The rain continues to fall the next day, as Malbar tells you that you are approaching your destination. At lunchtime you stop at the Backburn Inn, located at a four way intersection. Of course there is a signpost -
The Greyhawk Road: East: To Yarley, Vaynor Border Post.
West: To ickham, Greyhawk and Nancledra.
Northeast: To Grossettgrottell.
South: To Castle Greyhawk.
You turn south.
This road rapidly deteriorates into little more than a trail which eventually turns southeast, then east, and edges along the border of the Cairn Hills. Darian remembers this road.
As evening comes on, though, you come to a fork in the road, as one branch of the trail winds off to the east and the other branch heads north into the hills.
At the fork stands Castle Greyhawk.
"This is not the ruins," Malbar comments, as you ride towards the bridge which spans the castle's moat. "They are to the north a few miles. This place, though, will be a good base to operate from."
Castle Greyhawk is circular in shape, about 400' in diameter. The wall around it is 25' high, and surrounded by a moat. The drawbridge is down, so you cross it.
At the far end is a gate in the wall, and before you stand two men, apparently having a confrontation with a crotchety old man: the gatekeeper. One of the men is young and clad in gleaming plate mail; the other is middle aged and looks as if he were once a farmer, though he too now wears armour.
"Forty gold pieces, and not a copper less!" the gatekeeper is saying to the two men before you.
"Here now, what's this?" inquires Malbar.
The monk looks around to see if the gatekeeper has any protection other than himself, as Lo finds it quite ballsy to demand money despite the large force in front of him.
There are some other guards loitering about.
"Since when?" calls Darian from his horse.
"Is this normal Malbar?" Drandar asks. "Crotchety old men holding up two armoured folks?"
"You shut up and wait your turn!" snaps crotchety old man at the dwarf.
The young man clad in gleaming platemail tries again to talk the gatekeeper into a lower price.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have that kind of money. And, if we gave you everything we did have, we wouldn't have enough for lodging and food. Can you please tell me why it's so expensive? Surely you see that we can be of use.
"I am Tragon the Faithful and this is Lornard. Surely, you've heard of us? We saved the town of Orlane from the reptile goddess."
"New Orleans perhaps? And the reptile goddess, a vodun?" Lo inquires, recalling the files on Marie Leveau, the supposed Gypsy Queen of New Orleans.
Tragon shakes his head in confusion. "I know not what a vodun is or where New Orleans is. Orlane is a small town southwest of here and the reptile goddess turned out to be a spirit naga."
"Ah, alright," Lo says with a shrug and a smile.
"Never heard of the place!" replies the guard, "The fee is good for a year! Keeps the riff-raff out!"
Drandar mutters to himself, and spurs his mount closer.
"Tragon, Lornard, I look forward to your stories of saving Orlane," he says, smiling, "Drandar," the dwarf says pounding himself on the chest, "As if you could forget the night. Or should I say remember the night?" he adds, laughing. "We met a few giants who were a bit full in the purse, so let me treat. I wish to parch my thirst on good ale and my hunger on good food, the dust of the trail and the cooking of Darian leave me longing for a cool inn."
Tragon scans the group behind them, then he bows to the dwarf. "Thank you, Sir Drandar. That is extremely gracious of you. I do believe, however, that the gatekeeper is being unreasonable. Were the fee that high every time one entered the castle, how would anyone be able to afford to come back?"
Tossing some coins to the old man, Drandar asks, "Can you recommend a good inn, my good man, that can serve a party such as ours, and how we might avoid these fees in the future?"
Tragon listens intently for an answer to that.
The man takes the coins.
"Yer all paid for a year, then," he replies, after counting them twice. "There's no inn within the castle! Go to the Herzog's Sanctum!"
"And how do we avoid getting charged again? Do folks get some sort of token?"
"Really? How will you know we've paid the next time we come this way?" echoes Zanax.
Drandar speaks, staring at the man, "Friend Zanax, I am sure he will know, for if he is dishonest, then the coins I gave him will turn to coppers, because of his dishonesty. If he be true, then we have little to worry about."
"I'll remember you!"
"But... They surely don't make you be on duty every day, every hour, do they? You must get some time off! What happens then?"
Drandar looks at Tragon.
"Do you always worry about everything?" the dwarf says, "For if so, you are well on your way to Paladinhood."
Tragon chuckles self-consciously and looks at Lornard. "Yeah, I guess I do."
"Yes, you do!" adds the old gatekeeper. "Shut up and have faith!"
"Well, learn to relax a bit. Let's be about it then," Drandar says, spurring his mount towards the castle gate.
The rest of you follow.
"Thank you, Drandar, for paying our fee into the castle. But, neither Lornard nor I wish to be indebted to you or your companions. Is there someway we can work off the funds you paid on our behalf?"
"Sure, tell me a story," he says.
Tragon is confused. "A story? About what?"
"And he doesn't listen very well," Drandar says to the old man as he passes. "About your successful adventure against this reptile critter."
"Oh."
Zanax shakes his head and says, "Sorry. Never heard of Orlane or the reptile goddess. Tragon, why do you call yourself 'the Faithful?'"
Tragon shrugs. "It was intended as an insult by some of my peers growing up. I took it as a title since it helped remind me of my goal, to become a paladin of St. Cuthbert."
"I see," Zanax says, nodding sagaciously.
You enter the Keep.
Within the Castle walls are two great Towers and a Citadel. A number of people are walking about. All ignore you, as you stroll around the grounds and familiarize yourselves.
You approach first the Tower of Wizardry...at least this is what the sign over the doors reads. It is 75' in diameter and 5 storeys tall.
Next you approach the Citadel Union. This is a large, single storey building, semicircular-shaped. There are two entrances to the place, and upon entering you discover that it is the main business district of the Castle. You also find that it has a second level...underground. A few of the establishments that you note in passing on the ground floor are The Bazaar (apparently a magic seller/buyer), The Merry Memory Moss Tavern, Temple Greyhawk, and an Herbalist's Shop. The lower level is lit only by a few signs from a few businesses, so you pull out lanterns to see your way around. So illuminated is a ballroom, the Former Torture Chamber (now a squash court), a combat training facility, A sage, the Dwarven Pride Armory and Smithy, and a moneychanger.
You head back outside and go over to the second tower.
This is the Herzog's Sanctum, and it is three storeys tall.
Outside the door a sign is posted on the wall, reading...
"ADVENTURERS WANTED - APPLY WITHIN"
"Guess old Akitrom is still having problems with monsters downstairs in the dungeons," says Malbar, as he knocks at the door.
After a moment it opens, revealing a pie-shaped room whose area takes up about 1/3 of the floor area of the tower. There is a door at the far end of the room (the apex of the pie, near the centre of the tower).
There are a few comfortable looking chairs in here, but little else. Atop several small tables scattered about are a number of green ceramic frogs, out of whose open mouths come bright illumination (obviously continual light spells).
There is no one to be seen in here. Who opened the door for you remains a mystery.
Kairos announces, "I plan to adventure and build the skills needed to defeat evil."
With that he heads inside to 'apply within.' He searches for where such applications may be taken.
"Are we not on a mission?" Lo inquires, wondering why they are seeking to clear a dungeon.
Occa rolls his eyes and chuckles. He also enters.
Drandar also rolls his eyes. "Zanax, perhaps you can help Kairos understand about his quest, since that quest tends to be the providence of the Paladins."
Tragon's gaze wanders to Zanax. "You're a paladin as well?"
Occa mutters, "Yeah, can you believe it? Two paladins in the same group...and this group to beat all."
"Yeah," nods Robert. "Maybe we should go and join Kadlian's group. They'll be more chaotic."
"I hear they don't take to strangers," Occa says.
Orlon nudges Robert, "Maybe you and I can help this party be a little more chaotic."
"Perhaps, if the damned paladins try to take over."
Orlon laughs. "That's not chaotic. That's suicidal."
Zanax ignores these remarks and nods to Tragon.
"Yes, I am in the service of Votishal."
Tragon shakes his head. "I've never heard of Votishal. Can you tell me more about your god?"
"Our purpose is to fight evil and to convert thieves to our cause..."
Emm stares hard at this. "Convert thieves? Pshah."
"Convert thieves? Sounds like Votishal and your order like to fight the difficult fight."
Zanax shrugs. "What does it matter the difficulty of the fight, when truth and righteousness must prevail?"
Tragon smiles. "I think you should change that 'must' to a 'might'. There's no guarantee of such things coming to pass. That is why we struggle to make them so. Otherwise, we could just watch from the sidelines."
"What cause would that be then?" asks Badd. "Stealing worshippers from other gods?"
"No, we do not necessarily turn them to pray to Votishal, although that is good, too. We strive to turn thieves away from thieving."
"Oh," says Badd, with sudden comprehension. "Votishal is the god of property rights?"
"Well, let's just say he only approves of stealing from evil temples."
"The god of property rights and hypocrisy?" says Badd in surprise.
More curious than anything else, Badd wanders after Kairos, looking around and climbing up to examine the continual light frogs in detail.
"What's an adventurer?" he asks, as he looks to see if there are any job descriptions posted.
The dwarf answers with a laugh. "A bunch of riff-raff, if you ask me. Often they are people like us, traveling around, looking for fame and fortune."
"Or just looking to right the wrongs of the universe."
"That is where you are wrong Tragon," Drandar says, "The universe is. It is not good or evil. It is. However, the actions of those with free action, man, elves, dwarfs, halflings, gnomes, and other humanoids, result in things being good or evil. It is like a sword, which is neither good or evil, only the purpose that it is put to. And the purpose of good or evil is judged by the philosophy that the individual believes in."
"I disagree, swords can be evil, quite evil," Lo replies. "Puck, a member of Alpha Flight, turned himself into a human prison for a tainted blade called the Black Razor, such power and such evil!"
Drandar replies, "Magical swords, like their creator, do have a taint of good or evil. But the blade forged has none. It is."
"Yeah, you could say that!" Lo replies.
"As the great philosopher Woodrow Wilson Smith once said, ' your enemy is never a villian in his own eyes. Keep this in mind; it may offer a way to make him your friend. If not, you can kill him without hate - and quickly.'"
"Why? So we have a universe of just rights? That sounds boring."
Tragon shakes his head. "No, there will always be wrongs to right. The list is pretty long and while it may grow shorter or longer at different times, it never goes away. Good always gets complacent in times of peace and evil always gets overconfident in times of war."
Occa says, "At least you are a realist."
Tragon shrugs. "St. Cuthbert is the god of common sense, truth and forthrightness. So, I'm a bit of a pragmatist."
Kairos looks up. "Tell me about this St Cuthbert. Who is he?"
"Somewhat of a minor god in the whole pantheon. Perhaps if he was worshipped a bit more, the peoples of this world might show a bit more common sense in day to day activities."
"Interesting. It will be interesting to see how you deal with things."
"Good in who's eyes? Evil in who's eyes?" the dwarven philosopher asks. "Check your premise young man, check your premise. One man's treasure is another mans trash."
"That is a matter for philosophists to ponder. I can sense evil as can other paladins. Priests can do it through a spell and I'd presume that there's a magic-user's spell that does the same. From what I've seen, no matter who is casting the spell or using a divine granted ability, the results are always the same."
"And I," says Lornard, speaking for the first time, "Have experience with evil. Alas, in this world it does not take much experience to believe in the existence of Evil."
Listeners can hear the capital E in his speaking of the last word.
Lornard Braumer, Tragon's companion, looks to be a fit man in his early fifties. He has tanned white skin, and brown hair shot through with silver. He has the broad shoulders and calloused hands of a farmer, but dresses in the clothing and weapons of a ranger.
"So does evil mean whatever we want it to mean?" asks Badd. "Empirically I've found it seems to be a notion that people feel matter in proportion to how much they care about the welfare of others. Evil people don't think of themselves as evil, but that's not because they think they're good, rather because being evil is not something they care about."
"Evil/good, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder," Orlon nods.
"Then it's lucky there seems to be a broad consensus among us," says Badd with a shrug.
Badd looks over at Occa.
"Do the wrongs of the universe affect people like you very much?" he asks lightly, but with a slight tremble in his voice. "Or do normal people just have these things out of proportion?"
Occa looks over at Badd. He pauses at the question for a few moments and says, "Good question. I would say that things have changed, assuming you are talking about my power when you say 'people like you'."
He pauses and then adds, "But there are rights and wrongs of various sizes out there. The little ones don't seem very important. Of course, is that power or is that age and wisdom? I don't know."
He shrugs.
"Of course, firepower helps solve most problems," Occa says with a smile.
"If it bleeds, we can kill it," Lo adds merrily.
Badd nods.
"Small wrongs matter more to small people." he says "Perhaps I will spend my life trying to right small wrongs, and leave the large ones to you. In any case, firepower is not in the gnomish tradition."
"Oh, I don't know about that...the firepower that is. Have you ever heard of a blunderbustum? A gnomish friend of mine built it. Very powerful."
"Tinker gnome?" asks Badd. "Well, fire, and power... but not necessarily control."
"Sure, the control wasn't very good, but he thought he had gotten around it by having a timing device...then he could run for the hills. Sadly, he only got a couple miles away when the third version he created went off," Occa says. "I miss that guy. He was fun."
"I'm sure, but my point is that what you get when you combine gnomes, evocation, and evolution, is illusionists."
"Really? I feel that illusions are mostly ineffectual. I hope that I am wrong."
"They leave the local topography intact. Which is nice."
"True, true," Occa replies.
"I have always been interested in Gnomish technology," Orlon tells Badd. "Maybe someday you can enlighten me about the latest discoveries."
"Oh yes," says Badd. "I'm not a tinker gnome, but word gets around. Why, only the other day I saw a lass in..." his face darkens for a moment, then slowly clears. "In the Low Street of the village. she was demonstrating her latest system for letting you know, from the comfort of your armchair, who was at your door. Of course, it did hospitalise one visitor in every three or so, but she was adamant she'd almost got the bugs out of the system. If we'd all had it installed by the time the orcs came, it might have made quite a potent surprise."
Orlon nods. "Now that would be a great item to have in the dungeon. If she could make a helmet version of it, you could always know what is behind closed doors and never be surprised."
"She should have a disclaimer to go along with the use of the chair," Orlon adds.
"Drandar, when we figure out where we're going to stay, I'll tell you the tale of the heroes of Orlane."
"And I look forward to it," the dwarf replies.
"Hmm" says Kairos, reading from an imaginary job advertisement pegged to the wall about two and a half feet off the floor. "Suitable for a person with no dependents, and of no fixed abode. Previous adventuring experience unnecessary, although ability to throw enormous lightning bolts without apparent effort a bonus."
"Occa...when you have a chance later, could you identify my ring and see what more you can find out about it's powers. I know it can shoot sparks and bathe foes in a greenish light..."
"Sure. It is a ring of shooting stars, I would assume. You just need to know how to activate the other powers?"
"Ummm...I guess. I don't know what the other powers are..."
"Oh. Well, I have to review my notebooks, but if memory serves, it can cast light spells, including lighting bolts, dancing lights, faerie fire and sparks or something like that."
"Truly a wonderous ring! Too bad it only seems to work in the dark..."
You all head into the room and poke about.
Suddenly, you feel invisible hands - or something - tugging at you, loosening your packs, removing your boots, even undressing you!
As you jump up and struggle - half undressed, now - you see your clothes and possessions floating for the far door. Tragon makes a leap for them, but trips over his now untied shoelaces and lands flat on his face.
Lying on the floor, Tragon comments, "You know, the universe has a strange sense of humor."
The door opens...apparently of its own accord, and your items go floating outside and around a corner to the right.
Through the doorway you see a flight of stairs, spiraling up the centre of the tower...and hear approaching footsteps.
Two people appear.
One is a man, rather overweight, blond and with a heavy beard. He wears a cloak and has a sword strapped to his belt.
The other is a young girl, a princess if ever there was one. Her black hair sweeps around the classic lines of her face. She is graceful and smiles at you in a most charming fashion. She is dressed tastefully.
"Greetings," says the man. "I am Akitrom, Lord of Castle Greyhawk. You are here in response to my sign?"
The ceramic frogs, by the way, were made in the far off gnome kingdom of Taiwan.
"Not exactly, sir," comes a response from Tragon lying on the floor. He rolls over, sits up and points a finger at Malbar. "That gentlemen there opened the door and led us in. Of course, the gatekeeper mentioned something about this place being the only lodging."
Kairos pipes up. "Speaking for myself, yes. I am here in response to your request for adventurers. What evil things need to be eliminated from the face of the Oerth?"
Occa waves as he pulls up his pants. "Yes, we are. Cool trick with the undressing and thievery. How do you do it?"
Akitrom sighs.
"I am sorry about that," he says, as the woman tries hard not to gape, "It's those damned unseen servants. Time to get the wizards in again, I suppose. Your goods will be returned, of course."
"Actually," says Malbar, trying to cover himself, "We are not here because of the ad. We are seeking lodging while we explore the Ruins. Of course," he adds, "A side trip into the dungeons under your castle is a possibility as well."
Akitrom looks closely at Malbar.
"Malbar, is that you? I did not recognise you naked! It has been too many years, my friend! Of course you may stay here!"
Gilstrock says, "Ho, ho!", opens his mouth to gleefully make a tactless comment, and then uncharacteristically has a moment of wisdom and holds his tongue.
Wiping his sweating brow, he mutters something about heat and scrambled brains.
Darian sighs. "I see you haven't gotten the unseen servants fixed, Lord Akitrom. It was what, 8 or 9 months ago when I started out my adventuring here and you had the same problem."
Akitrom looks closely at the elf.
"Do I know you?" he asks, "As for the servants, the wizards fix them...but they do not stay fixed."
Darian smiles. "You hired myself and a few others to clear the dungeons below. We did for a while and then ended up on an adventure with Malbar."
"Hmmm...don't remember you. All adventurers start to look alike after awhile."
Darian smiles.
"I remember him," says Risotta, then blushes. "He was here some three years ago, with Stump."
"That's right. Lore and I got ended up with these folks after briefly adventuring with Malbar. Whatever happened with Stump?"
Darian smiles at the princess. "Greetings, Lady Risotta."
"Greetings, Darian," says the lady, pulling her eyes up to meet Darian's. "I remember you. I never forget a...face."
Darian blushes and pulls his pants up. "I'm married now, so please forget everything but the face."
"Oh," she says, still blushing.
Darian chuckles nervously, glad that his wife isn't here.
"So, Lord Akitrom, have you solved your difficulty with the Druids of the Golden Bough?"
"For now. With the war they have decided that there are greater threats to the woods than I."
"I notice you still haven't solved your monster problem."
"Many parties have gone down there over the years and cleared the levels to a greater or lesser extent, but they keep coming back. It's almost as if there is some sort of monster generator down there."
"Perhaps someone should find the generator and then things would be peaceful again."
"That is the idea, but the dungeons are very deep, and no one has lived to reach the lowest levels, yet."
"How many levels have been mapped and cleared at this point?"
"Beats me," admits the lord. "Parties come in, do a few levels, then something eats them and we start all over again."
Darian smiles.
"Well, we are here to do the ruins up the road," interjects Malbar, throwing a look at Darian. "But like I said, perhaps if we have a chance we could venture into the dungeons under your castle, milord."
"Hey, I was just waxing nostalgic."
"Perhaps you should start compiling maps?" suggests Badd. "I have a little tunnel mapping experience in my youth. Of course, I should not want my maps to get eaten."
"Of course, charging 40 gold pieces per person to enter the castle walls is going to cut down on the adventurers that come to help you. I remember when I was here last time, it was only 7 gold pieces. Why the increase?"
"Inflation."
"Indeed. Some inflation. Well, we brought a few likely candidates for you. Perhaps they can help you with your problem."
"Is it a little cooler down there, by any chance?" Gilstrock asks hopefully. "'Cause that could make a difference in what we decide."
"It's quite comfortable down there, believe you me," says Akitrom, clearly eager to put you to work clearing his dungeon as opposed to doing the ruins. He adds with a wink, "Lots of rich treasures and magical hordes as well, by all accounts."
"Well, I'm all for it, 'specially since we're working for Ratsass if we do what we're supposed to do, but I 'spose we should do what we're supposed to do first and then come back and clean out your dungeons and walk away rich," Gilstrock says. "We'll even promise to take all the treasures and magic away to another world so that you won't have trouble with inflation from it."
"Hordes of what? Speaking of which... are you the local authority here? I need to report..." Badd pauses, and a tear begins to well up in the corner of his left eye, "The utter destruction of the village of Sadgill Pass by a horde of orcs!"
"I am the local authority, so to speak," Akitrom replies, "Where is this Sadgill Pass?"
"Greetings. I am Zanax. A paladin in the service of Votishal," Zanax replies, trying to put his armor back on.
Akitrom smiles, then calls over his shoulder -
"Stump!"
After a moment none other than Stump himself, Darian's old adventuring comrade, appears. He wears a formal tuxedo with tails, in which he looks decidedly uncomfortable.
"Show our guests to their rooms," Akitrom says.
Darian holds out his hand to Stump. "It's really you! It's Darian. How'd you end up being the manservant here?"
Stump looks up.
"Bless my lucky stars!" Stump says when he sees who is present. "Darian. How is my old friend?"
He then remembers what he is here for.
He turns and leads you out into the stairwell. You and your possessions follow. Stump shows the party members to their room. While he does this, he strikes up a conversation. "What brings you all here? Darian, how did you ever get away from those aliens that kidnapped you when we last saw each other.?"
"I did. Lore and I got snatched and I ended up in an inn with Malbar. Then, we went to explore some ruins in the Bright Desert and Lore and I got snatched again. When we were finally let go, we were in the presence of Occa, Orlon and some of the rest of these folks on Earth. Since then, I've been adventuring with them and have learned to be a fairly useful fighter and magic-user."
Stump continues, "I have been doing this gig for awhile. After we parted, those of us who survived scattered. I, however, decided to stick around Castle Greyhawk since the inherent chaoticness of the place appealed to me. I eventually found employment as a butler in the service of Lord Akitrom, and I have worked for him ever since. However, after almost two and a half years of service, the warrior in me is getting restless, and I am beginning to think that soon I should return to the adventuring life. Could you find room for one more at the present moment?"
Darian looks around and shrugs. "Sure, I don't see why not. We've picked up a few other fledgling adventurers in the past few days. We could put all of you together and spin-off a mini-group. We've got some serious business in some ruins, but we can work out the details later."
As Stump is showing the others to their rooms, he tells them, "I have managed to save the maps that we had from our previous experiences. I shall go dig them up."
He climbs the spiral staircase to the 4th door, and opens it.
Beyond is another pie-shaped room. There are many bunks and washbasins, but otherwise the place is spartan.
Retrieving your goods and chattels from the unseen servants, you unpack and clean up a bit. After a little while you are summoned to te dining room by the sound of a gong.
The room is tastefully decorated with wood-paneled walls upon which are hung portraits of the Herzog's ancestors. The long table is set with fine china. A large candelabra, lit, is in the centre.
In here already are Akitrom and Risotta. They bid you be seated.
Once you are sitting a crowd of servants come into the room, orchestrated by Stump. Wine is served, followed by a salad of cucumbers in some sort of garlicked yogurt sauce. Next comes a course of herbed chicken, rice and zucchini. At the end of the repast are fruited sherbets for all, and more wine. The food is surprisingly good, and decidedly different from the more solid fare of Earth.
Eventually you retire to the dormatory. Stump accompanies you.
Before you go to bed, though, Malbar speaks.
"It almost sounds as if some of you would like to explore the dungeons below Castle Greyhawk instead of or before we go into the Greyhawk Ruins," he says. "Is that the case? What did you want to do first?"
Occa says, "I am down for whatever."
Darian shakes his head. "As I said earlier, I was just being nostalgic. This was where my first adventure took place. In my mind, there's no question, we have to go after the sword as we said we would."
"Well I made no such promise," Kairos says. "I think I will get very little experience fighting in your group. Perhaps I and some of the less experienced folks can find an opportunity around here."
"I think you'll find plenty in the ruins to keep you busy," says Malbar with that knowing look that only NPCs seem to have. "In fact, I was thinking about taking a bit of a vacation and letting the young 'un's break trail for a bit."
Occa says, "I have been thinking the same, Malbar. Perhaps we can set up a base of operations? I can do the research I have been wanting to do. We can hold down the fort and pursue some other interests while all these newbies go seeking glory."
"Would you like some help with the research, Occa? Given my talents, I need to be careful on Oerth and lying low might be smart. I could also visit my wife and see how the pregnancy is going."
"Sure, help would be great, although I am considering doing it here and not back on Earth. Even so, I expect I will be going back and forth."
"What about our quest?" Zanax asks.
"I will still help you finish it, but I need a bit of a vacation as well."
Lornard says, "I suppose I would count as one of the 'young' ones, even though I'm older than many of your group. Where was it you said you were from, all of you?"
"I am from Furyondy," Malbar replies.
"I'm from Earth, the city of Sandas, I suppose," says Robert.
"I'm originally from Celene, but now make my home in Sandas along with my wife."
Lornard looks curiously at Robert. "Where is this Earth? I have not heard of it."
Gilstrock turns to Lornard and says, "Different world. We get around, ya know? I'm originally from Vill in the Runelands, but I bump about on Earth mostly nowadays, except when some archmage sees fit to send me and the others off to some other world or another."
Lornard nods slightly, but keeps his own council after that.
Occa says, "Yeah, I am from Delith, but arrived in Sandas."
"Votishal demands that I must complete our quest first!" Zanax states adamantly.
"Ease up, Zanax. Did anyone say we wouldn't?"
"Patience, Zanax!" Orlon nods. "Good things come to those who wait."
Suddenly, the door opens.
An elf walks in and scans the room. He is dressed in simple garb that seems in good shape. His dark brown breeches are tucked into his black boots. His tunic is unstained and is a simple brown cotton. On his belt is a large pouch and a dagger. On his back is a worn leather backpack. He scans the area and pushes back his golden colored hair. It is long and tied back into a long pony tail. His eyes are very dark and it is difficult to tell the color. He smiles as he looks around and seems to be the friendly sort.
The elf nods to the group.
"Hail, I am Nason. You look like an interesting group!" he says with a smile.
"Greetings, Nason, I'm Darian."
He holds out an arm.
Nason takes his arm with a smile. "Well met, Darian. The pleasure is mine."
A dwarf looks up from his haze and replies, "I am Drandar. Where are we going? I want to get some exercise."
Nason nods and says, "Hello, Drandar."
A tall blond warrior behind Darian steps forward and says, "Yo, I'm Gilstrock. You here for the food or for the looting?"
Nason chuckles and says, "It depends on the food and who is being looted."
"I am Lo Wang, fomer special detective for the NYPD, now, heh, monk," he says with a smile as he extends his right hand to shake the elf's.
Nason nods. "I have heard of monks, but I am not familiar with the rest of what you said. Perhaps I can buy you a drink and you can explain this NDYP group and what you were with them."
Orlon greets the elf, "I am Orlon of Sandas. How may we help you?"
Nason says, "Hello Orlon of Sandas. I am in search of adventure and have heard that this very group was one that was looking for adventure as well. I am hoping that you may have a need for a helping hand."
"What's another body?" says Robert, then motions to a bunk. "You can sleep over there."
With that little matter settled, you go to sleep for the night.