Melmoth sat in his big comfortable chair and propped his feet up on the the low table in front of him. In his lap lay a large water-damaged tome on the history of the early dwarven expansion of 1050, specifically the clan Kinmelbil. Of concern to him was not thier many heroics and tragedies, but the small chapter on a forgotten fortress Koganusân. Boatmurdered in the common tounge.

The book told of roughly where the fortress lay, having the final pages damaged beyond comprehension by some idiot librarian's poor choice of storage area. The little room in the back was a hell for books, broken window on one side and leaky roof above. So, he'd lifted the book and made a search of the entire library for the missing logs of the fortress. A half dozen other fortresses had thier founding logs stored in the Taras archives, but no such luck on boatmurdered. When it had fallen (to unsaid causes) the logs must have been left behind. These logs would have detailed every aspect of the fortress, from how much food produced, to what tunnels were dug out, and exactly what treasures it had in store.

Several weeks back, he had let it be known through his net of informants that he needed capable adventurers for a treasure hunting expidition. By now, suitable people should've been approached and told that there was meeting here, tonight, to discuss things before they left. He was anxious to see what his men had thought was capable. A few of them, Ri'galom in particular, had a sense of humor that drove them to do stupid things to tweak his nose. He'd have to weed a few out.

He looked at the dozen chairs assembled in a half circle in front of him, two rows deep, and wondered how many of those would be filled. He still had a short while before the moon was high enough for his visitors to be on time, but some were always early and it was best to be prepared. One way or the other, he was going to Boatmurdered. If there was the slightest chance that a certain magic trinket was there, then he had to go.



(ooc - Welcome to the quest for Boatmurdered.)

The moon glistened on the elf's winter white wings as Astalder circled the large library several feet in the air. A village local had told him of a meeting in the library tonight for an adventure that could very well benefit him. Astalder wasn't stupid, he knew nothing worth getting came easy but the elf had an itch to gather an item or two that could aid him. He desperately needed a little more variety in his arsenal. His sword was incredibly trustworthy and he had mastered how to use it, but if he ever lost it, broke it, or somehow it ended up in the wrong hands, he'd be forced to use good ol' lefty and righty. That idea was not the least bit appealing to Astalder.
He was told to meet at the library around midnight and so far he hadn't seen a soul pass through the doors save the librarian step out for the occasional breath of air. Perhaps he was late? Maybe it was time for him to check the place out. It couldn't possibly be any sort of a trap, Astalder had no enemies, none that he knew of at least. Astalder slowly eased his way down to the entrance of the vast library and took a final look around. Nothing seemed off and his gut told him he most likely wasn't being watched, but to be sure Astalder took his precautions.
The elf put his hand on his sheath and pushed his blade up slightly with his thumb. This allowed easy access if an attack were to occur. Astalder pushed the double doors open with his right forearm and took a few steps in, examining his surroundings. The librarian sat looking vacant and beyond indifferent. Astalder chuckled and let his arms rest at his sides and folded his wings on his back. He walked up to the counter and looked down at the librarian. She gave no sign of acknowledging the elf so he decided it was best he didn't ask her about the meeting.
Astalder began his way over to the lounge area, if anything that's where a meeting would be held. He ran his finger tips over the spines of several dusty books on a shelf, leaving a trail of dust behind him. Astalder spotted a group of chairs formed for some obvious purpose, a meeting most likely and walked over to them. He saw a man he'd never seen before sitting in a single chair which faced the two rows of chairs that Astalder now stood by. He picked the row closest to the man on the opposite side front and center. Untying his sword he gave the man a smile and a casual two finger salute and rested his hands on the bottom of his propped up sword.

((OOC: Sorry for the sloppyness of it all, it was early in the morn))

Fefnir hadn't been invited, why would he have been? He was just a young boy, nobody ever thought much of him. In truth, he'd overheard the local telling the winged man about the meeting, something that had piqued his interest. Adventure, that was what he wanted. The chance to prove himself. If people were going on an adventure, he wanted in, even if he had to sneak a bit.

The pregnant moon shone down on the city, basking it in pale light, illuminating all but the deepest of dark pits. The air moved, like a small child unable to wait for their gifts. Everything said that this was going to be an interesting night, a night to begin new adventures.

His footsteps echoed on the cobbled streets, everyone having long ago gone to bed, children wrapped up in warm quilts, lovers drifting off to sleep in each other's arms. But then again, there were those that thrived in the night. Grimy men with knives, stalking the alleys in search of unwary girls on a midnight stroll. People taking part in unsavory business, hidden in the dense shadows only the night could bring.

The world was active, bustling around even in this quiet time, awaiting something worth remembering to happen.

The boy walked into the library, his swords hung from his hips, clinking lightly with each step. He wore a bracer, seemingly harmless, on his right hand, and a small hammer hung from his hip. He squinted a bit at first, the difference between the dark night and the brightly lit library hurting his eyes. But soon, they grew accustomed to the light.

There were shelves and shelves of books, put up with care according to an overly complicated system of organization. At his desk, the library clerk sorted returned books, aligning them in his movable cart, getting them ready to be shelved along with their brethren. He relabeled some, and occasionally even replaced a cover, giving Fefnir the most imperceptible of nods as he passed.

Walking onward, he saw the place where the meeting was to be conducted. Among the two rows of seats, Fefnir picked one in the front row, third from the right. He gave the man who faced the rows a grin and a quick wave, seating himself.

Looking over, he saw the man who had actually been invited, the one that he had overheard. "Hey..." he said quietly, more a vocal spasm than an actual word as he gave the elf a quick wave. He was a little nervous, but that was expected. He really shouldn't have been there, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. Fighting, adventure, and the possibility of treasure. What more could you ask for?

The room was originally quiet when everyone was coming in. Seats were laid out and people were filling them ever so quietly. It was something quite nice to most people actually. How often were things every quiet in life? But like life, it wouldn't stay quiet.

Wargrymm Wildaxe came into the room with a grunt. Compared to everyone around him, he was a stump. Wargrymm was still tall for a dwarf, but short compared to everyone else. His muscles bulged like metal cords, from all the working he had done. His skin was a slight tan with brown eyes like the earth itself. His beard was not very well kept, looking very scraggy. He had a backpack and an axe at his belt with a basic dwarf tunic of brown fabric that was rough. His boots thudded as he walked, and a leather belt went around his waist.

Wargrymm had come when he heard that an adventure party was going out to Boatmurdered. He had heard tales of the fortress as he was growing up, always wondering about the place. He had always thought of trying to get a campaign to retake the glorious halls, but he never got to it before he was banished And now he was here. He came to a seat and hopped up, with a bit of struggle, and then sat down and asked "anyone else we should be expecting?"

Eliel walked into town, a black-skinned hand on Gwen's neck, absently feeling the rubies on her collar. The thing had proven itself quite nicely, storing the life force of every creature Gwen attacked. It healed her wounds, and strengthened her with the leftovers. He smiled at the thing happily, pleased with the purchase.

Eliel was completely armed today, with all his best equipment. He brought along his scimitar, both knives, Lan de Yue Jia, piwafwi, and all his various trinkets. Of course, he'd also brought along the single left gauntlet, seeming so innocent-looking. The thing was one of his strongest toys, however.

As they approached the library, Eliel hiked up the steps and patted Gwen on the head as he entered. The cat curled in the corner by the door, watching everyone who came in. She kept a steady mental link with Eliel, to warn him if something went wrong.

Eliel walked into the library, his skin and various weapons making a couple younger human men to scuttle to the side a bit, knowing well the reputation of drow. Eliel sighed and looked around for a quick second, eyes resting on a particular group.

He walked over and leaned against a bookshelf, watching people arrive. He smiled as he spotted fefnir, both glad and sad the boy had come. Such a young fellow, he wouldn't do very well given the situation he'd heard about.

Of course, fefnir followed him into the deepest secrets of a forgotten church, trapped there, and had nearly lost his life with him twice, but that was no matter. Eliel could easily hold his own in a fight, and could do his best to help fefnir if he needed it.

The light of the moon gleamed off of Celebriel's silver scales. There were few people in the streets. That was fine with her, someone like herself usually drew quite a bit of attention. Fewer people ment less trouble.

A winged man caught her eye. She could see that he was of elven blood. She had lived for many years but had never seen a winged elf before. She rarely gave into her curiosity but tonight she did.

The half-dragon, half-elf maided followed the winged elf. His trail led her to the Tara Libary. She had been her before to look at the books. A spell caster like herself was always interested in new magic.

With a sigh she entered the building. THere were several people gathered there. It seemed like a bit of an odd meeting place for such a group at this hour. But there they were. It seemed to her that they were an adventering group.

She walked up to them, her clawed feet making soft clicking sounds on the hard floor. She long tail waved back and forth and she came forward, a sign of her nervousness. As she drew near she gave them a friendly nod.

"An odd gathering...which I guess my presence just makes it odder," she said. "May I inquire as to what this meeting is about?"

She reached up to her face and pulled a lock of her silvery white hair and tucked it behind on of her horns. She glance over the winged elf nervously. She was not sure what an angelic looking man like him would think of a demonic looking woman like herself. She hoped she would not need to unleash a spell to defend herself.

Astalder sat in his center chair in complete solitude as one by members started arriving, occupying the vacant seats. The first guest walked in and sat in a chair close to Astalder, separating the two was one cushioned chair. This man had... No this was no man, not yet at least. The height through Astalder off a bit for he stood as tall as Astalder, yet his face gleamed with youth. His eyes were a bit softer than those that were hardened from an over exposure to fighting and loss. The kid looked over and waved nervously, muttering something that sounded like " 'Ey". Astalder heard him perfectly well though, or at least understood what he meant. He was an Elf after all, those ears weren't just for show. Astalder merely quirked and eyebrow at the boy. This some sort of joke? he thought to himself. Just then several loud clumsy noises broke his train of thought.
The next guest had arrived and the keeper of all the noise was none other than a Dwarf. Oh this is just my day now isn't it? he told himself sarcastically. It was a known fact that Dwarves and Elves had never gotten along. Astalder wasn't very sure as to exactly why Dwarves and Elves didn't get along, he was told the feud stretched back to the beginning of time. If he had to guess, he'd say it was how polar opposite the two races were. Elves were nimble, swift, quiet, well kept, tall, and slender. Dwarves on the other hand were clumsy, slow, loud, brawny, unkempt, short, and stocky beings. Regardless, Astalder couldn't help but feel an unease with the Dwarf. Astalder rubbed his face vigorously, hoping to see a familiar face accompany him.
Clanging soon filled the library like a sloppy and out of tune orchestra. Accompanying the clattering metal were nervous scuffles, making it sound like the next guest was perhaps not alone. When the noises came to a rest Astalder turned to find out who the next guest was. A tall Drow leaned himself against a tidy looking bookshelf. He seemed to be examining the boy so Astalder didn't feel that bad staring. He hadn't seen many Drow before, but what he had seen were wicked twisted ones. Not helping the Drow's cause was his array of weapons strapped to him. Astalder was certain the Drow was preparing for a full scale invasion of sorts by the number of fatal looking weapons. Astalder sighed, perhaps this really was a joke or he was in the wrong place.
To make matters worse, a fourth guest arrived. Wonderful, what's next a full scale dragon? Astalder chuckled to himself, knowing perfectly well a dragon could not fit through the library doors if it's heart depended on it. However, when Astalder caught a glimpse of the guest his heart sank to his feet. Save, she might not be a full grown but he'd be damned he she wasn't at least half bred a dragon. It was possible her other half was of an Elven nature, judging from the facial features. Astalder had had enough, his curiosity, discomfort, and rudeness had gotten the best of him.
The Elf stood up slowly as the half-dragon spoke, rubbing his sinus for he could feel a headache coming already. "You're right. You are absolutely right, I don't think I've ever been in a room with such a diverse group of people set on the same goal as me." he spat. "Let's see we have a mere child, a Dwarf, a Drow that seems ready to start a war, and a Dragon... woman!... Then there's you!" Astalder pointed at the man that faced them all who hadn't said a thing yet. "You, sir, well... Frankly you look like you could croak at any moment." Astalder faced the guests now, standing in the gap between the man that called the meeting and the two rows of chairs. "I don't know about you, but I was told to meet at the library to discuss a life threatening mission that could end in either death, or unbelievable riches. Looking at this rag-tag bunch of stragglers, I don't think we stand a chance to complete this mission as a team. I think it's about time we found out what this is all about..." and with that Astalder sat down, realizing he crossed the line. He rubbed his temples and awaited his fair share of insults, but hopefully some insight to the quest as well.

(ooc - *smacks Astalder*)

Melmoth kept his face composed as he watched the others trickle in. They were a diverse lot, but he was satisfied. They each had their strengths and weaknesses and could hopefully work together. The winged elf, though, he'd be a problem. Calling him old. He was older than he looked, but still...

He stood and faced the assembled team, glad to see that the librarians were finally filing out into the night. It had taken some serious bribing to get the library after dark as a meeting spot, but it was well worth it. No tavern drunks to overhear their plans, and that was worth any amount of gold. Having people follow on after them could be a problem when it came time to divide the spoils.

"If it's like this for the entire time we're together, we'll never get anywhere. So, let's move on then. I am Melmoth, and I have no idea who you all are. You were all approached and told of this meeting, preferably not an incredible amount."

He'd tried a quest or two before, and had the objective stolen by people he'd tried to recruit. He'd ripped their hearts out in the end, but it made him wary of telling people more than they needed to know.

"But now that you're here I think you can learn a bit about what you'll be going up against. We'll be going for the dwarven fortress of Boatmurdered deep in the Gwilikith Mountains. It fell a few centuries ago and is up for grabs. Problem is, you need a certain magical key that appears to have been lost in Norwood forest. Now, I need some hands to help find a diary of a hermit who lived in Norwood about the same time. The hermit buried the dwarf who had the key somewhere in Norwood, and we're stuck unless we find it."

He knew it was a bit confusing and a real pain, but circumstances had conspired to make Boatmurdered inaccessible to the casually interested. That just meant more for those who finally made it.

"Pair off, find that journal. I don't know what the name is, or where it would be, but we need it bad."

At least they could get to know some of the others this way.



(ooc - You're not going to find the journal just yet. Wander around, look about, talk a lot, then we'll move on in a bit. Sound fair?)

Fefnir's hand fell to his sword, outrage clear on his face. He hated people not believing in his abilities because of his age. A child was he? Would he still be a child when you're at the end of his sword?

The boy had yet to see Eliel, the first person that he had befriended in all of Imythess, behind him. He calmed himself, allowing his hand to leave his sword's hilt, a glare making its way toward the winged elf. True, its wings were beautiful, but he despised it now.

I'll show you who's a child... he thought to himself just before the man began to speak.

"Now, I need some hands to help find a diary of a hermit who lived in Norwood about the same time. The hermit buried the dwarf who had the key somewhere in Norwood, and we're stuck unless we find it."

"Of course..." he said aloud, pushing himself up from his chair. "It can never be easy, can it?"

He walked over to the nearest bookshelf and began searching the volumes. He left the large ones alone, assuming that a diary would be something smaller, probably bound in leather or the sort. He was slightly determined to find the thing, as if it would make up for his young age.

He ignored the others, simply running his hand across the volumes and volumes on knowledge, scanning over the titles in search of the diary that would lead them to the key.

Celebriel placed one of her clawed hands on Fernir's shoulder. She leaned into speak to him softly. "Don't let the arrogant one get you you," she said quitely. "You may be young, but a child you are not."

She then started off to look for this journal. She had spent much time in this library but had not really read any journals of this time.

As she past Astalder she spoke to him. "I would advise you do not underestimate people," she said. "Diverse this group may be, but you know not the skills each of us posses."

With that she made her way over to the book cases and began looking for anything that seemed to be a journal.

Eliel simply continued with his leaning against the bookshelf and gave himself a glance. The only real visible weapons were the dagger strapped to his pant leg and his scimitar on his belt, but if you really looked, you might be able to see a few others. Eliel shrugged. “I'd rather be ready for a war and live than come unprepared and die.” He chuckled heartily, in quite a good mood despite the time.

Eliel walked forward and clapped a hand on fefnir's shoulder. “The boy can handle himself as well as any. You have my word.” He said, winking at the human. He let his hand slide off and looked at Melmoth. He'd never heard of such a hermit, but it was likely it was before his time.

Eliel bowed a little to Melmoth. “Eraspeola Usreanac, nobleman of House Usreanac.” He smiled. Eliel chuckled a little. If they were going to Norwood, he might be able to grab a few things he'd left behind.

Eliel nodded at the other elf. “Of course we don't stand a chance with that attitude. Try to look past general appearances, eh?” Eliel said, giving him a faint wave with his gauntleted left hand.

Eliel waited for further instruction before turning to look down the row he was leaning on. His eyes skimmed over the spines, looking for anything faintly resembling a journal. He was quite sure the man hadn't published his journal and spread copies to the general public, but whatever. Melmoth was making the calls.

Wargrymm was outraged by the way Astalder spat dwarf. You elves think that you're so much better then the rest o' us. I'm definitely not workin' with you. Wargrymm got up from his seat and said I don't know why all of you want to go to Boatmurdered, since each 'as there own reasons. I want to let you know somethin' though: if we discover Boatmurdered, it's mine. I claim rulership of Boatmurdered. I would be glad to share the loot with most of you, but I claim the actual fortress. As long as we 'ave that clear, then let us go forward. Who will accompany me to Norwood, other then the elf?

Fefnir paused his search when a scaled hand rested on his shoulder.

"Don't let the arrogant one get you you. You may be young, but a child you are not."

He smiled, looking down at the ground. That had been comforting, strangely so for someone he hadn't ever met before. Perhaps it was the fact that someone was finally on his side from the get-go, not needing him to prove himself before deciding it was okay for him to 'tag-along'.

Then, suddenly, he noticed Eliel. It was when he spoke that Fefnir left the shelf, leaving behind a particularly promising leatherbound volume, and looked Eliel in the eyes. After what had happened in the catacombs, Fefnir wasn't sure that the drow was up for something like this. Hadn't he had enough adventuring? But then again, maybe he was trying to keep his mind off... well...

And then the dwarf spoke, the same one he'd seen during the festivities at Cascadia. That had been a grand day, one he wouldn't forget for quite a while.

Who will accompany me to Norwood, other then the elf?

Fefnir reluctantly stepped away from Eliel, deciding to give him some space. If he wanted to talk, the boy would be there.

"I will." Fefnir said, his voice ringing with an energy that was lost to most people once they stopped being 'children'. It was a readyness for anything, and a knowledge that things would turn out. It was the 'good guys win, bad guys lose' kind of innocence that showed he hadn't seen many of the true horrors that the world held. Though some would consider it his naivety, some considered it his greatest gift, the thing that allowed him to be chivalrous.

((OOC:*Rubs noggin* Yeesh this is what I get for taking the thread in a realistic route ;P))

Astalder dropped his headache act as soon as the first person spoke in response. It was the old man that called himself Melmoth that seemed to be running the whole gathering. The Elf lifted his head with a smile as he began barking orders. They were to look for a journal that belonged to a hermit native to Norwood. Excellent, Astalder knew Norwood Forest inside and out, it was like a second home to him. Finding him should be very easy as long as he had a general direction to search.
When Melmoth concluded his speech Astalder stood up, cracking his neck and shaking the stiffness that plagued him loose. His elven ears heard very faintly, a soothing voice, but it wasn't directed towards him... Well it was indirectly directed to him, per se. "... The arrogant one,... Young... Child you are not." he clearly made out. Astalder smirked, he'd never been called arrogant before, ignorant perhaps, but not arrogant. The truth was, as he scanned the room of it's lurkers, he knew he was no better than any of them. No better than the boy, the dwarf, no one. However the first impression that each character engrained into Astalder's mind was that this trip might not end as peachy as the smiles on their faces once were.
Astalder felt the same voice that spoke to the boy speak to him "... You know not the skills each of us possess." and the dragon-woman walked past him. Astalder dipped into the mind of the woman only to leave a message, not to read thoughts. He heard his voice echo in her mind as he thought Well I certainly hope a few of you are well trained clerics, we'll most likely need all the healing magick we could use. and Astalder walked over to a shelf that looked promising.
He turned his head as the Drow began his part. Expecting some sort of attack he gave Eraspeola his full attention for the moment leaning his shoulder on the bookshelf, cocking his head to the side so it to rested on the shelf, and folding his arms across his chest. To the Elf's surprise, despite verbal blows he'd given everyone else, the Drow seemed to joke around with what Astalder said to him. He was not like other Drow he'd encountered before. Previous Drow would be certain Astalder's neck was slit for the remark, especially one as heavily armed. The joke seemed to lessen the tension that bound Astalder and he took an immediate liking to the Drow each time he spoke. He appreciated how high Eraspeola kept his spirits, rather than bite back.
He began pulling books from shelves hastily now. Life of Quello Sabsteinia: A Norwood Legend, Inhabitants of Norwood Forest, Biography of a Norwood Forest Guardian: Shael Tayensiil vol.: 1,2,3, Norwood Forest: The Side No One Saw, Dark Secrets of Norwood Forest, and several more. Hopefully one of these was the hermit they were looking for, or at least held a journal entry from the hermit. He ignored the Dwarf's first couple remarks, flicking through Life of Quello Sabsteinia instead. Then the Dwarf said something that rang of interest in Astalder's ears. He seemed to want to go to Norwood at the exact moment, perhaps he knew where the hermit was already. Astalder smiled Now that's more like it! he thought.
He watched as the boy was the first one at the Dwarves side. He seemed to think he had a lot to prove, which Astalder supposed in some cases he did. As a kid, though, Astalder was a gifted swordsman for his age so he supposed it wasn't impossible for the kid to have similar qualities. Despite what the Dwarf had said to Astalder previously, he got up and stood next to the kid. "The name's Astalder, master Dwarf. All differences behind, I'm afraid during this journey you're going to need me and I'm going to need you..." he turned to the boy "...as well as you..." and faced everyone else "...as well as all of you. I admire your heart and enthusiasm about the mission. I won't promise there won't be any casualties, but I'm sure we can string together to form a tight bond of pure teamwork." Astalder said smiling revealing who he really was to the people he figured he'd be spending the remainder of the month or so with. He packed away a few of the books from the library just in case and rummaged through some desks and drawers to come across a needle and spool of strong looking thread, he had a feeling he'd need these later...

When Celebriel felt the intrusion upon her mind she turned to face the group. Her tail flicked out in an agitated manner and she glared. She figured the invader was the winged one, since he had been the last one she had spoken to. Her icy blue eyes held Astalder in their stern gaze.

"Well...it seems we have one who can enter people's minds..." she said in a calm but angry voice. "Try it again and I will freeze you."

With that over she let it pass. No need to remain angry over it. She smiled to the others. "I appologize for that. My name is Celebriel, and as you may have already figured out I am half-dragon. I am also half-elf. If you feel you have need of a sorceress skilled with water and ice magic, I will gladly join your group my good dwarf."

Wargrymm looked to the elf, Astalder, in a way impressed by what the elf said. "Forgive me for what I had said before, elf. I let the prejudice that is common in my people to get the best of me, and it was not appropriate. I am glad for the help, for I will need all of the help that I can get." Wargrymm was the kind of person who could admit when he was wrong, which he was in this case.

Celebriel moved forward and offered her services to Wargrymm, and he smiled. "I would be glad to have your services, good lady. And I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Wargrymm Wildaxe, rogue and outcast of the Waraxe Clan." Wargrymm turned to Melmoth and said "while the grave may be in Norwood Forest, it is a very large forest. Do you know which general area the grave is in?

Melmoth quietly watched the exchange between those around him, and almost thought it would fall apart before it came together. They were a rough group, easily angered, but hopefully as skilled as he'd asked his agents for. He could be a blademaster and shadowdancer, but his demonic infusion would have to be kept secret. Eraspeola and the winged elf looked like they could take care of themselves, but the others? He had his doubts.

"I have no idea where the grave is. The dwarf was buried long ago, and the hermit is long dead. The last group to go after Boatmurdered found his journal in here. I'm hoping they were kind enough to leave it for us to find as well."

He grinned a slight grin and disappeared down the rows of bookshelves. The last group who went after boatmurdered failed miserably, as had the ones before them. So far, none had found the key. Not due to bad directions, no the grave happened to be in a very dangerous and hard to find region of Norwood. Something in the forest was killing those who went for the key.

How they would deal with the threat was beyond him. He had no idea what lurked in the forest waiting to kill them, and thus no clues as to it's weaknesses. None of the private teams had reported back. Unfortunate for them, as well as him.