Prelude - Carith

[Ismaels-Legacy]

Your life has been horrible for the most part. You watched your family and friends be torn to shreds by the undead horde, your comrades in arms have been executed when their wounds proved to be infected (On several occasions, executed by you), and your few possessions are cast-offs and spoils of war. You have no home save the earth beneath your feet and your time is occupied traveling from stronghold to stronghold, providing strength of arm in defense of trading and refugee caravans.

You currently find shelter in a small palisade fortress known as Gimmr's Heath. It's wooden stockade surrounds the entirety of the hill. There's close to two dozen buildings, many of which double as residences when not in use during the day. Living conditions here are rather primitive, though there are several sources of water available, which is the most likely reason they have managed to survive as long as they have.

You are seated in a local tavern, staring vacantly into a half-empty stein of some murky swill that passes as beer in this Gods-forsaken village, when a man in battered, dusty leathers approaches you. "Carith Drarthane? Your services are needed. The standard offer applies: credit towards the trade-station, half up front and half later, and a bed of your own for three days upon successful completion."

[Jenara]

Caith slams the mug on the table, the swill exploding on her hand, she starts to wipe it off and then changes her mind.

"Yes, That is my name, your offer would be acceptable, where is the job to? Pray tell." As yet she doesnt move, her off hand holds the great axe handle against the ground.

"The bed sounds suitable, been many a day since I slept in a bed.." She adds still not moving.

[Ismaels-Legacy]

The man jumps visibly as the stein slams on the table. "The, erm....job entails traveling with a trade caravan to the stronghold of Holgrim. You will serve as extra security for the cargo that MUST arrive. There has been considerable problems with caravans being waylaid en route. This caravan is rather large so we do not anticipate problems, but we are also preparing as many mercenaries as we possibly can. For insurance of course."

[Jenara]

Licking the swill from her gloved hand she nods silently, pulling herself up.

"I accept." She stands and thunders the great axe on the table, "When do we leave?" Shes obviously desperate to get out of this place, she keeps glancing over her shoulder.

[Ismaels-Legacy]

The man pales and shakes slightly. He seems almost afraid to respond. "The caravan....umm....doesn't leave for another 3 days. I thought you should like some time to visit the trading post to prepare for your journey, tie up any loose ends, and perhaps..." he visibly makes an effort to swallow before continuing, "seek....pleasures....as many mercs do before jobs."

[Jenara]

"Pleasures, I take them where I find them. Supplies? You have food, water, I have my Weapon, what more do I need?" She stretches out her arms a figure in the back making her jolt her gaze. She smiles, lowers the axe and changes her posture slightly.

"Very well, where do we meet? Do I get my payment now?"

[Ismaels-Legacy]

"We meet at the Archer's Gate three sun-ups from now. You may feel free to take half-payment at the trader's and if necessary I believe I could provide one night's bed rest prior to the assignment, though tonight it is already occupied....frequently."

[Jenara]

"That is not an issue, a bed is where I find it." (she resists the urge to say: "With whom I find")

"Very well, I will go to the traders." She pauses, eyeing him curiously, "Good Day."

[Ismaels-Legacy]

The man collapses in a chair once you turn your back, mopping his brow with his sleeve.

You stride down the mud filled street, disregarding puddles or deep mire. Fortune certainly smiled upon you when you recovered these boots from an elven corpse 3 years ago. They wear like iron and keep your feet perfectly dry unless you step directly into water. Being knee-high on you certainly makes submersion rather unlikely anyway.

Your tattered cloak billows about you in the wind, stray threads whipping about the edges like many stray hairs. The citizenry gives you wide berth, though there are few on the streets as it is. It's late afternoon and the sun is starting to set. Shops are still open, though most tradesmen are returning home (Which is generally the back room of their shop).

You reach the trader's shop as he is preparing to remove the oiled leather awning for the night. "Ah. Carith." He says little else, knowing your reputation. "I suppose you are here to collect your first payment." He is wearing several layers, including a pair of tunics, a knee length overcoat, and a cloak. His head is wrapped in a lavender turban which accents his dark complexion and well-groomed black beard.

[Jenara]

"That is correct, would you be open for me to browse...?" She hoists the axe on her shoulder.

[Ismaels-Legacy]

He stares at you for a moment, unflinching, his lips pursed. Finally he says "Yes, but please leave the axe beside the door. There is little kindling that needs split within." He turns and opens the door with a slight bump of his shoulder. "I fear that I have little to provide in the way of spirits at the moment, and even less to offer in terms of food-stuffs unless you are interested in some salt-cured ham. They are only slightly moldy." He stops and looks over his shoulder to see if you caught the joke, but finally turns away again.

"You see, there has been few caravans that safely make it to my door. Many arrive with fewer provisions than they began with, but no record of where they may have gone. It's not an organized theft, either, since the pack leaders are always different and guards are rotated at every town."

He stops and pulls out a small wooden box the length and width of his hand. He flips open the lid so you can see the contents. Inside is a polished brick of gray stone." Dwarven Sharp-stone?" he inquires.

[Jenara]

"Hmmmmph, you know as well as I do anything left about for a moment will go." She sees his face. "Yes, even mine, the axe stays, it shall go on my back"

Not waiting for an answer she strides inside, "How much for the stone?"

[Ismaels-Legacy]

"I must check the amount of your credit, but I should think that it would leave you with a bit remaining before your journey. I have this to offer only because it was traded to me this afternoon from a young dwarven maid who is fresh from the hills to the North." As he closes the lid on the box, you see that there is finely worked runic inscriptions upon the surface, worked into the lid using wood of a slightly different shade and grain.

[Jenara]

"Do, that. Such an item would come in most useful." She smiles, her teeth showing wickedly, one of the incisors is clearly broken. "As for food.. could other arrangements be made?"

[Ismaels-Legacy]

"I'm afraid I have little to offer in way of food or drink, though I could very easily write you some credit that you may use at the baker or vinter, though his stock is slightly depleted as well."