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[TheBiggerFish]

"Deep within the caves, a leader of this cult made her lair, surrounded by artifacts and heirlooms like a dragon nesting upon its treasure, but before she could even speak, I froze her to the floor.  She surrendered promptly, stunned by my arcane prowess, and we looted the place.  These boots, they're, " and here his voice becomes reverent "treasures from the valHorphian Smoot, he who traveled to all the corners of the earth to seek the blessings of dragons, wearing these very boots!  I am simply in awe of these relics.  They had a strange treasure hewn from the Plane of Earth, a helm made of malcocite, the perfect defense, as it will only grow stronger when hit, stressed, or strained.  We use it in the mines back home, it can stand up to the very mountains collapsing upon it!"

After the inevitable question about 'mines back home' from a half-elf...

Adrik intentionally plays up his accent before launching into a spirited retelling? Of his origins...

"Ach, now ye've got a story thar.

T'was a calm morn'n, nothin' outa t'ordinary wi' th' caravan m' birth parents wer trav'lin' in.  M' mother, she was wi' me, an' 't was near her time as th' wagons pulled 'long i' th' deep roads 'neath the mountains, when all o' a sudd'n, foul monsters o' the foul depths come crawlin' up t'devour th' warm flesh invadin' their deeps...  Gibb'rin, ravenin' horrors, driv'n by lust for flesh, they sprung upon the caravan.  Th' guards fought valiantly, but e'en cold steel couldn't keep 'em back.  The leaders called ev'ry man for 'imself, fled straight intae th' maws o' th' beasts even so.  The guards were made o' sterner stuff...They fought on forwards, pushin' through even as thae lost men to th' beasts.  M' mother, th' stress brought on her labor...  One o' th' men, he cut a horse free, helped her on, let it free an' charged i' th' fray, scatt'rin crook'd limbs a' o'er th' deeps, buyin' her life an' mine wi' his.  M' mother, she made it t' the mountainhome, bleedin' from gashes, cuts, bites, 'n scrapes, clutchin' on t'the horse for dear life...She gave birth ta me 's soon as th' gate was shut, an' t'was a miracle she made it tha' far, the midwife said.  She ga'e birth t'me, an' soon as she'd done tha'...She passed.  'm tol'  they tried t' bring her back, an' she wouldn't come.  She'd done her duty, got me t'safety.  All I ha' of her 's this locket, o' a make I kinnae find much of...  Na' e'en a name.  I was raised i' the mountainhome, by me parents, but I kinna help but feel just a bi' out of place there.  'm still lookin' f'r any clue tae me birth parents to this day..."

[Dwarmin]

Johanna coughed into her mug.

"Looted is a strong word, boy...

I mean, If you're stealing things from folks, who what have had already stolen said things from other folks, it's called Liberation. We're just keeping them until we find the ah...original owners." She helpfully suggested, even though Valhorpian Smoot was thousand(s) of years dead... Truly her allies had a ways to go with the arts of heroic story re-telling.

Still, the story of his tragic birth and upbringing was a step in the right direction...

[TheBiggerFish]

"Ach, 'scuse my language. 's been a long day, an' I hae dragons o' the brain a bit tae much."

((Edited in a...Dramaticized retelling of certain facts of his birth.  And yes, he did show the locket on his sheet in the course of telling his story.))

Adrik coughs, before assuming a more polite accent once again.

"Dare I ask if any of you might know of such an heirloom as mine?  I know not much of it, and can never seem to find what I wish to know when I find anything that seems to touch on the subject."

[Dwarmin]

Something had been itching at the back of Johanna's mind ever since she saw the heirloom...something with a glitter...if she ever thought of her father as she had known him, he had been counting coins (like a true Dwarf, she supposed)-so Johanna knew a little about currency.

"...The only thing that comes to 'me mind without closer inspection is that silver coins shaped like triangles are used for coins in Sembia-they called that sort of coin a Raven-it's a state some 700 miles from where we are now...My own parents were merchants, nothing really...important...but, they brought back plenty of silver Sembian Ravens and Cormyrian Golden Lions. I know my coins. It's possible those who found you might have taken a foreign coin in her pocket as something innately special to her, and perhaps not gone to lengths to disabuse you of the notion...being a young man, they might even have preferred you have something to hold onto...even if a thing isn't entirely real, it could mean everything to you...

Ah...granted, my theory is fairly depressing, and probably far off the mark in any case. Sorry if I offended you with this, Adrik..." She said abashedly, realizing a moment too late she was probably confusing her own childhood with his.

In truth, Johanna was only guessing fairly wildly-even a small hint might lead to interesting revelations, no matter how wrong it was. It did sync with how she knew Dwarves thought (being one herself)-if you couldn't fix something, you just took a hammer and axe, and worked until things made sense. Emotions were approached with a chisel and hammer, like unlocking a safe. If you make or do something to fix a thing, it was far preferable than talking about it.

It made sense the Dwarves that raised Adrik might have given him something to treasure, even constructed a locket for him out of something they had found in his mothers belongings...since most people knew what you treasured had nothing to do with the value of thing.

[Culise]

Mirella ate quietly as her comrades expounded on their daring exploits, occasionally smiling and gently redirecting questions back to the others when the other party guests asked her to expand on some detail.  It was amusing to watch, and it was doing no harm to anyone to embellish a little bit so long as they weren't outright lying.  Preaching to a crowd wasn't, however, one of her own strong suits, clerical vestments aside, and so she let them continue without adding her own voice to what was rapidly becoming a dinner and a show.

[TheBiggerFish]

"Ach...'Tis th' wrong shape fer tha'.  An' it's a locket.  But I think I see what ye mean..."

[FelixSparks]

Arwen favored his side, eating at a slow pace so as not to upset his room. He leaned back in his chair, listening intently to the stories and waiting for his turn, a bit excited to tell everyone how he'd repaid his debt to Cyanwrath. He wasn't  very versed in talking to crowds, but listening to his uncle HAD taught him how to tell a story...

[My Name is Immaterial]

Johanna: A heavy-set elderly man, dressed in expensive clothes, (if a few years behind what's fashionable these days) is especially enthralled by Johanna's tale, but not for her heroics.
"I take it that you're an illusionist of some skill, then, Lady Stonethrow? I've been looking to employ someone with your talents for a while now. How long are you planning on staying in Greenest?"


Adrik: The Castellan frowns at the amulet from the other side of the great table, the old dwarf's already wrinkled brow further creased by interest and confusion. "Tha's nae mount'n f'lk work I've e'r seen. My guess woul' be Elv'n. 've ne'er seen a Dwarf not use a str-ght l'ne in his cr'ft." It seems that he too played up his accent; it never looks good among the 'mount'n f'lk' to be the most human dwarf in the room.


Mirella: An elderly couple had been murmuring quietly to each other, stealing glances at Mirella whenever they thought she wasn't looking (not having much stake in the distractions, she noticed), and apparently made up their minds. During a break between the story-telling, the gentleman, Mirella vaguely recalls that he was introduced as Sir Cooperton, leans forward, catching Mirella's eye. Quietly, as not to interrupt the warm chatter at the table, he says, "Sister Mirella, if we might have a few moments of your time, my wife and I have a favor to ask of you. It won't take but a moment."

[Dwarmin]

Johanna: A heavy-set elderly man, dressed in expensive clothes, (if a few years behind what's fashionable these days) is especially enthralled by Johanna's tale, but not for her heroics.
"I take it that you're an illusionist of some skill, then, Lady Stonethrow? I've been looking to employ someone with your talents for a while now. How long are you planning on staying in Greenest?"

She was somewhat taken aback by his comment, though it was a common mistake.

"We hadn't quite decided yet, though a short rest would not be unwelcome. I wouldn't mind some research time...I figure I could stay a day or two, maybe more.

...Also, that's Stonesthrow. With an S. It's a small, but vey important distinction to my family."

She cleared her throat.

"My ancient lineage were once the Stonehelms-sadly, many centuries ago they were sundered and nearly wiped themselves out in one of the Dwarf Clan Wars, fighting among each other...my greatest and last trueblood ancestor, Zaryla Stonehelm, found herself on the battlefield during a dire retreat from an Elven host, beside her King and his remaining retinue. Her hammer was cracked, and her armor rent-her stone facehelm was shattered, so she took it off and hurled it away, toward the distant gates of her Mountainhome. She followed this up with the rest of her armor, piece by piece-there's a reason Dwarves don't use rocks for armor anymore...

'We can make it. Why, my King, it's only a Stonesthrow away!' She said.

There's a happy ending, though-she died protecting him, and the King died as well, and most of his retinue-and then the Elves burned the Mountainhome from the inside out, killing nearly all in the inhabitants. But, the words she said lived on. Those who survived took her words as my new family name, to lay the old one to rest that had been so tarnished. So I hope you will understand my precise nature. If another Dwarf had knowingly said such a thing to me...I might be obliged to defend my families honor." She said with an angry Dwarven snort.

"Anyway, consider yourself educated, sir. What sort of task did you have in mind for a Wizard of my talents?"

[TheBiggerFish]

"' rath'r fig'r'd tha', wi' me her'tge, bu' ' kinnae fig'r wh'r i' hails fro'."

He gestures at his half-elfin ears.

[FelixSparks]

Arwen leans back in his chair, letting out a long breath before launching into his story. He'd taken a moment to decide which one would make the biggest wave, and he decided that the tale of turning the factions against each other would be the best. He took a sip from a goblet before him, grinning widely in the firelight.

"So you all say what Cyanwrath did to me before he left. It wasn't pretty, and I'll admit it was not my finest moment. So since then I'd been thinking about revenge, which may not be the typical hero way, but I'd NEVER lost like that before, so I couldn't quite get over it. We managed to ambush a slow group of cultists on our way there by turning the Kobolds against the human cultists, which turned out pretty well for us. They pretty much slew each other, and we cleaned up behind them. We also took their cloaks to help blend into the camp. We're tough, but fighting unknown odds head on isn't the smartest move when you're trying to rescue hostages. We seperated and I managed to sneak into the big cave, saying Cyanwrath had called for me. The whole place was crawling with Half Drakes and Kobolds, and after some traps I saw him. Cyanwrath. He was conducting some kind of ritual, so he didn't see me, thankfully. If he had, I probably wouldn't have made it out of there..."

He takes a small break to have another sip of his drink, and continues his tale. "Luckily, another drake saw me first, and came over to demand to know who had sent me. In a bout of quick thinking I led him back to the Red Hand's camp, where he slew one of their numbers. I used that to my advantage, saying Cyanwrath had gone mad and ordered his men to slay everyone else in the camp. With the Red Hand now behind me, I stormed the cave again. We fought our way through the cave, to the ritual chamber. Then, it was a showdown with Cyanwrath while the Red Hand kept the others busy. He was using some kind of strange orb for the ritual that LOOKED like it sucked the life out of people. We began clashing, seemingly evenly matched, until I managed to cut off one of his hands with a mighty swing of my blade! Then, wouldn't you know it, the cheater uttered a command, a smoky claw replaced it, coming FROM the orb!" Another pause while he took a bite of bread and swallowed. Keep the tension growing for a moment longer...

"Then he tried to grab me! We grappled for a bit, evenly matched in strength as he tried to shove me into the orb. I had seen what it could do, and I wasn't in any hurry to give my soul to his Dragon Queen, so with a burst of almost Godly strength, I picked up the vile lizard and SLAMMED him into the orb! The light vanished from his eyes, as did the claw, and I left him there, dead." He nodded, his story finished. He thought he had done a good job at telling it, at least.

[Culise]

Mirella: An elderly couple had been murmuring quietly to each other, stealing glances at Mirella whenever they thought she wasn't looking (not having much stake in the distractions, she noticed), and apparently made up their minds. During a break between the story-telling, the gentleman, Mirella vaguely recalls that he was introduced as Sir Cooperton, leans forward, catching Mirella's eye. Quietly, as not to interrupt the warm chatter at the table, he says, "Sister Mirella, if we might have a few moments of your time, my wife and I have a favor to ask of you. It won't take but a moment."

"Certainly, Sir Cooperton.  What do you wish to discuss?"

[My Name is Immaterial]

Johanna: The man looks a little flustered at the quite long explanation of how he messed up. "My apologies to your honour. I meant no offense. I'm searching for someone with skill in illusions and a knowledge of the latest fashions, and, unless I am sorely mistaken, you fit the bill, as it were. I'm commissioning a portrait, and my portraitist needs a reference on the latest fashions. We do not get many wealthy, and fashion-minded travelers through Greenest, something," he says, shooting a glance at the Governor, "we're looking to change. If you have the time, we would appreciate some examples."


Adrik: "I'd sp'k t' E'dy'n F'lc'nm'n, 'e's 'lso a 'alf-'lf. 'e m'ght 'n'w m're 'b't y'r sh'r'd r'ce. 'e's th' l'c'l pr'st. 'e's pr'b'b'ly 'sl'p 't th's h'r, tr' h'm 'n th' m'rn'n'."


Arwen: Of all the guests, the one most engaged by Arwen's tale, riding its highs and lows with the comprehension of someone who's been in that same position; facing an indomitable foe head on, and coming out, against all odds, on top. At the end, he leads a vigorous round of applause, and, later in the course of dinner, leans over to speak to Arwen.
"Excellent tale, young man! If I didn't know better -or if I hadn't seen you fight, I'd say you were a skald, and that you were full of it! You've got a real talent, lad! Where did you learn to fight? A mercenary company? Were you a squire to a knight? I'd think not that second one; you've not got the temperament for it!"


Mirella: Sir Cooperton starts, but his wife cuts him off. "It's a rather... delicate matter, Sister. Let us speak of it in the Governor's study, perhaps." Lady Cooperton turns to the Govenor, and announces, rather imperiously, "Tabraw, we'll be retiring to your study. Kindly have some tea sent." The two quietly stand and leave, giving Mirella a meaningful look, indicating that she should follow them.
Assuming that she does, a fire's been drawn in the study, and the Coopertons are sitting in the Governor's plush armchairs, with an empty one pulled up for the cleric.
Sir Cooperton begins, "I own the Greenest Mill, and, over the years, I've done very well for myself."
Mrs. Cooperton butts in, "Oh, don't sell yourself short. Paul is one of the wealthiest men in town."
"Yes, yes. We had a number of children, but sadly, they all passed, in an attempt to follow my legacy; I was something of a monster-hunter back in my day. Now, the heir to our estate is our grandson, Jacob."
At the mention of Jacob's name, Mrs. Cooperton sighs. "Jacob's a good boy, but I'm dreadfully afraid that we spoiled him. It was hard for him, loosing both his parents at such a young age."
"We've been doing our best to raise the boy right, make sure he doesn't throw his life and prospects away, which is where you come in. You see, he's fallen for a-"
"VILE TEMPTRESS LOOKING TO DRAIN H-oh dear, I said that all aloud, didn't I, Paul?" Sir Cooperton nods at his very embarrassed looking wife.
"He's convinced that he's met the love of his life, and he insists on marrying her at once, and then running off. Eadyan Falconmoon, the local priest, -have you met him?- understands the situation, and won't marry them without our consent -he's still only a boy, and still our charge until he reaches majority. Now, if Jacob catches word that another priest is in town, he might seek you out."
"We're asking you to not indulge his wishes. We'd be very grateful. If you could even get through to him that she's not in his best interest, Paul and I would be very interested in financing your... what is it? Your expedition? Mercenary company?"

[TheBiggerFish]

"' 'll. T'nk ye f'r t' 'lp."

[My Name is Immaterial]

Adrik: The castellan sits back nodding graciously. "'t's nae a pr'b'l'm."