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Teaser
Lair of the Wolfskull goblin tribe, an hour or so before midnight

Chief Kloss scratched his chin as he studied the drawing on the parchment. The dire wolf resting on its haunches beside him let out a low growl at the visitors looming over his master.

"Enough!" Vlack cried, seizing the scroll atop the wooden chest as his bodyguards flung the makeshift table aside. "You have seven days to find it. You got that? Now step to it! You're behind schedule. The Red-blade and the Viper tribes left two days ago. They'll reach the human settlements by tomorrow night."

Kloss snorted, then leaned back in his throne. "You lie!" he retorted. "The Vipers are cowards. Chief Dashga would never agree to your plan!"

Vlack turned to one of his guards, who handed him a burlap sack. "You're right," the hobgoblin conceded. Turning the sack upside down, he spilled its contents to the floor. It landed with a thump, then rolled to a stop in front of the chieftain's feet.

Kloss looked down. It was the head of Dashga, several days old.

Vlack waited until the goblin chief's gaze returned to him, then grinned. "He didn't."

...

All through the night, louder and louder, closer and closer to the civilized lands, the drumbeats echoed across the Dymrak Forest: the slow, steady thump of three goblin tribes on the march. Red-blade, Viper, Wolfskull.

Cut to a tavern, Town of Kelvin, late morning...

Tret, roguish rogue

Tret stands on a chair, one leg on a table, as he animatedly tells a story of adventure, suspense and derring-do. About how he snuck into the vile count's tower and stole the signet ring from the fat man's own finger as he slept and returned it to the true heir to the estate. He winks at the barmaid as he hopes this story will give him enough coppers to buy a meal and a tankard of mead.

Renardius (Cleric)

Renardius sits stoically, with no drink in front of him. He listens to Tret's story, shaking his head in disapprobation at the more sordid portions of the narrative.

Bless you guys! You picked up the reins and ran with it. I had the next post all set to go, but left it on another computer. Here it is, modified a bit to accommodate what has already transpired. -- Steve

Day 1, Common room, Sign of the Smashed Tankard, Kelvin, late morning

Springtime in Karameikos. The millenial celebrations came and went, and with them most of your coin. Then the blizzard--the last of the season, you hope--hit, stranding you in Kelvin. Finally, the snow has begun to recede, and your hearts yearn for adventure...

Or at least an honest day's work! It's been nearly two weeks since you met your new companions on the road, and as you stare across the table at them, you swear that if you have to play one more game of Screw the Bugbear for copper kopecs, or listen to another one of Tret's tale tales, then someone's going to get their face punched in!

As you stare down at your cards, pondering the miserable hand you've been dealt, the door opens and in walks Iglishmêk, chatting with someone you've never seen before. Human. Mid-thirties from the looks of him, and judging from his accent and his clothes, probably from one of the homesteads to the east.

Actions?

Athelstan - Fighter

Athelstan sits quietly next to Renardius, lightly polishing his holy symbol of Vanya, waiting to see who this homesteader is. Assuming the group approaches him (or vice versa) Athelstan will accompany them.

Tret, rogue

Tret launches into another tale of derring-do, this one involving an ogre, a game of Bones, and a narrow escape. He continues smiling at the barmaid, but he tracks the newcomers in out of the corner of his eye liked the practiced cutpurse he is.

Igli - Dwarf

"... a motley crew I'll allow when you meet them Stephan," Igli is saying as they walk in, "but in a matter of weeks as tight in combat as the better groups of caravan guards. Rifflian would be but a jaunt in the country." He leads Stephan over to the card players, "Stephan this is the group I was telling you about," and indicates each member, "Bombar, Renardius, Soldath, Athelstan, Jarek, Tret, and Marion." Then indicating the man, "this is Stephan, his clan are dealers in horses and he is as trustworthy a man as I've met. I believe he's got a job for us."

Tret, cutpurse

"Finally, a chance for coppers."

Athelstan - Fighter

Athelstan stands, offering a hand and firm handshake to Stephan, and saying to nobody in particular "Ahhhh, finally some action. Brigands? Evil priests of ill-repute? foul undead? what is it, man?"

Marion - Female Hobbit

Standing on the bench at the table to get a better angle as she is wont to do when gambling - Marion eyes the newcomer with a grade of suspicion - as she regards most tall folk she hasn't gotten to know yet. She brushes back her black bangs from her better eye (her face having been burned and somewhat mis-figured in a mishap involving a thrown oil flask in the Caves of Chaos) and tries to nod agreeably to at least give the fellow a chance.

"Well met Stephan" she says