Chapter 1: Into The Mists

"Some lots are more miserable than others. The Sea bore neither hunger nor thirst. Nor cold, nor rain." Kar'i'nas had grumbled internally during their slog along the way. The litany of differences remained fresh, despite the months since he had disembarked.

The slender and sodden figure under a deep hood trods into the Hangman after the halfling. The soft clink of metal issues from each step, and a keen eye sees silver scales through the slit in the cloak. The pommel of a blade presses against the soaked hem. Any casual watcher recognizes the newcomer as a martial type due to the strange shield in the shape of a molten teardrop on his shoulder. Yet, the distinctive skull-tipped staff indicates this traveler was no mere warrior. The shape of the skull and holes around the face reveal it to be the remains of some monstrous humanoid.




The traveler unslings a pack with various snaps, pockets, and an additional rolled sack attached to its exterior. Wooden stakes, iron spikes, and a coil of rope glisten where they neatly occupy these facets. He settles into the chair next to Skip so as to face the tavern and his companion, securing his satchel on the opposite side of the chair from the rogue. He smoothed the wispy curl of his beard, revealing his green chin as he addressed the bartender, "The same, 'keep. What would you call the lands around your tavern?"

The elf woman enters the tavern silently, acutely aware of the many eyes that were upon her. Her hair is unkempt, full of tangles, leaves, and small sticks. "I'll have a cup of whatever passes for wine in this place," she says to the barkeep.

In spite of her best efforts, Morticia completely fails to fade into the background. She wears a dark, ragged cloak with a heavy hood. Even though her skin is the color of dark ash that fades into the darkness of her hood, no amount of head gear can cover the giant horn emerging from her forehead, adding another 6 inches to her 6 feet of muscled height. She looks nervously around the room with milky white eyes that one could be forgiven for assuming were blighted by cataracts. She is unused to these kinds of places. In spite of this unease, her lip twitches into a smile at the gnomes joke. "Aye. I'll have the same as the gnome." Quickly she adds, "If that's alright of course."

Balian enters the inn and steps off to one side, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light in the room. Lowering the hood of his cloak, Balian makes his way over to the crowded bar, and sits on one of the few empty stools.

I'll have a tankard of whatever you have on tap as well as a meal. There's no rush, I can dry off until you get to me.

"Pardon me, but may I sit here?"

A human man with neatly parted black hair and waxed moustache plops down at the bar next to the gnome and the tiefling. He slumps back in his chair with a sigh, clearly exhausted as his backpack hits the ground. He leans back with his face towards the ceiling before looking at the people he has just set next to. "Oh my, pardon me." He straightens his leather vest for a moment, then waves to the nearest employee. "One glass on bourbon, if you don't mind. And some of your finest...food." He smiles awkwardly at the two of you, and holds his hand out to the tiefling awkwardly. "My name is Dr. Carter Ward. And you are?"

Morticia takes the hand, also awkwardly, as if it took her a moment to remember what handshakes are, and when she did, really tried to overcompensate. "Hello. I'm Morticia. Just Morticia. Uh.... Pleasure to meet you." She holds the hand shake way too long as she stalls for time to remember what comes next in a social greeting. "What brings you here?" she finally says.

Lunora makes a half-hearted attempt to disguise her interest in the newcomer.

Kar'i'nas lowered his hood to allow his top knot and the rest of his long, black hair to dry. He looks over the gnome to the meticulous human and says, "Are you a criminal to seek pardons from everyone you meet?"

"I am Kar'i'nas. Like Morticia asked, what brings such a well-dressed traveler to slog through the mud?"

Balian looks around at the crowded bar and the strangers that are gathered at it. His momentarily rest on the elf and Balian quickly looks away.

"Oh! Oh good. I'm quite hungry." As if to emphasize her point there is an audible growl from her stomach. "I've been on the road for a long time."

Balian completed his order for a meal and then looks over at Skip, My thanks for the seat.

"you’re welcome". Skip looks around the table, takes in the different faces of all those seated. "So, a chance meeting at a wayside inn. Anyone got an important reason to be ‘ere? I’m just bein’ nosey. But a bit o’ talk while we wait on our food ‘n drinks might warm us all up some"

"I just, uh... wandered in." Morticia pulls up her cloak, hiding her appearence as much as she can.

Skip slots open the seal with a dagger and lays the letter out for everyone to read