Prologue: A Royal Proclamation, A Call to Arms!

[silverfoxdmt73]

Free Peoples of the North!

We have won our freedom from the oppression of the Dragon,have cleared from our lands the threat of the Goblins from the far mountains, and have proved that together we are mightier than our foes.

I believe that our destiny is in our own hands, providing that we do not forget this lesson. Together we are strong. Before we came together, we were as frightened children, hiding in our homes from the shadows of the wider world. But now we have a chance of something better, and all it takes is our courage to grasp it.

And so, Free Peoples of the North, gather up your courage and bring it to me. I have plans for the North such as you will scarce believe, but I need your strength to turn plan to deed. In return for playing your part in our rebirth, I will pay well in gold, land and the satisfaction of knowing you lead your people from the shadows into a brighter future.

Make haste to Lake-town. On the first day of each month my advisors and I will appoint tasks to the willing, and disperse rewards to those who bring their tasks to completion. And they shall be celebrated, for they are the heroes of our age.

- Proclamation of his Majesty King Bard of Dale

[silverfoxdmt73]

March 1st 2946, Lake-Town

It is a bright but frosty Spring morning when you find yourself stood at the gates to the Town Hall district of Esgaroth, waiting for an audience with one of the Master's representatives and the possibility of earning some coin in service of King Bard and the Master of Lake-Town.

A cold wind blows down the length of the Lake, chilling you to the bone. You find yourself one among a dozen stood by the gate. Elf, Dwarf and Hobbit are there but more folk of man than the others. You wonder what, besides the money, brings the others to the town hall on this day.



A pair of guards, in the blue livery of Esgaroth stand either side of the gates as you await the arrival of the town's representative. They murmur discontentedly about having to stand around in the cold as their spears bar the way to the town hall.

[Olligarchy]

Orin son of Orin son of Borin stood besides the Elf, the Halfling and Men, uncertain if he should be in such a company to begin with. The lot seemed like warriors and adventurers, which he most certainly was not. He was a businessman looking for a charter from Lake Town. He didn't expect he could sell much here given that the Lonely Mountain was just over yonder, but the right to free passage and chance to hire some guards was well worth the effort.

Looking to the others curiously, Orin finally breaks the silence.

"Fit brings ye here?"

OOC

Given that Orin speaks Dalish, an older form of Westron I'll be using Doric instead of English.

Should work better than putting apostrophes everywhere.

[Omenstar]

"Well, good morning, master dwarf!" says Dobbin in his Shire-accented Westron, "Did you not hear the proclamation of King Bard? Royal formalities aside, it sounded like he's got big plans. There was a call for courage and promises of gold and land! I'm sure my courage is not to speak of next to a well-travelled dwarf like you," he adds appraisingly, "though perhaps it's not truly been tested yet, either..." he pauses to ponder a moment, then continues...

"I've been wandering the lands between here and the Shire with the lust of the road in my heart. But while much has been accomplished since the Battle of Five Armies, I've seen evidence that the Shadow still lurks in some corners. I'd do my part to keep that influence out of my beloved Shire. My kin may be ignorant of the affairs of the world around them, but somehow they're all the more lovable for it!" the hobbit ends, enthusiastically.

"Name's Woodbridge, by the way. Dobbin Woodbridge, at your service," says the Wanderer, remembering his manners, and that he's speaking to a dwarf.

[Olligarchy]

Orin stares at the Hobbit that positively explodes into a frenzy of speech and vibrancy. A speecy somewhat dotted by insinuation that Orin, the well-dressed merchant of rich furs and fabrics that he was; might not be 'hardy enough' to be in such company. Grunting in displeasure, he taps the silver encrusted walking stick he carries on the cobbled road and looks about the mixture of peoples, before focusing on the Halfling again.

"Considering ah live owergyan aire an hiv lived twice yer life time ah d warrant aire isn t much ah haven t seen. Bit thank ye fur yer life story Did ye get it aa aff yer kist fine?"

After a moment, he extends his hand to shake,"Ma name is Orin son i' Orin son i' Borin aat yer service."

[Wbweather]

Dolenril stands silently as he watches the dwarf and the hobbit introduce themselves to eachother. The diminutive size of both peoples always amused him. He had never seen a hobbit until very recently. Woodland Hall had always had a cautious relationship to the dwarves, but that seemed to be on the mend now. He had heeded the call of King Bard in part do to admiration of the dragon slayer but also in part to learn more about these newly reformed cities and the reclaimed kingdom under the mountain. It amazed him how much had changed in the few years since the death of Smaug. For the elves, time moved more slowly. The Woodland realm had existed essentially unchanged since his birth. He was a young elf by the reckoning of his people and yet he was already far older than any of these other adventurers.

He steps forward to introduce himself to the other two. "I am Dolenril. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances."

[Olligarchy]

As the Elf approaches himself and the Halfling, Orin looks at him quizzically for a moment, but when it becomes apparent the weedy little forest creature was merely there to introduce himself rather than stealing away all things Dwarven, Orin offers his hand in turn to the taller figure. Without hesitation. Somewhat prejudiced towards other races he might be as any Dwarf, but the decades spent away from the shadows of mountains had molded him to be far less likely to do the whole grumpy Dwarf thing.

"Orin. Fou's yer dous?"

[Omenstar]

Dobbin, seeing hints of consternation on Orin's face, was in the middle of clarifying, "No, no, good Dwarf! What I meant was that it is my own courage that is yet untested..." then this tall figure gracefully interjected to make acquaintance.

Turning to the elf, Dobbin replies, "Dobbin Woodbridge, very honoured indeed! So," he quickly follows with a question, "the Fair Folk too have heard King Bard's proclamation? Is that why you've come? You know, I've travelled through parts of your wooded homeland and consider myself even modestly familiar with some parts. Once in awhile a lucky hobbit will glimpse your kin on the borders of the Shire. Have you ever been to the Shire, Mr. Dolenril?"

[Wbweather]

Dolenril smiles, bending to extend his hand to the hobbit. "So, a frequent traveler to my homeland. Pleasent greetings indeed, Master Woodbridge. In answer to your question, while we elves tend to keep to ourselves, we do share an interest in the future of Wilderland as a whole. Some of us even enjoy the sights to be found outside of the forest."

[Vardaen]

OOC

So my character speaks Dalish as well, but honestly I don't. I haven't understood anything Orin has said so far! This should be interesting as I misunderstand you but my PC shouldn't

"Shhhh!" There is a dour faced man standing behind the others who are chattering on. "Can you all be silent? I want to be able to hear what they have to say and I can't do that with you prattling on about whatever it is you are prattling on about." The man speaking is clearly a local, he bears all the appearances of the men of the North Kingdom of Dale and Lake-town. Under his fur-lined cloak you can see a corslet of mail sticking out, and among his bags and packs he bears a long sword and a great yew bow, with quiver, and other camping gear to boot. His boots are a bit muddy, travel stained, and his beard is three days unshaven, his face weather worn beyond his young age from much time spent out in the sun.