Turn 0:  1 June 1000.

As you arrive in Squarento, you are met by a man who is so ugly he surely has some Orcish blood in him. He wears a signboard saying

Flying Fish Inn
Clean beds
Good food

"Check it out. Check it out." He repeats in a bored chant, as he hands you a map of the city and a chit for a free rum punch.  Turning the chit over, you see an address: "Flying Fish Inn, Wall Street, NW, H6"

He wanders off to greet the next traveler...."Check it out. Check it out."

While on line to pass through the checkpoint at the gate, or at the end of the wharf, you notice a portion of the front page of the Squarento Gazette, nailed to the wall:

Kerr Avon, a male half-elven theif in his late 20s, 5'8", 130 lbs, usually wears a long sword and a cloak -- son of Gadel Autumnleaf, a well-known elven warrior in kingdoms far to the south and west

Myridian, a female half-elven mage of almost 20, 5'9", 135 lbs, long, silvery-white hair to her waist, with a streak of black -- from a small village on the southern coast of Gaednor

Quill O'Dann, a female half-elven ranger, good with a bow or sword, -- from the foothills of the Shoulders of Silindur -- she always travels with --
Edge, a large half-wolf/half-dog, with a silvery coat

Sandros Bloodworth, a male human fighter/theif of extraordinarily diverse talents, 5'11", 170 lbs, early 20s, strikingly handsome with dark skin and dark eyes, his beard & mustache almost completely cover the facial tattoo that marks him as a former slave -- as a young child, lived in Squarento, but travelled extensively since then

Starmyst, a female elven druid, young but mature for her 175 yrs, carries an elegantly curved scimitar, and usually wears her white robe with swirled green design, carries a wooden holy symbol of Najela on a leather thong around her neck -- her home is in the densly wooded area near the source of the Rangithael at the base of the Westron Mountains

Tavarak, a male half-elven bard, though he prefers the sobriquet "Kinght Gallant", 5'10" with black hair and deep piercing brown eyes, though he keeps his long sword handy, he's not usually allowed to bring his jousting lance indoors -- fought in some of the city-state wars of Gaednor

Veneron, a male human mage, slight of build and 5'4", a country boy looking at Squarento with wide eyes -- until recently he lived on a small ranch near Tirion

So they came, for their own reasons to Squarento. Getting into town was easy for most, not so easy for the freed-slave, Sandros Bloodworth.

Sandros' Tale

It was a long ride up through the chaotic alliance of city-states that called itself Gaednor, but he managed to keep himself fed and UNarrested as he headed north to the pass through the Westron Mountains and the border city of Gance. The border units of the MDF [Melfan Defense Force] took one look at his tattooed face, ignored his papers, and threw him in the local lockup while they waited for news of an escaped slave to reach them.

Three days later, the magistrate held open court, and he was released, on condition that he leave Gance immediately. "Yes SIR!" was Sandros' only reply.

After that, he travelled on the road only when he could and still avoid the larger settlements. It took nearly two weeks before he could see the walls of Squarento, and he braced himself for another run-in with the guards at the gate. He was not disappointed. At least this time, there was a Lieutenant who could actually read the papers setting him free. Not that it helped much. They went through every item in his pack... looking for contraband, or anything else they thought they could get away with confiscating. The idiots didn't even think to look for the small concealed package he'd put between his saddle and the saddle blanket -- his lockpicks and money were safe.

After a couple of hours of this, the guards passed him to some sort of official wearing a badly worn dark blue robe. The small sign on his desk said "Sub Magistrate Fletch". He looked at the papers Sandros offered and listened as Sandros offered yet another telling of how he came to be free in his *most* sincere voice.

"Right, then," said Fletch, picking up a small black wand. He pointed the device at Sandros and a small red spark of magical energy shot out at him. "Nothing to worry about, boy, if yer tellin' the truth. Today's Monday. That little charm will go off Thursday noon. Every breath you take will ring bells and shoot sparks. Present yourself to Desk 22 at the Municipal Court, East Entrance of the Palace. You have a map? Good that's the little * symbol in M14. Be there between 8 and 10 am on WEDNESDAY. They'll decide your case... either throw you out of the city, give you some real Melfan papers, or hold you for your owner... whatever." He waved in dismissal and called to the guard in a bored voice, "Next one."

But eventually, Sandros made the same decision that most of the others made: he decided to go directly to the Flying Fish Inn, "good food and clean beds" always is appealing to adventurers.

At the Flying Fish Inn

Walking along the street toward the FFI, the main thing of note is that, in addition to the normal populace of the city, there are a LOT of adventurers of every size, shape and description. The normal citizens seem to be mostly humans, half-elves and half-orcs, with a goodly number of dwarven merchants.

Wall Street runs inside the city walls, and all the stores, houses, inns, etc. have a "view" of the wall. The wall is 20 ft. high and made of stone, and you can see sentries of the MDF on the walkway above. The craftsmanship of the wall is very good, obviously dwarven work. Eventually each came upon the Flying Fish Inn. It has a sign in the window: "UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT" with a hand drawn picture of two semi-Orcish young women. They are surprisingly attractive, considering their racial disadvantage.

Tavarak had been the first to arrive, having gotten to the FFI the previous evening. Tthe place was busy. Tavarak made arrangements to stay for the night -- he had to share a room with a half-orc priest or holy warrior wearing the Symbol of Illuvitar. Immediately on getting settled, he decided to go out on a prowl around town. He returned in the early morning, having found nothing of particular interest, but having a better feeling for the nearby streets. He headed quietly upstairs to his room to find that all his belongings are still there, but they have been gone through -- rather carefully -- and put back in *almost* the same places. Only his special "signs" alert him to the tampering.

Myridian and Avon had both come to Squarento by boat: the halfling-manned "Wave Princess."  The small skipper had packed his cabins and decks with passengers, but had sailed carefully. Putting in to shore every night to minimize his chances for an unfortunate encounter with pirates.  Myridian had gotten through the checkpoint at the end of the wharf first, and upon arriving at the FFI, had headed straight for the ladies room, at the head of the stairs.  Thus she happened to be coming down when Avon and Sandros came in, with Ven soon to follow.

Unknown to almost all on board the "Wave Princess," Alexa had also been on board. She had stayed in her cabin the whole trip, and was the last to leave. Soon enough, however, she appeared at the FFI as well.

There were others at the Flying Fish this afternoon:

Sitting at a large table in the corner, eating stew there are:
Jan - Human, male, 40ish. Clothes good quality but badly worn, short blonde hair, pale eyes.
Human, female, 40ish, short brown straight hair, brown eyes Clothes good quality leathers: pants and vest
HalfOrc, male, old, Clothes: black coat and black trousers
Half Elven, female, young adult. Brown wavey hair, green eyes Clothes: Brown robe, silver pendant in shape of a star
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At another table, food dishes pushed aside... looking at a parchment.
Halforc, male, middle age. Clothes: faded & tattered red robe. Symbol of the War God, Illuvitar, on chain around neck [Tav will recognize him as his erstwhile roommate]
Figure in dark green robe, hood is up. Unable to determine more
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Sitting by himself near the fire, pack at his feet, dirty boots.
Kormar - Human, male, 50ish, long auburn straight hair, blue-green eyes Clothes: High, soft boots, brown cape and gray trousers
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Standing at the door
Young HalfOrc, male: blue shirt, brown trousers. Pushing a broom, club hanging from his belt

Standing near the bar
Old HalfOrc, male blue shirt, brown trousers. Morningstar dangling from thong around his right wrist.

Behind the bar Young Female HalfOrc. Attractive, considering she's halforc. blue shirt, brown trousers. Wearing a hand made name tag. "Aglora"

Greeting incoming guests and serving the tables Twin sister of Aglora Also Wearing a hand made name tag. "Deglora"
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Myridian, the half-elven lass with the long white hair with a vivid shock of black comes down the steps and walks over near the bar. She see a thin, young, nervous-looking human come in, Ven. He takes his pack and sits at a table.

Deglora, or so says the name tag on her blouse, welcomes him to the inn. "Hello, hon," she smiles. "Come to find the Prince then, have you? We've plenty of adventurers here for you to join up with. Make yourself comfortable. The rooms are 1sp a day, as is the stablin' of yer horse. Or ya can have a week for an 'alf crown. We're so crowded just now, I'm afraid y'd have to double up with someone else, so watch yer valuables, hon." She looks at his small size, takes in his uncertain demeanor, and looks around the room before turning back to whisper in his ear. "Kormar, over by the fire there. He's a nice'un. Nursin' a wound, he is, right now. But should be better in another day or two. He might be willin' ta take ya in… er I mean, to show ya the ropes." Deglora straightens and motions to a serving girl, "Carol, bring this fellow a rum punch."

In the midst of Deglora's welcoming chat, Ven hears a whispered word from the next table that turns his blood to ice. "MarksArm" needs no translation from any language.  The MarksArm is the name for the unit of assassins and spys totally dedicated to the Mark of Maendir (the ruler of that country).  Everyone who lived anywhere near Tirion knew enough to fear that name.

At the bar, Myridian listens as two fellows, one a half-elf, the other human, are both trying to charm Aglora, behind the bar. Sandros, the human appoints himself first, taking Aglora's hand. "Hello, Miss..." Sandros flashed his most winning smile. "My name is Sandros. Entertainer extraordinaire." He bowed over her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips.

Avon, the half-elf, not to be outdone, casually leans on the counter. "If the drinks are as good as you are beautiful than I must have come to the right place".

Myridian, snickers at the men's exuberant flirtations, then coughs quickly to disguise it. She watches them from the corner of her eye, turning over her drink chit, listening to the conversation between them and Aglora without appearing to. Aglora turns her head from one to the other, smile pasted in place. She catches the eye of the half-elven girl and winks.

Plowing ahead, relying on his dark good looks and winning ways, Sandros says: "I am going to be staying in town a while...and thought I might stay in this wonderful establishment. Perhaps you could use someone to keep your crowds entertained? I dance, sing, play the flute...juggle, do tumbling acts..." he shrugged. "Just about anything you would require."

Avon's smile gets even wider, "errr yes... What would you recommend, beautiful?" He lays it on so thick even Aglora knows he's kidding.

The front door opens and Alexa strides in.  She is strikingly attractive, wearing close-fitting full-body leathers, a short sword on each hip. Her small stature belied by her take charge attitude.  Her small pack is slung over one shoulder, a bow over the other. She pauses to look around, a small smile playing over her face as she hears the exchange at the bar.

Aglora extracts her hand from Sandros' softly, fans her face with a theatrical wave and says, "Why boys ! How flattering y'all are. That must be .. DO let me think... that's the 12th and 13th best lines I've heard today." She switches to a no-nonsense voice. "The Prince has been kidnapped, have ya heard? Every smooth talker, every loud fartin', thick headed bravo who can lift a pig-sticker is in town. Most of 'em have been here lookin' for *clues*." She makes little quote marks in the air with her fingers at the last word. "You'll be able to find some other folks to go huntin' with if ya stick around here. There's an inn-full of 'em last nite, but they mostly check out the next mornin'. In the meantime... The rooms are 1SP a night and you'll have to double up, cause there's no room at the inn. Nor at ANY inn in the city. Half-crown for a week includin' the horses," She pauses and pats each of the fellows on the hand. "That's 12 and a half SP, for you out-of-towners." She turns to a boy helping behind the bar. "Slug! Get these gentlemen their free rum punch!"

Sandros, not put off at all, says, "Maybe we can work out a deal...I will give you a cut of whatever I make plying my trade here...in return for a nice bed to sleep in. Whaddya say?"

Aglora smiles, her eye catches the tattoo on his face, then snaps back to Sandros. She replies, "Mr. Sandros, sir, there are good lookin' women who are plying THEIR trade here... or tryin' to at least. But if you think you can get a shiny copper out of this bunch, you're welcome to try. Ya can leave your stuff over in the corner near the steps until you're ready to go up. It'll be safe enough."

Satisfied at what he thinks is such a successful negotiation, Sandros tosses his pack in the corner after extracting some balls of twine and begins juggling as he walks around the room. Avon is distressed by the presence of the other charmer. It's obvious that the human messed up his great act. After he has pondered on his 'rival' he focuses completely on the female half elf that came down the stairs.  Avon turns to Meridian and says to her quietly (in Elvish), "Would you care to join me at my table?" He motions to an empty spot.

She raises an eyebrow slightly, and then her lips spread into a wide, appealing smile.  "Why not?" she replies similarly, and pushes her token towards Aglora with a smile. "I'll have that over there, if you don't mind." Turning, she follows him, swishing her cloak over her shoulder. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?" she asks teasingly.

"It's hard to find the same kin these days, isn't it? It's so much nicer to talk to some one... who understands" as he says this in elvish he glares at the half-orc behind the bar.  "So I guess you witnessed my little acting disaster back there?" Avon decides to try a different approach, since she witnessed his act at the bar and the fact that there is a professional entertainer in his vicinity makes being a charmer not the best approach. "Ok, I'll try to be honest here, and believe me that won't be easy", he grins. "I saw you on the boat ride over here, right? So you probably are here for the same thing as me, the missing prince, or to be more precise the money" again he grins "just as the rest of these, uhm, adventurers. It's a daunting task, and I'm alone, and I suppose you are too, not a very efficient way to make a profit if you get my drift."

Myr looks surprised. "On the boat? I must have been otherwise engrossed, as I didn't happen to notice you noticing me." A shiver creeps up her spine, and she makes a note to herself to pay more attention, no matter how innocuous someone might seem. She leans her ear toward Avon in order to better hear his whispers, and in doing so, offers a better view of anything he might have been trying to peek at beneath her low neckline.

Avon is still talking in Elvish. He looks around, bends towards the female, and starts whispering (while trying to have a discreet look at the feminine aspects of his conversation partner). "Listen, I have, uhm, let's say certain talents that might come in handy to any adventuring party. You know, I'm an asset, if you like. What I am proposing here, is to deal with this.. problem together, or possible find some uncut gems between these 'adventurers'. I have a feeling it might take even more than the both of us." As he has said this Avon seems relieved, he sits back, laughs and takes a sip from his glass. "So what do you say beautiful lady. Do we have a deal or not?"

Leaning back to tap her chin, Myridian considers his proposal for a few seconds, then peers into her pocket, shrugs toward it, then nods before looking back up at Avon.. "Talents, eh? We don't even know your name." She smiles, and blinks her eyes, forming a little pout. "And what might you think I could offer in an... adventure?"

While Myridian and Avon were chatting, Ven had gone over to talk with Kormar, and Sandros extracted three balls of twine, picked up an apple and began juggling for Jan & co, who were finishing their stew. As he approaches, and before they notice him, he manages to overhear a bit of their conversation.

"… never be able to canvass the city…"
"… guild may have an idea…"
"… divided 20 ways is only 100 each …"
"… caves near the mountains …."
"… I still say the swamp …"

The woman at the table pushes aside her stew bowl and tosses him an unexpected 5th apple. In the chaos of the collapsing juggling show, she tosses him a 50cp coin, laughing. One of her male companions makes a lunge at the coin; she slaps at his hand. "Lighten up, Jan. We're flush --- for a change." she says. She turns to Sandros: "Five's real hard, isn't it... Took me years and years to get from 4 to 5." Sandros scoops up the coin, flashes his best killer smile at the lady while picking up the balls and apples he was juggling.   He wanders over toward the half-orc and the hooded figure in the corner.

Ven, meanwhile is trying to buy a vowel from Kormar, who is drinking quite a bit.  With rum in hand, he picks up his pack and weaves his way toward the hearth and approaches the man that Deglora had told him was called Kormar. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Um, sir. Mind if I join you?" He felt awkward, so he hurriedly added. "Deglora thought maybe you wouldn't mind giving me a little advice." Kormar nods and gestures to the empty chair nearby.

On the other side of the room, Avon smiles, "Hmmm, what's this, 'make-a-fool-of-the-stupid-half-elf-day' ?!  first I get taught a lesson in how to charm a lady by this juggling, uhm, human. And now you tell me you didn't notice me."   Avon seems genuinely distressed.  "Well, ok, you are hard to miss in a crowd, but I'm not that average, am I? Or should I see it as a complement of my 'abilities'", he grins.

Strolling into view at the top of the stair is Tavarek

"Well, well, what's this?" Avon looks around. "Are there more, a fighter, right. Damn! I should have noticed him on the ship. Well, he might as well join us. It would make the whole thing a lot easier." Avon rests his head in his hand, shaking "Ok, lady this is definitely not my day. Maybe it was a mistake talking to you. I don't know. But I thought any one that stands out of the crowd like you do, uhm, must know what she is doing... right? I don't know", he shrugs. "Ok, lets do this over, if you don't mind. My name is Kerr Avon, but call me Avon, that sounds so much better. I'm what some people might call, uhm..." he starts whispering real soft and leans over even more, " a thief." As soon as Avon has said this he leans back again. "But that's only because there is no other word for what I do. I just know how to sneak past a guard instead of fighting him, you know. I can open a lock, I guess. And judging by the looks of you I figured you 'do' magic." He sighs, "look I am being terrible honest here, not really my strong point... But what about you, do you have anything to offer?". Suddenly Avon sits back and eyes Myridian with a suspicious look.

Sandros has juggled his way over to the mysterious duo in the corner, only to get a nasty glare from the half-orc and brush-off gesture.  But not before he once again managed to overhear a few words.

hooded figure is a male voice "…. not sooner than 3 more weeks…"
halforc: "… impossible Jarg can't keep them together that long …"
hooded figure "…. 2 hours from low tide …."
halforc: "… marksarm or no marksarm we need more gold …"
hooded figure: "… quiet you fool…"

Walking across the room, Alexa decides that, obviously, NObody is going to get anything accomplished, unless she takes charge.  She walks up to the bar, "I need a room for the night. Heres the 1 silver peice," she fires out in her do it voice. She also hands Algora the chit for a free drink.  "I'll also claim my drink as well, thank you." After she gets her drink and takes a few sips, turns to the room and raises her voice "So,what does anyone know about the kidnapping?"

Suddenly silence reigns. THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD (the balls that Sandros was juggling hit the floor). All eyes turn to her. "Anyone willing to band together to help find this dwarf?"

With a loud bark of laughter, Kormar says, "Well, miss... If he were as easy to find as all that, he'd be found by now. Every corner of this city was turned over by the MDF, and if they're hiding him nearby in the country, I'll eat my boots. I've been out there... There's not a stalk of corn that hasn't been pulled apart by some bounty hunter or other."

"Yeah!" Shouts Jan from another table. "You just got here, but me and my men --and women," he adds with a wry grin, "have just gotten back from a sweep. He's long gone. Or dead. Or maybe he's WANTED to disappear."

Sandros, chasing one of the balls he was juggling, winds up near the feet of the blond elf. Pitching his voice low, he says a few words to her. The pair of half-elves sitting nearby can hear him. "I would join with you lady. Let's talk later." His elvish is heavily accented and strange sounding.

Kormar turns to Ven. "Jan's got the right of it... There's no sense going out there just to search... unless you've got a solid lead."

The hooded figure in the corner makes a motion with his hand to the man he was talking to. Then he [hooded figure] gets up and leaves the inn quickly. The remaining man fingers the Symbol at his throat for a moment, then goes up the stairs to the private rooms.  He sidesteps past the descending Tavarak.

Alexa looks toward Jan [who has just finished speaking] and says "Please forgive me for not introducing myself.  My name is Alexa. Unless the dwarf completely vanished. I am sure there is some trace of evidence to his whereabouts" She walks over to an empty table then says "If anyone's interested, they may join me now in discussing our options." She then takes a seat and waits for anyone to join her.

Having finally heard two words in a row from Kromar, Ven screws up his courage and .... hesitates momentarily.  Then he leaned closer to the older man and whispered, "Would the fact that the man who just left and that one there," he nodded at the man fingering the Symbol, "are MarksArm be a significant lead?"

Kormar's head jerks up at the word. He scowls.... "Boy, I'm afraid you've put your foot in it now. I'm MarksArm myself. Now you'll have to die." Ven's face turns white.

Then he breaks in to a loud laugh. "In fact, " he goes on in a quiet voice. "Nearly everybody here is MarksArm. Oh yes," he laughs again. "MarksArm under every bush. I'm afraid you're letting your imagination run away with you. --- THINK, boy THINK." He reaches over and taps Ven's head. "If they were in this thing, the damn Prince'd be dead already." He picks up his ale, still chuckling.

Ven sat back in his chair, wondering about what Kormar had said. It was definitely true that he had little experience with this sort of thing, but he was uncertain. "He seemed shocked when I mentioned the MarksArm. But then he tried to cover it up. I wonder why? I'll push a little more and see if anything intersting falls out," Thought Ven. "Kormar, correct me if I'm wrong. But aren't MarksArm spies as well as assassins and spies are in the information business. I just thought maybe they might know something that we don't, being professionals. Besides, I don't think the kingdom of Maendir would mind much if Melfis went to war with Dwarvenholm over this incident. It seems to me that it would be just as valuable to Talis if it was shown that Maendir were behind the whole thing, wouldn't it?"

After this rather lengthy speech, Ven picked up his rum punch and took a sip, hoping that Kormar wouldn't think he was a complete fool. Of course, he wasn't really sure about what was going on, but he'd rather join with the elf and be doing something than just laying about in an inn

Kormar: "Well, SURE the MarkArm are spies... and assassins... and I've heard told they torture them as who they catch. I'm a barve enough sort... but I'd just as soon NOT find that dwarven Prince as take 'im from the MarksArm." He takes another sip of ale. "Besides, that half-orc bast.... er.. Son of Illuvitar ... is no more MarksArm than I am. He's one of Jarg's idiot roughnecks."

Tavarak, meanwhile, had passed the half-orc "Son of Illuvitar" on the stairs and was coming down.

As he does so, Aglora sees him and snatches the cap from the serving boy. She brandishes it in a low, exaggerated bow. "AHHHH HAAAA! 'Tis Lord Tavarak. Well, **GOOD MORNING**, Sir. We were just about to serve supper. I take it from my friends at the Horned Toad Tavern that you had a long and enjoyable evening last night. **DO** please join us." She laughs heartily at her own wit and plunks the cap back on the serving boy.

Tavarak smiles at Aglora and returns her exaggerated bow with a wink. "Why yes it was a most interesting evening to say the least thank you very much. Hmmmm Supper you say, well i could go for a bite to eat."  He surveys the room noting the empty table, and overhearing the elf's (Alexa) open end offer.  Seeing that Ven had picked up his rum punch and was walking over to Alexa's table, Tav moved to the table also, smilee and indicated an empty chair "I couldn't help overhearing your offer, do you mind if join you all?"   Assuming a positive reply, Tavarak seated himself comfortably, before nodding to Sandros and Ven, "Well met, my name is Tavarak" He then offers his hand in greeting

[cue theme music.... camera pans out the window, to overhead view of the city... then zoom in on the other side of town]

The Dwarven Embassy and The Golden Pony

Quill O'Dann had been on the road for nearly a fortnight.   It was a long walk, but she never felt alone. She was comfortable in the forest. Carefully avoiding trouble when she sensed it, keeping to the dark of the woods as much as possible, eventually she could see the looming walls and buildings of the capital. Making her final camp in a grassy vale hidden from the road, she approached the gate early in the morning. The guards looked her over perfunctorily and nodded her through. She noted the signpost "North Gate , L3]" and looked around. It seemed that Wall Street followed the inside of the city walls. With a shrug at the unfamiliar crowd, she stepped out of the street, standing in front of a nearby shop.

Quill had never been in a city as large as this. Her own town was not as large, but this, the capital - with all of the people and congestion - was a far cry from the wilderness she had called home. It was a shock to her. Not the shock of being in a city, but it shocked her when she realized just how comfotable she had become with the forest.

But she came looking for adventure and adventure was all around her. A dwarven prince has gone and gotten himself lost, has he? It's definitely a start, and she might as well... get started. Besides, the last excitement she had seen was when Edge had chased a badger back into its den.

"Whaddya say, boy?" she asked. The dog cocked his head, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "Sometimes I wonder if you follow me because I feed you, or because you're just as excited as I to explore the world." Edge responded by nudging her hand as if to reassure her it was the latter. "Well, I'm not hungry yet, so I think we should make our way to the Dwarven embassy and get comissioned. We might as well become official adventurers - eh, boy?" The same reassuring nudge. "Sounds good to you, huh? Let's go." Quill led her dog towards the main plaza. "And then once we get our documents, we'll search out the Golden Pony."

She then asked herself why she spoke to her dog.

Walking toward the heart of the city, she passed thru a very prosperous neighborhood. Residents here seemed to be humans, dwarves and half-elves. There were a surprisingly large number of adventurers of every size, description and race. The building she'd identified as the Embassy wass a large stone building with "Royal Bank of Dwarvenholm" carved above the door. A small brass plaque marked "Embassy Entrance" pointed her to the side of the building.

At the Embassy entrance, there are 3 adventurers in line when you get there. The first is talking to a dwarf in officer's uniform, seated at a desk outside the door. There are 2 heavily armed dwarves at each side of the desk. On the wall behind him is a hand drawn picture captioned "Crown Prince Geodon." It shows a middle aged dwarf, stocky, with dark hair and unbraided beard. Underneath it says: "Reward: 2000 GP for the safe return of the Prince."

He (the adventurer) is a tall human, wearing chain mail, with a broadsword at his side and the insignia of the Dragon's Maw Adventuring Company on his shoulder. He leans over the seated dwarf and says in a deep baritone, "Dragon's Maw, party of 13, under the leadership of Lord Mark Harvet. That'll be me."

He tosses 5 SP on the table and waits while the dwarf counts it carefully, fills out a scroll and hands it to him. The dwarven officer says, "This Letter of Marque entitles you to the ask for cooperation from any member of the MDF [Melfan Defense Force] and any dwarf you may encounter during your search for the Crown Prince. No refunds. ……. NEXT!"

He looks at the next in line, a half-giant that towers over even the large Lord Harvet. "I'm Blex," says the 8 ft. hulk. "Me and me mates are gonna check the mountain roads back on the way to Balbuk. We figure…."

The officer interrupts: "Don't care WHAT you're going to do. 5 SP please. How many in your party … uh… Blex?" And, with enough prodding Blex concedes that there are 3 "mates" that are going out with him. Blex hands over the money and takes his scroll.

While Quill is going thru the same ritual with the officer -- who will talk about NOTHING except the transaction, a couple more adventurers come up behind her. She listens as Blex and the Professional Adventurer from Dragon's Maw are talking a little distance away.

Blex: "So, 'ows you guys figure they got 'im out of the city?"
Lord Harvet: "Who cares? The MDF have covered every rat hole and piss pot in this town for two weeks. If he's here, he's dead and buried somewhere… or chopped up for fish food."
B: "Which way is the Maw crew goin' then, eh?"
LH: (An astonished look at such a naïve question) "Why we thought we'd go straight south from here… Check all the boats in the harbor. You might try that!"

And LH turns away with a disparaging grunt. Blex looks at the back of the departing Lord, and shakes his head. As Quill watches, the "idiot from the country" look disappears, replaced by a more intelligent demeanor. He takes out a small book and a pencil and makes a note. Then he walks away.

Suddenly one of the guards at the desk leaps forward and grabs the hand of the person behind you in line. The leather clad halfling bleats in protest: "I wasn't doing NUFING, your worship. NUFING AT ALL. The lady's pack was about to fall." Edge bares his teeth and emits a low growl… aimed in the general direction of the halfling and the dwarven soldier.

Quill turns around in time to see the soldier turn the theif's hand over, revealing a small knife. The other guard draws his sword, watching Quill, Edge and the commotion carefully. "Come along YOU," the soldier begins to drag the halfling away.

Quill gets her Letter of Marque without further incident, and steps aside to wait for a minute, as the next person, gets his.

He is a young human male, tall and fair, apparently going out alone. He is wearing a set of mage robes so new, she can almost see the tailor's marks still on them. His boots have not even a scuff on them. The name he gives the dwarven official is "High Mage, Lord X". When he's done, Quill approaches him softly and asks directions to The Golden Pony. He looks her up and down, noting the studded leathers, covered with the dust of the road, the large dog, the backpack and the bow…. And he SNIFFED. "Right up there, missy. You couldn't miss it. Although I'm sure you won't be admitted." His aristocratic, clipped accent made the words nearly unintelligible to the half-elf from the country.

Walking quickly to catch up with Lord Harvet, Quill overtakes him on the street.

Quill: "Umm.. excuse me sir. I couldn't help but overhearing back there... You're from Dragon's Maw, aren't you?"
LH: (stopping to turn to the half-elven girl) "Yes, but if you're wanting to join, the office is above the Sharp Shoppe. Know where that is?"
Q: "No... and I'm not sure I want to join, but... "

He exlpains that the Sharp Shoppe is a weapons and armor shop in the SW part of the city. Quill, in a round-about way, flattering his OBVIOUS warrior-ship and manliness, discovers that he's been with the company about 5 years, and she concludes he'd be unlikely to have known her mother directly. But maybe somebody at the Maw's office might, she thinks.

Starmyst had passed through the same gate that admitted Quill, just after midday.. She checked the map and turned down the street toward the Flying Fish Inn, but overheard a prosperous-looking elven couple talking about going to the Golden Pony.  Thinking she might not get a better chance to find it easily, she decided to follow them.

From the opposite direction, Quill walked toward the Golden Pony.. Indeed one cannot miss The Golden Pony. There is a large wooden statue of (what else?) a Golden Pony in front of a well cared-for eatery. Flanking the door are two Armsmen, in a very elaborate livery, brandishing halberds. There is a sign stuck in the ground in front of the door.

"NO ADVENTURERS ADMITTED.
The Prince was here on May 14. He left at 10pm.
That is all we know."

Quill turned away, but was approached by a disreputable looking older man. "PSSSST.. missss," he whispered. "I know where he got took, I do. Can't go myself… not strong enough. But I followed 'em I did. I know where he is. I made a map so's I wouldn't forget. Sell it to ya I will. Only 10SP. Whaddya say miss? Think of the reward. You'll be famous. I'd go myself, but I'm an old man. Whaddya say?" He fingered a scrap of parchment.

Starmyst broke out of her reverie -- she had admired the neighborhood she walked through and wondered how on earth so many people could live in one place! She reached the pony and read the sign, and smiled and nodded to the guards that she understood.

She and the half-elf glanced at each other and she looked back the old man. "How can we know you're telling the truth?" she asked softly, wandering closer.

The old man got excited at the question. "SEEEEN 'em I did. Yes.. I seen'em take 'im. Livin' over t'the cellar acrost the street, I was. Told the gurards, after, but they don't listen to crazy old Poppy. No they dont. Old Poppy, he sees ever'thing. I seen 'em. Just a few silvers, miss... that'd help fill Poppy's belly." He gos a crafty look. "Poppy's memory gets better when he ain't so very hungry."

Quill: "Well you sure sound like an honest gent, Poppy. And I was just getting hungry myself. Do you think that you and I could share a bite to eat here at the Pony?" Quill turned to the elven woman, "You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

Quill's dog, Edge, was warily taking in all the "interesting smells" that came from Poppy, but was not hostile.

Poppy backed away from the dog carefully... looking from dog to elf to half-elf. Poppy: "Oh the nice lady's having some fun with Poppy. Poppy understands. I doesn't think that the Golden Pony would be welcoming the likes of ... of her dog!." The last part was accompanied by a huge grin, as if he wa sharing the joke. "Poppy usually eats at the mission around the corner... Good food, good food...you'll see."

He pauses, then reached to take Starmyst's hand... since she was farther away from the dog. "Come on, come on... you'll like the mission. Korajel has always been good to old Poppy. Yes he has. Never took any of his ships... always came home safe, he did. Nice doggy, nice doggy." He looked sadly to Quill. "Dont think they'll have any for the doggy. Mission's for taking care of us sea folk... doggy is nice.. nice doggy! But not a sailor... can't stay at the mission. No he cant. Come on, come on. Good food at the mission." He attempted a sly smile. "You'll see, you'll see. Poppy remembers everything after lunch. Knows the tides, does Poppy." He whispered. "That's the secret, ya know. It's the tides. Come on, come on, nice doggy! We're going to lunch."