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Alae Ignigena Noctis: The Rise of Neban

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"The gods don't have time for us, Herne, for example is too busy..... hunting... with his.... hounds...for us mortals...." He trails off looking into the distance. Then at his drinking companions

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"Perhaps, perhaps not. I am not a speaker for the gods, I leave that to others, but I am not unfamiliar with their actions either. I come from a long line of diviners and seekers of omens in the riddles of the stars, and such things where an ever present part of my early years. Some it seem, concern themselves far more with mortals than others. Especially it seems those who where once mortal themselves"

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"Yes, they have no time for us, unless it suits them." He rubs his chin absentmindedly. He stops suddenly and grabs his hand to the hammer and grips it tightly. He glances around the room again.

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"Apparently, my being new to the city has lessened my manners. I am Giles Rhythy. I am from a small burg well outside this city." Looking at his fellow imbibers.

 

Giles is human, has blue eyes, sandy brown hair, clean shaven and a very "strong patrician nose". He is 5'4", wearing quite new leather armour, Brown leggings grey long sleeved shirt and a green cloak.

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He pats the hammer, "Persuader. I am Thorgrimm Seahammer son of ..........", he reaches up and rubs his bare chin. He realizes what he is doing and stops. "Anyways, you can call me Thorgrimm or Seahammer, which ever you wish."

 

 

Thorgrimm has short brown hair and no beard. He wears scale mail over a sailors uniform and study boots.

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Sariel walks along the streets of Eislied making note of the bustle and commotion of warriors and citizens alike preparing for war.  Sighing deeply, he shakes his head, knowing that the loss of life will be massive indeed, but unfortunately necessary.  This fiend, Neben, brings an unholy host to these lands which must be stopped.  Death eventually comes for everyone; there is only so much the healing arts can do to prolong one's thread.  But the curse of undeath, that is truly an abomination whose curse must be stamped out.

 

As he wanders the city, he is drawn towards The Golden Boar.  This is not the first time the Mysteries have guided his steps.

 

Sariel enters the inn, stamping his boots at the door and shaking the frost from his shoulders before crossing the threshold.  Scanning for a place to sit, he spies several empty stools at the bar and takes a seat. 

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The bartender allows a smirk to form as he places down a final beer "Now now oungling don't count dwarves out of the running. They have very long memories and nobody can carry a grudge quite like a dwarf. Beside the ones here int he north will bring out their bear cavalry when we go to war. They will fight at our side just as the northern elves will. We northerners stick together. Besides there are those desert dwarves who by all rumors confound the Emperor's mages with their own magic."

 

"Now I see you all arrived here. This is where parties usually gather. Parties with common goals and ambitions or burning desire. It would seem of you have a dislike for the Emperor. Either your own feet led you here to seek something or your chosen gods directed or led you here. Some choose to speak directly and some choose subtlety to convey their desires. So since you are the only group of people in here who don't have allies or friends to travel with, why not each other?"

 

He paused and looks at all five of you "Perhaps you can do what others have failed. After all from the sounds of it some of you seem to have been tapped by the gods for a task. I myself only do as Thanatos directs me or suggests. I am Dirk Brokenpaw of the Bear Clan. Perhaps I can help you lot out if you need information or a direction so you do not wander blindly. I can provide either."

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"I've been wandering, though I dare say not blindly, a good long time" He said with a bit of a grin, 'Pleasure to make your acquaintance Dirk Brokenpaw of the bear clan"

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"My thanks, Dirk Brokenpaw of the bear clan" Ciron says, having quietly moved close enough to the bar to reach the proffered mug. "It's true enough that I am here seeking allies and information to aid me in my pursuits, and I certainly have no love for the Emperor". The last word is spoken with a startling amount of venom for one so young.

 

Ciron is perhaps an inch or so shy of 6 feet, with a long, ragged mane of black hair and blue eyes. He appears to be human, and is dressed simply in dark leathers. He carries an unremarkable blade at his side. The trained eye also picks out the telltale bulge of a dagger in each boot.

 

"How might you be able to aid me? And what do I owe you for this?", he asks, indicating the mug in his hand.

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Sariel smiles and turns his milky white eyes to Dirk, "Just because one wanders blindly does not mean their path is unclear, despite the horrors and darkness that lurk along that road.  Well met Dirk, gentlemen."  Sariel turns tips his head towards the rest of the newcomers at the bar.

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Dirk nods "Few travel as blindly as they think. The aide is very little. I can point you in a direction that may set your feet on the path to defeating this emperor. I note many of you bear something of either deity who was once mortal or one who pays closer attention than it seems to mortals, as they like to call us."

 

"There is a forest to the far west of here about roughly a week's travel. It is said no undead may step within its boundaries. Whatever keeps them out could prove mighty useful to a group seeking to destroy this Emperor with an unnatural lifespan. Would that work as a first goal?"

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"I've met a few elves in my travels, and not a one was filthy. All very clean in fact" He said with a wry smile to the salty dwarf. "ah well, at least the forest is liable to be a bit more, well quiet than a city on the edge of war"

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Rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breathe. "Another reason not to go. No forge sound. Someone will pay for this inconvenience. Next you will be telling me, we be sleeping in bedrolls and eating dried rations the entire fething week!"

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