Introduction
The free city of Drakmar! At first you believe it can only be a mirage caused
by the heat and your own exhaustion, but you shelter your eyes with your
hand, take a second look, and know it to be real. You have just finished a long
trek through the Kalarian Desert which followed months of questing, and the
sight of the city's walls and towers is a welcome relief. You have heard much
about this ancient and legendary city and know that its mysteries and
adventures are countless.
Under the suspicious eye of the sentry you enter the city to discover that you are in the Thieves District, an area inhabited by mostly lower-class citizenry as well as thieves, assassins, and adventurers such as yourself. You marvel at all of the sights, smells, and sounds, but your revery is interrupted by a halfling who bumps into you. "Pardon me, kind sir," he says with a smile and a tip of his hat as he hurries off. You almost give a reply when your instincts draw your hand to your now missing money pouch.
Dodging through the crowd you chase after the halfling who nimbly moves toward an inn ahead. The sign reads "The Rampaging Dragon," and the two story building appears old and a bit ill-used. You swing open the door and hurry in only to be met by a large party of adventurers seated around a huge table. Some appear to be warriors while others look to be thieves and possibly wizards. A gnome clad in a brightly colored jester's costume stands off to the side juggling daggers, and a glance from him makes you feel strangely uneasy. You notice that the group is also quite mixed by race: seated at the table is another gnome, three dwarves, four humans, and an elf. You decide to proceed with caution as the group looks you over carefully, some smiling, some frowning, and others watching you very coolly. Obviously you have interrupted a meeting of some sort. Peeking out from behind one of the dwarves is the halfling you seek. Placing your hand nervously on your sword you point at him and say, "You there! Hand over my money pouch."
The dwarf quickly reaches behind his chair and grabs the front of the halfling's tunic, easily lifting him off the ground. "Out causing mischief again, are we?" he growls at the diminutive thief. "Toss over the pouch, you little runt, or I'll carve it out of you."
"No need for violence, no need at all," the halfling shrugs as he tosses the pouch to you. "Just a simple misunderstanding," he sheepishly grins at you.
"Looks like drinks are on you again, thief," a powerful warrior says with a laugh. "Treat our guest here to one as well," and he motions to you to have a seat.
"Welcome to the Fellowship of the Broken Sword," a knight in plate armor says to you. "I am Fafhard. My companions and I meet regularly at the Rampaging Dragon to share stories of our wanderings and adventures. As you know, Drakmar serves as a nexus, a sort of meeting point for travelers between worlds. Sit and share a drink or two with us while we weave our tales. Perhaps you will tell one yourself?"
You scan the waiting faces of the intimidating group before you and decide that it might indeed be wise to accept their hospitality. Taking your seat and a drink you turn to listen to the first tale...
