First Meetings

The city of Torf. It is everything you thought it would be. Some of you have come here here from afar, and some of you have grown up in the city and all of you have gotten the impression is a place that the rest of the world does not want to notice. It's dirty streets and tight alleyway, lend themselves to any manner of den and establishment of ill respute. The small run down houses with thier multiple locks and strong door, but yet thier neglected gardens and flowerboxes show you you have come to a place where safttey is a treasure to be guarded.
A vendor calls from one of the main streets. "Hey you can't rob from me. I pay protection. Fear is going to hear about this". Close a young boy glares out at you from underneath an old rotting blanket. Only his eyes are visible, but from his size he must be a child. You think for a moment, you see bare feet, but no foot could be that hairy. You enter one of the larger avenues where a a bustle of people move towards a large building. You have heard about this building before. It is know as "the pit" and houses some of the best fighter in the region. Thoes that make thier money killing others for sport.

Two combatants are in the "pit" as you look down from your vantage point, high on one of the walls. The first, a strapping young man of large build. He carries no weapons and looks like he is a veteran of this type of fight. His skin is sun darkened and hard, almost like leather. His fists are large and bony, with large knuckles used to hitting solid objects. He wears simple boots and breeches, nothing that would offer his opponent a holding place. The man he is fighting is older and more expeirienced it appears. He moves with an easy grace not to quick to strike, but not fearful also. in his hand, he holds a long knife. larger than a dagger, but not quite as long as what would pas for a sword in this region. They stare at eachother for a few minutes, each taking eachother's measure. The spectators call for action, but these are no gladiators playing the crowd for advantage. These two men only care about one thing. leaving the pit alive, and each one knows, one mistake, and his opponent will be the one to walk away. The swordsman makes the first move, when his opponent steps unevenly. He lunges forward and strikes with his weapon, cutting a deep line in his opponent, but the bare-knuckled fighter does not go down. In fact he seems to take the woulnd with a grunt and uses the opening to punch the swordsman in the knee. As the sowrdsman drops down, he follows up with a kick to the thigh and groin. One more punch to the head finished the blade weilder and the crows cheers. Throughout the building the sound of coins and purses can be heard as wagers are paid and new bet placed. The winer of the battle is led out of the pit through a nearby doorway and the loser left on the battlefield, to warn the next set of fighters the price of faliure. What a strange place this is. It draws many types of people. Thoes who smell of sweat and grimes, for whom the flies fight over, to ladies smelling of perfume, and roses. Aganst the wall a priest can be seen, kissing the coin hung around his neck. The symbol of tymora etched onto it surface. A better gives him a chit, to signify the bet he made, though he looks worried. He passes by the better's two "collectors". Large brutes who glare at him, as if warning him, that they will meet, should he not pay his debts. Through one of the doors a behomneth of a man can be seen, sitting waiting for his sopt. He is dressed in the barest of clothing. His skin and eyes show he is from no where close, and a red metal circlet upon his brow, signifies his severtude to a pit overseer. A large unsheathed curving sword, like they favor in the south lies across his lap, and he rocks back in fort in anticipation, or perhaps fear. Then from the center of the pit, a covered cage is brought out, on four wheels. A man, dripping with false nobility walks besides it and clears his thoat for attention. The crowd quiets only slightly until he removes the covereing. There caged is one fo the most beautiful creatures you have ever seen. An elf with bronze skin and otherworldly eyes looks from behind the metal bars. Two large white feathered wings, grace her back. Such a sight you have never before seen, and have only moment to take it in before the man throws the cevering back up on the cage. 5 silver gets you a better look, after the fights, come one, come all" he says as the cage is wheeled out and the next warriors take to the pit.

Sir Robert Drake, along with the help of a young treasure hunter named Jonsey, and two older adventurers, a half-elf fighter and a human druid set out to save to the winged elf. The druid was sent by his goddess to the pit, and he knew instantly what he had to do. They formed a plan to save the elf, but it almost went to pieces because of the unlikly interference of a cleric of Twilmeril. Luck just happened to bring the young cleric, heavily in debt and being chased by collectors into the lives of Sir Robert. As things got heavy and the fighting started, they were aided by the streetfighter, Donovan and soon the group, winged elf in tow were running for thier lives into the sewers of the city.

They ended up falling into a deeper section of the sewer, and were left to make thier exit on thier own. During thier escape they ran into a group of gremlins, guarding teasure which they had stolen from above and a strange piper, living among the rats and vermin. They were able to get out safley (and with some gremlin gold in thier pocket) and decided the best course of action was to head toward Cor.

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