(group 1) Chapter 1: Of Things Long Past

Finishing his meal and wishing Ella a good night, Ezryn indicates to the others that he is turning in for the night and gestures for his companion to follow him up to his room, stopping only to leave a few words with the others before he does so. ”We shall depart early in the morning, I understand Garn that you must prepare your mind to work the magics of your art so I will take care not to disturb you but we should set forth earlier in the day while the sky is light and make our way across the snow that has settled from tonight. It will be cold and windy but we will make our way as speedily as we can and prepare our shelter for the night as the day begins to darken and the temperature drops. Good night, gentlemen, I look forward to setting forth with you tomorrow.” With that said, Ezryn takes the stairs two at a time with his long legs and settles down on the bed to catch his rest with his wolf companion laying in front of the door so none could pass without waking her first.

"Hm, guid or something, you ask?" the fiddler says. "Naw, not near as I can tell, anyway. Just, they're kinda autonomous out there...isolated, I guess, you know? Don't get many outside visitors on account of being so close to the marshes. My guess is they're just a tad antisocial, but who knows, I could be wrong."

He finishes his last glass of whiskey clumsily, clearly heavily intoxicted. "Now if'n ya don' mind," he slurs, "I'ma done answerin ques-shuns, I *belch* ah, think I need ta lie down..." He gets up and almost falls, and stumbles toward the stairs.

"Nice playin with ya," the drummer says. "Perhaps we should do it again sometime." With that he helps his friend up the stairs.


Just trying to expedite the process a little. I am sorry if it seems I skipped over any RP opps you guys wanted.
The night passes uneventfully. In the morning, sunlight streams through the windows, and the skies are clear. As you go down for breakfast, you see that the halfling, Anton, is nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, him," the innkeeper says when he sees you looking around. "Little fella just up and left in the middle of the night. Just said something like 'Can't do this, they would find me for sure.' Not sure what he was talkin' about. But anyhow, some tall fella came in earlier this morning, saying he was sent as a replacement by the Queen. Now where is that fellow? Around here somewhere."

Hearing the barkeep mention the Queen, a tall Drenheimer with brown hair and beard stood up stiffly from where he'd been sitting by the fire. His blue eyes were set above a long scar on his left cheek, and he wore worn furs over a fine chain shirt. The elven liquor of the night before had blessedly little effect on his head this bright morning, one of the reasons he'd developed a taste for the stuff. He stretched, causing his joints to pop noisily. "Here, barkeep," he called, striding over and digging a folded paper out of his pouch. It had three names inscribed on the outside, above the Queen's seal in red wax. Glancing at the names, he said, "Are any of you Ezryn, Garn, or Jona?"

Jona smiled at man, feeling a kindred spirit within him immediately. He took out his right hand for a shake, and tipped his hat with his left, saying in a baritone rasp, "Aye, I'm the latter. And what might your name be?"

He gives the Queen's seal a hard look for only a moment, but seemed convinced of its authenticity. Jona didn't feel like belaboring a willing volunteer with a series of tests to prove his intentions. They were a day behind the other party, and had some catching up to do. "By the way fellas, I didn't get a chance to ask the drummer, but I think our first stop should be the harbor. I think a good plan would be to join a vessel as crewman that's headed to our desired destination. Pay our way, so to speak. I figure it would make a good cover, and if nothing else, we'll avoid hoofing it as long as possible."

The man shook Jona's hand firmly and nodded in return to his hat tip. "Johan Wrightson. The letter here is for you," he said. We waited patiently while the note was handed around and read. When Jona spoke again, Johan quirked an eyebrow and asked, "We're not headed to the Fuar Dubh? Or do you mean to approach it from the North?"

"Well a new day and a new companion, most interesting. Good day sir I am Garn, the researcher in the group. Fresh from the tower, but trust me I can do much to help us in battle as well. " Garn the takes some breakfast and sits with a large book. Appearing to study it hard.

"And good day to you, Garn. I'm less worried about battle than ice this time of year, at sea or ashore," Johan replied.

"Do you have a way to protect yourself from the cold, I could always cast a spell to help you fight the chills."

With mention of traveling by boat Garn specks up again "Anything to reduce the travel time would be very important. Those researchers have been there for a while and even if it's a small chance that their alive we must be expedient. I'm sure I have enough to cover a good share of the trip.

"Well then we are all of accord? I then say we waste no more time. Let us breakfast. Perhaps the tavern keeper will know who we can ask about joining a crew?" Jona says calmly to his three journeymen, before turning to the aforementioned keeper, "Oy, barkeep. I have a question for you. You hear of any vessels heading to the marshes, or passing its southern shore?"

Nodding to Garn, Johan replied, "Aye, I'm warded, but thank you."

Having spent the last week away from the waterfront, Johan wasn't sure there were any suitable vessels available, so he turned toward the barkeep with as much interest as Jona.


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