CONSTABLE:

The town constable wanders in with his friendly smile and suspicious eyes.

The constable appears to have been a rugged and burly individual at one time. He has the look of a fighter, but years of sedentary life in the town have left him slightly out of shape. Even in this condition, however, he is a formidable opponent and not one to take lightly.

>ask constable about the law
The town constable does not seem to know anything about that.

The town constable heads south.

GUARD AT WEST GATE:

>l guard
You see a weathered looking common man in his mid thirties. He's wearing some standard brigandine armor with the insignia of Wehnimer's Landing emblazoned across the breastplate. A dark red armband near his shoulder marks his place as a regularly paid member of the guard.

>ask guard about nickname
The town guard grimaces and says, "Ok who have you been talking to! One of the other guards? Let me tell you, they are a bunch of jealous jokers. Imagine calling me Sleepy behind my back!"
The town guard grumbles.

The town guard exclaims, "Welcome to Wehnimer's Landing! Home of Gert's famous strawberry ice!"

The town guard looks up, searching the sky. "There are creatures up there. No, I don't mean birds..." The guard smirks. "Winged monsters as large as buildings! All ya gotta do to find em is learn to fly."

Carefully as he can, the town guard rearranges a few stones on the ground then stares at them with impatience. "I saw a kid doing this in town once. He always looked so pleased afterward but danged if I can figure out why," he says frowning.

The town guard steps in front of you and says, "Excuse me, sir, there's an entrance fee to use this gate. Five silvers please."

The town guard steps in front of you and says, "You gotta be kidding me. Jest cough up the five silvers and quit clowning around."
The town guard rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

The town guard says, "Kilron was tryin ta sell me a drake falchion the other day. He wanted twelve thousand silvers! Really now, I don't know where he gets off."

The town guard gets a serious look about him as he scans the surrounding area for signs of approaching dangers.

The town guard leans over to you and whispers, "I once spent a year waiting in a dark cave for a wise man to answer my questions. When he finally answered, he told me this: 'Don't think on night' ... Amazing eh?"

A kobold makes a move toward the gate but the town guard whacks it on the behind with the flat of his blade sending it scampering away from him. "Stupid creatures," the guard mumbles, shaking his head.

The town guard looks around, licks his finger and holds it up in the air. "I don't know. The sky looks clear but the wind feels like rain."

The town guard says, "It's a well known fact that magic makes you stupid. No really! Just look at the people that hang out in the town square. Some mage comes along and casts a bunch of magic on everyone, and what's the first thing they do? Run off to try and kill some horrible creature they wouldn't normally touch with a ten foot Shanarian fishin pole!"

The town guard says, "Most people who come to Wehnimer's are looking to make their fortunes. Thing is, with everyone seeking their fortune in the same place, there's hardly enough of it to go around!"

In a ridiculous attempt to kick the town guard, all you manage to do is slip and fall on your derriere!
The town guard laughs and says, "That's a pretty funny trick, have you considered joining a travelling circus?"

The town guard spins around and grabs Dracoblod by the shoulder, pulling him out of hiding.

"Ere' now you!" the town guard exclaims, "You don't wanna pay? Well then ya can just walk aroun' ta the main gate like anyone else!"

The town guard smiles at you with a slight nod.

You glare at the town guard, who squints at you in return.

THE PLACID MONK:

A placid monk arrives, looking just a tad guilty for doing so.

You see a distraught-looking monk. From the cut of his robe he's obviously from some distant monastery. He seems somewhat disturbed by the hustle and bustle of a busy trading town.

A placid monk scratches his beard and turns suddenly pale, fearing he may have disturbed it.

A placid monk prays, "The peace of Elanith keep you safe."

A placid monk looks enraged and shouts, "You, merchant! Stop disturbing that ox!" And then quiets suddenly, ashamed to have made such a disruption.

The monk notices a cloud passing overhead and looks fretful.
He reluctantly explains, "It disturbs the sky."

"You look like you need cheering up," whispers the placid monk. "Perhaps this quotation from the holy books will help ease your troubled spirit."

"If your soul has a dark, dark stain,
and from evil you would refrain,
Go to the place,
of your secret disgrace,
and kneel when you pull the chain!"

A placid monk goes north.

GYPSY FORTUNETELLER:

A gypsy fortuneteller arrives, looking as if she has seen the Doom of All Things in her cards.

You see a woman of human descent, dark olive complected. She has long black hair past her waist. She is garbed in a loose-fitting robe the color of deep twilight. Dainty feet adorned with leather sandals peek out from beneath her robe.

Deep green eyes stare unflinchingly into yours. You become aware that she is looking somehow past your outer self and into your soul. Hastily you blink and look away abashed, unable to hold her gaze for long. You sense she has seen farther and deeper than is common among mortals and you speculate as to what she knows.

She has a small pouch at her waist and in it, you can see many items for divining the ways of Fate. Cards and coins, feathers and notched sticks and other less recognizable items.

The gypsy fortuneteller smiles slightly and her eyes twinkle as she raises an eyebrow at you.

>kiss fortuneteller
She looks sternly at you despite your efforts to hide and her eyes glitter coldly.
"I love one of the High Lords of Fate." she says, "so do not call down his wrath upon yourself needlessly."

The gypsy fortuneteller tosses some oddly shaped coins in the air and stoops down to concentrate on the patterns they show to her.

The gypsy fortuneteller gathers her divination tools and stands back up.

Draco hands the fortuneteller a message. The fortuneteller inspects it carefully, appears satisfied and says to Draco, "I knew you would be coming with this. I have seen you in my cards. A noble destiny awaits you if you persevere and remain loyal to yourself."

She continues in a soft voice, "All money is as ashes in the wind, but in this life great store is set by it, so I will reward you in the custom of the time."

With that, she hands Draco some silvers and traces a symbol of blessing in the air then raises a hand in farewell.

>push fortuneteller
In a ridiculous attempt to push the gypsy fortuneteller, all you manage to do is slip and fall on your derriere!

The gypsy fortuneteller smiles at you and says, "You must settle your past before spending silver on seeking the future."

The gypsy fortuneteller speaks in a quiet voice, "The mystic in this town may be more then he seems. Regard his words carefully before you act."

The gypsy fortuneteller looks distracted for a moment and comments, "I can see only a short ways into your future at this time. Be cautious, lest this itself be an omen."

The gypsy fortuneteller says to you, "Be wary of those offering great power, for blood and pain and sorrow may be their price."

The gypsy fortuneteller speaks to you, "You will find what you seek if you enlist the help of your friends."

The gypsy fortuneteller gazes deeply into your eyes and then shudders. She turns away and whispers, "I cannot speak of what I see, there are no words for it in the tongues of mortals and I will speak no further."

The gypsy fortuneteller whispers to you, "Not everything sold by a wandering merchant is what it seems. And a bargain is worth what you get from it. The wise seek value in many forms."

The gypsy fortuneteller looks at you sharply and says, "Do not come to the wells of the Oracles too often, lest you offend the Gods with your prying. Abide a time before you seek out the future once more."

The gypsy fortuneteller goes south.

A WEHNIMER'S RUNNER:

A Wehnimer's runner just arrived on her way to deliver a message.

>l runner
You see a typical member of the minor Guild known as Runners. She is a tall and long-legged half-elf dressed in hunter green tights. A short, well-fitted jerkin of soft leather dyed a rich brown covers her torso. A leather pouch tucked in at her hip is used to carry Messages here and there about town. Her light blonde hair is pulled back and tied to keep it from her face and there is a faint sheen of sweat from her exertions.

Looking at all the people hurrying by, the runner mutters loudly enough for you to overhear her, "It's sure been busy of late, I wish that lazy town clerk would hire some temporary help". She shrugs to herself and goes off about her business.

>ask runner about job
The runner stops a moment and looks you over, "I think you're a bit too experienced for this sort of work. The boss doesn't pay that much and prefers folk just starting out." she says.

>ask runner about job
The runner frowns at you, "You just asked me about that a while ago, don't you remember? I'd love to chat some more but I really am busy."

The runner heads west in a determined manner.

GRIZZLED OLD WARRIOR:

A grizzled old warrior arrives, walking slowly and gazing about.
A grizzled old warrior wanders in, looking as if he is lost in thought.

You see a grizzled old man dressed in dusty, weather worn clothes with a few trappings of old pieces of armor thrown in. He has a gnarled grey beard and his skin is dark and wrinkled like the bark of some ancient tree. His balding pate is marked by dark patches of age spots, but his eyes are still bright and clear.

A grizzled old warrior rubs his shoulder and glances up at the sky. "Feels like the weather is changing." he says.

A grizzled old warrior mutters, "You got to watch your back out in the wilds. All kinds of fearsome beasts out there, but the worst are those poor cursed undead ones."

The a grizzled old warrior whispers to you, "There is a curse riding the land, and it is not the one you might think. The eastern path is the only road to a brighter future. Seek the path to enlightenment under the sure teachings of the Order of Voln."

A grizzled old warrior says, "In my younger days, we would be out making our mark on the world. Ah, those were the days."

With a grunt and a groan, a grizzled old warrior sits down to rest his weary bones.

A grizzled old warrior stands back up.

ask warrior about voln
>The old warrior looks at you with a twinkle in his eye and says, "You can find out more by following the eastern trail."

The grizzled old warrior goes north.

CURIOUS MYSTIC:

A curious mystic arrives, still looking deeply into his crystal.

This unusual fellow is dressed in long flowing robes and a pointed hat. He looks almost comical except that his old face is caught in serious concentration on a shard of crystal he clutches fiercely in both hands.

A curious mystic murmurs softly as he peers into a crystal, "Mist, mist. Nothing but silver mist. Perhaps it will clear later."

A curious mystic looks into his crystal and declares, "'Ware the Bay! Terror rides the sea like the wind!"

A curious mystic laments, "No one remembers the younger days."

A curious mystic pats you fondly on the cheek and says, "You've great potential in you, my child."

A curious mystic asks, "Have you seen my cat?"

A curious mystic goes west.

OLD MAN:

An old man hobbles slowly forward.

>This old man looks to be an old citizen of Wehnimer's. He seems to have more stories to tell than people who are willing to listen.

An old man looks worried and asks, "Has anyone seen my Sylvia? She's been away too long."

>ask man about Sylvia
The old man says, "Not much to be said about that, I fear."

The old man says, "Rone Wehnimer was a good lad. His kind are only seen once in a whole generation."

>ask man about wehnimer
The old man says, "Ah good ol' Rone. He never failed to help out a person in need. Built this town to give people a safe harbor from the wilds..." The old man's eyes glaze over as he drifts off into old memories.

An old man hobbles around, leaning on his stick and muttering about the impudent behavior of the young.

The old man, reminiscent of days lost, very quietly sings a ballad of the beginnings of this place.

An old man goes northwest.

LOCAL TRADER:

A local trader just arrived.

>look at trader
You see a dwarven trader. He is dressed in a light leather jerkin and keeps his silver sack tied tightly to his belt.
Like most good traders this one looks just a tad poorer than he really is. This is done to give him an advantage, however slight, over the merchants and customers that he must deal with.

A local trader sniffles mournfully, "I could have gotten another five silvers off that last dear." But suddenly his face brightens and he says, "There are bigger fish to land!"

A local trader nudges you and whispers, "Watch that Dakris, he's a sly one. Almost ruined me, he did. But you can weasel a good deal outta 'im sometimes."

A local trader smiles to himself as he merrily jingles a full purse.
A local trader says, genuinely pleased, "Lovely day, eh?"

A local trader says, somewhat drunkenly, "The bazaar is an exciting place. Now if only I could find it."

A local trader goes east.

the Dwarven Girl-Priestess Ziigafel:

>look at ziigafel
The diminunitive girl is draped in black velvet robes, a simple silver link belt ties her waist. She appears to be about five years old, but an inexplicable aura of wisdom surrounds her.

A random brown curl pokes out from beneath her black headdress, and a single silver chain hangs from her left ear. Her wide, green eyes and sweet smile complete her pleasant mien.

The dwarven girl-Priestess Ziigafel gestures in an act of genuflection, and rattles off a rapid prayer. Her smooth brow is disturbed by a few worrying wrinkles. "Kit-it-tah," she adds to her prayer, and repeats the genuflection. Her brow smoothes once again.

"BlleaaaaahhhhHCSHSHSHEEEWWWWEEEEE!" Ziigafel sneezes, startling herself as well as everyone around her. "Sowwy," she apologizes with a slight curtsy and rubs her nose with the back of her hand.

Ziigafel whistles a merry little tune while performing some amusing little hand gestures. When she stops, she says, "Do you like that song? I can teach it to you!

You ask Ziigafel about her songs.

Ziigafel says, "I know lotsa songs! This is my fayvrit," she says as she sings a little ditty, complete with adorable choreography:

"Song I sing to start my day,
And Ronald rings his bell.
Silver Susee bathes away,
And Poul gets clean as well.
Gold Gertie grinds her grits,
Is Betty going to sell?
Eye Eee, Oh Ee Ding Dong daaay!"

You ask Ziigafel about Lorminstra.

Ziigafel smiles and says, "Yeah. Lorminstra's the Goddess. She's vewy powerful an' vewy good. Her tears give us life and we can pray for her to favor us with deeds." She stops to point at the arch behind her. "This place is for asking Lorminstra for her blessings."

You ask Ziigafel how to get deeds.

Ziigafel nods. "I kin answer that..."
>

Ziigafel grabs ahold of your hand and gently urges you to kneel where she can talk to you more easily.

"Getting Lorminstra's blessing is easy," Ziigafel begins.

Ziigafel counts on her fingers to emphasize her words: "First, you make a donation in the box an' once Lorminstra tells me you give enough, I pick out the right kind of incense for you--Lorminstra likes incense! It smells nice!"

Ziigafel continues, "It's kinda 'spensive, an' hard to pick out jest the right kind, so I hafta do it. Lorminstra tells me what she likes from everyone--an' evr'one's diffrent!"

"So make a donation, an'...uhm...then you walk down the Spiral Order," Ziigafel says, pointing to the archway behind her. "Everything has order and Lorminstra likes order, so's important to learn the Order."

Ziigafel says, "Then you go to the dock an' at the dock you sing a song--a nice, pretty song. Lorminstra likes pretty songs--all sorts of 'em--but you need to sing this one:"

Ziigafel clears her throat and sings:

"All great princes, kings and queens,
Come before to hear Her sing.
Incense burnt for Her delight
Insures their souls another Night."

Ziigafel does a little curtsy.
K>

"THEN," Ziigafel says with emphasis, "you get on the boat and the boat takes you to the musherroom island an' then you get off an' go up the stairs an' there's Lorminstra's golem. Her golem's pretty!"
K>

Ziigafel scratches her nose. "Then, you make your prayers with the prayer wheels," she says, demonstrating spinning an imaginary prayer wheel. "First spin the left one, then the right one."
K>

Ziigafel says, "Make your prayers right an' then give the golem your incense. If you make your prayers right, she'll light your incense and Lorminstra will give you blessings! N'then to come back, jest sing this song like this:"
K>

Ziigafel sings in her diminutive, melodic voice:

"Depart, oh Night, from me be gone!
For I have heard Lorminstra's song.
Thy face, oh Night, she does make pale
And now, from here, I shall set sail."
K>

Ziigafel beams. "That's it!"

A powder-blue butterfly flits in through the open window and flutters to the ground before Ziigafel's feet. It's doubtful that the poor creature can fly any further: its wing appears horrendously torn and its antennae bent.

"Not again!" Ziigafel gasps and carefully scoops up the tiny thing. Muttering a short prayer, she gently kisses the insect and extends her charge away from her. Ziigafel holds her breath.

You watch in amazement as the butterfly slowly repairs itself: its wing mends, the attennae straighten with a vibrating *sproink!*. The butterfly brightens in color, as if taken afresh with a new spirit of sturdiness.

"Good girl," Ziigafel whispers to it as it opens and shuts its tiny wings. "Now fly!" Ziigafel urges and gives it a little toss. The butterfly flutters hesitantly at first, then with a burst of confidence, flits back through the open window and into the sunshine.

"Bye!" the little priestess says cheerily as she waves to her recovered patient.

>kiss ziigafel
You give the sweet lil thing a peck on the cheek.

>bounc ziigafel
Not a good idea. Ziigafels are kind of lumpy and hard. Not good bouncing.

The Lady Coleesta:

>look at Coleesta
A striking elven lady dressed in a flowing gown smiles serenely as she goes about the tasks of fixing food and drink for the Rest's customers. Her floor-length, blue, sequined gown sparkles in the available light, and the sleeveless gown's dark blue color matches her eyes perfectly and contrasts well with her elbow-length, snow white gloves. Her long, honey-blonde hair cascades down to the small of her back.

>Ask Coleesta about Rouschall
Coleesta considers you for a moment then says, "My employer is a kind and generous man. He's a bit stiff at times, but that's to be expected from someone who has to oversee everything about a place as important as The Legendary Rest."

>Ask Coleesta about Rest
Coleesta smiles and says, "The Legendary Rest is the oldest and finest inn in all of Ta'Vaalor, and probably in all the Elven Nations. Many distinguished people have stayed here. Of course, many of them were before my time." She blushes slightly.

>Ask Coleesta about Coleesta
Coleesta smiles shyly and asks, "Now why would you have any interest in me?"

>Ask Coleesta about Fountain
Coleesta beams and says, "Our fountain is the best! You absolutely must stay awhile and watch it. It's like nothing you've ever seen before."

The Proprietor Rouschall:

>look at Rouschall
A distinguished elf stands stiffly upright behind the counter. Though he often appears nearly motionless, his steel grey eyes dart about, taking in everything going on in the room. A white, long-sleeved silk shirt and grey, striped silk pants fit his gaunt frame snugly. Over the shirt, he wears a dark green coat with a tall, flaring collar that nearly touches his short-cropped, blonde hair. His thin-lipped mouth is set in a serious line, and he appears to be someone that brooks no foolishness.

>Ask Rouschall about Rouschall
Rouschall smiles slightly and says, "Me? Nothing remarkable about me."

>Ask Rouschall about Coleesta
Rouschall considers you for a moment then says, "Coleesta is a very nice lady and a very good employee. Her husband died a few years ago in a hunting accident. Unfortunate, that."

>ask Rouschall about Rest
Rouschall smiles and says, "The Legendary Rest has been in business for over sixteen thousand years. Oh, not in this form, but on this location. The present building has only been here for a little over fifty years, though the fountain is nearly three hundred years old."

>Ask Rouschall about Fountain
Rouschall beams and says, "Our fountain is a wonder! It makes music. It puts on shows. You have to sit at one of the tables for quite awhile just to see all the things it can do! It's just through the double doors, out in the courtyard. You can't miss it."

>Ask Rouschall about Room
Rouschall smiles and says, "You'll find many fine sleeping rooms in The Legendary Rest. Just go through the double doors and follow the walkways. We have three rooms downstairs and four rooms upstairs. Feel free to look."

Red-Haired Elven Bard:

The elven bard is a handsome elf, not quite young enough to be a 'youth' but with a youthful air of energy and amusement about him. He wears a flowing cloak of many colors, not sewn of rags but pieced together of swatches of bright silks and brocades and obviously well cared-for. A jaunty feathered cap with a drooping brim rests atop his elaborately braided, silky red hair, and he carries a fine ebonwood mandolin on a richly brocaded strap.

>ask bard about mandolin
The elven bard places a graceful finger to his lips and says, "Shhhh!"

A red-haired elven bard takes an engraved silver flask from his pocket and drinks deeply, raising the flask in a toast before putting it away. He gracefully slings his mandolin down from his shoulder and strums a few bars of a Vaalor battle anthem.

A red-haired elven bard gazes up at the clouds for a moment, an inspired expression on his handsome face. He moves his lips in silence, practicing the words of his latest poetic creation.

Taking a small silver mirror from one of his many pockets, the elven bard glances at his reflection, carefully arranging a loose strand of red hair to fall in an attractive manner. He winks slyly at the mirror and replaces it in his cloak.

A red-haired elven bard sits down and slings his ebonwood mandolin off his shoulder. Bowing his head to listen, he carefully tunes the instrument and strums a few chords.

A red-haired elven bard leaps to his feet in a swift movement, swirling his colorful cloak around him with a grin.

A red-haired elven bard holds his finely crafted mandolin up before him, tilting it to examine the finish. He produces a multicolored silk rag from one of his many pockets and carefully wipes a smear from the polished ebonwood.

A red-haired elven bard strolls through the area, singing a soft ballad of love and war.

White-Robed Acolyte:

>look at Acolyte
The white-robed acolyte is a young elven woman clad in a pristine, flowing white robe with a black shift beneath, visible only at her collar and in its dark linen hood. Her long, braided light brown hair hangs outside her robes, nearly reaching to the narrow golden belt which hangs low on her hips, fastened with an onyx clasp in the shape of a black gate. She is quiet and seems distracted, her clear blue eyes gazing into the distance, and her delicate fingers often wander to the simple golden chain that hangs from her graceful neck.

>Ask Acolyte about Ta'Vaalor
The white-robed acolyte just smiles slightly and turns away.

A white-robed acolyte gazes up into the sky for a moment, her delicate brow furrowed slightly. She idly twists her simple golden neckchain in one hand.

A white-robed acolyte gazes into the distance, lost in thought, then slowly walks away.