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[Dozebôm Lolumzalìs]

A band of six walks in the door to the "Sugry Tummie," the local tavern. Outside, the rain is pouring down. "Shh!" a dwarf whispers. "E's telling 'bout the formation of the Mahogany Cloisters!" "Not that well," someone else jokes. "He's stumbling over the details."

The leader of the band asks for the latest news. "There's an insurrection," a bard said. "I wouldn't go out if I were you. So who're you people?"

The leader's name is Thrut Utikem, an adequate lekla player. Her companions are Leru Gustuce, a dancer and spearwoman, Kixi Viculaslem, a crossbow-woman, Ener Tiquasan, a singer and bow-woman, As Keskaltangath, a dwarven bard, and Ligir Nubpouxen, a poet. "We are," says Thruth,

"The Riders of Hoping, a legendary troupe!"

The dwarf scoffs. "Really?" he says. "So when this babbling idiot is done, how about you show us some of that legendary skill?"

"No, really, we're on a tour. We'll be here for five days."

"Hmm. Didn't pick a good time," says the dwarf.

"How so?"

"The insurrection," the dwarf says plainly. "I don't know much, but a dwarf is dead at the hands of an elf." He scowls. "They say he was a goblin-raised dwarf, though."

"But I was at the castle and everything was fine. I played for the lady - see? Here's her stamp of approval. She said herself, I'm a skilled lekla player."

"Well, you'd better stay here 'til everything boils over. In the castle everything might be fine and well, but out here in the warehouse areas, it can get a bit more... violent," says the dwarf.

"I never got your name...?" Thrut trails off.

"Lokum Alathdag, dwarven bard. So where have you been human?"

-----------------

And so begins an adventurer game! The Riders of Hoping are an amateur troupe touring the world, starting in the hamlet of Distantomens a few days ago. I was surprised to see an insurrection happening as I was there.

So, what do you think? Good idea for a community game or no? I'd be glad to name my companions after forumgoers if you'd like.

[Dozebôm Lolumzalìs]

Thrut asks Lokum how he feels. "Oh, where is Solon Claspheld? I cannot give into sadness," he says, sounding quite sad indeed.

"Hey, Ener," Kixi says, "do you think he'd be a good addition to the troupe?"

"Who?"

"That dwarven bard?"

"That's a female dwarf, you idiot!"

"Ohh..."

Overhearing this, Thrut quickly tries to remember if she had said anything like "he." Not remembering any such slip, she quickly regains her composure.

------------

The dabbling storyteller, whose name is apparently Sota Icyrulers, finished his tale, and Thrut walks to the front of the tavern.

"This is 'My Friend Humidity," my ode to the rain," she says, and begins to recite her poem.

Dwarves and humans say things like "could be worse," "alright," and "okay." Not good enough!, Thrut thinks as she begins the second line. Still, when the poem is over, the conclusion of the audience is "fine."

"Well, I'm a better storyteller than Sota, anyhow!" she says, and begins telling of the rule of Asu Rhymedstroke from the Obscure Rawnesses in the year 46. She starts out quite well, and tells the story with vivid detail. "Splendid!" "Alright!" come the cries from the other taverngoers.

Finally, Thrut begins playing a piece she composed herself, "The Birth of Gut," of the Chartreuse Flute form (similar to a march). As, the dwarven bard, sings along her. Thrut plays with skill, even delivering a virtuoso performance at times. The dwarf is fine.

"Unbelievable talent!" cries a priest.

"How can I even describe the skill?" shouts a marksdwarf. Everyone in the tavern admires Thrut's playing.

"You have promise," says Lokum when Thrut is done. "I will join you!"