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Snowfire is not *just* an owl, they are connected in mind and spirit. If anyone is mistreated its Gelnius. Also forgive me if I dont understand how he would be faster than the other rangers, she could anticipate attacks and be better prepared certainly but one's body can only go so far.

Also is there anyone our group should be going to speak to? After the battle with the orks should we be reporting to someone or has that already happened?

Okay I think I got this. Hopefully I understand the culture correctly. Backstory is more detailed than I usually do but I couldn't think of a way to make it more concise. And yes I specifically chose the race as the one with a skin colour that blends best with the shadows.

I think you mean she. Unless the Admiral has changed the sex without my permission. If so, i will use the power of the Dovah to set a trap for him. She was born into a group of rangers that were always moving from one place to another and she has been active her entire life so it is plausible that she is a bit faster then everyone else due her vast experience and she does push herself to the limit. That said, she is not suited for prolonged battles, depending on the enemy as well as the enviroment and she is not hard hitter. It's speed over brawn although she is fairly strong and may be able to yank weapons out of weak enemies but she does tend to end her battles quickly(up untill the roleplay starts) due to her quick fighting style and her tatics against mostly bandits and orcs as well as a few other people that seeked to do harm to innocents. She may be able to spot traps but that is up to the fishhead admiral to decide.

I suspect Navariese will look down on Zyava due to her being a thief and probably lecture her or threaten to report her to the nearest guards if she believes she is going to continue her stealing ways. Provided she can ignore her instinct to strike her down for stealing. (She will but may treat Zyava like crap or just ignore her, She is going to cause a bit of trouble isn't she? )

Allow it to show from the character Dovah.

Since you guys are starting today, I'll just PM you (POMC) my sheet when it's ready, and hopefully I can join in over the weekend. I already have a character in mind.

I shall try to let it flow naturally. Damn my need to plan my characters. DAMN YOU DOVAH! *uses the Thu'um on himself*

Should I update Gelnius' character sheet with the artifacts they gathere during the course of the previous RP? Completely slipped my mid an his age isn't on there either ._.

@p-sto, accepted. Good backstory and you're spot-on about the culture. It is quite common for that to happen with the ugluh.

@ABrad, certainly. You can join anytime.

@Hissien, if you want to. It's not necessary, though. And yes, we will have already spoken to someone.

The RP will be starting in thirty-eight minutes, if that's okay.

That's okay. Unless it's a trap! Why are you all looking at me like that!?

It's not a trap. No enemy ships are on sector forty-seven.

And so the year two-hundred and fifty-seven After the Disaster came to an end. That year had been a mixed year. That was not to say that it had been neither good nor bad. All that it meant was that good things and bad things had come from it. In the middle of that year, Esgaragoth, a busy city in the north, the capital of trade and commerce in Fjorr, home to thousands of people, a shining hope in an endless sea of shadow, had been assailed by orks and sacked. For the first time in thousands of years, Shischelkës had been seen, walking across the land, bringing taint, bringing stench of foul death and decay, bringing corruption and destruction. Ork bands moved freely in the Braggoldir and from Miraleeth to Fjorr and in the south, in Mithraleen, the once-capital of the Mithraleenean Empire, a darkness brewed and spilled forth onto the lands in the south of Mithraleeth. Trolls were seen in great number again. Witches cursed and hexed their way to chaos.

But hope had shimmered when darkness had almost won. Miraleen was cured from its taint and the Kingdom of Albion founded. Heneth was removed of its curse. Arctictas was made bandit-free. The orks were stopped at Mirandûr by King Garion and his knights and soldiers. A ceasefire had been declared between Tiberius and Vettach and all the kingdoms in Fjorr had united to face a common enemy. The great hero, Ferraghá, had fought a Shischelkë alone and prevailed. The dragons of Dal'Scatha, ancient beasts, the once-gods of the sky, the betrayers of Lokve, allied with the Imperial Senate and the Kingdoms of Fjorr.

And now, it is the two-hundred and fifty-eighth year after the disaster. It is spring. The new-born lambs bleat in the valleys of Palmu, the lush grass grows once more, trees sway in the wind with a youthful vigour and the Group enters the city of Palmu. And that is where this story resumes, in the city of Palmu, in the City of the Kalkechián, where the Corruption of Helcêh lies in wait.

---

That day was a nice day. A lovely spring day, where the sun rose out from the clouds and shone its radiance onto the land of Palmu. The bright rays beat against the stone walls of the city and the buildings inside. The light even found its way into the narrow and usually-dark street of the Slums, twisting around corners and into alley-ways.

A large throng of people had assembled around the Long Inn, the only inn in the entire city. More than usual, in fact. It was surprisingly busy. And, for once, most of the patrons weren't drunk and most of them weren't even in the building. Only assembled outside, by the door, forming a circle around a man and an old elf, who were standing on a podium, shouting out to the crowd and throwing coins at people every-so-often. When the glittering of coins went up into the air, people would yell and jump up to catch the coins, and scramble around the ground when they landed. Of course, pickpockets and cutpurses ran amok at the gathering, stealing coins and jewels right under people's noses, and in people's noses for some people.

"Yes! And there's more of that if you join us! Thousands of napleans! Thousands! Bricks of gold! And silver too! All waiting for you!" shouted the old elf, smiling at the people's reaction. "And you'll be returning a hero! A king, perhaps!"

"Five hundred napleans for joining and the rest will be paid to you in full after the journey's over!" announced the man. "Sign up at the table round the back!"

There was a rush of movement as people made their way for the back of the inn, in hope of getting the free five hundred napleans that were promised to them. Some remained out in the front, picking up the coins that people had forgotten. The old elf laughed at the scene and disappeared in a burst of gold coins, which scattered across the podium.

Gelnius sighed and buried his face in his hand, the old elf was really enjoying himself or so it seemed. He lifted his head once more and stroked Snowfire as he stood there, invisible, against the wall while he watched the commoners scramble to satisfy their greed. "Sickening, but it works for us." He whispered to Aradir.

"In some ways, it is better for them to join us and perhaps die than to live here in poverty. Five hundred napleans is enough to set them and their families up for a few years. They would die anyway, if we failed to stop Helcêh, or worse. At least there is a chance that some might make it." muttered Aradir.

He had not been as enthusiastic as his elven friend. He knew the risks of their mission and he felt guilty, he felt like a cheat, he felt like a fraud for exploiting these people, for not telling them of the seriousness of their job, of the risks, of the chance that they might not make it, that they might die at the hands of orks or suffer a worse fate than that. But it was necessary and it was for the greater good. It was both a curse and a blessing. And Aradir knew that.

Navariese watched as the people in the inn scrambled to get any coins that they could. "Fools." She uttered to herself. She was sitting in a corner of the inn with her hood up, alone and drinking some water from a flagon. She was content to ignore the commotion and planned on leaving the city the next day. She had only came to resupply as well as to sell some potions to gain the coin that she required.

There was a crack as the old elf appeared beside her. He arrived directly and firmly on the bar seat, exactly centre, exactly stable, very accurate. He motioned to the barkeeper to get his attention.

"A red wine, please, Mr Henderson." he said.

The effort of looking after triplets and a son, as well as owning an inn, had taken its toll on the barman and Jock Henderson appear older that the forty-year old man he was. He had greying hair that had gone bald in some places and a thick beard. His face was wrinkled. Despite his old-looking face, he had a comparatively youthful body, quite muscular and tall for a nargd. He was over six feet tall, an impressive height for his race.

He sighed at the polite term. "I have said it before, Eändiré, it's Jock. You can call me Jock."

"Okay, then, Jock, one red wine, please." he smiled.

As the barman walked off to get the rarely-asked for bottle of red wine, that had been collecting dust in the cellar, Eändiré turned to Navariësé, still smiling.

"Hello, there." he said, conversationally.

Gelnius watched the patrons and returned to his visible state so that he would not have any drinks spilled on him or trip people up. "These people are not soldiers, try are farmers, tailors, potters, and shop keeps. I'm not asking for the imperial army but at this rate we are just setting them up to be used as cannon fodder. I just don't think it is right, but such is the way of war." he whispered in response. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed out a deep sigh, he was tired and felt old, older than he probably should feel. He opened them once more, the scarlet eyes falling right on Aradir. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"Me? I never know what I'm doing." he laughed, darkly, grimly. "It's all Eändiré's idea. He proposed it. It's as good as any idea that I could come up with. And at least they are being paid well for their work, more than they would in a year, normally. And, who knows, maybe we'll find a ranger or two, or a naturally-born fighter. Maybe even a Ferraghá or a Túdha. Or any of the other heroes we know of."

She ignored him and downed the rest of her flagon. She turned to him and said in a cold, almost emotionless tone "I have no wish to converse with you. Touch me or offend me or try to recruit me for your gang and i will not hesitate to knock you out. You will count yourself lucky that i refuse to draw arms in the city." She knew she was coming off as hostile by her past experiences in the city had not been kind to her. From drunken patrons touching her to lowlife scum trying to recruit her for their gang. It always ended the same way with them being knocked out.

Gelnius chuckled. "Perhaps even an Ud'thgtal or two." he said clasping his friend on the shoulder. "I could use a drink, and quite frankly you look like you could use one too." he said tiredly. "I think we have earned one so what do you want? My treat." Gelnius said

Kraít observed the spectacle with, a amused gaze. "Surely there must be a catch for this.. Five hundred napleans are nothing to sniff at, and why would these wish to avoid saying what will happened afterwards?" He frowned, a usual gesture for the young witch. "This chills me to my marrow." He muttered, taking a few coins there and here as he slowly walked to the inn, to the back of the inn, glaring at those who thought him a easy target due to his age.

He observed the throng of people, a smile tugging at his lips. "Fools fools fools. And they hate us. Fools the ever more." He muttered quietly. He crossed his arms, observing them some more, wondering if he would join up, if for his coven. More money for them.. from Little Elder.

The elf raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in surprise.

"You misunderstand my intentions, Miss..." he closed his eyes for a second and opened them again, with the answer. "Miss Navariësé. I do not wish to touch you, nor offend you and my gang is not a gang like the one you are thinking of. And there is much more than gold and honour in it for you. And much more than your life or limb at stake if you choose to join."

---

"I'll have to pass on that, I'm afraid. It seems the old rascal is already in the inn. I'm sure you can talk to him. I need to go round the back and see how the recruitment is getting along." he said, walking off.

Kraít spotted an erius, tall, wearing a dark and dirty cloak pass him and make his way to the table. He sat down on a chair, next to the guard that Eändiré had hired to help them with the recruitment.

"Roll up! Roll up! Five hundred napleans for joining! Please form an orderly queue. All of you shall be seen to and recruited if you have the skills!"

She was surprised that the Elf knew her name. She placed her hand over her left sheathed elven sword. "How do you know my name?" She asked him in the same tone. Only a few knew her name. Some wanted her dead and were too powerful to kill others, from her past. The Elf wasn't from her past which only left one conclusion left.

Gelnius shook his head and drew up his hood, his now long white hair lying on his shoulders. He had a slight smile as he walked into the inn, he watched the old elf make his advances and tilted his head slightly. He walked over to the bar and stroked Snowfire comfortingly. The owl hooted when it saw Navariësé

Kraít stayed where he was, he folded his arms, his clothes are dark and short on him, for it was a lovely day, he wore what could be shorts or could be trousers, a shirt that was long dark and airy. He looked at the Erius, knowing the cloak shown the history, he examined it, closely, from where he was. He gave a twitch of a smile, it seemed odd on his face. "Mhm.." He muttered softly. He was observing those that signed up, and the guard.

"I know many things. Your name amongst them. No, you do not know me and nor do I know you. It is merely a gift that I have, a spell. I can teach it to you if you wish. Now, as for my gang, it is more like a group, a band of adventurers. We seek to defeat these orks and put and end to this evil that has us in our grasp. We are not a gang of vile thieves or cutthroats, nor are we murderers or assassins or anything of the sort and in between. Some of us are mages, others are rangers, others don't know what they are and are with us in a quest to find out what they are. Some of us are many things. I, for example, are an elf and I am a mage. I am also a scholar and a teacher, yet a learner. I am also an ex-hermit and my name is Eändiré, as you may have heard from the barman, the esteemed Jock Henderson, grandson of Belloc Henderson and father of triplets and a son. Brother of the owner of Belloc's General Store."

He turned around when he heard Snowfire hoot.

"Ahh! Gelnius! Come and join us!"

---

The people that signed up were farmers, dockhands, potters, shoppers, traders, merchants, the odd-guard and the odd-sailor, but no-one with too much experience in fighting or any other skill that would help the Group. The guard, on the other hand, was quite strong-looking. He looked tough but quite young, and yet old enough to be quite high-ranking. Kraít knew him to be Sergeant Marek Aventor, a kind guard dedicated to removing crime from the slums.