Prologue: The Jolly Wanderer

You can feel that the summer is coming to an end. Although it is still warm during the day, the nights are beginning to become quite cool. As you sit on deck of the 'Jolly Wanderer' you can watch the sun setting over the swampy area to your right.

The deck is filled with crates, presumably filled with supplies for the expedition.

Captain Forsberg, a tall and slender man in a dark blue jacket, is barking some orders at the crew. Whilst the crew hurries to fulfill his orders as fast as possible, the passengers sit on deck and talk about what they are to expect from the expedition.

Heard there's been some trouble with 'e locals. a woman with an eyepatch and a bow on her back remarks. You see the passengers? Most of them ain't scholars and workers. They're guards and scouts. I tell ya we're gonna have to shed a bit o' blood after we arrive.

A man in blue robes takes a big gulp from his tankard and says Or there aren't enough workers available so they enlisted strong fighters. If you can swing a sword, you can swing a shovel.

Hmmpf... I doubt that. You always find someone who is willing to dig around without setting any ambitious demands. But finding someone who is willing to grab a sword and defend himself... that's not so easy to find and not so easy to pay.
The woman nods at the other passengers. Wadda you think? Is this job gonna be a piece of cake or a bloody mess?

Sitting towards the center of the ship upon the deck with at list two crates as close to her as possible smoking a pipe, Solra responds in an irritable tone, "I imagine it is going to be what it is going to be, and speculation, be it negative or positive, will simply cloud things and create inaccurate perceptions when it actually does become what it will become. So just leave it be."

Rhys leans upon the railing of the boat, watching the sunset. Snatches of conversation from the crew and his fellow passengers float by but he pays it no heed. His thoughts are only on the ruins that lay ahead, and of the so-called treasures which might contain what he has been seeking for so long. Eventually, he has his fill and turns to face the others - his gaze sweeps across the people here, a judgemental cast to his face as he ponders the question.

"A job's a job. Doesn't matter what it's gonna be. You take that contract," he folds his arms across his chest. "You do your duty."

Annika's fine clothes and noble bearing make her look very out of place among the rough-and-ready majority of the boat's passengers. Despite this, she doesn't look at all uncomfortable in their company as she sits perched on a crate, watching the view drift by.

"Sounds like nobody really knows what we're in for," she observes. "How exciting."

Sitting crosslegged near his dwarven companion, the armored half-orc busied himself with a fish hook, sharpening it to a fine point against the head of a handaxe as he hummed a cheerful little ditty. His eyes wandered as the conversation began to shift, gauging the folk aboard the Jolly Wanderer as they expressed their thoughts on the matter. They certainly were quite the assembly.

"That's part of the real mystery, isn't it? Hopefully it's nothing serious, but I'm not one to count my chickens before they hatch. I just hope nothing's happened to the folks out there," the warrior responded in kind, gingerly placing the sharpened hook back into the tackle box and stuffing it back into his pack. As Raskell stood, his chainmail jangling slightly as he did so, it was plain just how tall the half-orc was as he returned his axe to he belt. Though he seemed amicable enough, his body language betrayed some military experience and the danger that came with it.

"I'm Raskell, by the by. Raskell Thornwood," greeted the half-orc, casting a cordial smile towards the brave souls gathered aboard the deck of the Jolly Wanderer before motioning his hand gently towards the dwarf taking to her pipe. "And this is my dearest friend, Solra. Seems we're all in the same boat, so to speak."

"Annika... just Annika for now. Delighted to meet you."

Rhys offers a nod by way of greetings. "You all reckon there's been an attack? That's not what they told me."

Being without his hand crossbow, which is safely secured below with his other belongings, makes his hand itch something terrible. The rumours of an attack hardly helps.

"I haven't heard anything at all. I'm not even sure why I'm here, to be perfectly honest - sometimes you just have to go where the journey takes you. So to pass the time, why don't you all share what you've heard about wherever it is we're going?"

"Hmm." He's reluctant to reveal his real reasons, but it can't hurt to divulge what he has been hired for.

"A recruiter approached me in Bridgeton. Says the fancy folks down by the ruins need a strongarm or two." At this, he shoots a meaningful glance at the half-orc.

Rhys shrugs, apparently unconcerned with the finer details. "The pay sounded good."

"Likewise, Annika," Raskell replied, then returned his attention to the group at large.

"This guy's got the right of it. Ancient ruins and folk in need of protection, accompanied by an opportunity for fairly-earned coin," explained the half-orc, returning the warrior's glance with a nod of his own as he gave the hilt of his sword an absentminded light tap with his finger.

"Everything else has been hearsay as far as I can guess; even the fellow who hired me was pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. From what I've heard, goblins and kobolds and other ilk have been giving them issue. Then again, I also heard everything's peachy, and they're just waiting on folk like us to secure the area before they start digging into the ruins while they sit around sipping wine. Like Solra said, I wager we won't know for certain till' we get there."

Solra sits unpleased about the situation and just biding her time. Truth be told she will be very happy to get off this water bound disaster waiting to happen and get her feet back on solid ground, no matter where that ends up being. In the meantime she does her best to relax as best she can and tries to focus on smoking her pipe.

M' name's Rada. Glad to meet you all. Was hired in Bridgeton too. I'm more of a scout but I'm also able to keep up for myself in a fight just like you all. Rada glances at Annika Well...like most of you at least...

But that probably won't be necessary... While it's always good to be cautious I doubt that we will face any serious threats beside the occasional wild animal The man in the blue robes remarks
As the sun is beginning to set, the crew is hanging lanterns on the rigging and railings. The additional light reveals the man to be an elf
I am Phann. A chronist, hired by the city of Bridgeton to write about the findings in the ruins, that go by the name of Surbanipal by the way. I doubt that they'd send chronists there if active fighting is to be expected.
Rada spits on the ground
You're a damn idealist. Look 'ere. She collects a few mugs and groups them on a crate.

That mug here is the river, this over here is the beautiful swamp to our right and this one is represents the wooded hills farther to the south and west. And riiiight here in the middle are the ruins.
The swamp's treacherous, crawling with animals and other even more unpleasant folks, the hills are occupied by monsters big n' small and the river cuts off any chance of orderly retreat to the east. If you think that isn't an invitation for trouble you haven't learned from your precious chronicles.

Phann was quite calm the whole time but seems to become increasingly agitated. You know what! If you are that convinced that there is trouble you're certainly ready to take a bet He pulls a gold coin from his pocket and smashes it on the crate where Rada put the mugs
I bet you one gold coin that the worst we'll face are wild animals and nothing more.

Ha! Rada replies Well you're gonna get in trouble AND lose money Rada rummages in her backpack and adds a gold coin of her own.
Then she turns to the others. What about ya'll. You side with Mr. Fancy-Robes-Dusty-From-Scrolls or someone with a bit more sense of the real world...?

Scratching the stubble of his chin, Raskell gave some genuine consideration to the wager. There's always some truth to rumors, right? Maybe Rada was on to something. Who hires a band of adventurers and explorers to deal with bears and boars? He hoped Rada was wrong, but if she wasn't then a little extra coin wouldn't hurt. Fishing out his purse, the half-orc peered inside at its contents, his face curling into a look of miserly disappointment. Taking a lone gold coin from the leather purse, the half-orc eyed it hard, moving it from one finger to another as he weighed his choice.

"Sorry, friend. While I hope it's just some mangy beasts out in the woods, I'm with Rada on this one," Raskell said, plunking his own coin into the pot with a distinct clink as it joined the others. "If someone's going to hire adventurers, my gut tells me there's something more dangerous out there beyond wolves and bears to be concerned about."

Solra disgustedly says, "Jeesh Raskell seriously do I need to start advising you on using your money wisely, you should take that coin and put it back into your pouch. I mean seriously what are you going to get a third of a gold coin for risking a full gold coin?" She briefly closes her eyes and rubs here forehead with her fingers. Then she sarcastically continues with, "As for my two bits worth on this, which is worth way more than all this immaturity being displayed, I said let it be. However... I am willing to do you all a favor. I will hold on to those coins as I am sure I can put them to a much better use than this childish endeavor by supposed adults, deal?" She looks at the two that started all of this and then says, "Besides if I had to put some actual thought into this I would say you two are in cahoots and are running a con, preying on good folk for petty returns as that is the only thing that would make this inane childishness make any sense."

Running a hand through his hair sheepishly, he knew Solra was right. He really did need to pinch his coppers. Still, the last thing the crew of the Jolly Wanderer needed though was strife amongst the new employees aboard it before the job even began.

{"Sorry. You're right. But please, let's not start any trouble. These are the people we'll need to work with,"} the half-orc replied in Dwarven, hoping if nothing else to prevent further accusations from being hurled.

"Apologies. Solra's right though. I really ought to be more frugal with my coin," Raskell laughed awkwardly, giving his companion a lingering look. "She means well. Honest."

Looking to change the subject, Raskell turned his attention back to Rada. "You do seem pretty keen on the goings-on out here though, Rada. Been out this way a spell or two?" he inquired genially, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the nearby crates for comfort.

Solra's agitation could still be heard in her tone which only seemed harsher due to the way the Dwarven language sounds.

"Surbanipal..." he whispers, testing how it rolls off the tongue. Unlike some of his previous ventures, this one has the good courtesy to remain pronounceable.

"Phann, some of us ain't so well-educated. Name got a specific meaning?" he asks, pointedly ignoring the current round of betting. As the saying goes - a fool and his gold are soon parted. By his reckoning, the boat has plenty of fools.

A potential hint to the origins of the ruin - well, now. That's priceless especially seeing how the chronist seems to be easily swayed by his emotions. Here's a man that he intends to spend some time with during the journey, mining the few bits of knowledge until it hits bedrock.

If it's gold the chronist wants, Rhys will spend no mean amount of coins to further his ambitions.

As for the others, from what he gathers - Raskell might be handy in a pinch, Solra enjoys her pipe and complainin', Garith reveals little so he can't get a bead on him, and Annika even less.