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[Malek Deneith]

Almost twelve days have passed since you left from Fallcrest responding to a call for help from settlement of Winterhaven, placed about 50 miles to northwest. There you spent a week figuring things out. Missing townspeople led to zombies wandering around. Zombies led to nearby ruins of an outpost remembering times of Nerath empire, ruins that were positively crawling with various undead. And ruins led to a half-open magical portal of some sort, placed deep inside of them. On that you managed to learn a story - how about ten years ago another adventuring party went down to the very ruins to stop some cultist or necromancer from using the magical aparatus for his own malicious goal. Neither the adventurers nor the necromancer ever came back, and people of Winterhaven went on believing the previous party stopped the evil at cost of their very own lives. A belief that turned out to be based on false premises considering the recent infestation. Regardless you cleared the undead in the area, then re-sealed the portal - hopefully for good this time - using a ritual that local sage managed to find in his tomes.

Just as you were about to spend some time on rest and celebration, ruler of Winterhaven - Lord Ernest Padraig - called you once more, this time with news on how during your absence the weather in Fallcrest and areas around it suddenly turned from middle of summer to winter, and how this unnatural winter is supposedly spreading. Padraig asked, paying in advance, that you travel back to Fallcrest and check those reports, ideally figuring out what is the cause, and communicate the information you learn back to him once you know what's happening. Weary as you might be after your recently finished task you set out back south and east. At first it seemed the news might be false, weather near Winterhaven seemingly as it should be. But about five miles down the road you noticed that the air got cooler and that plants around you are starting to wither prematurely. Ten more and you find yourself wading through snow, and as you got closer to Fallcrest things only got worse. Deep snow, frozen rivers, snowstorms. The few areas where people were brave enough to try and settle outside of strong walls of established settlements now delerict and devoid of life. The winter seems to have got better over even monsters and brigands, the only "threat" you encounter during your journey back being a single goblin trying to gather some firewood. Now, finally, you seem to be nearing your destination, the walls of Fallcrest looming on the horizon. Just ten, twenty maybe minutes of walk more and perhaps you'll learn something about what is happening around you...

Right, some room for you to talk before we start proper. Introduce/describe yourselves, chat a bit, you know the drill.

As a result of Padraig's payment each of you has now 100 gold pieces - no more, no less :P Hope that answers your question about having any change LuckyDee. Also anyone who didn't have Adventurer's Kit in their inventory now has one.

Oh and as for how long the party was formed - Fallcrest was pretty low on people with adventurer "gift" when the call from Winterhaven came, most other adventurers being busy with different threats around the world. You're the people they managed to put together on short notice ;)

[S.K. Ren]

It is known Mul's are bald. Which makes the glorious beard sprouting from Gosok's face all the more surprising. Though any attempts at questioning so far have been met with only a dry chuckle; his lips remaining sealed. Bearing the decorum and armaments of a land far away brings even more questions and laughter.

It was not long ago that he was lead by the wind to his current companions. Wind that carried him far far from his 'home' in the great deserts. The wind that has been a part of him since he began his journey. The wind that never seems to leave him alone. Truly the wind was his ally and his nemesis; constantly flowing within him.
Blowing the snow from his furs, Gosok turns to his companions. Scratching at the space in front of him, a few glowing runes appear in the air

╢╞╬ ├╠╗╢ ╛╞┼╖╣╔ ├╠╩╦ ╬╣ ╬╜╛│└

The Mul remains silent. His face - cracked by the cold - gives little in the way of expression. Clad in fur and hide, his stocky figure makes for an imposing shadow in the white fog of snow.

[LuckyDee]

If what they say about the Kalashtar being strangers in a strange land is true, this goes doubly so for Isirius Thray. It's not merely the fact that he's on a personal quest, far from home, nor that he pursues this with a resolve that from time to time borders on obliviousness; it's mostly the way he looks and acts toward those he encounters that tends to leave people baffled. Generally dressed in sturdy traveller's gear that betrays his affinity with the shadows around him, the first instinct he tends to invoke in others is wariness. His athletic physique and striking good looks only serve to enhance this effect; especially his eyes, with their silver irises that seem to flow like mercury can really have the tendency to unnerve the meek.

Apart from the slight smile that can be found playing across his features even in his sleep, his appearance stands completely at odds with his demeanor: Isirius is honorable and hospitable, and never short on a friendly word or gesture. He always speaks in a warm, slightly high-pitched voice that never ceases to sound amused. And that's exactly what tends to baffle those around him: he speaks the words - Good to see you again with the same intonation as he would - I am sorry for your loss or - I'll be stringing you up by your own guts.

As he has pointed out to the rest of his current company, he has left his hometown of Valenor in search of a Dreamweaver Blade to aid his best friend's daughter. She is stuck in transit between the Material Plane and Dal Quor - and has been for several years - and the town's seer prophecised that only with the help of a Dreamweaver Blade and a Somnambulant Beacon she may safely be returned. Being immune to any malign side effect the Dreamweaver may have, Isirius set out to obtain the blade, while the girl's father rode out to locate the beacon.
Although he would hope to return home as soon as possible, his quest recently entered its fifth year, and the burning force that drove him to swift action has started to peter out. He has a promise to keep, though, and this promise will outweight many other considerations should he find the chance to fullfil it.

Since I already had nearly everything contained in the Adventurer's Kit, I just added what I didn't yet have

[LuckyDee]

Isirius turns to Gosok and glances at the runes floating through the air. Perhaps due to his inherent affinity for the surreal, he was able to read them in full from the moment he first laid eyes on them.

- We must be getting close...

[Xander Morhaime]

Quill shuffled along near the head of the group, but by no means at the very lead - not since the snow started laying on thick. Right now she looked mostly unassuming: essentially a pile of fur coats, the armor underneath them clanging as she moved, with a scarf-wrapped scaly snout sticking out from under the hood, a long, sleek scaly tail swishing around in an agitated manner behind her, and a heavy flail slung over one shoulder.

"Quill hopes city has fire going when we get there. Otherwise Quill will start a fire with the first flammable thing on hand," she muttered bitterly under her breath. The kobold, it seemed, did not care for the cold and snow in the slightest.

Her motives for venturing out here were rather uninspiring - she did it simply for the offered pay, rather than any great sense of duty or honor. She was surprisingly strong for her small stature, and it served her well in the mercenary trade, earning her, if not respect and acceptance, then at least a decent living. Of course, times like this, tromping through the horrid white cold stuff, she had to wonder if there might not be an easier way to make gold, or at least a warmer place to do it in.

[thelaptop]

Marek walks quietly behind Quill.  A Deva, Marek doesn't like to talk much, preferring to mull about the situation Pelor presents, dealing with whatever He may so command with the force of His will.  During a prayer session, Marek received a vision from Pelor, that a darkness and cold had befallen the land, threatening the brightness and lightness of day.  Following His words, Marek made his way out to seek the darkness, and to vanquish it with His power so that light may once again rule.  Where he begins and where he ends are lost in his vague memories; only the enforcement of Pelor's will over the encroaching darkness matters.

From his position behind Quill, Marek quietly observes the rest of the band that he has chosen to travel with based on His divine direction.

[slave]

Berak was quiet and stoic as usual. Walking along with the others, Berak contemplated the nature of his companions. All the time he had spent with them, he had observed their behavior. He had decided long ago that he needed to improve his ability to extrapolate the future behavior of other creatures.

Hundreds of years ago, not that long after his birth, Berak had been part of a group of adventurers who made a living by exploring ancient dungeons. Tomb raiders, one might call them. That phase of his existence came to an unfortunate end when the rogue of the group betrayed them all and escaped with a particularly powerful artifact, locking them into a magically sealed room. They were trapped and all attempts at getting out failed. Whether the rogue intended it or not, he had locked them in for good.

At least, that was the case with others besides Berak. Not long after their provisions run out, they would expire. Berak, not needing sustenance, had no such fate waiting for him and was the target bursts of anger from a couple of others who found such a fate unjust. Berak, then more physically inclined, easily subdued them in their weakened states.

In the end, he was alone. Over the course of hundreds of years, he tried to get out. When physical means failed him, he started training the natural psionic abilities that shardminds possess. Over time he adapted to become a psion and lost his physical poweress. He probed the room and tried to reach beyond it with his senses.

In the end, he managed to make telepathic contact with Isirius Thray, who happened to be exploring the dungeon on his own quest. The door, while hidden and impossible to open from the inside, could be opened from the outside. When Berak had guided Isirius to the location of the door, Isirius managed find a way to open it after some effort.

It was natural then, that Berak would join up with Isirius, at least for a while. After all, he didn't have any better course of action and Isirius didn't seem to mind.

The world had changed, but for Berak, who had always been a bit apart from the rest of the world, it was mostly just a change of scenery. It was mostly because Berak himself had changed that this was distinctly a new episode of his existence. He would pay a lot more attention and try to avoid getting caught by suprise by actions he couldn't predict. Also, he felt that his psionic powers would take him a lot further than anything else he could do.

This journey so far was going well. As far as his companions were concerned, he felt they were a more reliable bunch than his previous group, although he mostly kept apart from them. He felt a certain affinity with Isirius and was a bit doubtful about the trustworthiness of Quill, but given the nature of their current quest, he did not forsee any problems regarding that.

[Malek Deneith]

As you continue to come closer and closer to Fallcrest you begin to notice something strange - the gates are open. More than that, the gates are open and apparently unguarded. As you start to walk faster a sudden gust of wind collapses parts of the "tunnel" in snow made by passing of others right on top of Quill, nearly burying her. You spend a moment to help your mercenary companion get out then hurry your step again.

As you reach the gate, what you believe to be two mounds of snow carried on by the wind, suddenly come to life and come at you with a resounding call:

- Halt, who goes there?

Pair of warforged, adorned with the insignia of Fallcrest guard blocks off your path and awaits the answer for the question they stated. Well at least now you know the gate wasn't *entirely* unguarded. That has to count for something, right?

[LuckyDee]

Isirius gives both men his trademark smile while his left hand falls to his side, already making the shape to hold the handle of the flail he's bound to summon should things turn ugly.

[S.K. Ren]

Making his way to the front Gosok manifests more runes before the looming constructs.

╬╣ ╜╔╣ ╣┼═╞╨╩┐
╬╣ ╢╜═╣ ╗╞├╣ ╦╞ ╡┼═╣╩╦╡╖╜╦╣ ╦╢╡╩ ╠┼┼╜╦╠╔╜╛ ╬╡┼╦╣╔┐

Waiting for a response, he gives them a discerning stare.

Sense Motive Insight check (1d20+10=15)

[slave]

Berak tries to deduce something about the two warforged.

Insight to Sense Motive 1d20+7=25

He looks through the gates looking for anything that might seem out of place.

[Malek Deneith]

Two warforged paused for a moment trying to decipher the runic script appearing before them

- Envoys? Envoys of whom exactly? And what's with the runes?!
- That reminds me, wasn't there a dwarf like that...
- Kind of big for a dwarf, ain't he?
- ...well yeah, but look at the beard. Anyway there was one that used runes like in the group that got sent to Winterhaven recently.
- You mean they're adventurers? By the Builder, they sure don't look the part.
- Oh you're the one to talk. You should know better consideri-
- Shut up! Anyway if they are adventurers then what, we let them through just like that?
- If they are adventurers, trying to stop them from coming would end up with a mess. If they aren't, then the rest of the guards in town should be able to handle them anyway. I say we write down their names, collect the entry fee and let them in.

Despite the bickering both 'forged manage to keep an eye on the lot of you. It's kind of hard to read the living constructs but as far as Gosok and Berak can sense they seem mostly focused on doing their job, that is guarding the entry to Fallcrest.

Peering through the gates it seems to Berak that the city is oddly empty. Might be the cold weather but nobody seems to be on the streets, and most of the home windows seem to be dark.

[S.K. Ren]

Reaching into a pouch Gosok procures a silver coin. Motioning with it in the air more runes appear

╕╣╣└
╢╞╬ ├╠╗╢└

[Malek Deneith]

- Silver per head, in or out, same as always. For people anyway, but you don't seem to have any animals or wagons with you.

[LuckyDee]

Isirius, realizing which way the wind is blowing, follows suit. He produces a silver coin from somewhere inside his clothes, ready to hand it over once the party decides to enter the city. In the meantime, he stares past the constructs at the empty habitat as if all is how it's meant to be and that pleases him.