Chapter One: Sweet Dreams are Made of These

[Brian]

Bjorn: In their packs you find their (nearly untouched) armor.  A few nicks, a few tears.  Their food.  One of them is carrying a pendant in his pouch, the symbol of a hammer surrounded by a wheel of silver vines.  Another is carrying a book, bearing the same symbol on the cover, and the third one has a large leather pouch stuffed with sawdust.  In the sawdust, carefully wrapped in rags, are tiny glass phials of a green liquid.  Just touching them makes you feel healthier.

At Ginrai's continued and confused silence, the elf (Liandral) says, "Well, we can stay here for a moment and recover, but we lack the proper time to bury the dead.  Madame Mirallia, perhaps this would be a good opportunity to set them to rest, before...."  He trails off, leaving something unsaid.

The lady flinches, but nods, and clasps her hands over her pendant.  The light is extinguished, leaving the bobbing flame over the elf's head as the only source of illumination.  She murmurs something low and quiet, that none of you can quite make out, but sounds very much like a prayer.  After a minute of this, she bows her head -- the elf follows suit.

[Bjorn]

As the discussion has been going on, Bjorn closes up the sack with the vials, and transfers it to his own pouch  (whose contents he examines at the same time).  After a moment's thought, he also grabs the pendant and book, and puts them in his pack, for closer study later on.

When the prayer begins, however, he quickly ceases the ransacking, and bows his head with the lady and the elf.  Partly in an effort to blend in, but mostly to commemorate the dead.

[Brian]

After the prayer finishes, the lady lowers her hands, and her pendant glows again, shedding (it seems) more light than before.

Your own pack has a smaller pouch (you missed it the first time through, but with the armor being worn or left behind, you've got a lot less weight, and a lot more room in there).  It contains a knoted handkerchief, which is tied around a heavy, and very solid looking signet ring.  The signet is a crescent moon with two stars sheltered in the curve of the moon.

"A moment longer to regain our senses, but we mustn't tarry," Liandral says, grabbing the broken remnants of a bow off of the ground and studying it for a moment before pulling the string off, and casting the wooden bits aside.

[Bjorn]

Slinging his pack over his shoulder, Bjorn moves to catch up with the Lady, studying her and the elf closely in the few seconds of pause.

[Rezantis]

Rez, upon getting up, shakes his head and takes stock of both himself and what he's carrying - and, well, any injuries that may indicate what put him down in the first place.

[Brian]

Both of them look like those beautiful people you see in advertising or movies.  the lady's got blonde hair, probably nearly to her waist, in a thickly roped braid.  Her plain white robe is (unlikely as it seems) unblemished by any stains.  The trim of the robe is cloth-of-gold, and seems to be run through with the same spiral/vine pattern that was on your ceremonial armor, and still is on the scabbard for your sword.

Come to think of it, it matches the pendant you took, as well.

The elf is dressed in a fine chain shirt, with similar chain greaves over a soft green tunic and legging.  His cloak is a deep blue, thrown back off his shoulders at the moment.  Adjusting his sword, he moves the cloak to cover his shoulders, and hide some of the reflective quality of his chain armor.  He's got no jewlery on, at all, unless you count the strip of ... it looks like twine ... that he uses to bind his hair in place, into a ponytail, much like Rez and Dracos's.

[Bjorn]

Struck by a sudden thought, Bjorn runs his hand across his face and through his hair, looking back as well at the bodies, trying to get at least an idea of what he now looks like.

[Brian]

Rez: You're fine, as far as you can tell.  Not even a bruise.

Your equipment matches Dracos's, if it's slightly less fancy.  You've got a longsword, without any family names on it except your own, and that at the tip, just at the begining of the blood-channel.

You've got a belt with a handful of pouches.  One of them contains some roots (some of which have teethmarks on them), one of them contains some loose currency, and another contains four thumb-sized gems.  An emerald, two fire emeralds, and a pearl.  All of them are flawless.

Tucked into your belt are also two knives, one suitable for fighting, and one (most likely) for eating with.  A bag nearby might be yours.  It matches the fur of your tunic, beneath the metal plating (reindeer hide, you think) and contains some food wrapped in waxed paper, and a waterskin.  Beneath that, there's a rolled up scroll in a wooden tube -- looks like a map, though you've got no idea where you are at the moment.

The second that Liandral sees it, he blinks.  "Perhaps we should study the map," he suggests, frowning.  "We could determine the best course of action from there."

[Brian]

Well, you've got a beard, and it's a pretty full one, considering it's neatly trimmed to perhaps three centimeters in length.  Your hair is short, which means you look (in general) very similar to the dead guardsmen, you guess.  You think your hair color is dark, but it's hard to see anything more than your beard and mustache, and even that takes a bit of work.  There's a scar on one cheek you can feel, starting below one eye, and running back a few centimeters towards your ear.

Judging by the height of Dracos (and now that he's standing, Rez) your height is just slightly below average.  You're taller than the lady, if not by much, and shorter than the elf.

[Rezantis]

"Sounds like a good idea," Rez opines, proffering the map to Liandraal.

[Dracos]

Dracos glanced at Rez, ~Welcome to Dungeons and Dragons?~

He then proceeded to nod and look around the battlefield, attempting to ascertain what had happened here and any hints of why the orcs had attacked.

Dracos

[Brian]

No mental communication seems to be happening here.

Liandral accepts the map and finds a smooth spot on the floor to unroll it where everyone can examine it.  Ginrai slumps to a seated position nearby, adjusting his glasses every so often and frowning.

Dracos: You attempt to discover what happened.

It looks like some people (you) came in from one door, and were jumped by a whole bunch of orcs.  There was a fight, the orcs (if that's what they are) were killed, and some of the dozen people in the room were killed, too.

Looks like the people dressed identically to Bjorn were all trying to protect something, or someone, as they all stuck together, until all but Bjorn were killed.

Everyone else was in a general melee, through from the looks of things, most of the orcs between where Dracos woke up and what the defenders were guarded were struck down from behind, because they were too focused to pay attention to what was behind them.

Other than that, it's hard to say.  Maybe the orcs attacked for food -- you don't see anything edible in sight that's not in a pack someone (and to judge by the smell, someone non-orcish) was carying.

[Dracos]

Dracos looks carefully over one of the orcs to see if there was any visible signs of starvation.

Dracos

[Brian]

Well, they look pretty well fed to you.  No ribs showing, at least.

[Dracos]

"At a guess, I'd say they were after the lady.  They might look like they wanted food but they seem to well fed and too focused." Dracos surmises.

Dracos