Chapter 1: The Tower of Black Flames

Alez has done this many times since the accident. Finding himself short of coin and facing sleeping in the words like a brigand or barbarian, he wracks his brain for something, any major incident that he can remember, then swoops in saving the day, and most importantly enjoying the reward.

Admittedly this case is a stretch. The old man had told him the story of the previous owner of the tower, but Alez hadn't been paying attention. He had never paid any attention, unless it was lessons about spells. He had told the old man his stories were stupid and pointless, right before he'd been thrown headfirst out of the top of the tower.

Alez's stomach knots with regret. Regret for now, that he didn't know why the flames were out, or what to do to fix it, and regret for what had not yet happened, that the old man would die before he would be able to make amends. He had thought he'd drowned that particular sorrow at the bottom of a deep wine barrel ages ago, but seeing the tower surfaced it. He needs a drink

It's not important now, Alez has a job to do, if he's to stay off the streets. The sorcerer Kelauklyth doesn't seem the type to cater to uninvited guests, but he does seem the type to have minions. Alez heads to a tavern, the kind that wouldn't mind his odd appearance. Maybe he can kill two birds with one stone. He'll try to find a minion of Kelauklyth, or at least some way of identifying one, by talking to the people at the bar, and he will drink until he forgets the old man's shocked, then angry face, and the memory of the ground rushing up to meet him.

Ah, a recluse, not an overlord. Well at least we'll have something in common. Alez decides to change tactics, asking about the tower. What's the purpose of the flame? What could cause it to go out?

Alez sighs, but feeling a bit more courageous than before (the giddy dizziness from the whisky he had at the tavern no doubt helping), he heads back to the tower. Brute force it is, I guess he thinks

Eyrun steps out onto the streets with a determination generated by a oft-repeated mantra... that she has every right to be here as anyone else. Her life until had prepared her for prejudice, but to make a life for herself she needed to do more than simply hide in the woods and hope villagers need some tinctures. The winters were hard, alone in the wilderness, so necessity brought her to this bustling... jungle.

Keeping a watchful awareness of her meagre belongings, she heads out, toward the tower that is quite the landmark. Merely traversing the streets takes some new skills, though the throngs of people, animals and carts. On the way she procures a small sack with a decent rope, with which to store a serpent should she be granted good fortune by this fellow hermit... a hermit of a great, dark spire that juts unnaturally toward the sky. At least, unnaturally to her eye. It was difficult to imagine what manner of person would inhabit such a place.

Alez sees the others approach, scoping out the tower. This has happened before, that the people who had solved the problem originally show up and ruin his plans. At least, that's what Alez assumes is happening. The only way forward now is to integrate with the group as quickly as possible, and share the proceeds. Marking the Atlantian as the leader of the pair, Alez approaches. "Are you interested in the tower as well? Something's wrong with the magical flames at the top". He looks at the half-elf. "Are you an associate of theirs?"