Prologue: Meeting

You have journeyed for several days to arrive here, at the base of this massive mountain. You stand in a small field just adjacent to an old, overgrown, rock-strewn path that seems to lead in a long spiral up the massive mountain. The craggy peaks of the tall mountain appear to touch the sky.

Evil was once said to infest the heart of this mountain ... and judging from the black clouds swirling around its highest reacheos, that may still be true.

Soon after you arrive, others begin litterally walking out of the forest ...

Roll History.
Introduce yourselves.

History check

An old warforged dressed in fancy clothes, with a long cloak,feathered cap, and a rapier attached to his belt, slowly walks down the rock-strewn path leaning on his walking staff, studying the rocks.
He stops to pick up one of the larger pebbles, turns it over in his hand, then satisfied, tosses it over his shoulder.

The wind sweeps through the clearing moments before a young maiden emerges from the forest. She's a traveler, wearing thick boots, several scarves and a wolf-skin cap despite the warm weather, one hand tightly gripping her own staff for protection. Nervously, the young woman adjusts the straps on her pack, her sharp eyes - elven eyes, hinting at a mixed ancestry not uncommon in the rural regions - before her eyes settle on the Warforged. She's heard of mechanical men, birthed by humans as the earth birthed human many lifetimes ago, and the sight makes her shudder. She approaches the road, never taking her eyes from the man, gripping her staff tightly. "How fare the roads?" She calls out after a few steps, hoping he has business further from the mountain.

History:
Dice Roll: 1d20+2
d20 Results: 15 (Total = 17)

The warforged turns his head with interest.
"It seems adequate for foot travel. Why do you suppose all rocks on the ground are rounded?"

Gene wears a dark green jacket with a hood, black pants, and brown boots. A brown scarf is wrapped around his neck that has one end fluttering down his left side. His black hair would go to his shoulder blades normally, but he keeps it tied back in a short ponytail. He is seen with a smile more often than not, with his gray eyes holding a sparkle to enhance his friendly demeanor.

Beneath his jacket is a gray shirt with a brown belt around his chest. It has ten daggers sheathed in it, and a quick pull of the zipper lets him access them for easy throwing. He also keeps a dagger strapped to each of his arms, his legs, and two at his waist. The one to his right on his waist is visible, with the one to his left being hidden. The other four are hidden as well. A small brown pouch to his right side has shruikens in it. A quick flip of the top lets him grab as many as necessary on short notice.

This must be it.

Gene looks up from the field he stands in, staring at the mountain ahead with an intent expression. Nothing seemed too strange about it; black clouds could always be explained as bad weather. Yet an eerie feeling stays with him, most likely from the words he had heard from that man.

Saving the world? Is something so important going on here that it could really affect the fate of the world?

If it was, he would have to do what he could. If not... it would tell him that man knew more about Sasha than he let on. Either way, Gene would be closer to having the answers he was looking for.

Hang on, Sasha. I'm sorry I'm taking so long. But I'll be there as soon as I can.

Gene is pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of two other people exchanging words. He turns his gaze to see a warforged and half-elf speaking to each other. He recalls what the man said, how he indicated Gene would instantly know who he was looking for. These two might very well be those people. Why else would they be here like this?

After a moment of consideration, he walks toward them, raising a hand in greeting. "Hi there."

Seeing another one appear the warforged gets excited.
"Hm.. is that a human? How delightful. What can you tell me?"

Willem pays little attention to the others at first, instead looking up at the swirling clouds at the mountain's peak.

"Evil powers seem very stupid to always announce their presence so. It's not particularly subtle."

He drops his gaze to the others standing about, and rubs his chin through his beard. He has little doubt these are the ones Ishmael spoke of; given the way he - well, presumably 'he' - had spoken of destiny, this is how their story begins.

"I am Willem Coan," he says simply, not willing to interrupt the growing conversation of the others with too much exposition.

OOC

Dice Roll: 1d20+8z
d20 Results: 1 (Total = 9)

History (9)

"Evil and stupid you say?
The warforged strokes his chin and considers what Willem said.
If it's a trap, then drawing people into it would not be stupid.
I think it would be better to assume the enemy is smart and be proven wrong then to assume the enemy is stupid and be proven wrong."

Willem nods his head in deference to the warforged's assessment.

"I said 'seems stupid'. Don't know yet if they are."

He shrugs.

"In any event, stupid can be just as dangerous as smart, so I make a habit of not underestimating anyone, regardless of their lack or load of wits."

He looks around at the gathering - himself, the warforged, the half-elf maid, and another - probably younger - man. He sighs, deciding to broach the topic of fate.

"Soo... It was suggested to me that I travel here, to join up with others fated to fight some epic battle. Presumably, you folk got similar tales? Anyone get a hint as to how many of us there are in this fight?"