Introduction: Gornarn and Khael

*The following is a summary of the introduction of these two characters into the game. It was handled via email and has been cleaned up here*

The scene opens with **Gornarn** sitting at the edge of a pond in a glade somewhere in the Ogrefist Hills. Pole in hand, he appears to be fishing for his breakfast. He notices a slight rumble, and glances at the cloudless sky, wondering if it's thunder. A moment later, it happens again, and the warrior notices a ripple across the pond. Then, the glare from the sun becomes brighter, and the rumbling intensifies. The event only lasts for a moment or three, and when it fades, a strange being is standing in the glade, admist a patch of disturbed earth.

The stranger regards **Gornarn** for a moment, tilting his head as if he's wondering if he should be able to place the dragonborn. After a moment, he speaks in Draconic.

**Khael**: "Well met."

**Gornarn**: "...don't see that every day..."

After an awkward pause, **Khael** asks, "So...where is this?"

**Gornarn** flares a nostril (the dragonborn version of raising an eyebrow), shrugs, and declaims, "You are standing in the Ogrefist Hills, and are in the presence of **Gornarn** of clan Jirago! Come, sit! Once these fish wake up, you can join me for breakfast! Then, perhaps, you can tell me who, and what, you are, and how you come you to here without knowing where 'here' is. If, on the other hand, you search for a glorious battle, allow me to trade my pole for my hammer!"

**Khael** smiles. “I lack the formidable lineage that you possess. I am simply…” he pauses as if he needs to recall his own name “…**Khael**. I am Deva, an eternal servant of Moradin, and I would gladly accept your offer of hospitality for my first meal.” After a moment, he adds, “Jirago? Are you of Rhogar’s line?”

**Gornarn** is openly surprised. "I am! I am of family Gmar and am a direct descendent of Rhogar! I've never met a non-dragonborn who knows of him. Well met, **Khael**, you do me great honor! Moradin, eh? I don't know much of those gods who aren't of Io's blood, but from what I do know, Moradin is alright. Eternal servant, eh? What's that mean?" **Gornarn** looks at his pole, which has begin to tug. "Ah, they're finally biting! Come, let's get a fire started and cook up some breakfast!" **Gornarn** uses flint and steel to start the fire.

As the fish cook, **Khael** explains: "My people, if you can call us a people, for we are fragmented, and most of us have travelled a lifetime without seeing another of our race, are bound to a Wheel of Rebirth. When this life ends, I shall pass through a ...veil of dreams, I suppose is the best way to describe it, and then will be reborn...as I just was, I suppose."

**Gornarn**: "Huh! So you're born, die, get born again... do you remember your past lives? Do you have some... I don't know, mission, for Moradin?" **Gornarn** suddenly interrupts himself. "Pray forgive my manners, **Khael**! If I am in the presence of the servant of a god, should I call you by some title?"

**Khael** smiles slightly. "No, no titles. I am not weighed down by the trappings of a church. But I do carry the touch of his divine power. What brings you this far from your homelands?"

"The search for glory, of course!" **Gornarn** responds proudly. The then slumps and continues, in a more subdued voice, "Eh, Jirago has seen better days. My clan's fortunes seem tied to Arkhosia herself; we were proud and had achieved much and had many great heroes, Rhogar chief among them. But with Arkhosia's Fall, our clan's fortunes fell, and despite all we tried, continued to fall. Even amongst other clans, ours seems to have fallen far. Those few times we meet with other clans, their respect - always there and seeming sincere - is always rooted in the past. I think they see us and remember the Old Days. Heh. We're more nostalgia than much else now. But not for long! The dragonborn aren't in the autumn of our time, but winter, and Spring is Coming! Like so many of my siblings, I'm out seeking glory for Jirago! All great things start from small things, and so I'm headed to a homestead by the village of Kiris Dahn, a short way into Nentir Vale!" **Gornarn** gestures, with a fish-laden claw, to the vale in the distance, stretching out below the hills they're in. "Seems some kobolds occupied a town and someone put out a call for heroes to drive them out. That's why I'm here. I don't know where you're going, **Khael**, but I'd be honored if you traveled with me."

"That sounds like an excellent way to start this incarnation." **Khael** responds, and then goes completely still. For minutes, he sits as still as a statue, facing the fire.

**Gornarn** cooks the fish in silence for a few minutes, but he keeps stealing glances at **Khael** and, a bit nonplussed, speaks up. "So, **Khael**... what did you do in your, er, previous incarnation?"

**Khael** turns to **Gornarn**, as if his stillness had never occurred. "I only have fragments and scattered memories, and I'm not always sure when they are from. I seem to remember being on a ship of some sort...on a river of fire, with burning skies above. We were fighting, I had an Architect at my throat...but right now, I couldn't tell you what an Architect is...or was. I think my last incarnation ...I think I was close to attaining something; of becoming something more. I feel somehow disappointed that I did not reach that goal."

**Gornarn** turns back to the fish. "Perhaps you'll find what you sought in your... previous life... in this one. It would be my honor to help you as long as we journey together. Indeed, it sounds as though it could be glorious!"

After breakfast, **Khael** hefts his pack and shoulders his staff (It suddenly occurs to **Gornarn** that he hadn't seen **Khael** with those before).

"Everything needs to start somewhere, and this feels like a good beginning. Tell me about these kobolds. How did you hear about them?"

**Gornarn** flares a nostril, watching **Khael** get his mysterious accouterments ready, then shrugs and gathers his own. "I was in Stonemarket - a large city few days out from the Ogrefist hills - and a crier came through, announcing a search-and-rescue mission, apparently coming from someone in Fallcrest. The job entails meeting someone by the name of "Treona" at a homestead outside the town of Kiris Dahn. The town itself was overrun 5 or 6 years ago by kobolds, and now someone is getting a party together for the search-and-rescue mission. She gave me this letter and map," **Gornarn** proffers them to **Khael**, then continues, "and some gold to pay for the journey, and a few of us - I with two strangers - set out. Kusagi and I soon learned that our third - Fażola - was rather less than honest in his... *qualifications* for the job, and so went on without him. For all I know, he's still on his way by some other route. Kusagi was injured when hunting boar. I offered to carry her but she insisted I go on ahead, that she'd make her way there in a couple of days."

**Gornarn** walks silently for a bit, then continues. "She - the crier, I mean - said that if, after hearing the details of the mission, I wanted to refuse, I would not lose any honor. Between that statement and the idea of a search-and-rescue mission after so many years makes me very curious. Who, or what, needs 'rescuing', especially now? And though I've not been around there, I've also not heard of any raiding activity, or much of anything else, from Kiris Dahn. I'd think the kobolds would normally be using it for that. So, if not for raiding, for what?" He turns to look at **Khael**. "An interesting conundrum, eh, **Khael**? I look forward to sinking my teeth into the question."

**Gornarn** grins, and it doesn't seem like a friendly gesture coming from a dragonborn.

**Khael** begins thinking out loud, "So without any other facts, I would suspect one of three likely scenarios. First, someone got in over their head. Perhaps they sought a rite of passage or test of manhood. In this case, you would have been hired by an advocate of this person who likely wants to keep the embarrassment to a minimum, or at the very least is prevented from using obvious methods of rescue. Second, someone is looking for something. They may have sent a previous to find something, and it's them who need rescuing. But the patron's goal is the something, not necessarily the people, especially if your patron doesn’t know enough about where it is, and we have to find someone who does. We should pay attention to what “Treona” instructs…might suggest which one is more likely."

"Ho! This is why the gods sent you, **Khael**! I don't have your deep insight. This will be a most glorious adventure!" As they walk, **Gornarn** asks **Khael** about his previous question, "So **Khael**, how did you come to hear of my ancestor Rhogar?"

**Khael** stops, and seems puzzled for a moment… “…it had something to do with a black diadem, I think. And…a horse…? Sorry, sometimes my memory is pretty spotty."

"Eh, it is no problem, **Khael**. He was the last of our clan's great heroes. I should have learned more about him myself!"

The pair travel though this day, camp and spend most of the next day traveling to the homestead. The weather began to turn for to worse right after noon on the second day. Dark rain clouds rolling in and the sound of thunder in the distance.
They eventually see a small farmstead with a high peaked roof and a small grain silo, just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. They get to the door just as the rain begins to pour (and it doesn’t show any signs of slowing).

The door opens as they approach and an older human woman stands in the doorway. “Good eve Master Dragonborn and Sir. May I offer you shelter from the storm? My name is Treona. Do come in.”

**Gornarn** enters and declares, "I am **Gornarn** of clan Jirago, and am here to solve your problem!" He then hands her the letter the crier gave him, and the three of them enter the house.

The woman replies, "I've been expecting you **Gornarn**. Although I thought there were 3 warriors traveling together, I hope you did not run into trouble on the way to me. Copernicus informed me that 3 warriors would be coming from the south." She then regards **Khael** "I can tell you are no warrior. I am glad of your company but was not expecting you. Are you here for shelter or are you here to discuss the work for which I am hiring?" Her eyes clearly suggest she is attempting to puzzle out what **Khael** is. "There is a group of 3 others that should be arriving shortly, provided the weather did not slow them down."

"Copernicus? Who is Copernicus?" **Gornarn** steals a confused glance at **Khael**. "You are well-informed, Treona. Three of us set out, but one proved less than honest and we decided he should make his way here apart from our company. Alas, my former compatriot was injured and bid me to go on ahead. I had hoped that she would have caught up by now." He half turns towards **Khael** and continues, "This is **Khael**, and he is with me." He turns back towards Treona. "Who are these other three? I look forward to meeting them!"

"Copernicus is an old friend with contacts and influence in Fallcrest. I asked a favor of him to find me a worthy group of adventurers for a task I have. Cleaning up my mess I’m afraid. There is an item that I did not know exist at the time of the evacuation from the city. It should not fall into the hands of goblins and kobolds, but I will discuss the details further when the others arrive. The others are a tiefling warlock, a human rogue to gain access to the area and a dwarven warlord with the experience to lead this troupe." She smiles slightly at that.

"A tiefling! My father's best friend was a tiefling. I haven't traveled with one for, oh, it must be 8 years now. Had to kill that one. Heh. Not my father's friend, mind you; this was another teifling. A warlock, a rogue, and a warlord, eh? This should prove to be exciting!" He sits and regards her soberly. "But this item... it's been what, six years? Why do you believe the occupiers haven't already taken it far from Kiris Dahn?"

Treona looks again at **Khael**, and her body shudders a bit….”By Moradins grace..” One hand comes up to her mouth and she settles herself into a chair. “Your presence is most welcome here **Khael**”.

Somewhat distracted, she answers **Gornarn**, “8 years actually. There will be time for questions when all are here to hear. Where are my manners, allow me to prepare a plate and some drink. Make yourselves at home. The others will hopefully be along soon”

**Khael** takes the seat offered, and as Treona begins to busy herself, but before she leaves the room, he asks “Forgive me, I’ve recently been through a … transition, and my memories are a bit jumbled. You seem to know me. Have we met before?”

“Sir, I have never met you. My grandmother told stories of a Deva that saved a region of Nerath from an undead scourge. She said they come wielding Moradin’s wrath and blessing. Forgive an old woman for recalling a memory of the past and falling for an old children’s tale. Sadly I have not much left to hold too.”

“You, **Khael**, will be rare and unknown to most in the Vale. I could name a small handful of scholars that might recognize your markings for what they \*might\* make you out to be. A small bit of knowledge for you, Moradin only holds sway in the small points of light in Nerath, he has little hold beyond the fires of the small cities. I welcome your aid and thank you”

**Gornarn** follows all this with a flared nostril. He's sitting forward, paying attention to the conversation, but otherwise says nothing.

**Khael** seems a bit settled by that response. "We don't all follow Moradin, though Chanis and I stood ..." **Khael** trails off, as if he's forgotten what he was going to say. He begins looking at his hand, and stops moving for a few moments. "...the lich. Did I carry a sword then?"

**Gornarn** looks at Treona and says, "he sometimes gets like this... a lot."

Treona looks thoughtfully at **Gornarn** for a few moments, and her eyes turn slightly white like an albino, her face goes slightly blank and her back straightens.

Both **Gornarn** see and hear something different. When it is finished, Treona slumps back into her chair and her breathing settles. It is some moments before her eyes open and she seems normal if a tad tired. She blinks a moment and takes a sip of tea. Then, she looks at **Gornarn** and says, “mayhap not so casual and innocent a meeting between you two. I have not had that happen in some years, makes me feel young again. Oh, to be 60 again! Oh dear, the weather is just getting worse and worse. I hope they arrive soon before it gets too dark. Pardon me a moment while I place a lantern or 2 outside the door.” She gets up and starts gathering a couple storm lanterns and candles.

**Khael** blinks for a moment, and when she walks away, he looks at **Gornarn**… “Was that as strange for you as it was for me?”

**Gornarn** looks around, nonplussed. He looks at **Khael**, almost as if seeing him for the first time. "I can only imagine that it was stranger, **Khael**, as I can only guess you've had such a thing happen to you before. I don't know what you heard, but you have me as a companion as long as you need me."

"No, nev...(he pauses)...sorry, I have...I think. Without meaning to sound overly cryptic, I'm wishing you had asked me what the third possibility was...since I think it may be relevant."

"You so frequently have to... remember things? That I wasn't sure you actually thought of three things. I'll bite. What is the third possibility?"

Khael looks slightly irritated at that. He lowers his voice. "I'd prefer not to insult our host. Especially without knowing what spoke through her."

Gornarn nods and sits back. They watch Treona gather her lanterns, and in the distance, they hear the baying of a wolf and a moment later, a reply call from a few other wolves. Gornarn instantly recognizes calls as a wolf pack hunting.

Treona says “It seems unusual that they would be out in such a raging storm,” as she opens the door to hang the storm lanterns. “Oh, dear. I think I see people at the crossroads at the bottom of the hill. The wolves seem to be converging on them! Run, friends!!! To the top of the hill!!”…she runs back into the house and grabs a bandolier with clay balls dangling from it.

 ***And so it begins...***