as they listened to their arguements which seemed to agree with eachother. She smiled brightly and said "so you were going to fight because of an agreement?" The men blushes slightly and nodded, then the one gentleman said "I bet there's how ye got yer scar, miss. Ain't it?" Adelisa stiffened and said "have a nice day, gentleman." She walked back to the table and sat down, throwing on her cowl with a glare.