Welcome to Yartar!

The forfitied town of Yartar sits in the fork of the Dessarian and Subrin rivers, near the Evermore Way, which is the road between Triboar and Silverymoon. A crossroads trading center, Yartar is alwasy bustling with caravans and merchants, and like any busy place, you would surmise that the city is also home to a shady selection of smugglers, mercereries and spies, as well. 

Yartar is well known for its festivals. Every summer, the city holds a busy Hiring Fair that brings in thousands of wanderers, adventurers, barbarians, outcats, criminals and other able-bodied folk from the surrouding areas. Most come to sell their labor and skills to farmers, merchants and nobles, and anyone else who may have use for another laborer or strong sword arm. Others arrive simply to take advantage of the influx of visitors, or in some cases, to pick pockets and run cons; anything to separate other people from their gold and silver.

During Shieldmeet, as its called in elvish, Cinnaelos’Cor, “The Day of Corellon’s Peace,” which falls once very four years on the day after the Festival of Midsummer, the town is treated to a great festival. Sponsored mainly by the local temple to Tymora, the Shieldmeet Festival feautres a number of games and contests of chance, skill and bravery, from dice to darts, to drunken running, to archery, wrestling and other physical contests, many of which bring coin to the winner. Throngs of people compete, and many more just come to revel and enjoy the spectacle and entertainment. In addition there are also a number of open stages where solo performers and groups can get up and entertain the crowd with stories, song and other theatrical displays. 

The central streets of the town and the grounds in front of the main gates are lined with tents and stalls where vendors sell food, crafts and other trinkets, as well as a variety of goods and services. One can purchase anything from a roasted chicken leg or corn cob, fried dough cakes, homebred pies, fresh bread or fruit, to a finely (or shoddily knit) woolen scarf or sweater, a carved, painted or sculpted craft item, or they can have their fortune told. In short, there is no shortage of purveyors to trade just about anything for a bit of coin. 

It is well known throughout The North that the Tymorean priests and other intersted parties occasionally use the Hiring Fairs and Shieldmeet Festival to identify standout adventurers who might be selected for particular tasks or blessinsgs. It’s quite common for new adventuring companies to come into being at these kinds of fairs, when those exceptionally skilled individuals gravitate towrads one another and decide to form a group. At least one adventuring band seems to get its start every summer at the festivals in Yartar. 

This is why you have come. Whether you seek fame and fortune, or if you wish to connect with other brave travelers, this is the place to be. 

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After trekking for quite a few days up The Long Road, which passes through the villages of Red Larch and Westbridge, you turned east at Triboar a day and a half ago, and continued along the Evermore Way to the River Subrin bridge and the western gate of Yartar. 

The dwarf Chrys had been walking solo for the better part of a week when she met the half elf Vesper in a tavern in Red Larch a few days ago. Upon learning that they were both on their way to Yartar, the two figured that it made sense to travel together. Then, yesterday, they overtook another solo traveler, a female halfling named Arine. The three of them walked together and this morning passed over the Subrin bridge before finally made it to the town just before noon.

Your feet ache from your long journey, but as you arrive in Yartar and pass through the gates, you suddenly forget about the pain as your senses begin to become overwhelmed by the rich abundance of sights, sounds and smells all around you amid the hustle and bustle of the festival. 

Wandering up through the side streets, you eventually make your way to the town square and into the heart of the festival. There are people everywhere, and sometimes it's even hard to move through the crowd. 

Suddenly, Chrys spots a familiar face! Standing next to a much smaller creature along a stone wall at the edge of the square is a silver scaled dragonborn wearing a hooded cloak over a suit of simple, unadorned chainmail. As he's looking around and surveying the square, Chrys apparently catches his eye as well...

Footsteps slowing as she approached the town square, Chrys blinked and tried not to be overwhelmed by the swirl of activity that marked the busy fair.  "By Marthammor's hairy balls," she breathed, eyes wide. "So much goin' on in one place!" 

Hearing a snicker off to her side, she shot an irritable glance at Vesper, who merely covered her mouth and blinked innocently in response.  

"Tch," Chrys grumbled.  "So what if I've never been here before?  Everybody's gotta start somewhere, right?"  Still, she dutifully clamped down on her jaws, remembering Arine's pointed advice on how to look at least a little less like a rube in public.  The halfing in question was already scampering off towards one of the more colorful stalls, and Chrys huffed in annoyance. 

"I've got my eyes on ya, Meadowleaf!" she hollered after her.  "Don't be givin' no trouble to the shopkeeps here, I'm warnin' ya!"  The witty reply Chrys was preparing for the raspberry that she was absolutely sure the cheeky halfling would blow her way fell off as she spotted a pair of broad shoulders pressed up against the far wall at the edge of the square.  "Silver?"  The cloaked creature turned, and the flash of scale revealed made it certain.

"Oy!  Silver!  Siiiilver!"  She took off at a jog, a huge grin splitting her face as she waved.  "Over here!"

¨...And that is why, you need to stop telling the farmers what their cows are saying about them behind their backs. Because when they fear you and your gift, more than they fear my stupid face, we lose a job oportunity...just shut up next time while i   negotiate a price ,you can tell them AFTER we have ended the job...¨ Silver said to Krackle while both of them were walking  down the town square, ¨...Let´s make a deal , i will give you the grapes if you promise to keep your mouth  busy next time...deal?¨  and a warm smile adorned his face.

Krackle smiled back and with a cheerful nod, the deal was done. Silver lean against one of the walls  while serching inside his backpack for the grapes.

"Oy!  Silver!  Siiiilver!" , Silver rised his face to see his old friend Chrys jogging up to him  ¨Little one!!... well not so little any more ,look at those muscles!!, i´m so happy to see you, what´s up old friend?

Edit: A bloody typo

"Hey! Hey! Silver! Krackle would shout pointing towards the dwarf with one hand and jumping up and grabbing on to Silver's arm with the other. "I think that lady is yelling at ya.." He would say as he clutches tightly to the dragonborn. "You think she'll like me? Lots of dwarves don't like kobolds..." He would say as he tucked himself behind his silver colored companion. Krackle would then poke his head out from behind the dragonborn and wave back to the dwarf. The brass colored kobolds small pointed head barley came up to Silvers knee as he clutched a twisted wooden wand other hand that looked more like a staff against the frail creatures frame. Most of the tiny creature was hidden under an old once-white robe that appears to have been a hand-me-down from some small toddler many years ago.  the face and limbs you can see that stick out from under the seemingly nervous and twitch kobold are very thin.. even for a kobold... giving the impression that he seems sickly or malnourished. 

If Silver makes his way over to the dwarf, Krackle would follow very closley behind to the point of almost standing on his heals. "H...HHH..Hi! I'm Krackle" The tiny kobold would squeek as he extended his thin bony hand. Looking up at the nervously to the dwarf, Krackle would tremble just a little bit like a stray dog that is hoping to get pet but is used to getting kicked...

¨Don´t worry about it ,she is a very nice person....but just in case keep youself close to me¨ Silver then walk halfway before, Chrys reach him.

¨It´s so good to see you old friend, we have so much to talk, but first i want to introduce you to ...¨ A litte voice interrupt "H...HHH..Hi! I'm Krackle"  as a trembling hand reach out, ¨So yeah, his my friend he is special ,like you he is a diamond on the rough... a little one¨  The amber eyes of silver traces Chrys previous path and see two others figures, ¨New friends? or do i have to worry?¨  he says it while keeping his gaze fixed on the figures behind Chrys.

Chrys pulls up short as the small creature in the ragged white robe nervously introduces himself.  Her eyes narrow.  

"Is that a kobold?  Little bastards were always stealing the livestock back in my village—" She stops short as she notices Silver‘s disapproving glare and Krackle‘s noticable flinch at her brassy tone.  "— but if Silver‘s vouchin‘ for ya, I trust his word.  After all, ya can‘t judge a dwarf by his beard alone, right?  Ya gotta get to the bottom of a tankard first to really know 'em.“ Laughing raucously, she winks at the shy kobold but checks her hand and thinks better of it before she can deliver the friendly pat to Krackle‘s frail back.

Thumbing behind her back, she motions towards where she guesses Arine and Vesper vaguely are and addresses Silver‘s question.  "Oh, those two? Met 'em on the road here.  Arine took to moonlightin‘ with that company that took you through Twilight Tor after ya left us.  She and I get along like oil and vinegar...“

You can hear a mix of exasperated sighs and moans of dismay from her companions as Chrys warms up and soldiers on.

"...but if ya shake us up, ya just might get a salad dressin‘.  And Vesper, that wild child o‘er there?  Well, let‘s just say, she‘s the salad.  Definitely the fruity type!  Sweet girl, that one,“ she finishes proudly to a cacophony of groans.  She turns around and puts her hands on her hips.  "What? I like puns!“

 Vesper had been traveling with Chrys for a few weeks now.  The dwarf had told her that the road could be dangerous for a lone traveler, especially a pretty young woman, and even though Vesper was more than capable of taking care of herself with her magic, she still went with Chrys, because the dwarf seemed like she would be good company. And then they met Arine. She seemed nice too, but Chrys was always keeping an eye on her to make sure that she didn't get into any trouble.

Yartar was such a big city and there were so many interesting things going on because of the festival! But she made sure to stay close to Chrys and stifled a giggle at interjection. "Sorry!"

She kept following Chrys, and noticed that she seemed to know a dragonborn among the crowd. She wasn't sure how to take being called a fruit salad, but at least Chrys said that she was sweet! "Like she said, I'm Vesper. Do you two know each other?"

Krackle would wince as the dwarf moved her hand towards him, but then relax with a heavy sigh once given the pat on the back, even if it did nearly knock him over. "All this food talk is making me hungry... " The Kobold would say sticking his scaly snout into the air and sniffing out all the scents of delicious food. "Silver saved me from some bandits a couple days ago. They wanted my coin and after I told them I only had a few silver... they kept hitting me anyway" The kobold would say with a frown, looking down at his dirt covered feet. "I.. I could probably buy you something small to eat to thank you for your help!" Krackle would add jumping a bit and looking up to Silver as his own stomach grumbled a bit. 

The guileless charm of a jaunty, the sweet smell of something baked and far too sweet floating in the air, the promise of a good sale, places like these had it all. That's what made them such easy pickings.

In another time, another place, she would've been parked outside the most ostentatious shop, or potions store, vending cheap knock-offs; or she'd have made herself comfy with a deck of cards, put on a frankly awful accent, and promised fame and fortune to anyone who listened. Arine was pretty sure she'd already seen two of those scams running about.

Things had changed.

Nowadays she wore an emblem of Tymora around her neck, and pretended to spend her evenings in quiet contemplation. It was one of the more convincing ones she had, mostly because Tymora was the sorta smart lass she could get behind. She'd run out of holier-than-thou sayings a long time ago, so it was a damn good thing that Chrys wasn't that kinda paladin.

She nudged Vesper, and nodded in the paladin's general direction, muttering, "Y'know, she talks a lot about keeping us in line, but runs off at the first sign'a excitement."

Then louder, she addressed Silver, waving in his direction. "If you think Chrys'ere can't handle a little trouble, you can't have known her that long. Though she may like startin' it a smudge too much."

Unabashedly sizing up Krackle, her stare meant to linger, she added, "You really could use more meat on ya'bones. You'd drive my ma wild lookin the way you do." Though it was... unusual, to meet a kobold that wasn't immediately going for its dagger. Perhaps Chrysoberyl just had a bad habit of associating with those who enjoyed, er, works in progress. Not that Arine would be admitting that about herself anytime soon.

Silver hears Krackles stomach  ¨Oh sorry little one, i forgot about your grapes, here take them¨ as he extend his hand with a bunch of grapes.

¨I know her well enougth to know that she is a feisty one and so do you as it seems, but words work better than fist sometimes...¨Silver aproach both of them and extend his hand ¨my name is Silver , Chrys and i, worked together a some time ago, but our paths separated¨ Silver turn his head a little in the general direction of where Chrys is, ¨So, do you have a plan?¨  

Even if Chrys doesn´t have a plan, Silver breath out in relief to be once again with her, as if a great weight was removed from his shoulders.

"I've found that plan makin' always falls apart when it gets to the actual doin'," Chrys says frankly.  She sizes up the marketplace.  "But I do got an idea.  I've been thinkin' that travelin' the world would be easier with a sponsor of some sort, and this seems the right sorta place to find one, if ya get my drift.  I mean, no offense to the Duin, but thoughts an' prayers are only gonna go so far if ya don't have coin in your pocket. If ya really wanna do the the world some good, ya gotta put yourself out there, right?"

She trails off as her eyes land on Krackle's emaciated form.  "But I can't lie, the thought of a sweetberry pie warmin' my belly is definitely the top priority."  Taking stock of the company gathered round, she smiles.  "What say the five of us find a good place to get some grub, get to know each other a little better?  I'm thinkin if we make our introductions the proper dwarven way, over a good tall frothy ale, we just might have the makins' of an adventurin' crew.  If you lot got the time and the inclination for that sorta thing, that is."  She glances around the marketplace again, seeking out one of the larger stalls.  Nodding in satisfaction as she finds one, she points at it.  "O'er there, they got tables set up!  Let's claim ourselves a place and get some food into the rest of ya.  In the spirit of hospitality, it's on me today!"

Grinning, she leads the way towards the food stall.  "Welcome ta Yartar indeed!"

"Thas'probably why you should leave the plan-making to someone else." Arine cut in easily, though without any real heat. With a shrug that was decidedly unapologetic, she added, "I agree. Sorry, the little one's making me wanna stuff a pie in him. And we've been on our feet for hours. A pint wouldn't be unwelcome, if you'd be willing to join us. We can talk details when we can put up our boots."

And it would hopefully give her a chance to look around more. East had been a vague lead at best, but Arine refused to acknowledge that she'd lost track of her main objective. At least, not in the light of day. With an exaggerated flourish, she bowed after Chrys's retreating back, before following after. Their goals might not align perfectly, but she wasn't about to hash that out in the middle of the thoroughfare. And the extra muscle would be missed about as much as the company.

She kept an ear open as they walked, idly sifting through gossip that might come up in passing conversation. 

(( ooc: Perception roll okay? 7 ))

Vesper eagerly follows behind Chrys. "Thanks Chrys! Let's go get some pie!"

¨C´mon Krackle today we eat something else aside from fruits¨ As Silver follows the group he picks up Kracle and put him on his shoulder, then he wispers to him ¨Keep an eye on those two, and no funny business¨ (( Stealth 5  ))

Krackle would quickly pop a few grapes in his mouth. At the mention of a pie... The small kobold would nearly choke on of the the pieces of fruit. "*Cough* *Cough* A whole pie? my family could never afford a whole pie!" he would say excitedly as he finishes coughing out the grape. He would then happily take a seat on the dragonborns shoulder and give the large silver head next to him a knowing nod (stealth? 18) before quickly glancing back to the two women following behind the dwarf.

(Forgot to describe Vesper)

Vesper is 18 years old, with long blonde hair, one blue eye and one violet eye, she's wearing a pink and white dress, and she's not wearing any shoes. It doesn't look like going without shoes has had much of an effect on her feet, aside from them getting dirty.

With stomachs grumbling and sudden cravings for ale and pie taking hold, (which makes sense, given that it is lunchtime right now), the five of you head out into the main square to look for food and drink. Following your nose, it isn’t hard to find some, for there are a number of food tents packed together along the perimeter of the square. With a little searching, you find a rather popular vendor who’s selling a variety of baked goods.

Ten silver coins out of Chrys’s pouch is all it takes to secure generous helpings of strawberry and rhubarb pie for each of you and two gallons of lightly colored wheat ale. You all sit down together in a common eating/drinking area, which happens to be located right next to one of the performance stages. At the moment, a half-elf dressed in a bright red poofy shirt and a pointed cap is up on the stage singing silly songs that seem to be poking fun at big city folk who live in places like Waterdeep and Baldur’s Gate. 

He’s not particularly entertaining, and in fact, most of the crowd seems oblivious to his less than stellar performance. A couple songs later, he ends his set and he relinquishes the stage to the next performer. By now, you’re well immersed in your ale and your conversation as you all get to know each each other, and you pay little attention to the change.

However, as soon as he starts singing you all turn around in amazement. On the stage right now, you see a half orc visciously strumming an oversized lute with near reckless abandon and singing with mesmerizing passion. His playing is heavy, his voice gruff but dynamic, an intriguing style of orc-ish throat singing combined with the capable range, enunciation and projection of his human side. 

Most of his songs are built around war and battle themes, and his tempo and lyrical rhythm are masterafully crafted to engage with the audience in an extremely effective way. You see many people standing up and bouncing to the high energy of his music and singing along with him... even you a little bit, despite not ever hearing his songs before. That’s how good they are. 

His last song is a powerful culmination of his awesome hard hitting style, and its apparent that he’s putting every single ounce of passion and stamina that he possess into this final piece. His knuckles are bloody and his voice is strained from the effort, and you find yourself totally entrhralled by this half orc’s performance. Listening to him play and sing makes you feel your own sense of vigor, enthusiasm and vitality spike and It becomes easily apparent that this remarkable artist has an amazing natural ability to motivate and inspire others, even if it seems that he’s often just playing for himself. 

When he lets out his final yell and bangs his last chord, the half orc, who by now is is drenched in sweat, raises his fist, takes a bow and walks off the stage. The crowd goes wild and presents him with thunderous applause. He spends a few minutes passing around his hat, which quickly fills with coins, and then walks over to the beer tent, grabs a full, frothy mug, and looks around for an avaible place to sit. Seeing an empty spot at your table, he comes over and plants himself on the bench next to you.`

"Wow mr.! You are really good" The tiny brass scaled kobold would say with a mouth full of pie as crumbs fall from his mouth. With his clawed feet kicking and unable to reach the ground, he would look the orc up and down while sitting in his seat. "My name is Krackle." He would say with a smile after swallowing his pie. "What is your name?"

Vesper has a few mugs of ale, although Chrys made sure to put a two drink limit on her, but two drinks was just enough to get her buzzed. While the half-elf bard is on stage, she looks so bored that she might fall asleep right at the bar. When the half-orc takes the stage and starts jamming out, Vesper gets into it. First she starts bobbing her head, then she starts bouncing up and down with the rest of the crowd and trying to sing along, which she does a poor job of since she's buzzed and has never heard the song she's trying to sing before. She still has fun though.

She waves excitedly at the half-orc when he comes over and takes a spot next to them. "Hiiiii." She slurs drunkenly. "I'm Vesper and these are my friends, Chrys and Arine. And this guy is a friend of Chrys', I just met him a little while ago. So what's your name?"

Lumen's last song (which sounded a lot like Immigrant Song) was sung with fervor and passion, but also a bit of wry self-awareness of a half-orc singing about his people:

"Ah-ah, aaaahhh! Ah-ah, aaaahhh!
We come from the land of the ice and snow
From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow
The hammer of Gruumsh
Well leave the Spine of the World for new lands
To fight for horde, and bleed and die
Nishrek, I'm not coming."

Sparks fly from behind his head. It sounds as if there is some huge percussion set behind him, though he's alone on stage. His voice sounds like it should be shredded, but on the high notes, it's almost perfect. A voice coming out of such a brutal visage shouldn't be this good, but it is. "Well now, pipes are having a good day," he thinks to himself as he finishes the last chorus and does a jumping split in the air. His bloody fingers strike the last chord on a lute that shouldn't be so large, but that's how he can get such deep, loud sounds from it. It's weather-marked, pitted and scraped from gods know how much weather or ejections from innkeepers who aren't truly openminded adherents of the arts. The poor thing, obviously self-assembled, has been through a lot. He raises a fist, and finishes his set with a forceful series of arm and leg movements (reminiscent of the haka) that end with a bow. 

The tall half-orc, blue-green skinned and with a now-sweaty but still stylish crop of black hair, stands back up, tall and svelte, chest heaving. The applause, when it comes, does knock him off balance. He's much more used to dead silence, or thrown rotten produce, or worse. "Maybe it's the venue," he mutters, stepping off the stage. "I suppose street buskers aren't supposed to do that, and most open mic nights are sleepy affairs."

He grabs a wrinkled cap that's done more to keep the rain out of his eyes than anything sartorial, and like the showmen do in the storybooks, passes it around. When he looks down, he's floored at what's inside, and immediately goes to the bar for a celebratory pint. He's still hopping with excitement, but his legs are jelly and about to give out, so he sits down at the table.

To the group, he ducks his head and says, "Well thank you kindly, Krackle. 'lo, Vesper, Chrys, Arine. My name's Lumen. Lumen Vork. Where did you get that pie? And what brings you all here? What an amazing city! I had hopes that it would be full of people who appreciate the arts. I'm used to, well, more muted receptions to my performances. Or worse. Are you all performers? Merchants. Adventurers?"

His deep, baritone cadence is easy and eloquent -- you could imagine listening him announce the results of a poultry competition and be entertained. Yet every once in a while he'll slip and a word here or there will be much gruffer and guttural, as if he's still getting used to speaking Common with people who pay attention to all of the words. He smiles easily for someone who has tusks that stick a few inches out of his mouth. He's dressed in basic leathers and next to the oversized lute slung over his back is a savage-looking longsword and a small pack.