(01/01/2006)

Tuesday 2nd September

Heavy rain falls from a dark evening sky upon the huddled and hustling streets of Sassarine. Snuggled within the warmth and shelter that is the busy The Coughing Hydra Inn, Bran Lannister sits alone in a small crooked corner. Tall, dark, and well built, Bran's face wears a look of impatience and worry, making him look momentarily older than his twenty or so years.

He sits nursing a flagon of ale, the bustle of conversation swirling around him along with the heady smoke from his slender pipe. Before him on the small table lies a silvered flute. Bran feels the Inn's intense mood, though it is well patronised there is a flatness tonight, a void crying out to be filled with sweet music and dancing, a craving for the primal feeling of simply living that these things bring. He cannot give the crowd its wont though, not now, not considering the words his eyes scan yet another time, the words that arrived by messenger this morning and have been concerning him all day.

Bran's fingers play along the edge of the letter once again as if he is considering how something so small and delicate can tell of such mysteries and potential horrors that could change the lives of countless souls. His eyes hooded with concern scan around the common room once again as if willing the entry of a group of eager adventurers. His face creases with a scowl as he remembers walking the streets of Sasserine sticking the posters to the walls calling for adventurers. Since noon, the posters have been in place and not long since the last was affixed to the wall of the Hydra, Bran has sat in his corner and waited.

His left leg shifts slightly, brushing against his backpack, checking its presence. Bran's face relaxes slightly then he folds the note, for what must be the hundredth time that day, and places it inside the inner pocket of his dark green jerkin, along with a small leather bound book.

The Bard closes his dark green eyes and slowly breathes out, his fingers close around his flute. As his eyes snap open, he is on his feet in a fluid and practiced motion. The innkeeper noticing his movement looks relieved; finally the Inn's desire and need for entertainment will be fed and fed well.

The music fills the Inn, a little darker and more foreboding than normal maybe, yet all the time Bran plays his eyes are fixed to the door of the Inn, waiting.

Owyn Taylor pads quietly down the dim streets, confident that the rain soaked evening will hide him well. Tightly huddled under the hood of his cloak he has ventured out of his hiding place with the intention of getting out of Sassarine tonight. He fears leaving by any of the official city gates, as he is sure his previous employer will have paid the guards well to keep an eye out for his boyish young looks.

Rounding a corner, a poster on the opposite side of the puddle strewn street catches the young man's eye.

Knowing that the Coughing Hydra is only a couple of streets away he heads in that direction, thinking not only can he get help slipping out of town but also that this seems like a great job opportunity. It cannot possibly be worse than the last one.

Khandalar shuffles his feet, his tall frame leans against the aged wooden bar of the Coughing Hydra Inn. An hour or so earlier he had spotted a poster that peaked his interest. Now he sips occasionally at a hardly touched drink, closely studying an older man playing the flute. The innkeeper has already confirmed Khandalar's suspicions that this is the Bran Lannister the poster referred to.

An adventuring party, the perfect instrument for the training of a great mind, he thinks to himself, and a chance to visit his home town of Cauldron. He wonders how it will have changed in the past ten years without the benefit of his presence.

Not wishing to be first to arrive, and enjoying his current voyeuristic view, Khandalar has decided to bide his time and closely examine other arrivals before he introduces everyone to the greatest Mage they will have ever seen in their short lives.

Deep under the city of Cauldron, Anari concentrates on the stillness within her. Skillfully the beautiful half-elf tumbles across the floor her blonde ponytail whipping as she turns coming to her feet behind the dog-faced yapping Kobald leader, perfectly placed to flank the creature between her flashing rapier and that of her friend Cora. A little farther down the dark tunnel of the lava tube Annah is singing an encouraging battle song while expertly slaying another Kobald.

At that moment, Todd and Zach burst out of a small side tunnel accompanied by their own small collection of chasing Kobalds. The Stormblades all fall into an old routine, well choreographed fighting and smoothly-executed teamwork dispatches the entire enemy in little time.

Cass has been wandering alone in the dense tropical jungle south of Sassarine for many weeks now, seeking adventure, inspiration, and some clues to her heritage. However, tonight she has finally returned to the Capital city for a little rest and recuperation.

Entering by the South Gate she spots her friend Kellen looking around impatiently. With a wry smile, she slips into the busy crowd and slyly doubles back round behind him readying herself to surprise him. The man pivots on his heal and with a single fluid movement draws a well-polished blade from his sleeve in a sweeping motion that stops only inches from the scarlet haired woman's throat.

"Cass!", he tuts. "I should have known."

She smiles, genuinely happy to see him. "Good to see you too. How many days have you stood here and waited for me?"

"Just today actually.", he replies coolly as he replaces the blade where it came from.

Cass sniggers, "If you say so. Well it's late, and I'm starving, where shall we eat then?"

Kellen pulls a large folded piece of parchment from his pocket and hands it to her, "Well I thought we might go to the Coughing Hydra?"

Cass unfolds and peruses the poster, "Hmm. Cauldron eh? We've not been there since we ran away from the orphanage you know."

"Indeed. No time like the present though. I'd like to see the old place."

Cass ponders the proposal. She has been avoiding a return Cauldron, though she cannot think why. Perhaps it was time for the two of them to adventure with someone else, and perhaps it was time to return to the city where their story began. Maybe there she may find answers to the questions her physical maturity had begun to raise.

Handing back the poster, Cass nods and staff in hand strides off to find The Coughing Hydra. Kellen smiles to himself and quickly catches up with his best friend.

Session One