Kulloda has no memory of his parents or where he's from. His first memory is being thrust into a fighting pit as a child, a dagger in hand, facing a rabid dog. He was told to "kill or die". He killed. Again and again. But with his young ears and no one having taught him common yet, he didn't understand what they were saying and "kill or die" to him became "Kulloda", which he adopted as his own name, to the amusement of the older gladiators. His entire youth was being traded from one gladiator troupe to another. After performing in a provincial town and brutally maiming his opponent, again, Kulloda's master sold him off. It wasn't good business to have one gladiator killing the rest of the stable. A priest who had been watching, bought Kulloda and focused his rage, anger and strength in the name of his god, Tempus, the god of war.

Kulloda has been the problem solver / avenger / enforcer for a minor temple to Tempus for a few months now, with the priests teaching him that his early life was a test to win the god's favor. At times he finds himself wishing for more when he sees families together, but his rage and devotion to the temple still have too strong a pull on his life. Kulloda is literal and direct to a fault, and all problems are solved by smashing forward, but there's a kernel of feeling/desire/loneliness growing inside him that he doesn't know what to do with and it's the only thing he's ever been scared of. In general, Kulloda thinks gods are stupid and vain and pointless.

The temple is curious about the dwarf and what he’s up to but the inquiries of the priests have turned up nothing so they have sent Kulloda to see what he can find out.

Kulloda looks at the small dwarf and then to the proffered chairs.

“Chairs too small,” Kulloda grunts. “Kulloda stand."

The dwarf looks at Kulloda expectantly.  As you are unsure one, as to why you are there, and two, who he is, you look back.  “Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?  Good good.”

“Dwarf talk much. Say not much.” Kulloda answers

He walks out from behind the desk and sits in one of empty chairs.  He pulls out a notepad and looks at Kulloda appraisingly.  Long enough to almost make Kulloda uncomfortable and wonder if he should just kill the dwarf now and tell the priests there's nothing to learn here. “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

Kulloda stares at the dwarf for a long moment. The dumb priests didn’t tell Kulloda what this was about or that he was to pretend to be looking for work as an adventurer.

“Kulloda good at killing,” the barbarian finally answers. “Should get paid more for killing.”

He takes notes Kulloda answers and starts to ask a few clarifying questions but frowns at the brutal honesty of the half-orc. “Really, you don’t need to get out of town and start a new life and all that?” the dwarf asks.

“New life, old life, bah” Kulloda says waving a dismissive hand away. “All same. Kulloda just want money and be free.”

After Kulloda seems to trail off on the main gist of adventuring, the dwarf asks, “What are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

Kulloda stares at the dwarf. Finally he nods. This dwarf must have been kicked in the head by a mule or was hurt in a mining accident to ask such useless questions.

“Kulloda has no friends,” the barbarian answers. “Kulloda slave, then gladiator. Some day Kulloda come back and kill everyone that pay to own him.”

Kulloda was not going to admit his real fears and dreams to this dwarf, that he feared dying alone without family and when he was finally free he would leave this life behind.

The dwarf doesn’t seem to be getting what he wants out of Kulloda so changes tact, “What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?” 

Kulloda finally laughs, a deep, grumbling growling laugh that shakes the floorboards he’s standing on.

“Little dwarf think Kulloda frightened like little farmer? Maybe Kulloda kill. Maybe Kulloda die. Kulloda always sleep.”

Finally, after he flips a page and continues taking notes as Kulloda answers, he follows up with, “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

“Get away from what?” Kulloda asks.

Artus Anvilsinger grew up in the modest enclave of Eldershore, where the rhythmic clang of hammers and the savory aromas of hearty meals filled the air. His father, Borin Anvilsinger, was renowned throughout the region as a master smith, known for his skill in crafting sturdy weapons and armor. His mother, Eilin Anvilsinger, was the beloved cook at the Mithril Mug, a tavern famed for its delectable dishes and warm hospitality.

From an early age, Artus was immersed in this vibrant world. He would often be found under the watchful eye of his father in the forge, learning the intricate art of smithing, and by his mother’s side in the tavern’s bustling kitchen, absorbing the secrets of her culinary creations. He was a dutiful apprentice, mastering both the art of the anvil and the finesse of a ladle.
Though he loved both crafts, Artus always felt destined to follow in his father's footsteps. His days were filled with dreams of forging great weapons and armor, envisioning himself carrying on the Anvilsinger legacy. That vision, however, took an unexpected turn one fateful evening.

It was late in the evening, and Artus was engrossed in completing a warhammer commissioned by a local warrior. The forge’s familiar warmth and the steady beat of his hammer were suddenly interrupted by a divine presence, his anvil began to emit a radiant glow and a flame burst into being upon it. Artus heard a deep, resonant voice echoing in the forge: "Artus, it be me...Moradin...ye be becoming a fine smith, but I want ye to come serve me...be finishing that hammer and go to my temple in town and tell Father Stonehammer I sent ye to him."
As the voice faded, the flame went out and the radiant glow dimmed. Startled but awed, Artus finished the warhammer with renewed vigor. The divine encounter left him with a profound sense of purpose, and he followed the instructions with unwavering faith.

Upon arriving at the temple, Artus was greeted by Father Stonehammer, a venerable cleric of Moradin. The temple, dedicated to the God of Smithing and Creation, was a place of sacred rites and holy anthems. Father Stonehammer recognized the divine calling in Artus and welcomed him into the fold of Moradin’s clergy. Artus’s parents, though initially dismayed that their son would not continue the family tradition in the forge, were proud of his devotion to Moradin.

Artus spent several years in the temple, undergoing rigorous training and spiritual enlightenment. He learned to channel his faith into divine magic and became adept in the ways of clerical duties. His skill with the forge did not go to waste; it was integrated into his clerical practices, as he used his knowledge to craft sacred relics and enchanted items for the temple.

Finally, the day came when Father Stonehammer presented Artus with a magic hammer known as a Fist of Moradin. This weapon, imbued with divine energy, symbolized his transition from a novice cleric to a warrior of faith. It was time for Artus to leave the sanctuary of the temple and step into the wider world, armed with both his faith and his formidable weapon.

Artus packed his belongings, including a few cherished personal items and his family’s blessings. His father presented him with a gift of smithing tools, designed for travel, and his mother presented him with a set of cook utensils to help him carry on with his cooking skills. Dressed in his newly forged chain mail armor and carrying the Fist of Moradin, he set out on his journey. His mission was clear: to serve Moradin by protecting the weak, battling evil, and spreading the teachings of his god.

“Well don’t just stand there, come in!”

Artus walks into the office and seeing a fellow dwarf walks up a places his right hand on the dwarf's right shoulder and says "It be good to see a fellow dwarf...me name be Artus and I'm of the Anvilsinger clan...I gotta note to be coming here (he asks curiously)?

“Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here. You got the note right? Adventurer’s wanted and all that? Good good.”

Well that be answering that question, Artus replies. I was a wonderin' why I was being summoned.

“Ah yes, good! So, tell me. You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

Artus ponders the question for a minute and replies...I be lookin' for the opportunity to see the world and do the will of Moradin so that I can grow in power and better serve the All-Father.

“What are some of your aspirations? What do you dream about at night? What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

Me greatest desires beyond serving Moradin would be to one day forge a mighty weapon that would gain both the notice and blessing of the All-Father and to one day be worthy of being called a Hammer of Moradin and serve in that capacity.

“What frightens you? What keeps you up at night?”

That be easy...Artus replies..The possibility of making a mistake that would dishonor me clan or the All-Father. And with a sly smile he adds...and spiders...I nay like the beasties...they be creepy creatures.

“If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

Father Stonehammer already gave me his blessing to be on me way. I just be looking for a group to travel with.
As he prepares to leave, Artus walks over to the dwarf and places his right hand on the dwarf's right shoulder and says...Moradin's blessings upon you and ye clan...I be lookin' forward to hearin' from ya.

Born into a great family of wealth and influence, no expense was spared on the children's education in the Bellringer family. Believing a birthmark on his back that looked like a cockatrice was an omen of great magical power, his family spent half it's fortune on sending me to the Amethyst Academy. An ancient elven school of wizardry. I excelled in my studies such as calligraphy, scribing, repair, forgery, proofing, deceptions, and history. But as time went on, it was clear I could not pluck from the weave in the fabric of magic and mundane. I was precise and accurate with a quill, I could add nuance and emotion into characters I put on a page. I watched my peers grow powerful with the magics they learned while I scribed their spells into their books. Ancient wizards from the highest floors of the academy took pity and tutored me in exchange for copying thier ancient books in a larger font. Ancient histories few eyes have read, dark secret betrayals that span centuries. Testing me, only when the cockatrice appears on my back at noon, the only time I could get a cantrip to work. Before the final exams, I was sat down by the high wizards and told I would not be taking the exam. I was given credentials indicating my profiencies in translation, contract language, scribing and maths. I was to be on sabbatical til I returned to complete the test, and given a sealed letter for my grandfather.

My fate was sealed, I failed my family and cost them a fortune. I managed to turn off the ugly before arriving at the Bellringer estate. Everybody knew! I stayed in my room, venturing out after noon lunch to check with his secretary. It was a month before grandfather summoned me. "Why so glum boy? In every disaster there is opportunity!  You just have to look for it and grasp it. Few gnomes are born with the mark of the scribe, a gift with languages." Shaking the letter from the academy at Horace. "House Sivis, has great need for interpreters in their expanding empire and you will only have a 10 year contract! A Bellringer on the other side other world, in the Verdant Reach, working for House Sivis!" The secretary comes in with 2 glasses of wine, and sets the larger glass in front of Horace. "Drink, drink up quick, there is not much time." Goading Horace on as he drank from a smaller glass. "You did not disappoint me... Yet! Complete this contract, and our Houses would be in good standing for generations. Go on, drink up" After the last drop, while quite buzzed "Love me or Hate me Horace, you must fulfill this contract or die while on the clock! It's going to be alot like joining an army. You will be told what to do, what to eat, where to sleep. After 10 years... climb the ladder, make your own way, or come back home, and I'll find you a proper wife!" 2 sailors enter the room as it starts spinning. 

After 10 agonizing years he arrives at his desk, another pizza. Checking the note, he realizes his contract has been fulfilled. Coworkers and bosses, surround and congratulate him. Asked to stay awhile and enjoy a salaried position with perks such as better food, a quarter a share weekly (20yrs worth is a comfortable retirement), a private bedroom, office, and toliet. All in one junk filled room. Horace found an old pipe cleaning out the storage room to make a home, for himself. Celebrating a promotion to fraud inspector of the notary & contracts department in Eldershore's House Sivis, he finally gets a chance to light it up. Closing his eyes to enhance his taste and smell, he inhales and all hell breaks loose.

He is hit in the chest with a large meaty fist. "Where the hell have you been, it's been 3 centuries!" A voice bellows in surprise above him as he is knocked to the floor. Standing before him: the tallest, meanest, most earthly woman he ever laid eyes on. She grabs a handful of hair and tosses Horace across the room like a ragdoll. "Where is your ring!" She demands, then takes a little ring from her nose and places it on his ring finger on his left hand squeezing the gold painfully tight around his finger. "There will be hell to pay if you lose it again!" Nearly 4 hours of being beat!  More slaps send him spinning, spinning back into his office and on to the floor. The broken ribs and punctured lung were healed, but the bruises persisted. 

Now I know most men wouldn't have gone back, broken ribs, pissing blood, even shit myself during the beating, but her powers are primordial and base! Took a few weeks to learn to submit properly to The Misses. Said she was toughening me up, but never harmed my face. She liked my face. In a few short months she taught me more about magic then all the years at the academy. I could finally manipulate the weave! Every night I go back, learn everything I can. Besides vocalizing spell incantations, I can't open my mouth to question because even from across the room she would jab a finger in my windpipe the moment words get sent to my mouth. I have not the right, not worthy! I'm convinced she can read my mind, and only think of praise and compliments during the beatings.

You enter the building hesitantly.  You have never been in this building before and honestly other than looking official, you have no idea behind the purpose of it.  There are some people walking around looking all fancy in their robes and such, but no one you recognize.  The lady at the front desk told you the third door on the right down this hall…there it is.  It is slightly ajar, do you knock or just walk in?

Before you make up your mind, a voice calls from within, “Well don’t just stand there, come in!”  As you walk into the room, you see that it is a very cluttered office.  You don’t even see the body that the voice is connected to for a moment, but then you see the small dwarf, buried behind the piles of papers stacked upon an unruly desk.  He smiles up at you and points at one of the two empty chairs in the room.  After taking a seat, he looks at you expectantly.  As you are unsure one, as to why you are there, and two, who he is, you look back.  “Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?  Good good.”

"Yes, I have it right here" as he pulls out the note from his dossier of credentials. "Let's see them credentials" he chuckles as he thumbs through the papers. "Oh my!" he snorts "Advance abacus application!" A rare certification. "Would that help with this adventure?" I asked excitingly. The drawf plants his face in his hand realizing his sarcasm was lost on the young gnome.

He walks out from behind the desk and sits in the other empty chair.  He pulls out a notepad and looks at you appraisingly.  Long enough to make you uncomfortable and wonder if the letter was supposed to be addressed to someone else?  “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

"I'm unsatisfied with my life as an inspector. Quite frankly, its dreadfully boring. I spend all day making sure Ts are crossed and Is are dotted."

He takes notes as you answer, asking a few clarifying questions as you do, frowning if it is the typical I need to get out of this town sort of answer, so you think harder and give real feeling to his question.  After you seem to trail off on the main gist of adventuring, he asks, “What are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

"I failed at the academy of magic, I couldn't manipulate magic's weave during the academy but I can now." He emphasizes  "All i have left to do is but 1 final test." Horace looks down, embarrassed by the next question. "I dreamt about collecting all the ritual spells from far away places, then floating down to my grandfather's estate from high in the air, mold the very earth into higher walls, taller more splendid towers, more opulent statuary, and hydraulics that would make other houses envious. Have my invisible servant pour drinks and tell grandfather i have always loved him. Prove i didnt squander the family's fortune." A tear rolls down his check and he winces from breaking professional bearing. "I used to joke about being the big boss one day. I really don't want to be in management anymore."

These are getting tougher you realize but answer to your best ability.  He then changes tact on you, “What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?”  Finally, after he flips a page and continues taking notes as you answer, he follows up with, “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

He laughs heartily "The Misses!" Horace strokes his whiskers and says "Just only need to figure out how to let her know."

He then thanks you for your time and heads back to behind his desk, you realize this is your cue to exit and leave through the door back into the hallway, but the place seems eerily quiet.  As you head back to the front door, even the woman behind the front desk isn’t there anymore.  Shrugging your shoulders at the oddness of it all, you leave the building and head back home.

Bryn grew up in a predominantly human settlement, and his childhood was relatively normal. That is until he was sixteen when he lost two years of his life. He awoke outside Eldershore at the age of eighteen with no memory of the intervening years. The mystery surrounding him became an obsession, and he pursued an explanation for many years, becoming a competent investigator during that time.

It wasn’t just the missing time he needed answers to either, he was different since his return. He found he could see much better in the dark, and he could track and hunt even though he had not been trained to do so. A year or so later, something even more extraordinary happened. He found he was able to physically change himself into some kind of hybrid creature, part bloodhound and part human. He hid this ability as much as possible, and learned to harness it, finding that it enhanced his skills even more.

He became comfortable existing in the shadows and in disguise. Over time his ability to read people grew stronger and he became adept at infiltrating places he wasn't meant to be. He could identify forgeries at a glance and tell when people were lying. And he learnt to use his knowledge of behaviour to fight when necessary. All the while he branched out into other mysteries, always looking for answers for the inexplicable, hoping to tie them back to what had happened to him.

Bryn stands outside the building and for what feels like the hundredth time, looks down at the note, trying to find some kind of clue as to where it came from or who had written it. He was no stranger to mysteries, thrived on solving them in fact. But that did not mean he was reckless. For what felt like the hundredth time, he found nothing more than a simple hand written note. The only way to find out more was follow the instructions.

You enter the building hesitantly.  You have never been in this building before and honestly other than looking official, you have no idea behind the purpose of it.  There are some people walking around looking all fancy in their robes and such, but no one you recognize.  The lady at the front desk told you the third door on the right down this hall…there it is.  It is slightly ajar, do you knock or just walk in?

Before you make up your mind, a voice calls from within, “Well don’t just stand there, come in!”  As you walk into the room, you see that it is a very cluttered office.  You don’t even see the body that the voice is connected to for a moment, but then you see the small dwarf, buried behind the piles of papers stacked upon an unruly desk.  He smiles up at you and points at one of the two empty chairs in the room.  After taking a seat, he looks at you expectantly.  As you are unsure one, as to why you are there, and two, who he is, you look back.  “Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?  Good good.”

The note is still in Bryn's hand, and he raises it slightly and turns it around as he sets his focus on the dwarf in front of him, having already processed his surroundings to a small degree. He knew he wasn't the only one to have received the note, and not the first to be invited either. The empty chairs proved that. There was no reason for there to be two empty chairs devoid of clutter, when everything else in the room was covered in clutter, unless that were true.

"I do have the note you sent, it is true. It leaves much unanswered, as you well know. What better way to ensure attendance than appealing to someone's curiosity".

He walks out from behind the desk and sits in the other empty chair.  He pulls out a notepad and looks at you appraisingly.  Long enough to make you uncomfortable and wonder if the letter was supposed to be addressed to someone else?  “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

"The fact I am here does not necessarily mean I am interested in adventuring, only that you indeed piqued my curiosity. I suspect you know of my skills, which is why I received the note, but I will play along. I am an investigator, drawn to solving mysteries, which at times can feel like going on an adventure of discovery. If I were to go on an adventure, it would be to know what lies at its end", he says as he watches the face of the dwarf for any insight he might gain in response to his answer.

He takes notes as you answer, asking a few clarifying questions as you do, frowning if it is the typical I need to get out of this town sort of answer, so you think harder and give real feeling to his question.  After you seem to trail off on the main gist of adventuring, he asks, “What are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

"I aspire to know the truth. There are mysteries out there waiting to be solved. Some closer to home than others. Some more intricate and some wide reaching", he says regarding his aspirations. As for his dreams, that was more difficult. More private. And yet, he felt the need to at least answer with some measure of truth.

"I dream about self discovery", he says simply. The dwarf merely waits for him to elaborate, and the uncomfortable silence drags for a time. "My past is one of the mysteries I spoke of, to solve that particular mystery is something I have dreamed about", he says by way of ending the subject.

"I am not one to brag about what I am going to do in the future, but I am not immune to feelings of hubris. I have confidence in my ability to unravel enigmas, and have been known to state as much in the moment".

These are getting tougher you realize but answer to your best ability.  He then changes tact on you, “What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?”  Finally, after he flips a page and continues taking notes as you answer, he follows up with, “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

When asked about his fears, he takes a deep breath in, pausing for a moment before releasing it slowly. "The truth is not always palatable, and once known cannot easily be forgotten. Perhaps what I find will be...disappointing, shall we say", he says, and it is obvious that many scenarios have played out in his mind, some darker than others.

Snapping out of his rumination, he adds, "If I were to go on an adventure, I would need to know more about its nature, so I could properly prepare. But I sense this is not the sort of meeting where you answer questions, only ask them. Perhaps I will get that chance if we meet again".

He then thanks you for your time and heads back to behind his desk, you realize this is your cue to exit and leave through the door back into the hallway, but the place seems eerily quiet.  As you head back to the front door, even the woman behind the front desk isn’t there anymore.  Shrugging your shoulders at the oddness of it all, you leave the building and head back home.

You enter the building hesitantly.  You have never been in this building before and honestly other than looking official, you have no idea behind the purpose of it.  There are some people walking around looking all fancy in their robes and such, but no one you recognize.  The lady at the front desk told you the third door on the right down this hall…there it is.  It is slightly ajar, do you knock or just walk in?

Before you make up your mind, a voice calls from within, “Well don’t just stand there, come in!”  As you walk into the room, you see that it is a very cluttered office.  You don’t even see the body that the voice is connected to for a moment, but then you see the small dwarf, buried behind the piles of papers stacked upon an unruly desk.  He smiles up at you and points at one of the two empty chairs in the room.  After taking a seat, he looks at you expectantly.  As you are unsure one, as to why you are there, and two, who he is, you look back.  “Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?  Good good.”

Corrin sits in the chair, but her eyes continue to look around the office. She takes in every detail of the room; the dripping candles on the mantle, the stacks of paper on the desk, any pictures on the walls, and even takes a glance behind her at the door she came in through. She turns her attention to the dwarf. What could he want adventurers for? 

He walks out from behind the desk and sits in the other empty chair.  He pulls out a notepad and looks at you appraisingly.  Long enough to make you uncomfortable and wonder if the letter was supposed to be addressed to someone else?  “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

Indeed the attention on Corrin makes her uncomfortable and causes her to shift in her chair. It reminded her of the high priestess interrogating her as a possible suspect for the recently missing totem. Of course Corrin maintained her innocence; even though she did take it, the priestess didn't need to know that, or why. She pushes that from her mind and returns to the dwarf. Why does she want to be an adventurer? "I need to set out on my own." She says. "My coming of age means that I can leave the temple. I have learned what I can from the crones and want to see what the rest of the world can teach me." Her voice is quiet and hesitant in places. Giving the indication that she is shy in speaking with others, but she is trying her best to sound confident.

He takes notes as you answer, asking a few clarifying questions as you do, frowning if it is the typical I need to get out of this town sort of answer, so you think harder and give real feeling to his question.  After you seem to trail off on the main gist of adventuring, he asks, “What are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

"Knowledge is my aspiration. There is so much to be learned from looking at someone. I looked at the other acolytes at the temple and saw their ill intention behind their proposed friendships. I made a vow to myself not to let them win, so I've kept to myself mostly. The night is quiet and a comfort to me. In its quiet, I know one day I will be free." Corrin grows quiet again. Looking at her feet for a moment, she reaches up to wipe a brief tear that escaped her eye. 

These are getting tougher you realize but answer to your best ability.  He then changes tact on you, “What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?” 

Corrin thinks about this for a moment. Truly, she fears being a disappointment to her father. He wanted so much for her to be successful; to be more than a street urchin, thief, or slave. Knowledge of her father could be used against her, so after stammering for a minute on her words, she says: "I fear making mistakes. Misjudging my knowledge and intuition to the detriment of others." 

Finally, after he flips a page and continues taking notes as you answer, he follows up with, “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

"The sooner the better. The fewer nights I need to spend at the temple the better." 

He then thanks you for your time and heads back to behind his desk, you realize this is your cue to exit and leave through the door back into the hallway, but the place seems eerily quiet.  As you head back to the front door, even the woman behind the front desk isn’t there anymore.  Shrugging your shoulders at the oddness of it all, you leave the building and head back home.

Myles grew up in a family of city watchmen, his own father a true veteran in keeping the peace in the city of Eldershore. His father wanted something else for his son though and Myles was sent to be educated by a learned man with one of the city's most impressive libraries at his disposal. While young Myles learned a lot he was always seeking the mysteries and how to apply his newfound knowledge to solve them. In the old library he one late evening found a forgotten tome wich had been hidden away, it's contents too disturbing for the minds of mere mortals. Unaware of this young Myles eagerly devoured the knowledge within leaving him enlightened in many ways but with a scarred mind. With mystical powers learned from the dark tome, Myles eventually left his studies to offer his services as a private investigator, sometimes working close alongside the city watch in solving particularly disturbing crimes and occult mysteries, to his fathers great chagrin. Myles knows his destiny lies with solving mysteries and he hopes to one day make his father proud by helping the city with it's many calamities.

The smartly dressed young man with his well-trimmed beard stops at the door he was directed to by the nice lady at the front desk. He wears an impeccable three-piece suit and carries a black cane topped by a serpent head, a raven perching on his shoulder. “Well don’t just stand there, come in!” A voice calls from within and the suave occult investigator calmly steps inside the very cluttered office.

“Oh!” The small dwarf, buried behind the piles of papers stacked upon an unruly desk exclaims as the occult investigator had taken a seat. “I’m sorry, for some reason I thought you knew why you were here. You got the note right? Adventurer’s wanted and all that? Good good.” He says as he walks out from behind the desk and sits in the other empty chair. “So, tell me. You want to be an adventurer. Why?”

A cigarette appears in the gloved hand of the occult investigator and it is quickly lit by the raven. "I would like to offer my services to put them to good use for the city. Adventurer sounds so...dramatic but I suppose I want to be an adventurer then." He says with a polite smile, one hand resting on the serpent-headed cane. "I have a very particular skill set that could help solve mysteries and problems, and if need be eliminate them." 

“What are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?” The dwarf continues as he continously takes notes in his notepad.

"Admittedly I have very few friends and those I have I try to spare any bragging on my part." The occult investigator says with an amused smile. "As for my aspirations I suppose I want to make my father proud by making a name for myself as an, well, adventurer." The occult investigator explains. He decided to not mention anything about his less than pleasant dreams but perhaps his adventuring would soothe them, or worsen them...

“What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?”  The dwarf continues, making the occult investigator hesitate for the first time, not having quite expected this kind of question. "It is difficult to explain exactly I'm afraid, things from beyond the veil of reality, the kind that would put a significant strain on your sanity and I admit I truly fear the descent into madness." The occult investigator explains, still calm but visibly uncomfortable with the subject.

“If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?” The dwarf finishes. "I am currently with no clients so I would be able to leave on the spot if that was needed." The young man says with a polite smile as he gets up from his chair to leave. "I assume you will contact me soon then." He adds with a confident smile before leaving the mysterious building. In truth he wasn't sure what had just happened but he had the sense it was the start of solving his greatest mystery yet.

It was an odd sensation. Jhaelriv knew it had to be an office of some sort. The building had all the trappings of one. It even smelled like an office. Yet he could for the life of him not figure out just what would be going on inside. It both frightened and excited him. The dark elf did a quick check of his appearance, first impression is important after all, and deftly stepped through the front door.

The first thing he noticed was how nobody attacked him with weapons or magic for daring to walk unannounced into the entrance hall. It was a welcome change to how things typically played out. The other thing Jhaelriv observed was that most people, if not all of them, were dressed better than him. His right hand shot up to smooth out some of the creases in his leather jerkin as he silently cursed the fact he had to pawn off some of his nicer things to finance his trip out here.

The lady sitting at the front desk noticed him and before Jhaelriv had a chance to state why he was here, she had already told him to go to the third door down the hall on the right. Jhaelriv bit down his instinct to offer a clever, or as some would say: sarcastic, response and gave a stiff nod instead. The door he found was slightly ajar. He contemplated to just walk in or be polite and knock but the choice was made for him when a voice rang out from within: 'Well don’t just stand there, come in!'

It was an office in much the same way four walls and a roof technically qualifies as a house. There was clutter everywhere. Stacks of paper were piled onto what Jhaelriv could only assume was a desk and aside from two chairs, every other surface looked like an explosion had flung random books, scrolls, and small gadgets onto it. If an office was a reflection of who occupied it, the owner must be either some chaotic genius or scatterbrained to the point of insanity. Needless to say, Jhaelriv was appalled.

Out from behind a stack of paper emerged a dwarf. He was small for a dwarf, small enough Jhaelriv could have confused him for a gnome were it not for the characteristic bushy beard and eyebrows that graced the vast majority of dwarvenkind. His mind must have been still processing the messy state of the surroundings for Jhaelriv spent a good solid minute just staring at the dwarf.

'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?  Good good.'

He walked out from behind the desk and sat in one of the two remaining empty chairs.  He pulled out a notepad and looked at Jhaelriv appraisingly. Taking the cue, the dark elf moved and sat down in the other chair. The two stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. Jhaelriv was going through every possible option in his mind while the dwarf was hoping that the elf would take the lead. Evidently that was not going to happen. The dwarf put a stubby pencil to paper.

'So, tell me,' He started the conversation, 'You want to be an adventurer... Why?'

Jhaelriv crossed one leg over the other and tapped his upper knee with his index finger. After three taps he said: 'Gold, power, fancy artefacts, that sort of thing.'
It was not the whole truth but it was true enough. There was no reason for him to tip his hand just yet.

'Uhu…' The dwarf muttered as he scribbled something incoherent on his notepad. 'Well, you wouldn't be the first one but-' His eyes shifted from left to right and back as he mulled over how to continue the sentence, 'we are kind of looking for something a bit more than just fame and wealth.'

He scratched his head with the pencil before putting it back onto the paper. 'Maybe a different approach. A bit more specific. How about this: what are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?'

Jhaelriv shifted in his chair. Specific questions were more in his wheelhouse. It made not addressing certain aspects that much easier. There was something in the back of his head nagging him though. This dwarf was not some dark elf politician out to backstab you the moment he could. Nor did he get the feeling that the dwarf was asking all of this to blackmail or bully him into something later down the line. Jhaelriv found it hard to believe but perchance this dwarf could be utterly sincere about the questions. Somehow Jhaelriv got the impression that what he would say would be confidential and, more important, that it would remain confidential. He brushed a single white hair behind his ear before answering.

'I would say,' he said, 'I want to see just how far I can make it on my own merits.' He choose his words consideringly. 'I don't suppose you know much about how things work with us dark elves but my entire life has always been for the greater glory of someone else.' A spark flashed in Jhaelriv's eyes, making them resemble hot embers amidst his ashen face. 'Bullocks to that, I say. I want to be my own man.'

He pressed his fingertips together and rested them against his mouth before continuing. 'If your next question is your way of asking about my hopes and dreams, I refer in part to my earlier answer. Fame and fortune, yes, but much more than that: I want a legacy.' Jhaelriv's mouth curled into a smirk. 'And not just some "oh, he did this and that", a plaque on a wall somewhere and that's it. No no, I want more than that: I want people to speak of my deeds in reverence, to wonder what I would do if I was in their situation, to look upon my history and be inspired.'

The smirk faded from his face. 'As to your third question, that would surmise I have friends to brag to. But let's say for the sake of argument that I do. Then I would tell them that I aim to break the status quo in Meaenanoris.'
Jhaelriv's eyes peered straight into the dwarf's, as if he could, or tried to, read his mind. 'I don't expect you to understand what that means. Just put down that I have some unresolved issues back home.'

If the dwarf was judging him, he did a great job of not showing it. He merely nodded and wrote down shorthand notes of Jhaelriv's answers. He nodded once in deep thought and moved onto a next line of questions.
'What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?' He asked.

Jhaelriv sat silent. Ambition was a given in dark elf culture. Everyone was always up to something so most people had no problem speaking about it. Or more accurately: brag about it. But one's fears? That was giving a dagger to your enemies and telling them just where in the back to stab you.

'The opposite of my aspirations, I'd say.' Jhaelriv grew solemn, 'To die alone and forgotten, with nothing to my name and nothing to remember me by. To leave no lasting impact nor meaningful change, to the point where in the grand scheme of history it did not matter whether you existed or not.'

His voice trailed off towards the end. To his credit the dwarf said nothing. Jhaelriv did not want to dwell on it any longer than necessary. A curt cough broke the silence.
'Last question.' The dwarf said, 'If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?'

Jhaelriv just smiled. 'Already packed.'

The dwarf put down the pencil and paper. He slid out of his chair and Jhaelriv followed suit. He thanked the dark elf for coming to see him and bade him goodbye. When Jhaelriv left the office, he noticed that the entrance hall was devoid of any life. Even the lady behind the front desk was gone. Had his visit taken so long that everyone had gone home for the night? It did not feel like he had spent more than perhaps twenty or so minutes talking to the dwarf. Maybe being out from underground was playing tricks on his perception of time. Jhaelriv shrugged and walked out the front door wondering where this would all lead to.

When still a child, Ameira had been traveling with her parents when they came upon an old, abandoned library. While exploring, she stumbled upon an ancient text that she still carries with her to this day. Unfortunately, the ruins were also the lair of some creatures - she never really saw what they were.  Her father was killed, then after she triggered some sort of magical trap and was turned to stone. Perhaps it helped save her.  It was months later that some clerics from a temple of Deneir found her and freed her. They looked for any sign of her mother, but none was found. It did not appear that she had been killed, but she apparently had fled. 

With no other siblings or family, after that time she became a ward of the temple of Deneir.  She worked and studied there, become quite a scholar. While initially they might have thought to make Ameira into an acolyte, she soon discovered she had quite a knack for music.  And for bardic magic. Although this was not their strength, the leaders in the temple sought to teach her as best they could.  As her knowledge grew, she also devoted time to studying the book she had found in the library ruins.  She is convinced it has special importance and secrets yet to be unlocked.  But there is still much for her to discover.

Still a young woman at 18, she devotes her time to both studying and to music.  It's a balance she has maintained for years