((Most of the original character introductions have been lost over the years. Here are some of those that still exist.))

An old man walks into the inn and sits down by a young lad. The lad obviously setting out in his quest for personal glory and fame, is ready to take on the world. The old man begins to chatter and the lad listens politely but not with much interest.

?Many moons ago i sat here, like you, eager to see the world and heard many things from my cup 'o' ale. If the walls could talk what stories they could tell. Some grand, some minor but all pivotal in the lives of those in them. I remember when ....?

Dundale

A cloaked stranger, quick of step and fell of face, came down the northern paths and slipped quietly into the Altrebian Valley. Those that saw him pass remarked only that his eyes never strayed from his path, as his hand did not from the hilt of the longblade at his side. He had the look of long and fast-paced travel about him, his boots dusty and marred from the road. And his garments, though of stoutly sewn leathers, seemed in need of some repair. The grey cowl he kept drawn close to his face was tinged red with the dust his boots had stirred in recent days.

A loud and boisterous Inn proclaiming itself the Red Dragon beckoned him in for a drink, but he passed quickly by, ignoring the curious remarks of the besotted few who loitered before its doors. It would be a day or more before he would finally return, enter that hall and wash the road from his throat. And even then, he kept his name and counsel close, never letting on to his origin nor his reason for being now in this valley. For he was an outlaw.

Dundale sat and sipped a warm mug of mead at the dark end of the bar, remembering the misfortune that had set him to this road, unjustly named a rogue and deserter by those who would soon be lapping at his heel. And such an ironic twist of fate his tale had become.

Late of the evening, as he sat deep in his cups, he paid heed to a pair who sat at a far corner table, talking intently and seeming to make an array of plans as they sipped their drinks. He was slightly amused at the one's choice of drink. Lime juice had never been a taste his mountain born tongue could bear. Not meaning to eavesdrop, he still took notice at the unique and interesting name the man who puckered behind his glass called the woman as they spoke. Topaz. Very interesting, he thought,
but when they rose to leave, he believed he had seen the last of them.

A day later, as Dundale sat honing his blade in a shady grove by a swift flowing stream, one he had seen briefly in the same Inn approached him and made him an offer. An offer which at first made the northern warrior wary of its intent, as well as its deliverer. But the man who introduced himself as ShadowAmon deemed only to sit and speak a while, never offering an aggressive tone nor action. After a time, his words began to draw the stranger in, and he agreed to accompany him to a nearby estate held by friends. It was to Dundale's pleasure that upon arrival at the said friends domicile, there, among several others, were the two he had seen the night before.

It was a cautious evening, this first meeting between Dex, he who sipped of the lime,Topaz and Dundale. When, under their joint interrogation, he remained vague about the nature of his business in the valley, they did not press. But their curiosity would not let them rest until he had at least given them an occupation by which he made his way. He lied and told them he was a scribe, then bit his tongue as they exclaimed that a scribe was just what they might need. Damn! Now how was a renegade mercenary from the clan wars of the Shadowrange Mountains ever to uphold the duties of Scribe for anything with as important and resounding a name as the 'Guardians of Truth'? But, he was in need of a sound cover 'til he could clear his good name and return home, and he could think of harder ways to earn a living than push a quill across a sheave of parchment. With a warm smile of false confidence, he finally agreed to take the post.

Alex

My past? Well, what does it really matter....I'm here, now...although I was taught there really is no "here and now"...but if anyone cares about what brought me to RhyDin, another drink would ease the weariness of talking quite well...
...ahhh...much better...this would be Velathian '49, no doubt...?
...well...born of a human father - half Cymri, half Rom - and an Elven mother, on the world known as Majipur (no, NOT Majipoor - enough tales have been told about that place already, and besides, most of them aren't true). Had an interesting upbringing...some good, a little bad, never boring...but that's for another evening and another round...
...suffice it so say that I left my homeworld fairly young, and discovered that with my Rom heritage I could learn to unravel the warp and weft of the threads of spacetime...oh, hell, just say I learned how to be a starship pilot. For eight Standard years it was a good living, and a hell of a lot of fun, too...I can remember - but that's for another evening, too.
...another Velathian?...Surely, and many thanks...well...I suppose you could say I found it necessary to trick my employer and owner off the starship I was piloting - oh, the names don't matter right now, not to you, anyway - and I had to take the ship through the webs of spacetime to...well, let's just say it was long, long, ago, etcetera. Found what he - and half the galaxy - was looking for, and entrusted it to a Traveller who could get it to a safe place where it belonged. Rewove the threads and gated back, knowing my former employer would be hunting for me with a vengeance...but I had stolen the sweetest, fastest ship in the quadrant, and besides, no one can gate ships like a Rom...
...yes, thank you, I think I will...ahhh...anyway, I had to gate through some pretty weird stuff, mind you, and in the process got a message from my Traveller acquaintance, which...well, never mind, you wouldn't get the subtle nuances...anyway, I put my ship into RhyDin...and now here I am, enjoying this TRULY fine vintage, and look you, this truly fine company, and merely looking forward to accomplishing a bit of a favor, you understand, and hopefully keeping one or thirteen steps ahead of certain folks. And now, I've said nothing, mind you, but only a bit of entertaining stories to charm such good friends...can we perhaps have one more glass?