Chapter 6: The Limitless Rise

[Jeff]

Chapter 6
The Limitless Rise

Sul, the 8th of Sypheros 998 YK

"Welcome to Sharn!"

It's the first thing you heard when the doors of your cart opened at Terminus Station, shouted by an enthusiastic young House Orien worker. The sentiment was echoed a moment later by someone else, a world-weary merchant with a grey beard also riding in the first class cart, right across from you.

"Welcome to Sharn, indeed," he muttered, his tone sour.

But it didn't quell your excitement. Even the approach to Sharn, the City of Towers, had been amazing. As the lightning rail rounded a bend, you saw it for the first time (though Streko has seen it before). Between high crags the famous city came into view, its towers stretching up to the sky, impossibly high, disappearing into a dome of clouds and a smattering of blue.

The conductor stones of the lightning rail track led in a straight line up a gentle incline which led inevitably up into the cliff walls that hid the rest of the city from your view. Through a narrow but well-maintained chasm the rail went, paralleling a road of paved flagstones—the House Orien trade route. Wagons rushed past your window, travelers lifting weary heads to look at the electric glow of the lightning rail.

Canyon walls largely hidden from the sun suddenly gave way to other structures. Towers. Big ones. Up close.

From your own studies, and from talk aboard the rail, you knew Sharn wasn't just the cultural center of Khorvaire; it was also said to be the economic center of the civilized world—at least as far as its citizens are concerned. "If it can be bought, it can be bought here" seemed to be a common saying. Goods and services are available in Sharn from across the continent and even occasionally from across the seas. It's an open secret that not all these goods and services are legal, despite the best efforts of the Sharn Watch—itself said to be rife with corruption.

The lightning rail glided smoothly into Terminus Station, a crowded, colorful place bustling with people somewhere in one of the lower districts of the city. Presumably, there are three basic "tiers" to the city: Lower City, Middle City, and Upper City, each comprising numerous other districts. The district of Terminus, for example, lies within the quarter called Tavick's Landing.

And now here you are, on your feet again, in a very big place. Looking at the station around you, you see emblems, flags, and artwork relating to House Orien—mostly involving the unicorn of the house crest—and some mosaics meant to depict images of the wider world: Breland, Aundair, Karrnath, even Cyre. But there are more travelers coming and going than Orien staff. In Sharn, the dragonmarked houses have more than just a single enclave each; though they may operate out of one or two prominent centers, their enterprises are scattered throughout the city.

From where you stand now, you can see only a limited distance. Ceilings, archways, and a few exposed streets through various thresholds, but no open sky. There's just too much city around you—especially up. You're left standing on the platform, having just stepped off the first class coach, looking for a moment at one another, one big thought in your minds: We're in Sharn!

...To Streko, it's a homecoming of sorts, a mixture of both dread and utter joy. Although he spent a few years living here, even as a resident he never could untangle the maze that was Sharn. Yet he knows how to get to a few places by heart: Olladra's Kitchen lies on the other side of Terminus, across the bridges, and onto the quarter known as the Central Plateau. There, his family awaits him!

...To Kal, it's a place of opportunity. A place of so much fame and possibility that it's hard to know where to begin. House Deneith, like all the rest, has a strong presence here. Various enclaves and outposts throughout the city, as well as an outpost for the Sentinel Marshals. But right now, adventure seems much more interesting than house affairs. At his side, Tangat sits and pants happily, reminding his master that it's just as important to find a place to get some food, too.

...To Belarin, it's a wilderness of ideas, secrets, and intrigue. A place of wonder. In function, it's not so different than the feyspires of the eladrin of Thelanis, or so he's heard...but in form it's very different. This city was dreamed up by kings, erected by artificers and magerights, and occupied by humans and their allies. Wars were fought over the site, and ruins of an older time lie far below.

...To Condign, it's a bastion of ultimate civilization. Right now, he can't imagine a place so opposite his home in Fah'lrrg. Yet geographically speaking, Sharn is built on a series of natural canyons jutting high above sea level, and he's even heard that there's rivers of lava flowing far beneath the city—not so different than Fah'lrrg, after all. But what a difference people had made of it. Could people build in the Labyrinth a place like this? How could they, with so many fiends about? But what of Sharn? What hides hear? At least in Fah'lrrg one usually knows what to expect.

Upon a nearby lamp, which is only softly lit during the daytime, the sleek form of Matheu suddenly appears, his tail wrapped elegantly around the post. They call this the City of Towers, he says to you, adopting his usual instructional tone. But it has known other names: The City of Knives, the City of Lost Souls, the City of a Thousand Eyes. The Gateway to Xen'drik. Even, the Gateway to Perdition.

Amidst the bustling crowds, you can see uniformed, armored men wearing the colors of Sharn's crest, blue and gold. The Sharn Watch, eyeing the crowds.

___________________________

Right now Belarin, Kal, Condign, and Streko are in play. Soon we'll add Dave's and Mike's characters, as they are met. I'll let them know when they're coming up.

[Ken]

Belarin looks around, his eyes wide with delight. "Marvelous.... I can't wait to play, um, explore. Though I suppose we do have pressing business to take care of first, yes?"

But it has known other names: The City of Knives, the City of Lost Souls, the City of a Thousand Eyes. The Gateway to Xen'drik. Even, the Gateway to Perdition.

"'Gateway to Xen'drik,' eh?" says Belarin. "Have you ever been there, Matheu? Opinions? I'm sure the scholars here must have learned quite a bit about that land by now." He speaks aloud, but matter-of-factly as though the pseudodragon were only a couple of feet away.

[Jeff's backup]

Belarin:

Though I suppose we do have pressing business to take care of first, yes?

"Yes, I believe we do," says Condign. "I think my lord Streko should take the lead from here."

He walks a few paces on the lightning rail platform and stops, placing his hands on his hips. "This is the most fascinating place I have ever seen." He turns to his friends. "And I said that about Fairhaven! I wonder how many times I can be surprised?"

[Jeff]

"'Gateway to Xen'drik,' eh?....Have you ever been there, Matheu? Opinions?"

Xen'drik, Matheu replies without delayed. A region of the world where the giants made their civilizations a very long time ago, in the ruins of the war between my kind and the fiends of Khyber during the Age of Demons. Giants claimed sovereignty over the world then, an arrogant claim, and only because we did not oppose them. In fact, dragons were their teachers, for a time. The magic they learned from us was used to build their great temples and monuments, the very ones that now lie in ruins in Xen'drik. The giants became careless and abused their power. After thousands of years, when their folly would have destroyed too much of this world, the dragons stamped their civilization out for all time.

Matheu pauses, snaking his head in Belarin's direction. No, I have not yet been to Xen'drik. It is a perilous place, even for a dragon, not to be visited lightly. Or alone.

Even as the pseudodragon speaks, Condign notices something. Not too many people are looking his way. Sure, a few take note of his red skin and prominent horns...but he doesn't feel like he stands out quite so much in this city. There is already a great deal of racial diversity here, and bizarre things abound. At the edge of the crowd, he even catches the glimpse of a halfling in bright colors riding some sort of reptilian steed!

[Darren]

Stepping onto the platform, Kal moves stiffly, stretching his right leg and leaning a bit more on his sharrash. By the time they are on the street, he seems to have worked out the kinks and is once again walking with a slight swagger.

Kalarian smiles as he looks about at the towers. This is a perfect place for his reputation to flourish. He turns his smile to Streko. "If I didn't know we had hospitality waiting for us, I would suggest we find a tavern and a few pretty girls. But it has been too long since I've had any authentic Halfling cooking." Kal claps a hand on Streko's shoulder. "I do hope your mother is a good cook? Of course, this far from the Plains, I wonder at what sort of dishes she usually prepares....."

[Joe]

Streko stutters and looks around, as if he might be searching for a shadow large enough to hide in.

"I didn't tell them when we would be arriving. It didn't occur to me to do so and things happened so quickly in Fairhaven. However, knowing my mother, she is already prepared for a large group. Come...and bear with me, please. It's been a few years since I was here...I might get a bit lost from time to time."

Streko ensures that his handy haversack is firmly in place and begins the torturously long journey toward...his parent's home.

[Jeff]

Without further delay, you start to push through the crowds. Matheu's body fades from view.

The district of Terminus is a buzzing hive of activity. Aside from the sheer numbers of people coming and going from the lightning rail station, merchants and laborers are constantly loading and unloading crates on conveyances large and small, even beasts of burden...natural and magebred animals of many varieties. It's not immediately obvious to you which way to go, but Streko knows the westerly direction from memory and leads you that way.

When the streets are a little more exposed, you see coaches, and sky-coaches: small, boat-shaped vessels which take advantage of the Syranian manifest zone and glide about through the air. You also see that there are lifts, not unlike those at Lyrandar docking towers in other cities, which move either up and down or side to side, depending on one's destination. Most of the lifts look like cylindrical cages, albeit decorative ones, which move along glowing strands.

The pilots of two different skycoaches seem to catch sight of your party...and both drift down, almost nose to nose, toward you. The one on the left appears to be a half-elf with an eyepatch. The one on the right is a dwarf with a neatly trimmed beard and a wide-brimmed hat.

"Where can I take you, gentlemen?" the half-elf calls out to you, regarding his rival with a baleful look. "First-timers? Your destination and a quick tour, for four sovereigns."

"They don't want a flapping elf-tongue," the dwarf says to the other, then looks your way. "I can get you to your destination straightaway, one sovereign a mile. That's the standard fare, and you won't get no pilot yapping in yer ear the whole way."

Or you can walk it. Streko thinks it would take a half an hour or more, depending on foot traffic, to reach the district of Olladra's Kitchen.

[Darren]

Kal looks sideways at the men. He's seen enough of the world to know when someone is trying to take advantage of the men. "Gentlemen, your offer is appreciated, but the day is warm and the city is so beautiful. It would be a shame to speed past it so quickly. I could use the exercise, anyway."

[Ken]

"'I could use the exercise,' oh yes," Belarin teases. "You, who casually shrug off several hours of practice combat! Some of us aren't so fortunate! But that said, yes, I also wouldn't mind walking around for a bit.

"As my friend said, thank you, but no, gentlemen," he says to the two pilots. "However, if we want an aerial tour later on, who should we ask for?"

[Brian]

"I, too, would prefer to walk," Condign says. Then in a quieter voice meant just for his friends, he says: "When I am new to an area, I like to take my time and do some reconnaissance. You can never tell when it will come in handy."

[Jeff]

Seeing the lost fare, the dwarf merely nods his head and turns his skycoach away. The half-elf lingers, looking to Belarin with his unpatched eye. "The name's Twistren, good sir," he says with a smile. "And that ride and tour remains an open-ended invitation. I recommend just shouting 'Twist!' at the top of your lungs whenever you're ready for it. And who knows? I might just hear." Of course, within sight there are countless skycoaches coming and going across the city.

The pilot taps one pointed ear, then swivels his coach around and drifts off. You resume your westward walk, Streko setting a steady if leisurely pace to stretch your legs. If Matheu is following you, you cannot see him.

Before long you reach the edge of Terminus and look out over a long railing into the great chasm that lies between city quarters.
Although you're in the Lower City now, and the towers of Sharn rise more than a mile above you, there is still some distance that lies below. From here, it's hard to tell if there's some solid ground down there, where the tower foundations of the towers merge, or just city-shaped gorges vanishing into the depths.

Numerous bridges span the city chasm from all different levels. The nearest one to you seems to have a fair amount of foot traffic; it's broad, at least thirty feet wide. As you set across it you feel flecks of moisture falling on you.

Streko remembers this. Tower spit, the locals call it. It rains frequently in Sharn, and even long after the Upper City dries off after a shower, the runoff continues to drip and work its way down to the lower wards, sometimes for days.

Behind you lies Terminus and the quarter of Tavick's Landing. Ahead lies the Central Plateau, where Olladra's Kitchen and Streko's family awaits. You continue your walk...

Just then a piece of wood slaps into the cobbled floor of the bridge in front of you, narrowly missing Tangat and splintering into a few more pieces. The dog yelps, startled, and moves in closer to Kal, but is otherwise all right. The wood was a single, curved plank that seems to have fallen from somewhere high above. Looking up, you see a skycoach far overhead slow down and agitated figures aboard it shake their fists at something...though it's too far away to hear what they say. Moving further away from it is a man-sized, dark figure with massive batlike wings flapping away.

Streko remembers them, too. House Vadalis had begun employing gargoyles as messengers. Fast, cunning creatures that can navigate the city quite well, but supposedly difficult to work with. Nasty things.

The other pedestrians around you mutter and shake their heads, moving along quickly. You're left wondering how often things just fall, and if they ever hurt anyone.

[Brian]

Condign turns from looking at the skycoach and the bat creature and picks up the piece of wood. He turns it over in his hands several times. He looks at the others and says: "I wonder if this board is a piece of the hull of the skycoach? Maybe it collided with the winged creature and this piece broke loose. Does anyone know what the flying creature was? I have seen winged fiends in Fah'lrrg, but I do not see how they would allow themselves to be seen in the open in such a city as this."

[Ken]

"Not sure," says Belarin, squinting skyward. "An arcane messenger service, perhaps? In a city this big, and with so many levels, flying couriers would be both an ingenious and necessary development. Or it could be a near-sighted demon." He looks at the fragment that fell, then gazes up once more. "A helmet salesman could make a fortune in this town... Shall we continue, friends?"

[Joe]

Streko continues walking, keeping his eyes off the sky, attempting to locate landmarks closer to ground level to help him in his navigation.

"They are called Gargoyles. House Vadalis uses them as messengers, although what I recall of them are creatures without heart or spirit, monstrosities of stone with a temperment as foul as Khyber's breath. I would suggest avoiding them if at all possible. Ah, this way! We're getting closer to Olladra's Kitchen!"

[Darren]

Kal eyes Condign up and down. "Are you serious?" is all he says. He chuckles to himself, but makes no further comment.

"Streko," he calls out, "how did your family come to end up in a place like this? It is so different from how Halflings on the Talenta Plains live. Besides the abundance of taverns," Kal says, then pauses to watch a beautiful young girl pass, "and the abundance of THAT," he winks, "what would make a Halfling want to come here?"

[Joe]

Feb 7, 2010 2:19:09 GMT -4 Darren said:

"Streko," he calls out, "how did your family come to end up in a place like this? It is so different from how Halflings on the Talenta Plains live. Besides the abundance of taverns," Kal says, then pauses to watch a beautiful young girl pass, "and the abundance of THAT," he winks, "what would make a Halfling want to come here?"

"During the Great War, many families fled the fighting, as you well know. With my eldest brother dead, my sister a runaway and my own headstrong pursuit of Varna, they had nothing left but their land, which was small by comparison to the other families that surrounded them. In the end, I believe mother and father wished to move closer to where they believed Varna might have been (and myself, I should add). Also, with the surprise arrival of my dragonmark and entry into House Jorasco, it seemed safe, as well as prudent, to have my family, what was left of it, in a more protected environment.

"Many Talenta halflings came here and my parents felt more at home than they suspected they would. Olladra's Kitchen provides them with a home and many friends. My mother cooks for many of them and my father is once again a proud and successful herbalist.

"And then there is the Little Plains encampment. Have you heard of it? Perhaps, given time, we can go there. Most of the Talenta immigrants went there, as it is the closest thing to the Plains that Sharn, or anywhere else for that matter, can provide. It truly is quite extraordinary, Kal. It is, however, on the Middle Menthis Plateau, while we are currently heading toward the Lower Central Plateau. For a Plainsman, it can be quite...confusing. It took me months to figure out."

Streko speaks as if reading from a parchment advertisment. His voice seems distant, detached and certainly not what his companions have come to expect from the otherwise wordy cleric. It seems as if his mind is simply elsewhere.

[Jeff]

With Streko leading on, and crossing a few more lanes, you press into the district of Olladra's Kitchen. The streets become narrower, just as the tantalizing aroma of food fills the air. Tangat's tail begins to swish and his nose lifts to catch every current. A thought occurs to you: Grafth would have loved this.

Your immediate impression of the district of Olladra's Kitchen is one of comfort and accessibility. Conversation wafts from the open doors of a half dozen taverns and restaurants. The establishments around you, just at a glance, seem to be neither the dens of drunken revelry allegedly common in the Lower City, nor the high-class, high-priced restaurants of the Upper City. Streko knows Olladra's Kitchen to be a firmly lower middle class district.

Streko leads you to where his parents live, right on the corner of two streets: Marjoram and Sorrel. There, at ground level, is the restaurant Ellfate's Eatery where Streko's mother works, just as he'd mentioned...

But no.

There's a new sign jutting out from the corner above the the door, replacing the old. Painted in bright colors on the wooden sign is what appears to be a light-hearted parody of the Brelish crest: instead of a roaring bear's head there is an open-mouthed shrew, while the pair of golden wyverns on either side now appear to be munching on herbal sprigs. Replacing the crossed scythe and axe at the bottom are a fork and spoon, and in place of a golden crown at the top is a baker's hat. Beneath this comical image are the words ESTHRYN'S EATERY

But Esthryn is Streko's mother's name! They'd always talked about one day owning their own restaurant...

New management?

The levels above the eatery are riddled with the windows of an apartment block. Streko knew his parents lived in one of the levels up a ways...but now the first row of windows directly above the eatery are adorned with flower boxes—just like the ones his father always put out. In fact, the restaurant itself is decked out with much more greenery than before. There's even a small tree on one side of the restaurant that wasn't there before, nestled in a patch of soil that interrupts the cobbles. To Streko, this tiny little corner of Sharn now looks a lot more like his family's home when he was growing up in Vathirond.

[Brian]

"Esthryn's Eatery?" Condign says aloud as he reads the sign. He turns to the halfling. "Did you not say your mother is employed at Ellfate's Eatery? Mayhap we have come to the wrong establishment?"

[Darren]

Kal smiles looking at the establishment. "Whatever the name of it is, it smells fantastic and my feet are tired." With a light step, Kal moves to the door of the establishment. He looks over his shoulder and says, "Well, come on!" and then dodges to the side as Tangat goes rushing past him.

[Joe]

Streko stares at the eatery before him, dumbfounded.

"Olladra's grace, mother, what have you done?" He notices the greenery, the herbs, the tree.

"By the Sovereign Host, how can this be?"

"Esthryn's Eatery?" Condign says aloud as he reads the sign. He turns to the halfling. "Did you not say your mother is employed at Ellfate's Eatery? Mayhap we have come to the wrong establishment?"

"Esthryn is my mother's name, good Condign. It would seem things have changed a bit since I last visited my fair home."

Kal smiles looking at the establishment. "Whatever the name of it is, it smells fantastic and my feet are tired." With a light step, Kal moves to the door of the establishment. He looks over his shoulder and says, "Well, come on!" and then dodges to the side as Tangat goes rushing past him.

"Well, this should be interesting, to say the least." He follows Kalarian and Tangat toward the door and notices the herbs sprouting in a row on either side of the door. "Olladra's breath, is that rosemary? Where in Sharn did he find rosemary?"

[Jeff]

A few people on the street take notice of your party. The crowds aren't so thick here, and Condign catches a few curious, but not unfriendly glances. But no one says a word...they just move on about their business.

When Kal opens the front door, Tangat surges past him with tail wagging, chasing the scent of roasted vegetables, herbs, and...eggs?

Kal, first entering, sees a homely tavern space with tables, a bar, and various house plants perched on shelves and alcoves around the place. It's mid-day right now, and there's a small lunch crowd occupying nearly all the chairs. Most of the patrons are human, but there's a scattering of halflings and dwarves here as well.

"You—out!" a male halfling shouts from behind the bar, obviously standing on a stool or raised floor on the other side. He's got a large wooden spoon in his hand, and he points it emphatically at Tangat. "We're not giving you anymor—!"

The halfling, a middle-aged man with gray hair, closes his mouth when he sees Kal and the other coming through. He seems to have mistaken the wolfdog for something, or someone else.

A little further into the restaurant, a halfling waitress—also middle-aged, plump and wearing a scullery apron—pauses near one crowded table. "Just a minute, loves," she says to Kal and the others behind him with a sidelong glance. "And I'll sit you somewh..."

Then she catches sight of Streko. She stops, mouth still open. She gives out a shriek of delight. She places a mug swiftly down on the table, sloshing its contents, and sprints as fast as a matronly halfling can toward the front door. "O-Streko!" she cries out—a term of endearment Streko hasn't heard in a long time.

She flings herself into Streko's arms, gushing over him. The male halfling at the bar smiles big, then disappears through an open doorway and then reappears through another on the left-hand side of the room. "Hallo, Streko, my lad," he says with a big smile. "You've brought your new friends," he adds in the halfling tongue, which only Kal and Streko understand.

Tangat sits down, all thoughts of food gone for the moment. His tail swishes happily as he watches the halflings reunite.

[Darren]

Kalarian steps back and watches in amusement as Streko is smothered by his mother. Then he clears his throat and offers the kind of elaborate bow he might use in a royal audience chamber.

"My dear lady," he begins in Halfling, speaking to Streko's mother, "it is a true pleasure to meet the woman who gave birth to my friend, Streko. Please allow me to present myself. My name is Kalarian d'Deneith, and these are my companions, Condign and Belarin." Kal smiles and winks at Streko's father as he gestures towards the wolfdog and adds, "And I believe you've met Tangat."

Switching back to the Common language, Kal extends his hand towards Streko's father. "It is an honor, sir."

[Ken]

Although Belarin doesn't understand the Halfling tongue, he can tell by Kal's tone and the use of his and Condign's names that introductions have just been made. "Showoff," he says to Kal.

He bows politely to the two halfings -- presumably Streko's parents -- and nods after Kal speaks. "Streko is perhaps the bravest person I've ever met," he adds. "You have much to be proud of."

[Joe]

Streko blushes, offering the appearance of a severe sun burn. "Momma, it's good to see you!" He kisses her cheek and hugs her tight.

When he breaks away, he goes to his father and shakes the elder halfling's hand. "Papa, is that rosemary growing out there? How have you keep it so...trim? In this humidity, it must grow like..."

Next to him, Streko hears the tell-tale thumping of Tangat's heavy tail. That, more than anything, pulls him out of his self-absorbed reverie.

"Forgive my manners. Momma? Poppa? These are my friends!" He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth as if to speak more, when suddenly his eyes glaze over.

"Balinor's beard! Is that your tribex stew I'm smelling?"

[Brian]

Streko:

"Forgive my manners. Momma? Poppa? These are my friends!" He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth as if to speak more, when suddenly his eyes glaze over.

"Balinor's beard! Is that your tribex stew I'm smelling?"

Condign steps forward and puts a large red hand on the halfling's shoulder. With a companionable squeeze, he tries to bring his friend out of his flummoxed state.

Then he removes his hand and kneels before Streko's parents. He is more at eye level now, and hopefully less intimidating. He looks at them briefly, and then lowers his head. The flare of his horns rises into the air behind him.

"My lord and lady, I am honored to meet you. I have known your son for only a brief time; indeed, I am the newest member of this small band of friends. But in that time I have witnessed from Streko feats of bravery and compassion and daring the likes of which tales would be told back in my homeland. To be able to call him friend is more than an honor: it is a pleasure. For a creature such as I, that is a rarity."

Condign stands and, with a brief nod of his head to Streko, steps back. Then he smiles. "What is tribex stew?" he asks. "If it can have this effect on Streko, it must be something to behold."

[Jeff]

Kal:

"My dear lady," he begins in Halfling, speaking to Streko's mother, "it is a true pleasure to meet the woman who gave birth to my friend, Streko."

Esthryn blushes and waves her hand at him.

Kal:

"And I believe you've met Tangat."

"Tangat?" the elder halfling repeats with a funny grin, but speaking in Common. "Hah! And your accent is good, too. Almost like real Talentan. But you weren't raised speaking it, I can hear that. You're a good learner."

"The name's Orval Tavven," he says, holding up his hand to Kal, then likewise to Belarin.

Orval then grabs Streko. He takes him by both shoulders in the tradition of the Talenta Plains. "Welcome home, son," he says in Halfling. "Please stay with us for a time. Your mum needs it...and so might I. Your friends can stay, too. We've got another apartment up there, all our own."

Streko:

"Forgive my manners. Momma? Poppa? These are my friends!...Balinor's beard! Is that your tribex stew I'm smelling"

Orval smiles. "There's nothing you can't find at the markets."

When Condign presents himself, both elder halflings grow quiet and look at him in wonder. The nearest patrons also pause, spoons and forks halfway to their mouths, to look at the tiefling. When Condign finishes, Esthryn steps over to him and seizes his hand. "Olladra has blessed us with your presence," she says, eyes teary as she looks to the rest of you as well. "Our hearth is yours."

Orval grins. "If our son brought King Kaius himself back with him, he'd be welcome here, too." Not merely a jest, Condign understands that Streko's parents unconditionally trust whoever he does. After a moment, Orval says to Condign, "Tribex is a Talentan cattle beast; you can buy some good cuts in Little Plains, which I do now and again."

Hanging on a wall near the bar is a wooden sign that displays the restaurant's menu. Tribex soup is listed. At a glance, you can also see that omelets are the Esthryn's Eatery speciality. Streko recalls that Ellfate's Eatery also was famous for its omelets. It seems his parents have kept this tradition, and even expanded upon it.

Streko's mother takes hold of him again. Her eyes are still moist with tears and her voice softens. "There's someone else here, too," she says in Halfling. "She isn't talking much, but she's missed you. She's home, Streko." After hurtful words of so long ago, and the sheer passage of years, only Streko understands how momentous that fact is. Pain and joy both war across Esthryn's face.

[Darren]

Though thoughts of food were foremost in his mind, especially with the smell of Talentan cooking drifting through the room, Kal immediately sobers as he hears Streko's mother speak of Varna. He places a hand on his friend's shoulder, then sits down at the nearest table and remains silent, allowing Streko to absorb the information and choose his own moment to reunite with his sister.

[Jeff]

At this lunch hour, Kal only finds a seat vacant at the bar. When he goes there, Streko's father, Orval, works his way back around behind the bar...now at eye-level with Kal. He seems to want to give Streko and his mother some space.

It's not immediately apparent where Varna is at the moment. But Esthryn turns and looks back toward the far corner of the restaurant. From here you can see a halfling-sized figure sitting alone at a two-chair table against the wall, sitting in shadow.

[Ken]

Belarin looks from one face to the other, trying to pick up visual clues as to the direction of the conversation. Finally, seeing Esthryn glance toward the shadowed corner, he realizes that Varna is here. With a slightly visible strain, he resists the urge to start asking questions, and he walks over toward the bar and stands near it.

As he waits for Streko's reunion, he reaches out with his arcane senses. He lets his thoughts dance with and around the mocking, fey-inspired whispers, seeking any trace of magical activity around the halfling woman.

_____________________
Belarin makes an Arcana check, using otherworldly whispers: Arcana check (1d20+17=20)

[Brian]

Condign watches as Kal and Belarin wander over to the bar. Following their lead, he walks over to stand with them. He can hear Streko and his mother speaking in halfling. While he understands none of it, he senses a shift in emotions between the two.

He notices Belarin has that familiar far-away look in his eyes and gives his friend a few moments. When he sees the other's gaze clear, he casually bends over, placing his elbows on the wood bar, and asks in a low voice: "Is there something amiss, my lord?"