That morning, as you are eating breakfast in the common room, you note the arrival of a wood elf. He seems to be an affable sort, and has several bows strapped to his back.
"Greetings, friends."
The sylvan elf before you sits down nearby and orders a drink. With a laugh, he comments on the fact that no drunken dwarves seem to be present today. "Perhaps a drunken gnome will do, I know I have a hard time telling the two apart." With that he orders drinks for the gnome and introduces himself.
"Shanaril Eldaruin at your service, Archer Extraordinair."
"It just as difficult to tell an elf from a human," comments the gnome. "Why thank you!"
Flintheart takes a sip of his new drink.
"Great stuff, I'm alredy seeing multiple bows on your back."
"One must be prepared. A short bow is quite useful in close quarters, but sadly its range does not compare to its larger cousin. Thus I always carry both. Like any fine craft, one must have the proper tools for various jobs. These bows are the tools of my trade. I trust them far more than simple blades."
Shanaril takes a look about the inn. "And speaking of trades, someone has made a horrible botch with that awful red paint over there," pointing to a section of the floor. "The painter should be released from service, for anybody can see that this room goes best with gold or yellow."
J'Harast has been very withdrawn since his brothers death. As the new elf is greeted, he speaks, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Great, an art critic. Just what we need right now. You can come with us and tell the creatures we have encountered how to repaint their homes."
"Ah, my pardon. Now that I know that such a gastly paint job covers an even more grusome blood stain, I can see how gold would not at all suffice, they should have painted it a green."
Shanaril grins at this, but see's his joke is not taken well.
"Ahem, so I understand this Jaramir fellow was your brother? I do hope consorting with devils is not something that runs in the family. Tell me, how did this occur? Why do you trust the man who killed him to lead you to save this lost soul?"
" Well he didn't really know that his friend was a devil... kind of happens to the best of us. As for the fool I have met with him and I don't per say trust him but he knows what will happen if he doesn't help us. So I know that he will try his very best to help us," says Athmyr.
"I resent the implication of your statement. Jaramir was my half-brother, and a half-breed. I did not know that he was consorting with a devil. In fact, I dislike wolves especially because of his association with the creature."
"I, for one, trust few, for I know it will lead me to a long life."
"Enough, your jokes tire me. I am planning to head back to the house and continue the explorations started before. You are welcome to come, but please try to keep quiet and minimize the jokes you attempt."
Athmyr speaks up: "Well hello glad that you will be able to come along. Having another elf along will help this group out a lot.
"As everyone else is still shocked by what happened the other evening I will tell you all what we," nodding to Ilyanna and Sasha, "Got accomplished.
"We talked to the mage Ray Jay and have been given her/his help. He suggested that we gain some more exp. before trying this and also this is purely voluntarry. Myself along with Illyana and Shasha have agreed already to do this.
"This is going on to a plane of hell and rescueing Jaramir's soul from that foul beast and his master. Ray Jay's assistant Ming and also the fool who killed him are researching where exeactly the soul is. Also to make up for what he did the man who killed him will accompany us. He realizes his actions were rash and that they needed to be atoned for."
"The nether planes... I had not hoped to move so quickly in the footsteps of my patron, for he also hunts on the lower planes."
Shanaril pauses, thinking of the consequenses.
After several questions, Shanaril gets an idea of who this Jaramir was and how he died.
"Why bother with his soul if he consorted with a devil? Surely he is doomed in any case, as all who are evil are doomed. Besides, it will be long before I, or any of yourselves, are skilled enough to safely battle devils with any hope of survival."
"As I see it at the moment you can't count with me when comes to looking for Jaramir. I've only known him for a couple of days and that is hardly enough for me to go to hell and back for him. Besides he put himself there by consorting with nether powers. No! I will definately not follow you in search of Jaramir." says Flintheart.
"Jaramir was my brother, and I am not sure that I wish to search Hell for him. Mayhaps it is better this way. At least our mother was not alive to find out about this. However, will you come with us to the house to continue spring cleaning?"
Shanaril grins. "You must have loved him dearly, J'Harast. You are so willing to sacrifice for him."
"There was no lost love between my brother and myself. My brother was a half-breed. His birth was accidental, the result of some maurading humans attacking and pillaging the village where our mother was born. These people destroyed the village. His birth and life were a constant reminder to our mother of this attack. To attempt to make something of himself, he learned a great deal, from magic, the religious order and fighting. If he dealt with devils, it was not from his religious training, it must have been the magic he worked.
"I don't, however, like your tone and attitude. You insult my mother with your conjecture and speculation."
J'Harast, face filled with anger moves over to Shanaril and grabs his collar. In deep tones, he speaks again, his face nose to nose with Shanaril, "I would hear an appology for your words, or there will be a quarrel between us."
Shanaril smiles, and raises both hands to either side. "You have no quarrel with me, for I do appologize. I was, again, trying to make a small joke. You are obviously under a great deal of stress. I did not mean to offend."
Shanaril then says, "Besides, quarrels are for crossbows. I, as I have said, like the quickness and speed of the arrow."
J'Harast's face returns to normal, and he drops his hands off Shanaril. "Appology accepted. Your quick wit is appreciated, but sometimes ill timed. Forgive me for my anger. Let us be friends." With that he extends his hand and waits for Shanaril to grab it. When, and if, he does, J'Harast will begin the secret elven handshake.
Shanaril gladly takes the fellows hand. "Yes, I often times speak without thinking. I did not know your brother, but I found it odd you were not willing to venture after him."
His voice grows solemn now. "However if what you say is true, and your brother was taken to Hell because of his magic, then you should consider. I know little of magic, but I do know this. One does not always know the price one has to pay beforehand. Its possible your brother did not willingly choose to consort with a devil. From what I have heard, one does not know the sort of familiar one will find when they choose to seek aid for their magics. If your kin was also a servant of a God of the higher plains, then his soul was wrongfully taken from its proper place."
Shanaril returns the secret elven handshake, and simply says as he releases, "But as I said, I did not know your brother. The choice to help him is ultimately up to you. I will, however, gladly aid you in this."
"But seriously, from what you have said this fellow was also a cleric. Could you not tell from his holy symbol that he worshiped a vile god? Do you know what gods he did worship?"
Shanaril pulls out his own emblem of faith, the symbol of Solonor Thelandira but marked for druidic, rather than clerical service. "One always knows who one is dealing with when one sees a symbol of power. The clerics of evil are the only ones who hide their faiths, so that they can better seduce you to their dark religeon."
"We have a while to decide if you are going or not... In the meanwhile I suggest that we finish that house."
"What house?" and after a bit you tell him about that.
"Ah, sounds intriguing. Yes, I'll accompany you. I may even be of some small service concerning those large animals, for I am a Druid in service to my Patron also, Solonor Thelandira, elvish god of Archery and the Hunt."
Shanaril, once he's been briefed on the nature of the house, asks about the groups tactics.
"Do you have any sort of standard attack preference? I need to know where I'll fit in. I'm probably more deadly at close range with my arrows than any of you could be with sword, but without some breathing room in front of me I might as well be holding a stick with a string tied to it."
"Where do the rest of you prefer to station yourselves in combat?"
"You seem to have a high opinion of your abilities. I for one, ususally try to scout the area first, thus end up in the front of the fray. Others seem to fill in as needed."
"I have trained with skilled elvish archers. I have seen that a proficient archer can do much more damage than an equally trained swordsman. If you think about it you can see that this is true. While a blade can be easily blocked or turned aside, it is much more difficult to stop a speeding arrow that one might not even see."
"As I said, I do need breathing room between me and my targets though. Since you and Athymr wish to be in the front, that suits me perfectly. I can stay in the center and shoot."
Athmyr adds:
"I personally like to stay in the very front. This is where I am most deadly and can benifit the party most.
"I have a few special skills that help me in times of need."