Episode 0: The Arcadian Rose

It is close to midnight, and by hook or by crook you have found your way to the Arcadian Rose, on the island of Eglar. You have nothing but the equipment on your back, a few coins in your purse, and a passphrase for your Pale Deva handler Rhiann Vequaniel.

The three-story stone edifice rests at an intersection upon a hill overlooking the harbor, its walls covered in a layer of salt and hardy lichen. Unlike many of the homes in the neighborhood, the Arcadian Rose was built to withstand the strong ocean storms that crop up from time to time and has become a landmark for the locals. Perhaps for this reason the Arcadian Rose enjoys a brief area of isolation, her closest neighbor a general goods store across the way. Two braziers flank the main entrance and illuminate the front like a beacon.

You open the thick wooden door and step into a lively scene. As it is near the apex of the evening, most tables are occupied with a few citizens looking for an night of festivity and mirth, mixed with some individuals that seem out of place with their finery unsuited for the docks. The clientele range from human to halfling, dwarf to elf, and even a number of tieflings and gnomes.

Stepping past the orc bouncer at the door, you make your way to the bar where a middle-aged human woman commands the tavern. Her face as hard as the salted air, she maneuvers her girth along the counter like a masterful warship; not so much parting the sea, but the sea itself respectfully getting out of her way. She is dressed in working clothes covered by an apron, her hair bundled under a scarf that hangs upon her shoulders. She meets your gaze with an expression that would tolerate no wasteful time, though she politely asks what you will have.

You place your order. "A side of prawn, buttered. And a room for two," which is the passphrase you were ordered to use regardless if you arrived alone. The woman fixes you with a hard stare, then nods. "Aye, 'tis 10 silver for an outlander like you," she replies, and it is the correct response. This woman is Rhiann Vequaniel.



Rhiann summons a young Turami woman. "Morena, send this one to room three," she orders. The one known as Morena curtsies silently, her skirt barely brushing against the reclaimed wood floor. Morena is also dressed in working clothes and an apron, but her attire fits her frame near-perfectly and accentuates her youth.



The young woman escorts you up to the second floor, where there are three doors leading to individual suites. Despite asking for Room Three, you realize that none of the doors are marked with any numbers. Somehow Morena knows where to go, drawing a key to unlock the door and reveal an empty room. She points out the foot locker for your equipment and says that you may return to the common area where your order will be ready once it has been prepared. Morena advises you to not leave the tavern, for any reason, and heads downstairs.

One by one, each of you performs the same ritual. You are shown to a room on the second floor to drop off your belongings and asked to remain in the common area. As the evening is winding down, there are several tables available for you to choose from. The air has the aroma of steamed crab and pan-fried fish, seasoned to perfection. The flow of wine and alcoholic ciders moves freely from the tap to a number of waiting cups.

None of the occupants in the tavern seem to be paying you much attention. In fact, neither Morena nor Rhiann have acknowleged your presence since your arrival, at least through their own initiative. Morena moves among the tables (except for yours) to deliver food and drink, making light conversation with the locals before moving on. Rhiann addresses those at the bar and occasionally steps into the kitchen through a door behind the counter, either to deliver an order or to bring out a completed meal for Morena to take.

What do you do now?

Gustav looks at the water and blinks. Probably should have expected that. He takes a big gulp of the water and ends with a conspicuous "aaaaah." He makes brief eye contact with Maenor and nods slightly.

A half-orc, temporarily slumped against the counter, perks up at Gustav's audible sigh of relief. Through bleary eyes, the tusked man leans over to inspect Gustav's choice of spirit, then looks up at the human.

"Ha! Refreshin', ain't it?" says the half-orc, a raspy guttural voice like clogged stone. He wears a mis-matched set of leather armor, with a shortsword slung low across his waist. The half-orc leans back and reaches for his own cup, sniffing at the fact that it's now empty. He mutters, "There's a man that likes his juice."

The half-orc looks up. "Mother!" he calls out, slapping his hand on the counter. "Gimme another swig o' that apple. And bring one more for my friend here!" He leans towards Gustav. "On me, for a brother like yer self. What's yer name, pops?"

"Why thank you, son," says Gustav in his thick drawl, "it ain't every day that a young fella like yourself give a simple man of the cloth the time of day. Your hospitality does your generation credit." Gustav extends his hand for a handshake, his prayer beads and a battered symbol of Tiamat dangle from his wrist. "The name's Brother Cluney, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I'm Mazdagh," says the half-orc, clasping Gustav's forearm like a warrior. He sways slightly and closes his eyes. "Wait.. Mazdakh. Yeh, that's my name. I'm with the Eglar Eagles!" He thumps his chest and grins lopsidedly. It is common knowledge that the Eglar Eagles are the city guard.

Mazdakh leans in close to Gustav, and whispers conspiratorially, "Listen, you need sumthin', you hook me up. No.. you look me up. I got yer back."

Rhiann exits the kitchen and makes her way down the counter, empty-handed. "You've had enough, Mazdakh," she says, "Besides, it's near time you got on home and get yourself ready for your next shift."

Mazdakh seems ready to deny the facts as they are presented, turning to Rhiann with a frown. However, his eyes focus on Rhiann's expression and something clicks. "Eh, yeah. Yeah, I'm going home. Sorry, mom." Mazdakh slides off the barstool, conveniently into the supporting arms of the bouncer that had silently crossed the room to the drunken half-orc. As he is escorted towards the door, Mazdakh turns and says, "You's all right, Cluney. You's all right."

The orc and his charge disappear through the front door. Rhiann takes this opportunity to survey the common room.

"The Rose is closing, folks!" her voice booms, easily heard above any conversation. "Come on back tomorrow, we'll see if we can steam a few crabs for dinner. Those who haven't a reservation upstairs, out!"

The orc bouncer returns, sans Mazdakh, and holds the door open for those departing. Rhiann follows, and after the last client has left, hands a small pouch to her doorman. The orc smiles and gives a casual salute before departing.

The braziers outside are extinguished instantly before Rhiann closes, locks, and bars the front door.