Brakis was seated at the back of the tavern in the town of Blackmoor, huddled over his tankard of ale. "The others should be arriving now", he thought. He had never met the others, but knew that their lives would depend on one another.
Centuries ago, Blackmoor had been the capital of the Barovian Empire, and the ruins of the emperor's castle still lay outside of town, on Mt. Caldur. Brakis and the others would explore the ruins, looking for treasure, and gaining real world experience.
Brakis had recently finished his apprenticeship with Sir Prixon, back in Heathridge. He had expressed to his former master that he was interested in finding fame and fortune as an adventurer. Prixon respected Brakis as one of his best students, and had used his connections to help set up this operation.
The others began to arrive:
First, there was Sister Pernal, from the Order of Carloth. She had recently completed her training in the Holy Magical Arts, and was there because of Sire Prixon's friendship with the Arch Bishop of Heathridge.
The next one to show up was Sigfred the Dwarf, whose father had adventured with Prixon many years before.
Third was Hanzir, from Wazkstan, who had been trained in air elemental magic by the djinn D' Ara Butan, who had once been saved by Prixon.
The next to show up was Rollan the Rough. Prixon had known his uncle, and told Brakis that Rollan was quick tempered and uncouth, but was loyal beyond question - he would always have your back.
Finally, when everyone was seated around the table, the slender, half-elven features of Liown the thief suddenly melted out of the darkness. Prixon had never told Brakis about his connection to Liown, but Brakis had heard rumors that Prixon was Liown's human parent.
All six of the adventurers had finally arrived. They talked excitedly, in hushed tones, as they ate their lunch and consumed their ale.
The plan was for them to spend the rest of the afternoon pooling their money and shopping for supplies. Tomorrow, at first light, they would head off to Mt. Caldur...
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