An afternoon rainstorm pelted the ground like a blacksmith finishing his last orders of the day. The thunder boomed across the rolling hills as lightning touched down in the distance. If one could see through the storming clouds they would see the sun retreating below the horizon, giving new dawn to a far off land. A lone figure stood beneath a tree beside his equine companion. His fur raincoat drenched with rainwater and his boots red with mud. A large covered item was slung around his shoulder, resting on his back. He watched as the saturated earth beneath him gave way to the constant onslaught of the rain, forming small streams that culminated into great big puddles.

Behind him, to the north, stood Valuun Keep. It was as menacing and ominous as the day it was built. The ash-gray stone walls and towering spires reminded all who passed by that the large fortress was a place of danger. The mad general Valrund had ordered his slave army to construct the great keep centuries ago, but after its completion every single one of them disappeared without a trace. All who venture near seemingly disappear without warning, leading many to believe it is haunted. There are rumors and tales that it was built above a cave opening leading to the fabled Under Deep, the deepest and darkest depths of the world. Most of the exterior walls were cracked and ruined, but the interior wall still stood firmly against the test of time. Only seventeen of its once twenty towers remained standing, stripped of Valrund's banners and watching the countryside. The fallen iron gate no longer posed as a barrier, but the sheer mystery of the keep proved to be a stronger barrier against would-be adventurers.

In front of the man, just south of the keep, sat Night-Raven Inn. Why anyone would build an inn to a bleak and forbidden fortress was beyond him, but it become a staple to the Heartlands. It was built atop a high hill overlooking the surrounding countryside. The stone base kept in firmly in place, and while the old wooden frame creaked and groaned against the wind, the strong gray stone walls were able to keep the currents at bay. It too had stood the test of time. It was two-stories high; the first floor was a large room to eat and drink, while the second floor was for sleeping quarters. Below the inn, hidden from view as usual, was the cellar. The figure hopped back up onto his steed and trotted off in the direction of the inn.

The inn faced northwest, in the direction of the Longroad - a widely used highway connecting the six great cities of the Heartlands. A stable was positioned to the right side of the path leading to the entrance, just before you approached the doors. The man slid off his and hitched him to one of the old pieces of wood within the stable. The horse rejoiced to be out the rain, letting out a neighing 'greetings' to the other horses. The inn was

As he approached the two wooden doors he could smell roasted meat emanating from inside. The heat seemed to embraced him, taking hold of his movement and pulling him inside. He pushed the doors open and was greeted to a well-lit room. In the center was a fire-pit; a nice plump pig was roasting over the fire, filling the inn with a relaxing aroma. There were men and women gathered around tables throughout the inn, talking and laughing and having a good time. Outside of the glass windows they could see the storm was not letting up, and so figured they should make the best of what little time they had left for the day.

On the left side of a room was a long wooden bar with a man washing out some mugs behind it. "Hello," he yelled, "can I get'cha anythin'?" The man removed his raincoat - careful to keep the covered item on his back - and hug it on a rack just beside the door. "Got some ale, some roast' swine in a bit to if ye want. Name's Klomik."

"Some ale will be fine. I ate earlier, so no pork," replied the stranger, pulling out some coin from a pouch. The pouch was heavy with coin, filled to the brim, and it caught the eye of some undesirables at one of the tables. The innkeeper turned to fix the man a mug of ale and passed it to him. "You can call me Joric, by the way," the man told him.

At that moment the man felt a pair of hands slap down on his shoulders. Leaning in, someone whispered "I like that pouch you got there," Joric quickly shrugged the hands off, stood up and turned to face the man. A group of four men circled the newcomer, all of them bald with a tattoo of a black sun on their head. "Take it easy friend, just a bit of coin is all we want."

Joric looked behind him at the innkeeper who seemed to be ignoring the situation. Tension filled the air as others looked upon the stand-off. Joric slowly walked forward to the man who spoke, looking him in the eyes, "what for?"

The bald man smiled and glanced at his comrades. "Cause that's the way it's gonna be... friend."

"No... this is the way it's gonna be, friend: you're gonna turn around and sit back down... or somebody's gonna end up on the floor." A few moments of tension filled the air in the quiet inn. All you could hear was the crackling of the fire and the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

"I reckon someone's gonna be on the floor," replied the bald man. He drew a dagger, but Joric slammed his fist into his gut, sending the man reeling back. The other three men descended onto Joric, but his strength proved inhuman. One by one he pulled the men off and sent them flying back with impressive strength. The man with the dagger swiped close to his face, but Joric grabbed his arm and broke it at the elbow. He yelled in pain and dropped the dagger. As he fell to his knees, Joric grabbed his head and kneed him in the face. The other three men had recovered by then, so Joric dove for the dagger. He quickly rolled over onto his back, slamming his fist into an oncoming opponent. Then another man attempted to move in for the grapple, but Joric's heavy boot sent him stumbling back. Getting to his feet, Joric dodged another punched, grabbed the man's head, and slammed it down on the wooden bar. Using his impressive strength, Joric turned and backhanded another man, sending him tumbling over a set of chairs. He took the dagger and threw it at the last man's foot, stabbing him and causing him to cry out in pain.

Stunned and impressed at the same time, everyone looked upon the man. "Sorry," he said as he looked at the inkeeper. "I uh... I'll take one of those rooms now... I'll pay for everything come morning, on my word."

The innkeeper nodded and pointed to the stairs, "of course," he said, stunned. Joric nodded and walked off to the stairs, up to his room, and got ready to sleep.

The patter of rainfall masked the sound of a horse-drawn cart wandering northwards on the longroad. The driver, comfortably shielded from the rain in a large, hooded cloak, kept a wary eye ahead of himself. With every passing moment, they grew that much nearer towards Valuun Keep, and the cart-driver's anxiety and dread grew with it. His sole passenger, however, was a stone wall in comparison. Obscured by a leather and steel helmet, the passenger's face betrayed no hint of worry, nor any joy. He remained quietly seated on the floor of the cart, nestled between two barrels of dried goods on either side of the man. Rain pelted against his steel in a quieted melody, beading up on the leather of the man's armor before trickling down.

"Mr. Stahlwurm! Hey, Serkan!" Called out the driver, raising his voice a little to sound over the deluge, "We are nearly at Night-Raven Inn. I can take you there but I will not go any further! If you wish to visit that damned keep I apologize, but you will have to find your own way!"

At last, the man clad in leather and steel lifted his head, the faintest hint of blue eyes visible through the visor of the helmet. The driver had promised to give the passenger a ride north in exchange for some assistance in unloading some goods at an inn along the way. The passenger could hear the quivering fear hidden in the driver's words, and yet when the passenger himself opened his mouth to speak, he was far calmer, if a bit curt, "That will not be a problem."

Serkan slowly lifted himself to look over the edge of the cart. There, visible as a blurred shadow in the grey of heavy rainfall was the inn, and looming behind it, an even greater shadow. Through the rain and at this distance, the details of Valuun Keep were not yet visible; from here, it existed as a darkened shadow that blot out a fogged landscape, a dreary pinnacle amongst a dreary land. It was not a long wait until the driver took them off the longroad to pull the cart beside the inn, the workhorse huffing when allowed a moment's rest. The driver jumped down from his seat and walked over to take the horse over to the stables, while Serkan was already moving a barrel filled with grain off of the cart and towards the cellar door tucked behind the inn. It was quick work, Serkan and the driver rolled a half-dozen barrels of food and drink down to the cellar door, for the inn-workers to pick up and take inside.

Their work completed, the driver hurried around the inn to get into shelter and to get his pay for the delivery of goods, but Serkan returned to the cart to retrieve his belongings. He lifted up a cloth bag filled with necessities and a long, narrow object protectively and preciously wrapped in a cotton tarp to keep the rain from touching it. Serkan leisurely made his way to enter the inn through the front door, even with the rain beating down on him there was no sense of urgency in his stride; he bore every cold, wet drop, embraced it.

At last, Serkan pressed through the doors and was greeted by a wave of warmth and the aroma of roasting pork. His shoulders relaxed a little as he shook his bag off, rainwater dripping free. However, the low moan of a person in agony caught Serkan's attention, and he directed his gaze towards the bar to his left, where a pile of four men and broken furniture lied scattered. The cart driver stood not too far ahead, a dumbfounded look had overtaken his face. Serkan slowly drew near him, asking "What happened?"

"Ah, those loons tried to pick on some big guy, that man was a wall of muscle, I tell you," the cart-driver ran his head over his thinning head of hair, "Anyway, no need to worry. Don't think they'll be bothering anyone for a while, they certainly learned their lessons."

Serkan looked at the damage that had been caused with one last glance, before dismissing it. He reached up to unlatch the claps which help his helmet secure, removing the helmet to free a head of wild, black hair, and revealing a pair of sharp, alert eyes. Two large, pointed ears stood on either side of his head, revealing his nature as a half-elf. Serkan reached into his bag and retrieved enough money to pay for a single night's stay, gently lying it on the wooden countertop with a dull, metallic thud to get the innkeeper's attention, "I need a room for the night, please."

The innkeeper nodded and took the money, turning to retrieve a key. The cart-driver reached up to place his hand on He leaned forwards, "Are you still heading up to that place? You know what they say-"

"I already have heard, but I'm still going. Nothing is going to change that," Serkan was adamant in his resolve, "Safe travels on your return."

The cart-driver sighed, knowing there was no convincing the half-elf otherwise, "Thank you."

The innkeeper soon after returned with the key to a room; Serkan nodded in thanks and departed, ascending the steps to find his room. Once safely inside, the half-elf removed his armor piece by piece, setting them aside to allow them to dry. He sat down on the bed, and lifted the long, narrow object wrapped in cotton tarp onto his lap, tugging the twine to open the wrapping and reveal a sword set in a leather sheath with steel furnishings. Serkan turned his head downwards as he clutched the weapon, muttering under his breath, "I'm here, Ferran..."

The large burlap bag dragged across the wet and muddy road, the tan material staining brown and the glossy gold inside began to gather moisture. A young woman by the name of Dasmira was pulling it, her arms straining and her legs tensing with the burden of wealth. Wheat blonde tendrils stuck to a pale face, rain plastering her mane to her body. Every now and then she would slip, her feet betraying her, and her knees were scratched beneath the black trousers she donned. A scowl was present on her face as she lugged around her spoils. A carriage had passed her a while back and she almost screamed at it for help, but decided that she should get to the inn on her own. It would be best if she didn’t have to deal with a greedy carriage driver.

When the inn was in sight, she wanted to scream in joy. The hill was a hard obstacle to surpass, but eventually she was at the top and she entered Night-Raven Inn. Broken furniture was scattered across the floor along with a few men as well which she overstepped easily. She adorned her best helpless façade and approached the guy who manned the bar.

“Can I please have a room?” She whimpered, her lip quivering. “I-I’m so cold and I don’t have much money. This gold is a delivery and I’ll lose my job if it’s not all there! A small discount, please?”

The innkeeper inspected her and she threw in a few fat tear drops for further convincing. He finally gave a weary, resigned sigh and said, “Alrigh’, I guess I coul’ give ye a small discount.”

As he said this, he buried his hand into a drawer and returned to her with a key. The innkeeper pointed her to the stairs and she thankfully and pathetically ambled to her practically free room. The room was small and had the bare necessities needed for a night; the girl was just worried about contracting a disease or parasite. She wobbled to the window, shedding her clothes as she did, and stared into the gray sky in dismay.

“I hope it clears by the time I set out tomorrow…” She muttered to herself. “I could really use the gold.”

After her small musing, she gathered her money together and tested the walls, any alcoves, under the bed, under the floorboards – anywhere – to see if she could find a place to stash her loot. Once she found a spot that would suffice – a floorboard beneath the bed that easily opened. She placed the floorboard back and unscrewed a set of nails from another floorboard on the other side of the room; she replaced the broken floorboard’s nails with the other, screwing it as tightly as she could. With her plunder protected, she collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come.

Ireth trudged through the rain, her unusual blue hair and clothes already soaking wet. Her boots squished in the wet mud as she walked towards salvation: Night-Raven Inn. Her original plan was to take on the challenge of Valuun Keep right away, but after much thought she decided she needed to think about her options and get some more info before storming into the fortress...

As she entered the inn, she kept a cautious hand on the edge of her bow, scanning the room for any signs of danger. Other than a few dirty looks and the occasional shifty-looking guy, everything seemed relatively safe... Looking out the window, she noticed the rain increasing and inwardly groaned. There'd be no way she could hike up to the fortress in those conditions...she'd have to wait until tomorrow.

Approaching the bar, Ireth's eyes widened as she took in the lumps of bodies sprawled on the floor. Who could've done this? She raised an eyebrow at the innkeeper calmly wiping his glasses behind the counter. The innkeeper paused, looking up at Ireth's confused face.

"I'm guessin yer not from around here...?" The innkeeper questioned.

Ireth slowly shook her head and asked in a dignified tone, "Is this a regular occurrence in this land?"

"As regular as it gets..." The man put the mug down and crossed his arms, "What can I get fer you?"

"One room please," Ireth came closer and put some coins into the man's hand, "And whatever you can tell me about the fortress that lies to the North."

Leon made no particular effort to quicken his step. He was in the rain, but he had his cloak, and it wasn't like he had never braved such weather before during his many years of travel. He walked slowly up the highway seeming to be in no particular hurry. His hands were buried in his pockets, and most of his body was obscured by the dark green cloak wrapped around him. His head was tilted downwards as he moved ahead. Perhaps not the safest practice, seeing as one should have full vision ahead of them as they walk, but Leon hardly cared. He knew what was in front of him well enough, having passed by here a few times, and he knew that farther up the road was the old Night-Raven Inn. He had often passed by this area thinking to investigate the old keep, but something always drew him off. However, this time with all the new commotion around here he committed himself to investigating the ancient fortress.

Truthfully Leon was wary of the keep. He may have been a seasoned dungeoneer, but something about Valuun Keep was different. You could feel the air grow cold as you drew near. The local stories often warned of an entrance to the fabled Under Deep but Leon took such rumors with a grain of salt. He didn't believe in ghosts and ghouls, and certainly not the Underworld. Leon took such things at face value: He could not see them, so chances were they weren't truly there. Any old bump in the night probably has some sort of reasonable explanation. However Leon let such thoughts drift past as he neared the Inn.

The Inn wasn't the most impressive sight, but it certainly served its purpose well. It has stood the test of time underneath the watchful eye of the distant keep. Leon approached the door and pushed it open. The warm light of a fire was welcome, and the sinful smell that promised food was as well. Leon drew into the main gathering room. He could feel the hostile glares of the locals, and judging by the state of the room someone had felt those stares in a more personal way rather recently. Several men were groveling in pain, and an assortment of broke furniture decorated the floor. Leon approached the counter. Here he overheard a young elven women inquire about Valuun Keep. Leon spoke before the inn keeper could. "Valuun Keep," he began, "Legend has it that it was built by an insane general by the name of Valrund. It allegedly is connected with a cave that leads into the Under Deep, lending to it's mysterious reputation. Locals believe it's haunted but I wouldn't put much stock into rumors. I'd say there must be something going on there, but I don't believe it's haunter, and I certainly don't believe there is a cave there that leads to the Underworld."

The rain refused to desist, soaking the heavy wool travelling cloak around Aveline's shoulders. Driving her horse down the Longroad in such weather exhausted the poor creature twice as quickly as it would have otherwise. If not for its long journey, the horse might have been frozen by the rain pelting its coat. With this in mind, Aveline directed her companion to the only light for miles around. The keep and her brother would wait one more night.

Cart and horse tracks became illuminated with every flash of lightning, but she didn't think much of it. This was the Longroad, and the Night-Raven Inn was the only place to rest for a long way.

Swinging out of the saddle, she guided her horse into the stables and tied it to one of the posts. With a handful of hay she dried most of the horse's coat. “Sorry about that, Bella.” She brushed tangles from Bella's dark mane and turned to inspect the other horses. From what she could tell, the inn would be very busy. She gave each horse a moment of attention, then went inside.

Her stomach woke up at the scent of roast pork and simply insisted that she go over to the barkeep and request a dinner. She started towards the counter, blissfully unaware of the bodies littering the floor until she almost tripped over one. Damned roast pork, so enchanting. She regarded the groaning bodies without alarm; bar brawls weren't uncommon, and she had seen many in her years travelling. She was even a little amused.

The barkeep, a young man and an elven woman conversed at the bar as Aveline stepped over the bodies. She briefly wondered how long they had been there, before returning her attention to the counter. The man was talking about Valuun Keep; its name pinned her attention to him. Aveline leaned on the bar near the elf, leaving enough space between them that they wouldn't be uncomfortable. The legends were nothing she hadn't heard already.

She turned to the barkeep and dropped enough coin on the counter to pay for a meal, drink and a room. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

The rain's fat, heavy drops continued to fall, as if the rain clouds were trying to feed the every hungry ground. As the northerner, Arkadi Vasile trudged through the rain he could only think of one thing, the dry inn. He paused for a second and shook off the collecting clod of mud off of his large boots while he gazed upon the decaying Valuun's Keep. With the seventeen remaining turrets that were ravaged by harsh elements and time, as well as the broken gate it produced a certain mood. Soon after Arkadi let his gaze linger he felt a shiver down his spine and made the sign for warding off evil, a pair of horns. All Arkadi could think is that the Keep is bad news, but he doesn't see anybody else sneaking into the den and poking the bear to protect a small inn. With a sense of accomplishment Arkadi neared the Inn, stepping in the much smaller footsteps of others he opened the door as the lightening struck. After ducking through the door way and narrowly avoiding the drunks on the floor the Varan sat down on a bar stool. The stool seemed to groan in protest of holding the giant. The barkeep approached with a, "What'll it be?"

The northerner thought for only a second before pulling off his hood and saying in a thick accent, "Meat, I want meat. Beef if you have it." It took a second for the swarthy barkeeper's mind to decipher the accent then asked if he wanted a drink to which Arkadi replied,

"It's been a long day, give me something strong." The man behind the counter pulled out a Akvavit-type spirit and filled up a small cup which Arkadi downed and asked for more. After another shot Arkadi felt his abilities might be needed so he cut off his drinking there and paid for his meal with a handful of silver drakes. Arkadi Vasile hung his cloak to dry and sat near the fire tearing at his cut of meat that may have been a little dry. As he was eating Arkadi kept his ear to the ground and listened for news on the Keep while he scanned the room for anything of interest.

Athinar felt something, something that was coming from Valuun Keep. That old place never had been anything special, even when the mad general had ordered it's construction. Over the years, Athinar had seen it fall into eventual disrepair, and although it was by no means a ruin, it could by no means be called a castle. Even without the rumors of the "Under Deep", that place was bad luck. Valrund wasn't a very wise man, although he was shrewd. He pushed his troops to the limit, and when he was attacked at the keep, he won, but at the cost of over 60% of his men, and when the rest confronted him, he somehow killed them all, and vanished off the face of the earth.

So why did he feel something, now of all times?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - Three Months Later - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Da' Danash trudged up to the NightRaven, hood over his head. Twirling his ring absently, the mage turned his eyes to a northerner who had just entered the inn. A tall, swarthy man, a warrior, by the looks of it. Stepping in after him, Athinar gazed around the room, and frowning, he looked upwards. Above his head, apparently in a room, was a feeling of... greed? He was no empath, by any means, but he could still divine the intent of people. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Trying to rob Valuun? Lofty aims for those with their heads in the clouds.." Turning his gaze back to the bar, he saw that there were far too many elves to be a coincidence. Maybe a High Lord, with his company of adventurers? No, there are too many non-elven, and besides, they carry no insignia... As he walked up to the bar, his hands began to glow, and sparks came out of them. Frowning in irritation, he squelched the fire, but couldn't keep his hands from glowing a fiery red.

Signalling for the bartender to give him something, it didn't matter to Athinar, he listened in on all of their conversations, all directed at the bartender. As the bartender came back with his ale, he tossed a coin down on the counter and swigged his beer. Why do they all ask the bartender? I know he hears things, but still, he doesn't know everything. Turning to face them all, he said in a low, husky timbre, "Listen, if you're looking to raid the keep, let me give you a little advice: Don't. I've seen adventurers like you come and go, you're a gold a dozen. The only way to prolong your lifespan is to go the way you came. But if you're really determined....." Athinar sighed. "I guess I could help out."

Under his dark blue cloak that covered his head and body from the cold rain, Dale was going through hard times. He didn't know that adventuring would of been this difficult, but up to now he had decided to press on and he was going to until he reached that NightRaven Inn. He had gone through several villages, the first of which he needed to get directions about where to go to reach Valuun Keep. Sadly many of the doors he had knocked upon for directions were slammed in his face. Eventually though, someone mentioned NightRaven Inn and where it was, and that he should head there first, ask for advice and then hopefully turn back on his foolish quest.

The other villages he had been through, were just places he had been able to get a home cooked meal and sleep in a comfy bed, which he had received through the sheer kindness of a handful of people after he explained about his mission.

Of course this downpour had to start after I left the last village between here and NightRaven.... he thought a little sourly. And so with his mucky leather shoes, soaking wet cloak and a sac still wearing on his tiring shoulders he continued to trudge towards NightRaven. There was a few good points though, the path he was on seemed to have seen a little use, so it was easier to walk through then if no one knew it existed, especially because of the mud. Another was that, just as he was going to retire in the mud, uncomfortable or not, NightRaven had just appeared on the edge of his vision and he started to speed up his pace. Dale staggered many times but did not fall into the mud, thankfully.

As he arrived at the front doors he hurriedly pushed them open and stomped in, his shoes like mud bricks. He saw a few people around, but didn't pay them too much mind as he only wanted to get a room, his cloak and stuff washed, and perhaps have a bath as well. He called to the barkeep as he made his way over to the man, "Have you any-", then crashed to the floor without finishing his sentence. A few moments later he had risen shakily to his feet, being a little dazed from the fall and began to slowly take off his troublesome shoes. He noticed that the sac was a few feet from him, lying down but still tied shut. He was relieved as there was some important stuff in there. All the while, the barkeep watched him, his face a mixture of surprise and sympathy.

Having taken off his shoes, standing bare foot in the room, he flung his hood back and looked up to the barkeep, repeating the question, "Have you any rooms and a bath to trade for some quality eggs?" He hoped his lucky coin helped him secure this bargain.

As Joric took refuge in one of the rooms at the inn, so to did another newcomer: Serkan Stahlwurm. This particular half-elf mercenary was on his way to Valuun Keep, seeking his master, Ferran. If only Serkan knew what had become of his old master... Not to long after, a young woman entered the inn, seeking refuge as well; her sly trickery earned her a free room, albeit being able to pay for every room in the inn.

Other than those who decided to get a quick rest, some other interesting customers sought shelter from the torrential downpour of the outdoors. The first of these was Ireth Vardamir, an elven ranger seeking her glory at Valuun Keep. Not long after the young Leon Thorne arrived, informing Ireth of what he knew about the keep. The young Aveline Ronan wasn't far behind, deciding to purchase a meal and join in with the others; she was seeking her brother, Castan, at the keep. A beast of a man: Arkadi Vasile walked into the inn, almost as big if not bigger than Joric himself. Arkadi decided to fill his stomach with some pork while trying to pick up information on the keep, so the innkeeper allowed him to help himself. A wise mage walked in next; his name was Athinar Da' Danash, and he was obviously here to see what Valuun Keep had to offer, joining in with the others. The last fellow to walk in was Dale Gade, who promptly fell flat on the floor. The innkeeper looked at him curiously.

"Have you any rooms and a bath to trade for some quality eggs," asked Dale.

The innkeeper blinked his eyes for a moment before replying, "well, we just received a shipment of some supplies, but I don't reckon we got any eggs in it. I... suppose a few eggs'll do; might even let'chu fix'em in the mornin'." The innkeeper shook his head and took one of the room keys. He handed it to Dale and told him "room's upstairs; we got one bath, water's probably cold, but what can you do, eh?" After finishing up with Dale, the innkeeper fixed some pork on a plate for Aveline.

Athinar, Leon, Ireth, and Aveline anxiously awaited the inn keeper's return. As he approached he passed Aveline's plate over to here and poured her a cup of drink while starting his tale. "One of my great ancestors built this here inn. Ain't sure why he built it here... reckon he thought he could serve all the would-be heroes on there way to the keep." He passed the mug to Aveline. "I seen people come and go on the Longroad when I was but a wee little lad; but I ain't never - in all my life - seen anyone come back outta that keep. In the rest of the world they may it's just tales and stories... but they ain't nowhere next to the truth. That there keep is cold, dangerous, and it ain't right. The earthquake we had here recently was from that keep, I know it - I can feel it in me bones. I ain't tellin you to not go in there... I'm just tellin ye it ain't such a good idea. But whatta I know, eh? I'm just a drunk innkeeper." The innkeeper started laughing as he walked away to tend to his other customers, including the group who had just taken a beating by Joric. They probably wouldn't mind sleeping with the horses for tonight.

Up above, in one of the rooms, Joric lie on his bed, eyes wide open. Below him he could hear murmurs, the opening of doors, and laughing. Obviously the inn had filled up with some new people. Curious, Joric slowly stood up, strapped his covered item on his back, and cautiously looked outside his door. No one was around, so he pushed it open. The door creaked, but that didn't matter. He took a few steps forward and looked down the strairs. A group of several adventuring-types sat at the bar and some of the tables.

Slowly, Joric reached his hand back and unraveled some of the cloth on the covered item. The hilt of a greatsword was revealed. The hilt was obsidian-black, decorated with hellish patterns and design, adorned with blood-red gemstones. He gripped the hilt with his hand and quietly whispered "they're here."

"AS I TOLD YOU THEY WOULD."

Joric shook his head, feeling a bit guilty, but he shook these thoughts from his head. He recovered the hilt, walked back to his room, and lay back on his bed, anticipating the morning.

Ireth watched as the innkeeper laughed and walked away. He said nothing he hasn't heard before, and almost everyone told her either not to go in there or that it was a horrible idea. But, those comments made her heart quicken. Nobody has ever returned, they say. But what if somebody did? And what if that someone was her? Discovering the secret of Valuun Keep...would be the adventure of a lifetime, she could just feel it.

She turned to the mysterious man who looked to be...a mage? He seemed wise...and did offer his knowledge. Ireth folded her arms, glancing at all the others around her, "I am Ireth Vardamir. It is a...pleasure to meet you."

She narrowed her blue eyes at the man in front of her, "You're warning doesn't discourage me...tell me what you know."

When the innkeeper returned, Ireth gave him a small smile, "Also, I'd like a room please. I believe I shall be staying the night..."

She needed to get as much information as possible and also work out some type of plan...that could take all night. She had no idea what the inside of the place looked like, what lies in there. Sure, most of the information she'll get is rumors, but at least it's something

Dasmira always woke up earlier than most; those up in the wee hours of the morning were easier to steal from as they were still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. But as such, she always had a nice view of the tangerine orange slathered across the sky, being accompanied by the light pink hue - she loved the sunrise because she loved the sun. The sun shone like gold upon her face and it fueled her with warmth that accompanied the dizzying rush she got when her fingers were in the pocket of a rich nobleman.

With a yawn, she approached the window and leaned out, waiting for the sun to spray her face with riches. Once it did, though it barely crawled up her nose, she left the windowsill and packed her things. Her trident was retracted and snuggled into the bones of her shoulders and her rope dart hung from where it was looped around her coin skirt. She laced up her blue corset, a wonderful invention for women that allowed her to smuggle even more things, and donned her black cloak before departing the room. She memorized the room number and the floorboard her treasure was buried underneath already, so she had no delay in getting out of the inn. Dasmira was almost to the door, leaving to find even more wealth, when her stomach growled. She looked at the hefty coin purse she hid between her skirt and trousers, weighing her options. The blonde knew she probably wouldn't get away with a second freebie, so she gathered only a few coins - suspicion was to be avoided - and approached the innkeeper.

"May I have something to eat?" She inquired in a honeyed, innocent voice. The coins clattered to the table and she took a seat at the bar.

Serkan used a rag he had found in the washroom to wick away the last of the moisture that had previously soaked his armor, gently rubbing his thumb over the smooth, gray-stained leather of his gauntlet, remembering the day he'd received the armor, the day he joined the old mercenary guild. While he distracted himself from thoughts of what once was, he fit the gauntlet over his hand, slowly placing his armor back on piece by piece, though he simply put his helmet into his bag, preferring not to wear it indoors. Serkan clipped his sword on his hip, checking to make sure the lock which kept the sword snug in the sheath was working with a gentle tug. The sword was perhaps too precious a keepsake to just leave in his room, especially considering the scuffle which had happened not a minute after he'd arrived at the inn anyway. He exited his room and locked the door to his room just behind himself, slipping the key into his collar between his armor and padding.

That was when Serkan was greeted by the sight of another patron of the inn disappearing into his own room, presumably to retire for the night. He didn't get a look at his face, but the gleam of something reflecting off an object on his back drew his eye: a red gemstone mounted upon the handle of a weapon of some kind, though he only had a passing glance and could not see what exactly. Serkan smiled and started towards the stairs to head below; the sight of a man carrying a weapon meant one thing, the rumors he had heard were true. People of his particular skillset, adventurers, warriors, fighters, mercenaries, all strong men and women of the sort were gathering. Being so close to the keep could only mean one thing, people like him were looking to find what lied within.

Serkan sidled up to the bar, stepping over the remnant debris from the earlier barfight, and took a seat on one of the stools, resting his left hand loosely atop the flat hilt of his sword. Anyone nearby who was sensitive to magic might have felt something the moment Serkan's gloved hand touched the pommel of his blade, it was but a tiny spark, imperceptible to the eyes of common folk, a magical blade reacting to the touch of its master. Serkan closed his eyes and listened to the crowd for a while, his half-elven ears twitching as he tried to listen through the dull murmuring drone of an evening crowd's conversation. He opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of the bartender approaching.

"Ey, can I be gettin' ya anythin' m'good man?" asked the bartender, "We got braised pig, and some of the finest ale this side of-"

"I'll have the pork," Serkan interrupted, being curt as usual while he spoke, "And do you have coffee?"

The bartender seemed to have been taken by surprise by the request, "Aye, we do, I take it you want a cup?"

"Yes," Serkan answered, pulling out enough coin to pay, "And also, I want to buy a tin of some coffee grounds."

The bartender smiled and scooped the money from the counter, the metal rasping against the wood as it was slid over to the edge. When he left, Serkan again searched the crowd, looking for anyone who might look to be heading to the keep soon. His eyes then crossed over another figure with pointed ears sitting not terribly far away. He turned his head away for a moment, but his eyes discretely shifted to look at the woman again. He wondered if she was a full elf, or a half-blood not unlike himself, but that was not what had gotten his attention. No, his ears had practically tingled at the mere utterance of the word 'Keep' by the man she was having a conversation with.

Serkan looked forwards again, but continued to listen and eavesdrop. His meal soon arrived, a dented, scratched tin filled with the grounds of coffee beans, a serving of crisp-skinned pork on a scratched-up metal plate, along with a misshapen, ceramic mug filled with an aromatic, black liquid. The scent brought a smile to Serkan's face, he slipped one hand into the lopsided loop of the mug's handle, gripping the other side of the mug with his opposite hand. He could feel the warmth even though the leather covering his fingers, and brought the mug closer to himself, letting the wispy steam float under his nostrils as he inhaled the bitter scent. He had become so absorbed into his cup that he'd nearly forgotten to keep listening to the conversation going on just behind him.

Leon listened to the inn-keeper tell what he knew of the keep. He advised that no one should enter the keep, but really, did anyone expect that to stop Leon? Leon was intrigued by the old man's offer to come along. Judging by his garb the man would be by Leon's best guest a wizard. Leon nodded towards him, "I was planning on entering the keep, and help would be appreciated," Leon than turned towards the others that formed around him, "I also wouldn't be surprised if you all were also here for the Keep. Y'all look like adventurers and if you are I doubt you're just passing by to enjoy the view. By the way, My name is Leon. Leon Thorne." The elven women had introduced herself as Ireth. The others, for now, remained nameless.

"As for the matter of more information about the Keep... I'm afraid there isn't much more to say. Anything else is speculation. As the bartender said, no one has come out to report what they have seen inside, at least to my knowledge. It is an interesting mystery, to say the least. I plan to make the trip up tomorrow, after the rain clears, if any of you wish to join me." In the meantime Leon would need a room and a hot meal. Leon then, like many others, gained the attention of the barkeep. "By the way, I'd like a room for the night and dinner." Leon pulled the coins out of his pouch and handed them to the barkeeper.

Aveline's stomach gave an impatient growl when the food took too long, and she sought to disguise the sound with a yawn. Being as tired from the ride as she was, it wasn't hard to fake. Two others had joined them at the bar, all with a similar interest in Valuun Keep.

A northerner struck her as the most interesting, though he only came in and grabbed some meat and sat down by the fire. She supposed he was eavesdropping on the rest of the inn, it was common enough. Her natural curiosity urged her to sit with him and talk about the north. She had been there more than once and thoroughly enjoyed learning what she could about the culture. The accent itself was brilliant. But she had neither the time nor energy to delve into the northerner's stories now. Her brother awaited.

Second, there was the old man. When he spoke, she turned to face him, still learning on the bar with her left forearm, her back to the others. At his offer to help, Aveline glanced over the adventurers at the bar and pondered working with them, considering whether or not they would hold her back and keep her from finding her brother. Any help, especially from a mage, would be gladly accepted in most cases, but she would not allow anything to alter her goal now.

The old man assumed she and the others were planning on raiding the keep. Some of them may well have been, and for now she would let him believe that was her mission too.

She turned back towards the counter when the barkeeper passed her a plate of pork and a drink, and begun telling a more detailed story about the keep. Aveline perched on the edge of a stool – always on the edge, should she need to move quickly – and bit into her pork as she listened to the barkeeper's story. By the time he finished, the plate and mug were empty and her hunger almost satisfied. The story told her little more than she already knew. She was getting tired of hearing the same thing.

Finally, the others at the counter introduced themselves – all but the mage. There was Ireth Vardamir, the elf woman, and Leon Thorne, the young man. Aveline slipped off the bar stool and pushed her plate and mug away, nodding her thanks to the barkeep. She took a step back to see each of the others at the bar. “Aveline Ronan. It's a pleasure to meet you too,” she said, then tilted her head more towards the mage. “Wouldn't mind the help. If you're still generous come morning, I'll see you outside. Same goes for anyone else who fancies for company to Valuun Keep.” She offered a small but amiable smile to all those present, swiped her room key from the counter and went upstairs.

The rain pounded on as more and more people slowly streamed in. A mage, and a clumsy little man were the latest additions to the bar. It could be the start of a joke, a mage, a clumsly human, and a Varan all walk into the bar. Arkadi chuckled lowly at his own little joke when a human girl came with a beaming smile. She sat down and begin to talk with him and the others who were interested in information of Valuun's keep. Then the sorcerer began to become a little dark and begin to talk about the Keep,

"Listen, if you're looking to raid the keep, let me give you a little advice: Don't. I've seen adventurers like you come and go, you're a gold a dozen. The only way to prolong your lifespan is to go the way you came. But if you're really determined....." Then the mage sighed. "I guess I could help out." The prospect of help from the magical man was interesting, but perhaps the demons he uses could go against me or anybody else While the thought scared the large northerner any help was good help. Against his own advisement he accepted the help before he paid for a room with the last of his money and stomped up to his room while he left his cloak to dry.

After a night full of turmoil filled dreams he awoke early, ready to take in the new day he rolled out of bed. The bed creaked hard and then somehow collapsed. So Arkadi hurried down stairs, grunting to the barkeep he went outside and took in the air. The weather outside was beautiful in its own way; after a night of heavy rain a fog rolled in, but the air remained fresh so the northerner breathed deeply taking in the fresh rain smell.

As they all introduced themselves, Athinar winced, and a sharp pain ran through his hand. Rubbing it absently, he barely realized that a spark had flown upwards, fizzling out before it lit anything on fire. Before they left, however, he said, "M' name's Athinar Da' Danash. And just to be clear, I expect at least half of you to die, even with my help." Plunking some coins down on the bar, he sighed. "Maybe I'm being to optimistic..." Heading upstairs, he slammed the door to his room shut, and murmuring a spell, made it impervious to intruders. Collapsing on the bed, he fell asleep, with the pain on his hand growing ever steadily.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Athinar rolled over in bed, to see that his wife was gone. Yawning and pulling on some trousers, he sleepily stood, and left the room. He saw his wife by the fire, cooking some meat. Smiling, he hugged her from behind and said, "You know, you might have woken me up, I could help with breakfast." With a high-pitched giggle, his wife turned her head, and her face was nothing more than flesh on bones. With a start, and stumbling backwards, Athinar landed in another room, and scrambling up to his feet, looked around. It was a dark, circular chamber, with a pedestal in the center. A smooth, seductive voice said, "You shall find your answers here...." A bright light obscured what was on the pedestal, and with a flash, sent Athinar to his home, which was burning. His two children were crawling on the ground, charred and blackened. Looking up at him feebly, they said, "Why- why weren't you there for us? WHY FATHER, WHY?!?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Tossing and turning, Athinar's hands flared, and catching alight, set the room on fire. Waking up to the smell of fire, he saw that his room was a towering inferno, walls, roof, and floor ablaze. Grabbing his pack, which was a little dusty, but still usable, he kicked open the door, and began waking up the patrons, sending them outside. When he reached one room, though, he paused. It was empty, yet this was where all the greed was emanating from... Looking quickly around, he spotted something. A single floorboard, under the bed was the focus of the person's greed. Thinking this suspicious, Athinar pulled it up and saw a sack of gold. Pulling it out, he emptied most of it into his pack, leaving a few bracelets and rings behind. Leaving the room, he began to evacuate the barroom downstairs, and finally hefting the bartender out, grabbed a young woman by the arm, saying, "This place is about to come down on your head! Move, move, move!"

At hearing the Innkeeper accept the bargain, Dale pulled his sac, whilst carrying his shoes over to the counter, dropping his shoes on the floor, he dug out three of his best eggs from the sac and handed them over to the innkeeper, taking the keys in exchange. "Thank you very much, sir."

He then turned to a man with green eyes addressing some people gathered around him-what he got out of the conversation was that-the man thought that the keep was an interesting mystery and he was inviting people to travel with him towards it tomorrow. He pondered about joining the guy for a moment and then decided that the man would be a friend, thus taking him up on his proposition. Dale walked up to the stranger as he was getting his room keys, "Hey I'm Dale and I'm heading to Valuun as well and I'd be glad to join you on your journey there." Without waiting for the man's answer Dale hurriedly took up his possessions, and made his way straight to the baths.

A good half hour later and after a good deal of scrubbing, him and his clothes were clean. Then found his room, unlocked it, changed into his sleeping clothes, dropped onto his bed and fell a sleep, quickly, while pondering about all the interesting things that had happened this night. A good ten hours later, he was on the verge of waking up when he heard, "Move, Move, Move!"

C'mon, is there really any rush for us to leave our rooms in the morning? He thought exasperatedly to himself. His answer came swiftly, in the form of smoke flooding his nostrils as soon as he opened his room's door. His eyes wiedned as he turned to the left and saw flame spreading like a forest fire and knew there was only two options, vacate or perish. He gathered his stuff and scrambled down the stairs and outside the Inn, looking at how sad the place looked as its roof burned to ash.

He then saw an elderly man, who looked like he knew of magic next to a young woman and the bartender, and wondered idly if he knew about how the fire started. He decided to keep silent, as he knew emotion would run rampant and the last thing he wanted was for somebody to lose it on him for asking the wrong questions at the wrong time.

A new day had dawned. The moon waved goodbye to the nightfolk and sunk beneath the horizon as the sun slowly peeked out in the distance. The ground was still wet and soggy, and the gleaming sun in the sky created rainbows across the morning dawn. If Night-Raven Inn was a living entity it would have exhaled in great relief and relaxed its rafters as it welcomed an easier day.

Within the inn heroes and adventurers of all stripes and colors began to awake. It was a number of interesting people, all seeking something in the keep that still sit ominously in the distance. It was about a fifty-minute walk from the inn to the keep, which some had figured was much to close. Still, you had to appreciate the founder of the inn who obviously built it to exploit the heroes seeking their glory within the keep. In its time the inn had accumulated a hefty profit, and it was enough to renovate it - if only the greedy innkeepers who worked it would hire someone to do it.

In one of the top rooms Joric quickly awoke and grabbed his greatsword that sit beside his bed. He could hear shouting outside and approached the door. As he peeked out he could see that someone had accidentally ignited something in the inn. Rolling his eyes, Joric, with his hand still on the greatsword, whispered something to himself. A few barhands had tossed a bit of water on the fire, but a magical brisk air rushed through an open window and helped cool the flames. Within a few moments it had extinguished. Joric closed his eyes and gripped his greatsword even tighter. Was this a thing of miracle, or something of a curse?

Joric re-wrapped his greatsword and strapped it on his back before heading back downstairs. The damage was minimal, but it had scorched one of the rooms and damaged the roof; nothing the innkeeper couldn't afford to fix. As he entered the great room at the bottom of the stairs he took in the patrons. Making sure no one noticed, Joric reached up and grabbed the hilt of the blade, making sure to keep it hidden from view. Mind filling me in, Joric thought.

"The priest over there, he's Dale Gade." Joric eyed a man who was pondering the fire that had just been extinguished. "He picked a bad place to spread his message. Then there's the elf, Ireth, over there, the one who looks like the wind would blow her over." Joric's gaze was directed at a thin elf with purple hair. "And then there's Aveline, the naive young woman who thinks she's a swordsman. Then there's Athinar - the old bag in the robes, the fool who caused the fire. Then there's the thief - the type your kind like to humiliate back home - she's Dasmira. Ah, here's one you'll like: the great big burly man wielding the axe - a Varan like yourself; it'll be a shame to see him burn. You have the half-breed, the mercenary - Serkan Stahlwurm. And finally, Leon Thorne, the young fool who wants to walk into danger."

Joric scanned the room and observed the eight strangers. Satisfied he nodded his head to the voice within his head and replied: I'll handle it from here. Joric approached the center of the room and clasped his hands together, preparing to speak.

"Quiet... quiet everyone... I've something to say." Everyone in the inn stopped and turned their attention to the warrior. Joric looked them in the eyes, reluctant to tell them the lies that would spill into their ears. "The earthquake is no mere rumor. Something dark and forbidden sits in that fortress... something that can't get out... I don't know what it is, and I alone do not possess the skills to do it by myself. You have all answered your own call: whether it be for love, for glory, or for riches. If you truly wish to dare the dangers of the keep, no one here will stop you. But you can't do it alone... if you do it... you gotta stick together." Joric looked down, trying to hold back his guilt. "That is all I have to say," he said, unable to lie to these people any more. He nodded his head and turned to walk out of the inn. A few patrons watched him as he left the building.

The doors closed as Joric hopped up on his mount and turned to head east...

Serkan had retired not long after he'd begun his evening of eavedropping. Unfortunately he came away with no new knowledge, nothing he hadn't already heard from the cart-driver. Ascending the steps, Serkan unlocked the door to his room and re-entered, hastily stripping off his armor and padding to drop onto the bed, falling asleep. Serkan did not dream that night, but it was no less pleasant a rest, given what was to come when he was to wake. He awoke in the early hours of the morning, just minutes before the sunrise came.

Serkan spent the first hour of the day fitting his padding and armor back on, hanging his sword with great care upon his left hip. He held his helmet in his hands, the yellowed light of the morning sun filling his room through a distorted and dusty window pane behind himself. Though, something started to seem off, it felt like it was an unusually warm and dry morning, especially given the downpour that soaked the landscape just the evening before. He realized what was happening the instant he noticed the heavy scent of burning wood wafting in from under the crack of his door. He received confirmation of his initial suspicions when a man kicked his door down and warned him of the flames, smoke beginning to pour in.

Serkan grabbed his belongings and in a brisk walk made his way through the hall, only momentarily catching a glimpse of the fire in one of the rooms. Already the innkeeper was working to douse the flames. Serkan continued down the steps, there was no real sense of urgency in the way Serkan carried his gait. He made it downstairs. There, almost the entirety of the inn's patrons had gathered, already in a clamor over the unexpectedly fiery alarm clock that had roused them this morning, the windows opened to allow fresh air to carry inside and wash away the burned odor that hung in the air. By now the sense of panic had long since gone, as the innkeeper had returned downstairs with a relieved look on his face, the fire had already been taken care of.

Serkan started towards the counter, retrieving his room key in order to return it when a voice called out to command everyone's attention. The half-elf glanced over his shoulder to catch sight of the man he'd remembered seeing last night, a man who appeared to know more than initial appearances might suggest. Serkan's attention had now been taken, and he turned to face the man, though he remained at a fair distance. He watched the man make his way out, disappearing from sight even through the open window. The crowd had fallen silent after hearing the man speak, this was exactly the kind of opportunity Serkan had been waiting for. Serkan leaned against the counter behind him, resting his left hand loosely upon the hilt of his blade.

"He's right, you know. Alone, none of us would stand for long in there." Serkan spoke out, breaking the quiet with the sound of his low, imperious voice, "I came here because of that Keep, and I doubt I am alone in this venture."