It falls... It falls so very slowly, fluttering in the breeze and dancing along every gust of warm summer wind. Twisting and turning it around the old, knotted branches it falls ever downward. Upon the end of its journey, the delicate leaf floats to a soft landing upon his sleeping face. The grass around him is wet with fresh morning dew and the air still carries the smell of last night's rain. Off in the distance the sweet morning calls of a songbird bring start to the new day as the sun begins to bare its face, its beautiful red glow illumining the scenery. Atop the hill, the lone willow stands amidst a sea of grass, swaying in the morning air. Waves of grass ripple through the field, a slow movement befitting the peacefulness of this natural Eden. Below the willows weeping branches he lays, visions of a past to be forgotten and a hopeful future to come swirl in his mind.

Five years ago he started running, and for half a decade he's continued running to escape a past clouded with darkness and bloodstained hands. Long ago he was abandoned by the world he once loved and in return he abandoned her. His heart still yearns to return to the wilds of the Fey but his mind knows the impossibilities of such a dream. The days have been long and weary and the road ahead is still shadowed with unknown mysteries. He knows not where he is headed, but part of him keeps urging his body to move forward. He spends most of his days journeying along the untrodden paths of the forests, wandering from one town to another. He collects money completing odd jobs for strangers and citizens alike, using it to pay for supplies and the nights he spends in local inns. He's a drifter now, never staying long in one place and almost constantly on the move because some part of him believes that he can escape the memories by simply walking.

The rising sun warms his face and he opens his eyes, the thin leaf resting upon his brow brings a smile to his face as he brushes it aside along with a few loose hairs. His hair sways in the morning wind as he stands watching the awakening town on the horizon. He finds himself standing atop a hill just outside the town of Fallcrest, a small township standing amid the Moon Hill at the falls of the Nentir Vale. The town is protected by a large stone wall at the north, south and east ends with the Nentir River to the west. A large cliff runs east and west through the town's center, separating it into two tiered districts. From where he stands he can see another hill at the northeast corner of the town, what appears to be a small keep standing atop it's plateaued peak. There seems to be a small market at the town's center below the cliff line, he decides that to be his destination as descends the hill towards the town's southern gate.

For a city based around trade and travellers the roads seem as though to be untouched by cartwheel or foot for days, although a few carts appear to be on the road this morning. Taking a closer look at some of the wagons as he passes them he notices that these are not the wagons of your average adventuring traders, but rather they are beaten from many days of travel and some are already falling apart at the hinges,. They look as though to be fleeing from something, the somber faces of many families filling their interiors. When approaches one cart to question where they hail from the driver looks at him with a saddened expression and in almost a whisper of a voice, the voice of one who has lost all hope, proclaims he and his family travel from the city of Harken. As he tries to pry further though as to what caused them to leave the man looks away and says to question someone else, tugging at his horse's reins and urging it forward. With an annoyed sigh and a shake of its head the exhausted horse trudges forward with much effort, dragging the heavy cart behind it. After attempting to question a few others and gaining little results, he pieces the sparse bits of information together to infer that some tragedy has befallen the once great city of Harken and that some mercenary group lead by a strange man stands at the center of its cause. He ponders this strange situation a little further but then proceeds to push it to the back of his mind as he continues along the road towards the Fallcrest, believing that there isn't much he can do for the refugees from Harken in his current state.

Soon he enters through the vast gates of Fallcrest's southern wall, pushing through the crowded streets as he moves towards the market district. Intently focused on his destination he wades through the crowd, completely ignoring the urge to pilfer a few coins from the pockets of the unaware. He finally escapes the vast swarm of people containing mainly refugees only to be totally caught off guard by the sudden attack of one very angry, frightened chicken. His eyes go wide from the surprise encounter as the frantic bird flies headlong right into his face, knocking him completely off his feet and onto his back. Dazed and confused he just lays there on the dusty road for a moment, staring straight ahead with a bewildered expression and then proceeds to stand back up and dust himself off. He shakes the dust out of his hair and then looks around slightly annoyed to locate the offender. He spots the little demon running, jumping and flailing into the market with about the same level of vigor from when it struck him, also noticing that the coin pouch on his belt feels oddly lighter than a few moments ago. The mere thought of this cause him to turn his gaze downwards and inspect the place where his gold would normally be hanging...

"Orcus damn that foul bird! I can't believe I was robbed blind by a simple chicken!"

Jumping into a mad dash, the very annoyed Lairelandon charges after the devious bird in an attempt to retain some level of dignity and regain the gold that has been funding his survival up to this point. The chase does not get off to a good start however as Laire turns a very sharp corner around some merchant stalls only to find a wagon of flour sacks directly blocking his path. Quick thinking as he is however, Laire plants his hands on the wagon-bed mid-dash, using it as a springboard to shift his momentum upwards, and bounds over the wagon with ease. He flies through the air doing a slight flip forwards so as to land on his feet again and continue without faltering, a slight smirk on his face as he does so. Unfortunately this moment of spectacular acrobatic skill comes to an abrupt halt as he vaults full on into a merchants fruit stand, melons, apples and bits of splintered wood flying in all directions. From the glorious mess rises Laire, now coated in bits of fruit and potentially more irate than the speechless Halfling that he ignores as he returns to his chase with an apple in hand and orange pulp dripping from his face. Raising his arm to his face, he bites down on the fresh apple, his gaze still intently placed on the demon bird as it waddles away. After regaining the distance he just lost from the last accident he begins to catch up on the chicken, weaving in and out of stalls as they race back and forth through the market. The feathered beast now almost within reach an evil grin appears on Laire's face and is immediately wiped from it as a runaway barrel of ale from a pub's morning shipment collides with his right leg, running him down and sending him reeling through the air. Instinct saves his fall as he performs an off balance tumble that lands him back on his feet and sends him again to chase now fuming from his horrible luck. The chase proceeds for roughly 5 more minutes before Laire finally comes back within reach of the thief, reaching his arms forward to grab hold of it. He swipes the chicken from its feet, holding it in the air by its neck with an evil smile that would make even the greatest of demons cower in fear.

He tears his coin-purse from the clutches of the bird's beak, reattaching it to his belt and then proceeds to shove the bird into his pack where it will remain until he can think of what to do with the creature. The squawking and frantic flailing of the bird caught quite the bit of attention however and not seconds later Laire turns around to find a not so impressed guard standing behind him, arms crossed and eyebrow raised in question. The guard doesn't even wait for answers as he grabs Laire by the scruff of his shirt and drags him to the town jail where he is thrown into a rather large cell, landing on his stomach in a puddle of questionable contents in the center. Standing with a groan, he becomes aware of a noticeably intoxicated dwarf sitting in the corner drinking away from a tankard that's obviously empty and singing a merry tune that may or may not be in dwarvish.

His horribly slurred song over, the dwarf now takes notice of Laire, slaps his knee and let's out quite the laugh, " Sooooo, whar you 'n fer me boy?"

Laire responds with a confused expression, trying to hold in his laughter at the dwarf's speech, "Long story short, I've been thrown in here for stashing away a chicken in my cloak"

The dwarf looks at him quite quizzically, "An how 'n the name'v the 'eavans did ya manage t' git nentire roast chickn?"

His head hanging in slight shame, he replies, "It was a live chicken actually, the damned bird stole my coins and I caused quite the ruckus trying to regain them."

The dwarf almost doubles over in laughter, but in between the hearty chuckling Laire manages to gather, "You... bird... 'n yer shirt... funniest thing've heard... Oh I'm gonna wet meself boy, how dumb can ya be?"

Before Laire can even protest to the uproar, the cell door swings open as two more are thrown in, narrowly missing him as he steps back in surprise. A rather flustered elf and one very large and unfriendly looking Dragonborn have now joined them, the elf seeming to be completely confused as to his current situation and the Dragonborn yelling after the guard while banging his massive fist against the bars. This stops the dwarf mid-laugh and he stands, looking about as sober as he can probably manage.

"You should calm down me boy, you're gonna break yer hand if ya keep at that little tantrum of yers."

The golden Dragonborn turns his gaze, still slightly enraged, "Silence your mouth dwarf before I silence it for you."

"Ah it appears I haven't introduced meself yet. The name is Urist my friend, and who may you be?" says the dwarf with a raise of his tankard

With a grumble the half-dragon replies, "Thyllan, now mind your own business drunkard."

Now seeming tired of his irate acquaintance, Urist turns to Laire and the elf. "And what of you two?"

"My name is Lairelandon, but you may refer to me as Laire if you wish," Laire declares to his new companion, with a slight bow

The elf pipes in a few seconds later after gathering his words, " And I'm umm Roland, and I'm not supposed to be here."

Suddenly the guard returns, "Still proclaiming your innocence eh elf?" He unlatches the cell door and motions for them to move, "The four of you are to come with me, unless of course your prefer to stay in this cell."

Without so much as a complaint the four move to follow the guard as he leads them out of the jail and back onto the streets of Fallcrest. They're taken through the town, passing by many buildings as they work their way towards the cliff-side path that leads up into the northern district. The winding path that travels up the height of the cliff face is steep and with their quick pace the group is forced to stop for a quick rest when they reach the top.

"Twas no dwarf that built such a deadly stair climb, I can assure you of that" complains Urist as he gasps for some more air.

In agreement Laire nods and adds in, "I can only imagine how horrible that must have been for one of your stature."

"You calling me short boy?"

Laire laughs, and winks cheekily, "I would never think of it."

After they all manage to catch their breath, some requiring more time than others, the group continues onwards as guard urges them towards the stone keep standing at the northeast corner of the town. Merely a few minutes pass as they approach the large stone structure and are quickly rushed through the front gates and towards the main door. The guard stops them at the door and continues inside telling them to wait there and after a long silence he returns and motions for them to enter.

"Lord Warden Markelhay will see you now"

The guard leads the four through the great hall of the structure and into a small study where a man sits behind his desk, reading over maps and various letters. He barely acknowledges them as they enter but waves the guard to leave without so much as even looking up from his charts.

"Were you explained as to why you were called here?"

Thyllan steps forward, slightly annoyed, "Not in the slightest, but I would like some answers."

"Calm yourself Dragonborn or I may be inclined to send you back to a smaller cell where you can remain. Now it's not often that we get four of your sort in this town of ours, but I can't say that's a bad thing as the four of you have been making quite the commotion since your arrival. From drunken preaching, to swinging Halflings around like swords, to... putting chickens in your shirt?"

It's Laire's turn to step forward in reply now, "It's a rather long and embarrassing story sir."

The man lifts his head and removes his spectacles, eyebrow raised, "I'm sure it is, anyways..." His eyes now catching the elf standing there awkwardly, "Wait, why are you here again?"

Stumbling with his words a little he replies, "I myself am not even sure of that to be honest. But -"

Cutting him off there, the man continues. "Well no matter, you're here now. You see we stand in dark times, lately there have been many refugees fleeing the City of Harken to the east of here, and many rumors have followed them of a group of mercenaries known as 'The Iron Circle' that has been terrorizing the land. They're lead by an odd man named Nazin, of which we know little, who has been wreaking havoc in the area of Harken for years now. Many a town have been raged by his men and he appears to have gathered himself a vast army of mages, adepts and the like as well as quite the militia. Our spies tell us that he plans to march on Harken shortly and well I am requesting your aid in this matter seeing as how you seem like the adventuring sort of folk."

Thyllan then cuts in, "What's in it for us?"

And without so much as missing a beat, the Lord Warden responds again, "Your freedom. That and all charges against you will be dropped, including the cost for one badly damaged fruit stand." He raises an eyebrow again in question.

"I see no issue with this deal at all and will be glad to accept it," announces Laire in a very quick speech

The others nod in agreement, settling the matter once and for all.

He smiles, "I figured as much. Now off with you, I'll have the guard bring you to the inn, your rooms have already been paid for. You will be given supplies and a map in the morning and any further questions can be answered then. Please leave, I have much work to do now."

And so the four new companions exit the study and eventually the keep as they head off to to prepare for the task that has been so abruptly placed upon them.