Chapter 1: Departure (Day 2)

As your group begins to gather in the square near the gate, you notice that there's surprisingly little traffic in the area for this time of day. The curious among you notice that there is a more significant contingent of the Shining Guard keeping watch over the square than you would expect. Not exactly turning people away, but from the streets leading toward the square, you can see people taking notice of the guards and deciding that other districts of the city might be a better place to be.

Which just makes it easier to notice when others do arrive, especially when they look armed to the teeth and similarly prepared for a journey as you do. Three individuals come into the square: a short, wide, heavily muscled human with a plain longsword belted at his waist and a shield strapped to his back; a gnome reading from a small, leatherbound book, possibly a journal of some sort; and a blond dwarven woman in traveling clothes, a belt of vials and bulging pouches about her waist.

The human male wears a confident -- some might say cocky -- smile on his craggy face, looking around the square casually as though lacking a care in the world. His companions seem to pay him little mind: the gnome is spellbound by whatever he's reading, and the dwarf appears to be all business as she checks over her belongings. The human notices your group and shakes his head in amazement. He turns and approaches you. Those who have spent time in or around Granite College would know him as Kramat Narrison, a warrior that fights with sword and shield together, whose talent is matched by his opinion of his own talent. That wouldn't be a problem if he was a clumsy ox, but for a man as stoutly built and oafish as he looks, he is cat-quick and clever enough to be a decent tactician. The other two are familiar, if not well-known. The gnome is a scholar of Opal College by the name of Grank, and the dwarf an alchemist from Whitestone College known as Muoghan Stonehand.

"I wondered who else they'd be sending, but I certainly didn't expect a ragtag bunch of kids," he says loudly, laughing as though sharing some inside joke. "Hardly a warrior among the lot of you." He scans over the faces before him, his thick arms folding over his broad chest, settling a look on Yelnar and Elora in turn. "I mean, there's you two. I suppose between you both, you come out to one decent fighter."

Despite his light tone, his smirk plainly shows that he's daring any of you to take offense at his mockery.

The gnome slowly raises his head from his book, bulbous nose leading the way. The tiny fellow is dressed all in purple, but no single shade. Lavenders, lilacs, royal purple, all cheerfully, haphazardly arrayed across his small frame. The majesty of his choice in color is therefore... somewhat undone by his questionable fashion selections. The gnome squints up at Ephwrath and scratches at the tip of his nose. "Ephwrath? Ephwrath of Dawnstone? What in the Stones are you doing out here?"

Birdlike, he peers around the square as he considers the location, the time of day, and the others present. "Are you... leaving the wards?" This last is spoken in a sort of whisper; anyone nearby could undoubtedly hear it, but Grank's hearing is reknowned for being selectively bad, so maybe he thinks he's being quiet? He spends most of his days in the library, an Opal College scholar of a wide range of topics, most commonly studies of the interaction of magic with geology, so a bit of confusion at the out of doors and, well, other people, is to be expected.

Grank scowls further at Ephwrath. "Sun and stars, man, I haven't seen you this excited since they let you into the scholar's level of the library," he says grumpily, though the effect is ruined somewhat by his chirpy voice. "Yes, they kicked me out the door. Didn't even ask, just shoved me on out the door and out... here," he says, gesturing to the open square and all its dirt, noise, sunlight and other undesirable natural characteristics. "Not sure why I have to go. Especially with... well, him."

The gnome waves a hand toward the blustering Kramat a few paces away. "Insufferable, that one. Wants to talk all the time. Probably can't even read."