Chapter 1 (Arc B): Drunken Ramblings

You find yourselves standing outside a dingy looking tavern with a sign proclaiming itself "The Splattered Scroll". While there aren't a ton of people inside, the business is steady. Several people are visible through the propped open door, and the woman behind the bar looks like she's broken up her fair share of physical altercations over the years.

As you get closer, the light greenish tinge to her skin and set of her jaw reveal that she's a half-orc. She looks at you with a mixture of aggression and repulsion.

Olidammara's left nut to you, duskskin. You've asked one, make it quick with the others. she says, exasperation plain in her voice.

The half-orc glowers at you both, her eyes hard. Lots o' folks come in here blabbering. As for unkept robe wearin' fools, we get our fair share. We aren't too far from the University. she quipped, as if that was enough of an explanation for the look and cut of most of her patrons. Now, if you aren't drinkin', you're wastin' my time. OY! KNOCK IT OFF OVER THERE DWABIN! she finishes, the last bit rising up as she looks over your shoulder to scold a tipsy looking dwarf that is trying to climb up onto his table.

As you look around the room, you see a handful of tables that would likely be willing to talk. As the bartender alluded to, there are several tables with what appear to be students from the university bent over stacks of books and scrolls, edges held down with tankards. A few dwarves sit talking to one another by the fireplace. On one side, near the door, a lone elf sits staring forlornly into a small cup.

A door at the far side swings open, and you hear the boisterous sounds of a party carrying on beyond it.

The elf looks over at you, his eyes red.

Everything is wrong. My application for admittance to the university was rejected. he says, chest hitching.

Those backwards fools. They are scared that my proposed course of study would cause the 'destruction of the good morale fiber of society" or something like that. They just can't see the benefits!

One of the students perks up at the mention of C'thalet, the others are fixated steadily on the flashing gold coin.

Oy, right, so C'thalet is this historic wizard. One o' them lesser mages from the mage war, ya know. Supposedly invented all kinds of neat magic things. Even made up a spell or two! the first student says. The others take a hefty drink from their steins.

One of them, a half-elf, sets his mug down and looks at Shannout steadily. That's not a name you should be tossing around, ways I hear it. Vile being, more evil than all the Mage Lords combined.

The three students look to themselves, smiling. Well, I've got a spellbook with me. I can show you the one that C'thalet invented. he said.

The other slapped his hand. No you don't, you liar! Those spells were all outlawed! he looks back to Shannout. He's a bit of a moron, I wouldn't trust his information at all. No, what you need to do is spend a few nights in a deep meditation. You'll see that I'm right.

---

The study of form and figure! Sure, it required some cunning necromancy, but show me a good healer that hasn't studied the necromantic arts, huh?

Oh, very few people deign to teach it. You could say it's much more self-taught. I get these dreams at night, full of grand ideas. I follow no footsteps! I forge a new path. A brighter path! Or at least I would if I could get the paperwork to prove that I'm more than,
oh what did they call me, a degenerate crackpot!

Sorry for the lack of clarity. Shannout, the statement was to Vlur from the elf guy. The following is the last thing your conversation had:

Vlur, the man looks at you. Knowledge, surely. Power, perhaps! Study for the sake of study is its own reward, after all!

The two men surge to their feet, only to trip over themselves when the cpin is pocketed. You promised you thug! The information is good!

The student that mentioned the spellbook struggles to get up to his feet, but does manage it. He scrambles with his satchel, and fishes out a heavy looking book with metal corners.

Just one minute, one minute - indeed. Here! he says after a few seconds of furiously flipping through the tome. He spins it around and shows you a page full of odd markings interspersed with bits of common. At a glance, you can tell that it has to do with forcing a target to do something. The bits of common you can understand easily, and it doesn't seem to describe a nice spell.

As you go to grab the book, you find that it doesn't leave the student's hand.

Now now, you can't be taking my spellbook! What kind of fool do you take me for! he says. This is my life's work, not yours to take there quickdraw. he slams the book closed on your finger.

The students look to each other, seeming to contemplate your offer briefly. The leader looks down at the closed book and shakes his head, grinning widely.

Not today, vagabond. You don't think I know when someone's going to stick a knife in me and liberate me of my books? How about you lot just get out of here before I let the barkeep over there know you're planning to hold up a patron. he says, a slight sneer creeping into his voice.

As Vlur and Shannout begin to walk away, you hear the man blustering behind you.

Look! It's not like I want to run off into a dark alley to show you. My professor said we may be doing some controlled casting of spells tomorrow. You're welcome to come along with us, and you can see it being cast that way. Safe for me, safe for you.

Come by Sturnk Hall. Ask for directions to Professor Maladrin's class. We meet at fourteen bells. he says with a smile.

Ive decided this game has stagnated. Im out I think. A shame really.

You're written in here.