After weeks and weeks on the great northern sea, having endured harrowing storms, freezing winds, maddening doldrums and the odd bout of sea sickness and scurvy, the call finally came down from the birds nest earlier this morning: Land! Land in sight! And there it was - the towering peaks of mountains, the deep greens of woods, and the sprawling brown blob of a city known as Kari-Mar. As the boat slowly made its way towards the wharf, more and more details became discernable. It was a big city, no doubt, but chaotic too. A myriad of buildings with differing styles and materials were squeezed together, competing for space. Most seemed poor or dirty, more shacks than houses, with islands of wealthy quarters spread somewhat evenly about. The palaces of the merchant princes stood out like sore thumbs - giant, extravagant behemoths of luxury and opulence. The wharf swam with a throng of people, from sailors and traders to thieves and courtesans. The noise was deafening compared to the stillness of the sea, a constant din and jangle in a hundred different tongues.

As the gangway is laid down, the captain gives you all a final nod off goodbye before returning to overseeing the ship. As you step ashore, a man dressed in an arming jacket and a helmet approaches you - a city guard, probably. "Welcome to Kari-Mar" he drones in a slightly disinterested voice, "Please make your way over to the harbormastery and declare your business in the city. You can find the secretaries over yonder."

He points to a series of stalls where a mob of people shove and push trying to get ahead in loosely organized queues. At the head of each queue is a table where a bored, frustrated or suspicious notary sits stationed, scribbling away as the people in front of them blabbers. Having done his duty, the guard promptly moves along to inform other arrivals of the procedure.

The city of Kari-Mar, with all of its dangers and promises, lies spread out in front of you.

The red wizard is a frail old man with a crooked back and a big white beard. Were it not for his pointy wizard hat, you would easily mistake him for a hobo, or an eccentric geriatric (which coincidently isn't far from the truth in either case).

Age:
Very old. He can't remember ever being young. Perhaps he never was.

Gender:
Male. Mostly? Sometimes.

Occupation:
Wizard. Sorceror. Conjurer. Beggar. Bum. Among other things.

Abilities:
The Red Wizard knows a lot of magic spells. In fact, he might know all of them. The problem is, however, that he's become forgetful with old age. Sometimes, he can't remember the right words. Other times, he gets them mixed up. It's all very confusing.

Skills:
Apart from an unparaleled (and mostly forgotten) knowledge of all things arcane, Tim is excellent at eating, drinking, sleeping, and running away.

Personality:
In a word, mostly harmless. The red wizard is a slightly bewildered, amicable old man who is happy to meet new people. Which he gets to do frequently as he forgets most faces the day after he sees them. His expression wanders between nervous smiles and confused frowns, with a dab of apathetic staring in between.

Biography:
The red wizard was (probably) born a long, long time ago in a land far, far away. There's no way to be sure, though, as there are none still alive who remembers, himself included. What he does know, however, is that he's been around. Lands, realms, dimensions, pocket dimensions, metaphysical planes, allegorical spaces, the in-betweens; he's seen most (or maybe all) of them. Not that he remembers much. They all start to look alike after a while, you know.

Likes:
Food, drink, warmth, sleep. Magic, of course, but not all of it.
Dislikes:
Hard stares, mean words, danger, cold, hunger, thirst. Magic, and a surprising lot of it.
Fears:
Death, discomfort, things that lead to either, and, for some reason, roosters.
Weaknesses:
There is no magic defense against a rock in a sock.

Theme song:
Where is my Mind? - The Pixies

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Locations: Bldg 3 #303 → Bldg 1, Restaurant Interactions:

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It was dark in the depth of the dragons lair, the kind of suspenseful dark that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. A slow rythmical rumble echoed in the cavernous hall as the beast breathed in its deep slumber, followed by wheezing gusts of scorching exhales. Only a single point of faint light could be seen in the opressing darkness: a great eye of glowing ember, unblinking, fixed on the direction of the entrance. It was an ability her kind had developed ages ago, to always sleep with one eye open. The treasure won't guard itself, as it were, and less careful wyrms had lost lots of valuables to sneaky would-be heroes in the past. Ryū was not one of them. She was careful, paranoid almost, and the few adventurers that had tried her had all gone up in flames. Keeping a respectable pile of treasure was a point of honor to her kind, and she guarded hers jealously.

As the dragon suddenly stirred, the hoard rattled and rustled with scattering coins and baubles. Ryū blinked and smacked her maw, stretching her tail and wings as she started to wake. She yawned audibly, the roar causing the walls to shake, and finally got up on her feet. She shook herself to dislodge any treasure still stuck to her belly, and then began towards the revolving doors of her chamber. As the dragon had climber off the great hoard, it muttered a short phrase in arcane draconic, and was immediately engulfed in a thick red cloud of magical energy. When the cloud dissipated, the dragon was no more; in stead, there was a red headed girl with a sleepy look on her face. She entered the secret compination on the door, and stepped out into her apartment through the revolving fireplace.

Having gotten some clothes on, Ryū pondered what to do next. Her belly answered her enthuastically by rumbling, and so she decided to go have a snack in the canteen in the main building. There was a restaurant in her complex too, but they had this special hot sauce in building 1 which she had become addicted to. Plus, they had gotten used to her there by now, and usually had food prepared for her in advance. She was quite the glutton, after all. At least by human standards. Passing the reception, she shot a toothy grin and waved at Theris. 'Sup, gorg'! she barked as she walked on by, See you around!

Finally settling in the restaurant, she exchanged glances with the head chef before sitting down. He nodded in understanding, getting a few cooks together to start preparing her meal. They would need a few people to carry it to her table, after all. Now, eating in her human form had initially posed somewhat of a conundrum for Ryū. As a dragon, she wasn't much schooled in the subtle art of table etiquette. Rather, she preferred to just rip into her prey with teeth and claw after having given it a proper scorching. She had quickly found, however, that her way of eating was a bit frowned upon in civilized circles and, wanting to blend in, had had to compromise in some regard. Ryū had taken to using cutlery, but not in the standard way; she liked to use two forks, symbolizing in her mind the claws she lacked as a human, and would always have her meat barbequed to a crisp. Then, there was the hot sauce. How she had come to love it! Not only did it look good on the food, but it made it taste as if it was burning. Ingenious! All this thinking on food had her belly rumble again, and her mouth watered. She sat staring at the kitchen door with her unblinking predator eyes, just waiting for the moment her roast pig and grilled chickens would finally come out to meet her, knuckles white from grasping her dual forks.