Some people have expressed an interest in a little roleplay forum, so here we go:
Rules; Anyone can play, in AORTA or not, roll up a 1st level, 32pt buy character with 120gp worth of gear. Head over to the Inn in Silverymoon and introduce yourself and see what happens.
Please, stay in character, only say what you say and do, dont say what others say (including NPC's)
Try not to block threads, i.e dont tie up a lot of other people in an action if you know you wont be able to respond for a few days.
If you need to say something out of character (OoC) please preceed it by OoC.
This could be a way to give us all some feel for what it might be like playing together in NWN.

Silverymoon has a pop. of ~26,000, humans, elves, dwarves, halflings and gnomes all dwell here in comparitive peace. Under the guidance of the High Lady Alustriel it has become a centre of learning in the North and is on the brink of becoming a part of a new nation, the Silver Marches. Law and order is kept by the Knights in Silver backed up by the Spellgard, plus the Harpers. However, evil can still be found, despite all the defenses.
Silvermoon is a place of beauty, straddling the River Rauvin. The famous magical Moonbridge lies in the centre of town.

The Bright Blade Brandished: Is a favourite with adventurers, the friendly staff are courteous to everyone, no matter how strange they may look. The serving maids know the regulars by name, and try and keep rivals apart. There are a couple of resident wizards who help to keep order by telekinesis and spell spoiling.
Not far away is Optym's Blade, a shop where weapons, armour and a variety of other goods may be bought.

[This message has been edited by Darien Noella (edited May 28, 2001).]

are you all beta testers or something?

We are not really bata tester exactly, we are all interested in NWN and thus ALFA. By creating role-play forums we are preparing for ALFA to come out in the fall. If you like RP I guess you check things out.

those recreations will only be available for members of those clans?
you cant join anymore, right?

To the best of my knowledge ALFA is still taking applications. I know things are filling up but I doubt things will be finalized before start time in Oct. If you are interested go put in an application.

OoC: No Kevlar, this is for anyone and everyone to play right here. I'll start off:

IC: A light rain was drizzling on the streets of Silverymoon as Thomas searched for a likely looking Inn. Before long he came to "The Bright Blade Brandished" and stepped inside. He shook the rain from his hair and unfastened his cloak to show the green leathers he wore beneath it and a lute he had slung over his shoulder. He approached the bar and smiled:
"A tankard of mead, if you please. Quiet in here tonight, how about I sing a few ballards and maybe attract a little custom?"

A hooded figure stalked down the streets of Silverymoon. The rain was getting worse, and Eridain realised that he would have to find lodgings soon. Rounding the corner, he sees what looks to be a fairly hospitable inn. Striding towards it, he looks up and sees the name "The Bright Blade Brandished". Pushing open the door, he enters. Lowering his hood, he reveals himself to be of half-elf origin, however his face is blemished with a nasty scar on the left side. Walking up to the innkeeper:
"Any spare rooms for a night or two?" The innkeeper says yes, and then proceeds with the usual spiel not to cause any trouble and the like. Having guaranteed lodging for the night, Eridain seats himself down in the corner of the bar, watching the patrons, and slowly sipping ale.

As the rain poured down from the heavens and scoured the streets of Silverymoon clean, A lone figure makes his way down one of the larger streets. Dragging behind him a large spear, the figure limps along at a slow, meandering pace. With little concern for the falling rain, he abruptly halts and leans momentarily against a building to rest.

Pumping his fist towards the sky and yelling out "WHY have you forsaken me!" he mumbles some meaningless jibberish and continues along his wayward path. Still dragging the spear by its end, the dulled tip skips along the cobblestoned street.

After several brief pauses for rest, the figure pauses in front of a largish building. Looking at the placard in front, he mumbles something about this being the place and steps into the "The Bright Blade Brandished"

Looking around he sees several patrons who seem to be losing themselves in tankards of ale. Not one to be too different, he steps to the bar..

"A tankard of yer finest ale" Swanic says in a forced rasping voice. "wait, make that 2"

The barkeep's eyes widen at the appearance of this stranger to Silverymoon. It had been sometime since he had seen one as wild-eyed as this. The barkeep looks the Elf over, clearly noticing the burn marks that cover his clothes and body. Without a word, he passes the two tankards over, and watches as the elf makes himself at home.

Thomas headed over to a table by the stairs. He set down his cap, took out his lute and began to play. The first was a song in praise of the Lady Alustriel, the second was about a party of adventurers ambushed by a mage who flung a fireball at them. He looked at the newcomer with a spear and raised an eyebrow.

OoC A map of Silverymoon can be found here: www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/smoon2.jpg (http://www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/smoon2.jpg)
Plans of the Inn can be found here: www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/Smoon_Inn-1.gif (http://www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/Smoon_Inn-1.gif) www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/Smoon_Inn-2.gif (http://www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/Smoon_Inn-2.gif)

[This message has been edited by Erran (edited June 01, 2001).]

Down the street came a figure dressed in black with the hood up, and his face down towards the ground as if he was hiding from something.

Under his cloak you can barely see the tip of a large sword, and if you look a little closer you can spot some fresh bloodstains on it.

Acheron is the man's name, he is tired and in search of an affordable inn to maybe spend the night in.

Then he sees the light from a door opened and from that door he hears music, he moves up to the building and spots a sign on the door saying The Bright Blade Brandished.

He steps inside still with his hood on, looks around in a suspicious manner. Then proceeds towards the bar and says to the innkeep in a low voice "give me a piece of meat if you have any and a tankard of ale" He gets it and walks over to a corner. There he sits down with his back to the wall as if he needs to see everything going on.

The bouncing and jostling of the sturdy wooden cart had became a soothing rythme in the young monk's mind, so as the wheels ceased turning Jai'Tan snapped out of his meditative state.
"We be here Lad, I'll not be travelling any further this eve", the wrinkled old dwarf gives a gentle poke to the pile of straw in his cart.
Stretching his tight, cramped muscles, Jai'Tan peers over the edge of the cart, "The Bright Blade Brandished? We have arrived with much haste."
"Slept like a corpse ye did, we be travelling for two days. I've never seen the likes of it before," the dwarf casts a suspicious eye at his passenger, "Ye be lookin nothin like the robed group in the hills of Tethyr, I don't be takin' kindly to liars."
In a flash the nimble monk collects his meager possesions and stands next to the cart. Simple robes disguise the lithe body of a trained martial artist, but somehow his caucasian features clash with his Monastic garb. Reaching into his robes, Jai'Tan flips a silver coin to the cart driver,ignoring the old dwarfs inquiring stare, "Your aid is greatly appreciated, may our paths cross again."
The dwarf nickers to his old burro, and with a lurch the cart continues on it's travels. The creaking and groaning of the wooden wheels is soon masked by the rumbling in Jai'Tan's belly. Glancing at a sheaf of parchment in his hand, Jai'Tan starts for the door, "Promise of adventure can wait, this warrior needs some food..."

Just about the time the monk was entering a redhaired woman got up to leave her table (m).
"Farewell, and sleep tight" she said to her male companion, then she pulled up her hood and slipped out through the door.
The unshaven man took another draught from his drink, clutched his throat then pitched forward over the table, knocking the tankard flying.

Jai'Tan stands in the entrance to the inn, soaking up the sights and sounds. He had much to learn about life outside the monestary if he wished to see the next moon. Pictures and stories had made up most of Jai'Tan's life experiences and little had prepared him for this harsh new world.
Pushing his hunger aside, the cautious monk makes his way amongst the bar patrons, careful to not attract attention. The wary innkeep waits expectantly as Jai'Tan fumbles for the correct words, "A thousand pardons my good sir, er, I am in need of some food and lodgings."
"Oh hoa! We have a fresh one here lads! Come back when ye've dropped yer ma's apron strings boy!"
Feeling his temper rise, the young monk turns towards the sound of a lute. The soothing melody calms his nerves and soon he is mesmerized by the dancing fingers of a performing bard. These travelling minstrels were master story tellers and surely this man could help Jai'Tan as well as any. Bowing slightly before the bard the young monk stammers quietly, "Would you lend your ear to a few questions? The name is Jai'Tan..."

Slapping her hand on the bar, the middle-aged woman calls out loudly, "Two more ales, and hurry, now. My custom won't be waiting all night."

Running her hands over her too ample curves, she smooths her apron and snugs the strings a bit tighter, to nicely accentuate her full figure. Her hair is long and dark, a few wisps of grey at her temples the only sign of maturity. Her voice is gruff, but her eyes smile as the bartender slides her order across the bar. Swiping up the mugs with an expert grip, she heads off to deliver them.

As she approaches the table, she wonders if maybe these ales might not be needed after all. The woman has disappeared, and the man is apparently passed out. She slams the drinks down on the table, and wonders idly why the man doesn't react when the ale splashes his face. Pausing to look closer, she reaches for his shoulder to shake him awake.

"Sir, if you've a room, best be getting to it. If not, you'll need to be headin' off." At her rough shove, the man slowly tips sideways and crashes to the floor. The clatter of the chair falling with him can be heard throughout the room.

[This message has been edited by Darien Noella (edited June 08, 2001).]

Amidst several empty tankards of ale, the increasingly inebreated Swanic watches the commotion at the next table. At first he is shocked by the man's treatment of his ale, and gasps as it tumbles to the ground spilling its preciousness all about.

Slowly, his breath returns as he contemplates entering a state of mourning over the lost beverage. Spending several moments considering the possibility, he is once again distracted by the thing of beauty that appears to be heading his way, and behold, in her most delicate hands lay 2 tankards of that delightfuly tasty liquor which he had so recently embraced.

Floating as only one intoxicated can float, he now ponders the possibilities that this splendid female did present.

As he prepares to flash some smile, Swanic's heart falls, as the beauty stops abruptly, and turned, as if to give those two amazing sources of pleasure (and the Ale!) to the fool who just cast his beverage to the floor.

Dumbfounded, he now contemplates this new happening as a sudden sadness rolls in like a dark cloud.

As his gaze ( and once bright smile) drifts downward, he notices a small bronze token, which appears to have been recently displaced, only a few paces away from where the female companion of that dreadful ale spiller did once sit.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, master Jai'Tan. My name is Thomas, called by some Rhymer. I have travelled far and wide throughout Faerun and I would be happy to answer any of your questions, especially if you have the price of a drink to wet my parched throat"
Before the monk could reply they were interrupted by the commotion at a nearby table. Thomas hurried to the man's side and checked for signs of life, there were none. He looked around then followed Swanic's gaze to the bronze token. Picking it up he noticed that on one side was engraved the symbol of a snake in a figure of 8, swallowing it's own tail.
"Now what in the 9 hells does that mean?" he asked, to no-one in particular.

"The pleasure is mine Thom...", before Jai'Tan can finish his name, the bard is on his feet scampering across the bar.
'Perhaps good will can be coaxed with good spirits.', whispers the monk to himself, "Pardon me miss, might I have two mugs of your house's finest...", Jai'Tan's words trail off as he regards the buxom serving maid. The figure before him was like no woman he had seen before and suddenly his new found confidence was lost once again. He had never met his mother, and females had not been allowed within the monestary walls. Feeling his pulse quicken, Jai'Tan forces his eyes from the maid's curvaceous form and poses his question once again, "Uhh.., my pardon miss, if it wouldn't be too much trouble..", sensing the bar maid's impatience Jai'Tan blurts out the rest, "Could I bother you for two mugs of ale?"
The bar maid is gazing past Jai'Tan in the direction of Rhymer so the young monk follows her gaze, "What do you suppose they have found?"

Thomas picked up the spilled tankard and sniffed it cautiously. He thought he detected a faint smell of almonds behind the aroma of hops and barley.
"Oghma's bones" he exclaimed, "I believe this man may have been poisoned! Does anyone here have knowledge of these things?"
A circle of onlookers was now forming around the corpse. No-one seemed to recognise the rather rough looking man. Someone went to summon the watch.

Whilst most of the bar just stood and were looking gormless at the body, Eridain drained his ale, and strode outside, looking for the man's female companion. As he left the inn, a coach drove by, splashing him with water, but other than that the street was completely empty. 'Great', the ranger said to himslef,'now I remember why I dislike cities'. Sighing, he walks back into the inn...

The tavern door swings open and a young-looking gnome walks in. Judging by the quality of his garments, one would guess that he was the son of a well-to-do merchant or guildmember, but his clothes are evidently in dire need of both washing and mending. His hair is straggly and unwashed, and he wears a scrap of red cloth pinned to the lapel of his jacket. Taking advantage of the commotion, he sidles up to an unoccupied table and surreptitiously slides a handbill under each coaster. He approaches the bar and asks for a shot of turnip vodka.

ooc. how essential is it to have a rolled up character. I don't have any rulebooks, but I want to take part in this
Sorry about the barkeep bit... I didn't read the introductory post that thouroughly... I've deleted it now.
[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited June 10, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited June 10, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited June 11, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited June 17, 2001).]

Thomas quickly searched the man's pockets to see if there was anything there to identify him. All he found was what seemed to be a receipt for 100gp from 'Oliver's Objects of Antiquity', with an address in Crooked Lane.

OoC The character sheet helps in two ways.
a) it helps you to get used to 3E, which is what NWN will be using.
b) it will be needed if/when we get into combat.
You can download a character generator for free (10Mb) from WotC site www.wizards.com (http://www.wizards.com)

Xalen slowly walks down the almost deserted street, as the rain, now only a slight drizzle, splashes down on his red cloak. Tired and downtrodden, he thinks back to fonder times: memories of his grandfather who had just passed away only days before. Just then, as he was passing an alleyway, something grabbed his attention and drew his mind away from his thoughts and down the darkened corridor. As the sounds of running echoed off the cobestone streets, a woman moving with an obviously important purpouse darted from the alleyway and slipped of almost as quickly into the night down the street. Though weary and in no mood for excitement, he stares down the alleyway and back at the quickly fading female form hurrying off into the distance. Deciding he couldn't catch her now if he wanted to, he decides to investigate down the alley. He slowly walks down the darkened corridor, holding the hilt of his sword tightly under his cloak.
Shortly, he makes his way to an open door on the side of a building. Curious, he steps inside. Hearing an obvious comotion inside, he cautiously peers around the corner at the end of the hall. It apears to be an inn or bar of some sort, and several people are standing around a body sprawled on the floor. As the people are obviously paying little attention to him, he lowers his sword back into his scabard, pulls back his hood, and steps into the room, surverying the sceen. He moves around the hub of people and walks to the bar. Grabing the bartender's attention, he asks in a low vioce, "What just happened here? I wouldn't suppose this had anything to do with a red haired woman by chance, would it?" Xalen can see he has hit on something by the sudden light in the bartneder's eyes.....




[This message has been edited by Crawl (edited June 12, 2001).]

With a heavy sigh, Swanic gazes deep into his empty tankard of ale. A second and closer inspection reveals the same, and ends in yet another deep long sigh. Looking about at the sudden madness, he knows that the fine looking servingwench is far too busy to deliver him more of a life affirming liquor.

"Oghma's bones" Rang out from the next table, "I believe this man may have been poisoned! Does anyone here have knowledge of these things?"

Looking up at this new outburst, Swanic notices a familar face, that of one he had met many moons ago. His mind searches for a name through the blissful intoxicants and in a shocking moment of psuedo-sobriety, he shoots up from his chair to exclaim "Aha! Thomassh. Thomassh is your name!" pointing to the bard as the memories began flooding back. "It hassh been shome time, hassh it not." as he stumbles forward. "now what have you gotten yershelf mixched up in?"

Reaching out to take the suspected tankard from Thomas, :) the slurring Swanic sways slightly, slowly sniffing something seemingly similar to the toxic Sassone Leaf that grows wild where he once did live.

"Yup. thish onesh been poishoned alright." motioning to the downed man. "There ish the schent of Shasshone Leaf Reshidue on thish tankard. That leaf is particularlarly nashty, paralishes the lungsh, making short work of any who ingesht it. It takesh a highly schkilled Alchmeshist to processh thish leaf." as he places the tankard back to the table.

"Is this type of thing common 'round thish city?" Swanic asks, to the growing crowd of assorted adventurers.

(As bartender): "Seems like that man lying there 'as been poisoned. Nothing like that has ever happened in the 'Bright Blade' before. There was a red haired woman drinking with him a few minutes ago. I don't suppose you saw which way she went?
What'll people think? I'd pay a hansome reward to anyone who could prove it has nothing at all to do with my Inn!"

(As Thomas): "Swanic, can it be you? I hardly recognised you. Thanks for confirming my suspicions about the poison. But who? And why?". He showed the token and the note.
"To answer your question, I haven't been in Silverymoon long, it has a reputation as a centre of knowledge, law and order. It seems that evil is everywhere in the Realms.
Did someone else have a question?"

"Well...yes actually. You see, I was walking down the street behind your establishment, minding my own bussiness of course, and a woman burst from the alleyway over there....blew right past me she did and headed off down the street. Looked like she was headed towards the center of town. Now, I could have stopped her, of course....but I thought it might be best to see what was going on first. You understand of course."

Xalen smiles slightly and thanks the man for his help. Telling the bartender to pour a mug of ale, he slaps a few copper pieces on the bar and walks over to get a better view of the commotion around the fallen man. Kneeling down, he glances for a moment at the bard before searching the man for some clues perhaps, or at least a few gold coins for his troubles. Finding little other than a few trinkets and no form of identification, Xalen was about to give up until he happened upon a sealed letter in the man's inner vest pocket. Looking it over, it apears to be written on rather high quality parchment and sealed with red wax. An emblem of some sort was used to stamp the wax, but try as he may, Xalen is unfamiliar with the seal's design.

"Here now...one of you locals. Is any one of you familiar with such a seal? How about you, Bard? Have you seen anything like this in your travels?"

The seal showed the same 8 shaped snake that was on the token. The letter was addressed to a 'Phineus Martok' of Waterdeep. Opening it, Thomas scanned the contents quickly. It said:
"Sir, I know you to be an art collector of some discretion, as you may recall we have done business in the past. Certain fine objects of ancient elven origin have recently come into my possesion. If you are interested in acquiring them at a good price get in touch with me via our usual contact. She will be in Waterdeep in a Tenday.
Your servant
Tadman Delver."

The gnome downs his turnip vodka and reels a bit, evidently unused to the kick, and joins the crowd which has gathered around the poisoned man.

"Well, this whole bussiness is rather shrouded in secracy, isn't it"

Xalen slowly strokes his goatie as he ponders the situation. This seemed like a situation best handled by someone else. However, this whole situation was intriguing, and perhaps there was something to be gained out of all this. After considering his options for a few minutes, Xalen speaks up.

"Well, I'm sure we could just let the Knights in Silver deal with all of this mess. But *in a low voice* seems the bartender doesn't want this made any more public than needs to be. Now this seems like a rather *nice* establishment...perhaps if anyone among us is interested in looking into these matters a little first, well, I'm sure we might be saving this man a lot of hassle at the least. Anyone have any ideas as to how to best deal with all of this?"

"You're right, Xalen. The trouble with the authorities is they seldom look further than the obvious. This unfortunate fellow seems to have been involved in the sale of ancient objects. Crooked Lane is only a few streets north of here, maybe you could find a clue there?"

Xalen stands and offers his assistance in helping the young bard to his feet.

"I'm always willing to help out. This seems rather interesting, and I have a little knowledge of the ancient magic and relics, which ancient elven artifacts could very well be. I'd be more than happy to see what I can find out in this matter."

Xalen ponders what might be in all of this for him. The idea of looking into this mystery intrigues him, but he has little knowledge of this town, and he did only plan a short visit. Perhaps some assistance in the matter would benefit him.

"I shall seek out this shop, though I've never been in this town before. Perhaps someone would be willing to help look into these matters. Surely someone would be willing to help the *upstanding* people who own this *quaint* little tavern?"

[This message has been edited by Crawl (edited June 29, 2001).]

A man quielty enters the inn and takes a place near the barkeep. His manners are the ones of a shadow: despite of his bright yellow cloak and a wide-brimmed hat with a grang peacock feather(somewhat very dry for a drizzling rain ouside), nobody seems to take a note of the man. At his side, as quiet as the master, walks a dog, which settles under the man's seat. The man closes to the barkeep and takes off the hat, adressing to the barkeeper:

-Good day, melord, Knomal's my name, might I have a gla.. a fine mug of ale?

A dagger is clipped to each of Knomal's leather braces. Both wepons are shiny, like they've never been tested in battle. He takes the beer and follows to his seat. The gathering of people in the center of a bar makes him wonder of the reason, but forces himslef not to take notice and takes a sip of the fine drink. The taste of a spirit, so disliked by Knomal for the intoxication effect that dullens his senses makes him stop the meal and walk to the crowd...

"I'd be more than happy to see what I can find out in this matter." hears he the man beside him say. Knomal approaches him,
"Greetings, name's Knomal, you seem interested in what's happening around, so, might you be able to enlighten me?"

Xalen turns to his side and takes a moment to eye this outspoken fellow over. Odd, perhaps, is the least that could be said about him. Though odd people, it has always seemed to him, always have some reason why they can be so: either a strong sword or a nasty spell hidden somewhere. Besides, he thought to himself as he stroked his goatie, pondering the site before him, anyone willing to take a risk is usually welcome company.

"Well, I can tell you what I know at least. That might be of some use to you. I was walking down the backstreet there when a red haired woman blew past me and ran off into the night. Inquisitive as I am, I decided to investigate what might be, and my search took me to this group of people standing before you. You see, it apears this unfortunate fellow has been poisoned. Unfortunately, I have no idea by whom, but it seems he's been contacted about buying some, well lets just call them legitimate for now at least, ancient elven artifacts in Waterdeep sometime soon. The patrons, well particuarly this inebriated fellow here, seem to believe a skilled alchimest concocted the poison at hand. I've decided to at least look into the matter to save this *lovely* tavern the hassle of these matters. This bard, Thomas I believe is his name, has suggested we look at Crooked Lane, which is only a few streets down for a clue perhaps. Now, as I have little knowledge of this town, I'd be more than happy to travel with anyone that thinks they might be of help. You look, well capable, to say the least. What say you?"

"Oh, why, yes. One might find some use for my skills where um... investigation, so to say, is concerned..."

Knomal takes a note of his own outfit and chuckles. He takes out the pin of his cloak, revealing the truth behing the item - a razor-sharp dart, takes off the cloak and turns it over. In mere two seconds, his cloak no longer sports a bright yellow color, but is black, as if intended to hide the owner in the shades of night.

"Poison, you say... Not an uncommon way to make one out of one's plans... 'Twould be an indeed fine way to start with the inquiry to thieves. Believe me, not any priest of Deneir would say more than a common thief, for a price, of course. We might find a clue around the docks, 'tis where rogues find a fortune, 'tleast I would. How'd you like the idea.. Xalen, right?"

A large brutish half-orc kicks the bar door open. His hair is matted and soaked and he wears no cloak to protect himself from the elements. He yells obnoxiously to the barkeep "Ho there! The heat of battle has parched me throat! Give me some Fireberry ale to quench my thirst lest I find blood to quench it instead!". Just then the creature notices the gazes that have fallen on him and the man leaning over the table. "Whoa, looks like that humie been nippin' into some good stuff-BARKEEP! Give me what he's been drinkin' instead!"

"Well then, it seems you and I should get to know each other a little, Knomal, while we see what we can find out about this death. Seems you have a better knowledge about some of the matters at hand than I. Perhaps we should head to Crooked Lane tonight and see what we can see. If we find anything interesting, we can always meet back here and possibly find some help, if we need any that is."

Xalen tosses his red hood over his head, checks his swords and equipment one last time to make sure everything is proper, and wraps his cloak about him as he heads for the door. Thinking for a second and stopping, Xalen calls over his shoulder, "Thomas, you seem to have a decent amount of knowledge about this town. Perhaps it would be best for you to come along. A good mind and a strong sword are always handy in times like these."

"Heh, I've come here for food, I did..."

He calls for a serving lass "Good lady, might you bring me the finest roast your cooks serve? And, yes, a pint of water, I reaaly do need it..." In a blink of an eye, he put a shiny Calimportian gold coin into the wench's hand: "'Tis a tribute for your kindness, though it's shine does not measure to your beauty, my lady..."

After the meal, Knomal thanked the barkeep and headed to the exit, humming a song:
If ye cut off gibberling's hands
If ye also cut off its feet
He will soon meet his very own ends
For he would not be able to sit...

"Time to visit the dark side of this fine city..."

In walks a shaded figure clad in a full hooded robe, all that is noticeable of him is his slightly blueish hands, the only part of him visible.
He sits down at the bar and asks for some ale by pointing his finger from the barkeep.
upon finishing his ale he rents a room from the barkeep and proceeds up the stairs without uttering a single word.

a couple hours pass and the hooded figure emerges from the stairs, and sits down at the closest table he can find open.
once there he puts his hand out palm up waves his other over it and a small lizard very much like a minature dragon appears in his hand. He pets it lightly and sets it on the table.

"Very well, I'll be happy to show you the way, follow me." Thomas put up the hood of his cloak and stepped out into the fine drizzle that was falling on the streets of Silverymoon.

OoC Continued under the thread 'Crooked Lane.' Anyone following Thomas please post there. Otherwise you are assumed to be in the 'Bright Blade Brandished'

Knomal found his way out of the inn; he was not surprised to find that the yellow dog was already outside, getting wet in the rain.

The rogue put his fancy hat on, in hope that it would to the least protect him from the water pouring from the skies. He gave the dog a curious look: "What do you think, my friend?"

A hooded figure entered the inn, followed by several Knights of Silver is a score of minutes. Knomal, hidden in the evening shades, opened his sack and withdrew a yellow tunic from it.

"Tonight, we shall become a Waterdhavian merchant... I said we, so try to behave like a rich man's mutt. I am sorry, but we are here for a cause, do not argue..."

After he applied the new disguise, Knomal quickly recalled the latest events. He remembered a man calling the poison 'Shasshone Leaf'. Knomal knew not, if the semi-sober man was correct, but the name sounded right. Poishonish enough, the rouge thought. Knomal thought of the people headed to the Crooked Lane and decided to find his way with them for now. Finally, he saw an image of the Knights and a hooded figure... Something seemed strange about the hooded one.

"By Mask's dagger, did I just see a dark elf?" there was a touch of excitement in his voice. "Things happen, or I've had a little too much of that ale... Let us go, Paalm, to the Crooked Lane"

[This message has been edited by ayecapitan (edited July 02, 2001).]

The hooded figure watches as the men head for the exit of the tavern and over hears one mention a dark elf. He then realizes that he had forgotten to cast a shapeshift spell to hide his true form from those less approving of his lineage. He does not blame himself for he hadn't been back to a town in a long time.
once the men reach the door the hooded figure rises up and heads for a back room where he quickly changes his form and dispells his little friend before returning to the front room (minus a robe) he announces himself as Xander and asks the men if he may join them in their journey.

Garacaius walks down the street, shaking the rain off his dark black cloak once in a while, trying to find a suitable inn "This weather will likely continue for a long time yet" he thought.
He passes the little group of people just leaving The Bright Blade Brandished and says lowly to himself "This is it, the one the beggers have been talking about, The Bright Blade Brandished."
Garacaius enters and look suspicously around the inn, notice the fuss about someone laying on the floor, but decides to get something to drink first. He puts down the hood, shakes his silvery hair and walks toward the barkeep. "Barkeep, your best ale please." The barkeep hands him the ale without a word. Garacaius sits down at the nearest table and lay his crossbow across it, sip his ale and listen with his keen elven ears to the situation about the man on the floor.


[This message has been edited by Lokken (edited July 03, 2001).]

The Silver clad Knight who was leading the watchmen asked all in the bar what they had seen, which in most cases hadn't been much. He interviewed the barkeep at length and insisted on taking a sample of the ale away 'for alchemicical analysis'. Then he ordered the removal of the body and left orders that if anyone had any further information about the demise of the man, they were to report it to the west barracks, asking for Sir Hursus. Bidding the blessings of the Lady on everyone he, and the watch, left.
It was noticable that several of the patrons left early, and those that stayed chose wine rather than ale.

The gnome with the red rag badge waited carefully until the knight left and then loudly began to rant to anyone who would listen "Who tipped off the authorities anyway? Typical of the blasted establishment to go sticking its nose into everything, putting honest adventurers out of work. They're probably in league with the elves as well, elves seem to be right at the heart of this little mess. Mark my words, within a few days this whole place'll be choked in red tape and we'll all be taken as suspects - it's the way The Man runs the system, and we've got to fight it however we can!" Sensing a number of hostile stares he gets the impression that his incoherent outburst may lead some to suspect his involvement, and continues rather timidly. "ummmm...of course, it's our duty ... to ...errr.. solve this case ourselves, as the corrupt bureaucrats are tying things up... maybe... we check the stables and coach houses for anyone going to or from Waterdeep...of course, I'd need someone who knows the town to help me out on this one..." he looks around expectantly.

Garacaius can't avoid hearing the Gnome, who's talk is bigger than himself. Part in jest and part of wishfull thinking, Garacaius takes his crossbow and aim at Ironbeard as he whispers "pow!"
Garacaius then rises and walks toward the Gnome, "Despite your mindless insults short one, I would like you to tell me what has occured here. Who is he?" and points at the obviously dead man

[This message has been edited by Lokken (edited July 04, 2001).]

The gnome starts to fiddle nervously with the dagger tucked into his belt. He stammers "I-I-I don't know, me- me mum told me no to trust elves," and then slips into elven, "I'm sorry sir," he says, "I mean no disrespect. I am litle more than a boy in gnome terms, and can get a little hotheaded when the drink's flowing...the man...he's been poisoned as far as I've heard. He's had business dealings to do with elven artifacts in - in Waterdeep, an' there's a party gone down to Crooked Lane to look for leads...that's all I know. Gah, I know you elves and your manners, you must think me terribly rude. My name's Jakob Wizcrowitz, and I'm very sorry for any offence I may have caused." Jakob looks fearfully at the elf and mutters under his breath in gnomish "That had better placate him, have to be polite to the oppressor, he's bigger than you, he gets to push little gnomes around..."

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited July 05, 2001).]

Garacaius smiles, look satisfied and reply friendly in elven "I accept your apology, and for being rude, well, I assume it's the way of Gnomes, I'm Garacaius Moonshade." he then slips into the Gnome tongue with a more serious voice "I might be bigger, but I am not an oppressor! But.... enough of prejudice, that will only lead to more rivalry, and I tire of it."
Garacaius then orders another ale and continue "Well, I have no other plans at the moment, so joining you in this examination of events will suit me just fine. So, what do you suggest we do, wait for the party to return or go look some other place? I don't know this city, so any advise would be appreciated..."

[This message has been edited by Lokken (edited July 05, 2001).]

Jakob looks nervous, and struggles on in elven "I-I had no idea you, of couse, of course, elves are good with languages. I'm new here too, so we have to find help from someone else who knows the city. While we wait, let me buy you an ale by way of apology." He goes over to the bar and returns with two tankards of ale.

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited July 05, 2001).]

"Well then, a toast to the future, whatever it might contain." Garacaius raises the tankard in a friendly gesture "Cheers"

Retuning from what ended up being only slightly profitable, Xander begins examining the dagger only to realize itsnot quite as valuable as he thought, but maybe more useful to him considering it provides him with a means to polymorph and not need a scroll to do it, the downside turns out it must recharge for an hour or more to recharge its 3 charges. Hearing an argument inside Xander decides to use the first charge and change into a much stronger, imposing looking human, and enters the tavern.
Xander begins seeking what may turn into a profitable adventure.
announcing himself Xander yells, "I have come seeking adventure",and a little jokingly (but most serious to him), "and maybe a little capital to go with it"

The dagger explodes on Xander's person and he loses 3HP. Nothing but ashes remain of the artefact.

OoC: In NWN, just like PnP, the DM tells you whether you succeed in what you attempt and what your reward is.

Jakob heard the explosion and looked up towards Xander. "Sir," he exclaimed, "Am I correct in assuming that you are one of the party who went to Crooked Lane. What have you found, and are the rest coming back soon? My friend and I are intending to help investigate this case as well, but need help form someone who knows the city. Hopefully it cuts right to the core of the complacent, elitist, bourgeouise antiques world!"

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited July 07, 2001).]

The inn door opened silently and the yellow dog entered the building, followed by two people. Those were the party that returned from the Crooked Lane. They settled at a free table, while people started to gather around.

OoC: Getting kinda long so I'll move the action in the 'Bright Blade' to a new thread- The Wanderers Return. Please continue to post there now.