It's a clear day in the grand city of Caelor - the usual dreary weather that plagues the Snowsong Valley is absent today, as there isn't a cloud in sight. Within the city's walls it's comfortably warm, so much that the only time you'd see someone covering up is if they meant to leave the city. Thanks to enchantments managed by mages from the city's own Spire (a massive tower constructed in the Cerulean Heights, housing some of the most powerful and brilliant minds of the region), Caelor enjoys a nice balmy temperature all year round. Just outside the city, you would experience a fast temperature drop. The valley is a cold temperate region, staying relatively cool even in the summer season.

You've gathered within the Moonlit Accord, a fairly high-class establishment in the Iselcross District. It's constructed from limestone blocks, sanded down to shine a bright white. As you approached, you would have seen a few patrons on a wooden balcony constructed above the main entrance, and a garden of carefully curated flowers and bushes lining the exterior of the ground floor. Through the curved archway that made the entrance, you were greeted with an equally decorated interior. The walls are line with little enclaves built into them, housing a variety of decorative plants. A large tiered fountain dominates the center of the room. Tables surround this centerpiece, radiating outward in a neatly arranged fashion. A pair of stairs are set into the back wall, leading upwards in opposite directions. As upscale as this place seems, it does have some of the familiarities of a regular tavern to it. A polished wooden bartop runs nearly half the length of the room on the west wall, creating an L-shape against it. You can see some patrons playing cards, throwing dice, and things of that sort - though they aren't the rowdy drunkard types you might be used to seeing in other taverns. In general, the clientele looks much more well behaved - and frankly richer - than what you're likely used to seeing.

On a small stage on the east wall, a red-skinned and well dressed tiefling plays a gentle tune on his viol. 

When you arrive, you find that Orlan has reserved a large table for you in one of the room's far corners. A waiter stops by as you seat yourselves, politely offering to bring you whatever wine, ale, or spirit you wish for. He assures that Orlan has already covered the expenses. Although the retired investigator himself hasn't arrived yet, a few others have. Strangers to you, but the letter had mentioned you would be working within a small team. 

Please take the opportunity to 'introduce' your characters, and roleplay a bit with each other or the environment. The story is yours now! (=

Richter takes his seat at the table within the very posh restaurant. "Whatever ale you would recommend, I'm a little out of my element here friend." He says to the waiter upon being asked for a drink choice. 

Over a white tunic and leather armor he wears a black-accented white tabard. A belt clipped to his waist holds a few small pouches and a dagger, but other than that he doesn't seem to be armed. 

"I take it Orlan has made himself a pretty fine retirement," he comments as his gaze travels around the restaurant. "I'm Richter Kalos. From the letter it reads like we're going to be working together to help him with whatever this is. I can't say I've spent much time this far north, are any of you actually from around here?"

A young woman takes a seat at the table, freezing for a few moments when asked for a drink before quietly shaking her head. Wavy silver hair falls down her shoulders along a dark blue travelers cloak. She has the slender, angular features of an elf, but her ears are not quite as long and pointed. Her eyes are a light blue, and dart around the tavern with a slight panic. A rapier is clasped to her hip, along with all manner of pockets and pouches on her belt.

"Uh. Hi. I'm Sylnora. Syl for short if you want." The words come out quickly and nervously. "I'm not really from this area either. First time I've made my way up here honestly."

Running in slightly later, an excited young man looks around and asks the waiter, "Um, hi I am here to meet with a fellow adventurer named Orlan." She sends him over to the group. Sitting down quickly, the youthful half-elf glances around. He is dressed in worn traveling clothes with shoulder length dirty blonde hair. "Techlas Odlsier at your service," he introduces himself in a soft warm voice. As he shifts in his seat, you can see a rapier and hand crossbow on his belt while on his back there is a well made case for a dulcimer. "I have not traveled this far north before either. But my father used to work with Orlan often. He adventured up here often and often would send me letters about the area." As Techlas chatted with his two new acquaintances, his left hand fiddles with a small pouch under his robes and subconsciously rubs a crystal ball. 

"I live here," an awkwardly deep voice announces.  "Well not here, exactly.  Not Caelor.  And I've never been in a place like... this."

An tall, armored young man of indeterminate lineage pauses uncertainly, then sits at the table with a soft clank, gesturing at the upscale trappings of the Moonlit Accord around them.  His angular jaw and cheekbones and slightly pointed ears hint at elven blood, but his size suggests kinship with giants.

He places what appears to be a ragged spell-book back into his backpack.  A grey snowy owl perches on his shoulder, turning towards the others and blinking slowly once.  Just behind the owl is the haft of a large maul slung on the man's back.  He wears slightly tattered winter clothes under his armor, inexpensive but warm.  Snowshoes and crampons hang at his side.  Where his olive skin is visible, there are signs of recent wounds and bruising.

"I'm Xarian.  And the owl's name is Ash.  Nice to meet you, ah... Richter, Syl and Techlas.  I'm from down the valley a couple days.  The town of... well anyway, nearby.  It's a lot colder there than it is in this city, and there aren't any taverns like this one that I know of.  I think this is the farthest I've been from h... from where I live.  It sounds like you are all from far off?  South maybe?"

Xarian's hazel eyes are restless like an animal in strange territory.  "I hadn't heard from Orlan since I was a boy.  Until I got the letter, that is."

After the other four had introduced themselves, a slender young woman slips from a spot near the bar and comes over to the table as well. "Guess we're all here for Orlan. I'm Krizira Holdi. I live around these parts, but I travel quite a bit.  Only been to Caelor a few times.  It's kind of an odd place." She makes a face, clearly revealing her displeasure.

Her skin is fair and she has a human look to her, but her pointed ears reveals her to likely be half-elven. She dressed in a light, almost yellow-colored studded leather, with a rugged brown hooded cloak around it.  There's a small wooden shield at her back and she holds a longbow at the moment.  A rapier is easy to spot at her side.

When the waiter comes up, she immediately says, "A glass of wine." She then sets her bow and pack down near the wall before taking a seat. Brushing her long dark black hair back from her face, she looks around the table with her bright blue eyes.  "I guess we wait for Orlen? He always did seem the sort that could gather a group if he really needed to."

"So we'll have two local guides for the area, that's reassuring. Was worried I might end up getting lost up here and freezing to death." Richter says with a playful smile. Whenever the waiter returns with their drinks he takes a quick taste of the ale, stares into the mug as if it might help discern the strange flavors, then shrugs and takes another drink. "I've called Rodessa home for a while now. In return for keeping me from frostbite, if you're ever that far south I'd be happy to show you where to avoid scams and getting robbed."

"Nice to meet you all too," Sylnora echoes. Her tone is somewhat distant, as her eyes stay glued to the door, scanning everyone who walks in. In truth, she has no idea what Orlan should look like, save for his age and gender. Every patron that walks in who might match those criteria sends her heart racing. She had made it so far now, and the thought of being turned away at this point terrified her.

She tries to return her attention to the here and now, engaging in the table's conversation. "I haven't been to Rodessa either. Can you really get robbed there?" The enclave was practically free of crime, as it was a much smaller community than these cities. It was difficult to get away with something when everyone knew everyone. Another thought occurs to her, and she adds: "Could we get robbed here?"

"Rodessa?" Krizira says. "Well sure, I'll perhaps take you up on that if I'm ever out that way."  Her voice is fairly high pitched, clearly feminine and perhaps a tiny bit childish sounding. Her tone makes it sound like she certainly doesn't plan on ever making it Rodessa. 

She grabs her glass of wine when it arrives, sipping at it slowly. She is quiet for a bit as she again looks over the gather people. 'We all seem about the same age. Did Orlan rescue all these others from some bad situation in their childhood?' she wonders. 'Though many are not from here. Hmm.' 

"I can't help but note we seem mostly the same age range. Did you all meet Orlan as a child?" she asks. "I've known him since I can remember. Like Xarian said, I haven't really heard from him for a few years. Really, only a few times throughout my life." 

"All on the young side, and all half-elves too," Xarian blurts out in response to Krizira, before looking surprised and embarrassed that he had said anything.  "I think, anyway?  Though it's just quarter-elf in my case, I guess.  I owe Orlan for sure.  Maybe owe him my life.  But I also barely know him."

Realizing belatedly that he had forgotten to order a drink, Xarian mumbles out an order of ale as the server is dropping off drinks for everyone else.  He takes a breath, then decides to plow ahead, tilting his head in thought.

"Rodessa?  I think I've seen that on a map.  I'd love to hear about your travels sometime, Richter.  You too Techlas and Syl.  Do you play that... ah, the musical instrument in the case Techlas?" (Xarian doesn't know what a dulcimer is).  "I'm not much of a guide.  Mostly go fight where the guard captain tells me.  Not sure if you can get robbed here, Syl.  Probably.  Not much robbing in my home town.  A few pickpockets.  When I was little, I used to..."

A little breathless, Xarian trails off uncomfortably once more with an awkward smile frozen on his long face.

"I suppose I could be a guide of sorts. If we need it. I'm familiar with much of the Valley.  Been to many of the towns, though don't know those quite as well."  Krizira is still slowly sipping her wine as she speaks.  She smiles a bit as Xarian blurts out about half-elves. "Yes, all half-elves, or part elf. I actually grew up amongst elves, so I guess I tend to think of myself as an elf."

Hearing Sylnora's question about robbers, she then turns to her.  "There could be robbers most anywhere. But I don't think there's too much risk of that here. Why not get a drink with us and relax a bit? Where are you from?"

"Yeah, it happens from time to time. Big city with a lot of people, you're bound to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time eventually." Richter says. For Sylnora's second question, he offers a shrug. "In this city? Maybe. I doubt we have to worry about that in this district though."

"Guard captain? Sounds like you'd have some interesting tales to tell yourself, Xarian."

His mind returns to when he met Orlan as the question arises, and he raises his mug to his lips to hide his frown. "I was younger yeah, spent some time with him before he found me a place in Rodessa."

"Rodessa you say? My dad was there once, said he helped save the city from pirates I think," Techlas says excitedly as everyone begins to discuss where they are from. He quickly begins to talk about various things his dad told him about the town.
As Xarian asks Techlas about his travels, he quiets down. "I haven't gotten to doing much exploring yet. But soon I'll be as famous as my father. Orlan once helped my dad find work and they did some adventuring with each other too I think. I mostly know him from letters my dad sent home to me." Techlas smiles as he talks about his dad and pulls his dulcimer out of it's case. "I do play the dulcimer. It was left behind by my dad." He quietly begins to pick at the instrument to a soft warm tune. 

In the midst of your conversations, the man himself walks through the front entrance of the establishment. Orlan looks older than you might have remembered him. His hair, once raven black is now faded and graying. The frown lines from constantly furrowing his brow are more noticeable than ever, and his sharp blue eyes now look through a pair of round eyeglasses. His garb is made from black and silver threads - a simple style, but well kept and clean. As he approaches the table, you find that age has not dulled that air of quiet strength he seems to exude.

The corners of his lips curve upward into a faint smile as he looks around. "Excellent, all of you made it." He greets each of you in turn, "Techlas, Xarian, Krizira, Richter, and Tal-" The words cut off as his gaze moves across Sylnora, his eyes narrowing. "You look like Tallia. But you aren't her. A daughter, I presume."

"Never knew she had one." He muses, moving around the table to take his own seat. "I trust there's a good reason you're here and she isn't. What's your name?"

Sylnora seizes up as Orlan focuses in on her. Right. She'd been prepared for this. There was an excuse. A reason, or story. But in her panic, it was slipping from her mind. "Uh. Yes, she couldn't make it. Sent me in her place. You can call me Syl." She finally manages to stutter out.  

Xarian turns a little pale when Richter repeats "guard captain" back at him, despite enjoying the pleasant music from Techlas.

"Actually, Captain Borresquieu back in Acrine was none too fond of me, and his son almost kil-..."

He cuts off with a big grin when he sees Orlan, his expression gradually becoming more puzzled at Syl's stammering response about her identity.

"I see." Orlan says simply, staring blankly at the half-elven woman. "Well I'm sure your capabilities are more than equal to the task if she sent you in her stead, and that's enough for me." He looks around the table again, taking a closer look at everyone. His gaze stops on Xarian this time. "Run into some trouble on the way here Xarian?" He asks, glancing at the young man's bruising. 

Without even having to ask for what he wants, the waiter brings out an entire bottle of wine and a glass for Orlan, which he uncorks and begins to pour while waiting for a response.

((Edit because I got names mixed up ))

Xarian's olive skin turns paler and he looks nervous.  Finally, he shrugs and gives Orlan the same rueful smile he had as an urchin when Orlan had picked him out playing in the gutters of Acrine with a stick, the expression looking incongruous on the face of the tall warrior.

"Trip here was fine, sir.  Just couldn't move for a day after the beating Gerrard laid on me on the practice yard.  The captain's son.  He was acting the bully as always, and I stood up for my friend Timothy.  Chandler's son.  Then to top it off, I used magic to defend myself.  Gerrard didn't like that."

Xarian runs a large hand through his dark brown hair and tries to laugh it off, hoping the attention shifts to another of his new companions.

An eyebrow goes up, but otherwise the look on Orlan's face says he's unsurprised. "I see." 

"Well the good news is you won't be going back for a while. I'll keep Captain Borresquieu off your back in the meantime." 

"Now as for why you're all here..." He pauses, sipping the wine from his glass. His hand goes into one of his pockets, retrieving a small leather journal and a charcoal pencil, tossing them onto the table. "I came to this place to retire. Get myself a nice house in a small city, far from troubles that plague the rest of the empire's cities. Spend my days with my books and my hobbies." A silent sigh, and another sip of his wine. "I got to do that for a few years, but now there's..." He gestures around. "Maybe it's nothing, maybe I'm just restless and seeing things that aren't there.

"I think there's something weird going in this region. Maybe the couple natives among you have noticed it, maybe not. I don't have the...Youthful vigor to go romping around the entire damn valley like I might have a decade ago."

He smiles, "Now there's not a single person alive in the empire that can match my talents. But I have my eyes on a group of talented young individuals that can."

"Care to help put an old man's worries to rest?"

Krizira finishes off her glass of wine as Orlan arrives. She too is curious at Sylnora's nervousness, but quickly passes it off.  Xarian too seems nervous, though she's not sure why. She listens closely when Orlan presents his reasons for being there. 

"Sir, I'm sure you know far better than I would if anything could be amiss. I've heard whispering of things, but I'm afraid I've not been let in on any details.  If there are places you need us to investigate, then we'll be on it right away."  Despite her youthful sounding voice, her tone is confident.