AGE OF ASHES (IC)

... and so it begins ...

Located in the foothills of the Five Kings Mountains in eastern Isger, Breachill is a thriving town of about 1,300 inhabitants; most are humans, although there are notable populations of dwarves, half-elves, and gnomes here as well. The town predates its most notable landmark, which sits about 1 mile to the northeast, high on low-rising Hellknight Hill: Citadel Altaerein, the foreboding but now-abandoned fortress that was once the home of the Hellknight Order of the Nail.

In years past, Breachill gladly served as a supply source for the Hellknights, who commended the well- ordered peace the town enjoyed. But 8 years ago, when the Order of the Nail fully retreated from Citadel Altaerein in favor of the order’s new home in Varisia, Breachill’s inhabitants simply shrugged, continuing the agriculture, crafting, and bartering that has always sustained them. Now, common wisdom generally recommends avoiding the citadel, which serves as an isolated haven for peaceful groups that don’t want to be disturbed but is also rumored to be overrun with dangerous monsters.

The 'Call for Heroes' is a real thing. Spending public money on hiring adventurers to help the townspeople serves several purposes, as far as Breachill’s leadership is concerned. First, it provides the townspeople with an official and fully funded way to seek help when they’ve exhausted all other options. Second, it allows the salaried town guard to focus on run-of-the-mill crimes and mundane threats to the townspeople’s safety. And third, it provides experience to local adventurers—and allows the council to vet out-of-town heroes—whose presence and talents the council considers boons to the populace, harking back to the hero Lamond Breachton, Breachill’s original patron who saved the town’s founders.

The council holds a public Call for Heroes once per month expressly to hear petitions from residents who wish the town to hire adventurers on their behalf. At the end of a resident’s address to the council, the council members discuss the petition before voting whether to expend public funds on it. For petitions that are approved—and most of the one or two requests per month are approved—the council then opens the floor to adventurers in attendance at the meeting who wish to tackle the challenge. Heroes looking for work often attend these meetings with a prepared list of qualifications, and the council hires an appropriate number of candidates who are well suited for each job. After the meeting, the adventurers are expected to follow up regularly with the petitioner and with the council. Those heroes who resolve their assigned challenges are paid handsomely in gold pieces and receive preferential consideration for future official work that might use their demonstrated talents.

Since the Breachill Town Council has been holding monthly Calls for Heroes for decades, a fair number of local traditions have built up around the event. Many adventurers who plan to lobby for the jobs outlined at the meeting visit Wizard’s Grace, a popular nearby tavern, before the proceedings begin. Some hold traditional toasts for good fortune, some schmooze with the townsfolk in hopes of being hired, and some seek to scope out the other adventurers with whom they might be working—or competing for the jobs at hand.

You dust yourself off to be at least presentable and walk through the town. The 'Call for Heroes' begins at noon and is a welcome opportunity for you to earn some coin and gain experiences. The townspeople are busy with the day to day bustle of life and the sun shining brings renewed warmth to your heart. An early beverage at the Wizard's Grace, a casual walk around the town ...

What will YOU do?

Beskytter wanders through town on his way to this "Call For Heroes". He wears a well-used breastplate lined with fur, a thick fur cloak and has an axe looped through his belt and shield on his back. His blonde hair and beard are wild and he moves with the sure steps of a seasoned warrior.

He looks around the crowds for his longtime halfling companion, Cookie, but can't spot the diminutive fellow through the mass of people. He shrugs and continues on, figuring the little one will catch up to him.

A tall slim man saunters down the street. He has the typical look of a Varisian, olive complexion with dark hair worn long long, he has a goatee beard and a moustache.

Zampoliou (for it is him) wears clothes of fine quality, baggy pantaloons, a long cloak and and a big hat with a feather in the peak, however they look faded as if they have seen better days. He is also wearing leather armour and has a rapier in a scabbard on his belt. I've been kicking the dust for too long he thinks the Call For Heroes is exactly what I need

A pale Halfling is pacing around outside the town in the morning, he knows his companions already gone in but cookie's never been very comfortable in towns. Tyne caws at him and he seems to huff at her before accepting his fate. Sending Tyne out to hunt, they don't both have to suffer, he makes his way slowly through the town.

Cookie is dressed in simple clothing, fitting for an explorer, with a particularly tall cowl that comes up over part of his chin. Cookie walks with some of his weight on his staff(sling) as long as the town will let him, they could also notice something in sheath, but might not be able to guess what it is. If anyone chooses to look more closely they'd notice that cookie has some significant scarring on his face and is unusually pale for a halfling. He seems to move through the streets trying to avoid notice by most and spending a lot of effort on avoiding the majority of the tallfolk. You can visibly see relief when Cookie spys Beskytter, and he moves more quickly nearer to him. He remembers Beskytter saying something about a "call for heroes" and is interested to see who might show up so he'll spend the time doing some people-watching. Cookie also goes into his pack for some of the leftover salted meats both for a snack and a good distraction if anyone tries to engage him in conversation.

Olwyn walked down the familiar streets of Breachill all while she pulled at a stray thread sprouting from the sleeve of her tunic. A nervous habit that the young half-elven woman should have nipped in the bud when she was much younger. After all, her clothes would last longer if she wasn't so intent on pulling them apart at the seams. Not that any of that mattered her mind was far from that, more focused on just what her plan was as she hadn't quite expected to make the Call for Heroes let alone get to the town proper quite so soon.

This left the young woman wondering just how to spend the time she had before needing to attend the meeting itself. She pondered her choices as she walked, eventually deciding on the Wizard's Grace. If nothing else it would prove an interesting experience, and a chance to see some new faces. So it was she headed towards the well-known tavern, doing a decent job of blending in as a normal citizen. Though the well-worn leather armor adorning her frame could easily cast her in the role of an adventurer who simply knows there way around town.

Not that how she appeared mattered much to the white-blonde haired half-elf, she was much more focused on simply reaching the Wizard's Grace, all the while keeping an eye out for anyone who seemed particularly intriguing.

Heading down the street you make some general inquiries about a clerk. You stop at what looks like a dual storefront. On one side is a general store called Bits and on the other side is a weapon and Armor smithy called Quarters. A fast-talking male halfling with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and wearing a smart suit and a jaunty hat gives you directions to a building just over the bridge called Breachill Archives.

He says, "A fella named Jorell should be able to help you out."

You see that indeed a smallish crowd of roughly 40 people have gathered at the Breachill Town Hall. In addition to the chamber used for Breachill’s public meetings—including town council meetings and the Call for Heroes—Breachill Town Hall holds the offices of all staff members who support the town’s government and its myriad municipal functions, as well as facilities for its town guard and courts. You figure that the place seems to be well managed. There isn't any sign of Cookie and you hope that he is able to see you.

You saunter down the street and are noticed by few but you feel like you are being watched by one or two people. A human male is talking to a female hobgoblin and though the human is professional enough to give you a cursory glance, the female hobgoblin has a good look at you. Though she has a ripped and torn cloak, a rapier by her side, and a dagger on the other, it is the eye patch that you notice. Maybe she has trouble seeing with only one eye. But your suspicion is raised even if slightly.

You see Beskytter standing, looking around seemingly searching for you. "It's always the same with tall folk! Why can't they ever see us short folk. It's like he is looking for someone his height. Sheesh!" you say to yourself. You are about to call out but not wishing to draw attention to yourself, you walk over to him instead. Around you a smallish crowd of about 40 people have gathered.

Upon arriving at the Wizard's Grace, you find the place is actually pumping. There are a few locals in, the usual gossipers and naysayers as well as a very quiet human sitting by himself in a corner. He has dark features and jet black long hair tied in a top knot. Though he has no visible weapons and wears a simple faded blue tunic with brown easy move pants, his worn and scratched boots draw your attention. There seems to be an underlying steely strength and the muscle definition identifies him as either a hard-working farmer or something else. He seems to have an air of confidence. He has just ended a conversation with a lithe female elf. You have seen or heard of her kind before and you think you may not quite trust her.