An advert was scene posted up around throughout the city of Neverwinter seeking adventurers, both new and experienced willing to escort some supplies for a pair of brothers, the Rockseeker brothers, who will pay handsomely for the supplies reaching a small frontier town of Phandalin. The particulars of what the brothers are seeking are not specified but it is a handsome enough reward for a simple task. The note asks that any interested adventurers report to the Broken Keg tavern on the Eastern edge of the Protectors Enclave district near the cities southernmost gate at the 7th bell of the evening.
On arriving the adventurers are greeted by Gundren Rockseeker, one of the two brothers who welcomes them and asks them to be seated and to explain why it is they think they are worthy of the pay Gundren will offer them for this endeavor…
A young looking Half Elf stands up first at the table first to introduce himself he greets the other adventurers with a nod he seems extremely eloquent and some might say silver tongued.
“My name is Darvin Sha and my reason for wanting to join the group is to explore the world. Since I left my human family home on my mother's side when I came of age I have used my skills only to rob and trick others, drifting through life existing on a day to day basis. I was kidnapped by one of the Fey to entertain the Seelie Court in the Feywilds and… I have been gone from this world for a long time and this has led me to realise that there is more to life than just partying and merriment and self satisfaction. I want to prove to myself that there is more to me than that.”
With that he seats himself once again and glances at Grunden who nods in acknowledgement and looks at the rest of the gathered adventurers.
Next to stand is another Half Elf who introduces himself as Chance Richmond. He is immaculately dressed and manicured and he carries himself as one with courtly bearing and manners though he seems loathe to reveal much of his history.
“I'm seeking to join an established or new group of adventurers in order to acquire new skills and a wider base of experiences. Most of my life has been spent at the courts of the Kingdom mingling with wealthy types and acting as a mediator in civil disputes on behalf of the King. There are people who have wronged me in my past and I will exact vengeance before my time on this earth is done and I need new… skills to help me achieve this vengeance.”
He is clearly an eloquent man and his delivery leaves you all wondering how someone could be so foul as to betray him. His speech finished he drops back down into his chair with a nod and smile to Gundren.
A man stands, he looks no more than a clerk or manager but he is clad in serviceable leathers and weapons bedeck his frame and something about the way he holds himself hints at danger beneath the surface.
“My name is Fyvel, and up until a few days ago I was the Head of Distribution and Local Warehousing at my father's trading business. I'm bored. I've been doing it for five years now and I need a change. I found some old family heirloom weapons from someone long dead and they make me look cool, so I want to go out and do something interesting.”
His speech is delivered swiftly and without the flourish of the earlier speakers, he sits down without a look at any of the others around the table.
A dwarf steps up next, he is clad in serviceable and well used armour and has a decidedly unsavoury cast to his features. There is a swarthy, almost dangerous look to him and he speaks as one used to a life on the seas. He nods across at a Halfling sitting nearby before beginning to talk
“Mordred is the name, him I know”With a nod at the Halfling. “We met yesterday evening over more than a few ales, we got more than a little drunk and I’ve already told him my tale but here goes again. Some ******** killed my crew and I don’t know who they were so I’m going to kill them, I don’t have a clue where to start looking so in the meantime I will make some money and see what information comes up. That’s all I have to say.”
He drops back down into his seat and grabs another ale which he swiftly sinks before grabbing another.
Everyone glances across at the Halfling Mordred indicated who stands as Mordred slumps down, his own ale not too far from his grasp but a slightly hung-over look to his face. He has a bit scruff on his chin and a look in his worn hands and tired eyes that says he’s spent many of his days doing hard labour and that he’s seen a lot over the years. The small half-sized man shares his tale about how his last shipping job at sea was waylaid by a torrent of rain and strong winds and that resulted in his share of the wages being cut by almost three quarters…
“So yeah, after 19 years at sea and the growing dislike for my contractor turning into more of a hatred, I think it’s the perfect time for a change of scenery and an opportunity for me to find a new sense of adventure on solid ground. Oh, I almost forgot… the name’s Eriden Thysilkin, Druid of the Wealdath Forests.”
A man in his mid twenties, clearn shaven both face and head stands, he holds himself with the air of a military man but wears his soldiers cloth like someone from a monastic order. He has shared a few drinks with the group and unlike what one would expect from someone of a monastic background he spends the evening speculating over what we are being gathered for, is that barmaid single, is the new dwarf arrival actually a midget? He seems a somewhat jovial and irreverent character with a devilish glint to his eye.
“The names Dwon I was once of a monastery, which is not important but once I left I spent 5 campaigns with the Golden Legion. 5 years of scouting, sneaking & killing for what? Why should I do all this dirty work so some lord can claim land, power & glory in the name of greed? That wears thin after a while so whilst the pay for adventuring may not be as frequent but hey! I don’t have to take orders from some jumped up Lordling.”
At this point, mid introductions a flaming haired and bearded dwarf comes over and cleaves his axe into the table sits and takes a great drink from an ale jug that looks almost as big as he himself is.
"My name in Hendel and as you can tell I’m a dwarf those that can’t tell should leave as I don’t want you mistaking me for a goblin and forcing me to kill you My past is my own and frankly I care not one bit for you people or your treasures and stories. I’ve stumbled my way into Neverwinter looking for some fresh ales and food after battling a small group of Orcs I had been tracking for days, I killed them all. The bar wench pointed me in your direction saying you were looking for someone of skill to keep you all alive and while you haphazardly attempt take on great evil. I'm here not to make friends or to find fame I wish only to find a good battle and to test my strength. Come find me if you think you deserve my talents"
With that hegrabs his flagon, stands up pulls his axe out of the table nearly taking the whole lot with him and drunkenly staggers off into a darkened corner, the group look on this dwarf with interest and intrigue, given that he has dropped his family name completely and refuses to talk of his past you realise some great shame or disgrace has fallen upon this young and frankly frightening looking battle scared dwarf. Stories have been told of disgraced dwarfs going travelling to find their last battles against great creatures in the hope that their deaths could redeem them, however few ever survive long and few people have ever encountered one. It is clear this dwarf has little interest in your party or your adventures but you feel he could be a great asset to your crew if he only he could find a way to restore his honour. Grunden merely raises his eyebrows at the rest of the crew some of whom shrug and someone sniggers.
Fyvel, the self-proclaimed Warehouse and Distribution Manager, leans forward seemingly perturbed seeing as everyone else has been more forthcoming than he first was - even the angry dwarf.
"My name is Fyvel Artrada. Yes, from that Artrada family, the one with all the ships and warehouses. And yes, I am related to the owner, but that's not why I'm here. I've spent five years in an office, and I'm sick of it. I was a lively youth and I miss the sense of adventure that I used to experience back then. I might be a bit slower than younger me, but I'll get my edge back, in time. I've got a few connections around the place too - I'm sure I can find us some work if Gundren here doesn’t take us on but I wouldn't expect anything too exciting to begin with! That said, it's a dark world out there - maybe someone should go and get that dwarf..."
Chance glances across at Fyvel here "Well if you don't mind me interjecting, I believe the Dwarven gentleman would be a fine candidate given his experience in the field. Let me go and speak to him and see if we can get him to join our merry band, besides more drinks are in order."
The Half-Elf, Chance stands up, pushes the stool back under the table and makes his way to the bar. He takes a stool next to the dwarf and orders a round of drinks. In Dwarven, he turns to Hendel and says, "We have need of an axe in our fights to come. I'm not sure any of that band could hold themselves in any sustained fight. I know I'm not. Come and join us, I heard Eriden and Mordred say they could drink you under the table."
glad none of you are metagamers as I am horribly unfair to metagamers as a DM 
