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To Fionna
As Fionna walks towards Korrigan, many people turn to great her along the way. Everyone smiles back at her and a few younger girls curtsy and giggle as they turn and scamper off. The child she handed the basket to runs back paying very little attention to his surroundings. The small boy careens into Kaylan on his way to return the empty basket to Fionna. He looks up at Kaylan when Kaylan looks down at him. The boy runs off terrified.

As she approaches her seat, two men in tired regal attire quickly ran off only to return shortly with a few wool rugs. They set the rugs out around the Queen Regnant's seat for the children that followed her ceaselessly. They tried after that, fairly poorly, to remain hidden and on guard.

To Alinar
As Alinar paused, directly in front of him a young Tsunotaur barely old enough to be off his mothers teat crashes into a Guthrie carrying three mugs of water, two plates of something green and slimy, a small plate of sweetbreads, a heap of assorted vegatables, and a large jug of some foul-smelling brown liquid. The tsunotaur barely prevented himself from stomping on the poor woman as the food and drink flew at Alinar.

• "Ridgling!" the Tsunotaur roared at whoever shoved him from behind.

• The only response was, "I was aiming a'fer the Elf."

Alinar deftly sidesteps the tidal wave of food and drink, catching a small loaf in the process.

“Ah.” Alinar replies to the shouted response. “Then your effort at humor was as ill-conceived as it was ill-timed. Doomed as it was, it could very easily – and may have – caused injury to non-participants. If done in anger, then I apologize for any offense I may personally have caused you. If the offense was committed by my kin, then please recognize that I am me, and not they. Perhaps the matter may be discussed following the event – to cause further interruption would be even more rude.”
He sniffs at the bread in his hand, arches an eyebrow, and takes a small bite as he looks to the Guthrie on the ground. “Do you require assistance?”

*A man in a Messenger's uniform runs up to Korrigan with a satchel of scrolls in his hand. He bows and presents the scrolls.*

"Your Majesty, the Rangers have completed their survey and the scribes have completed their work as well. These are the maps you requested"

*Korrigan smiles and pats the Messenger on the shoulder.*

"Fantastic timing, my lad. You've earned a meal and your fill of mead. Go join the celebration."

*The Messenger bows again and skips off towards the food while Korrigan begins to pass out the scrolls to the assembled heroes. There are plenty of maps for all who wish to have one.*

"These are the most recent maps of our area. The Tipsy Traveler and our central town are located in Hunter's Hill, but all of the villages you'll be working with are on this map. Hopefully this will give you a better idea of the lay of the land. To give you an idea of how big all of this is, it takes the average person two full days to walk from the Fishing Village to the Outpost Keep.

The small portly man begins to wave frantically. Master Korrigan is this um a bad time to discuss Rifisto's deal?

*As he finished passing out the maps, Korrigan turns towards the portly man.*

"We can talk now. My friends here will need some time to go over these maps, and it looks like Master Waterfall will be a few moments while he prepares the folks from the villages, so it looks like I've got some time. Have you found anything here that will suit your Master's needs, or does he need something more exotic?"

*Rothek trudged over toward the area where old man waterfall was slinging ale and grabbed two trays balancing the tankards that rest on top. he then took a knee so he was head level with the bar so he could take another in his mouth. as he stood mugs shifted to either side of the tray producing a way for the beastman to see where he was going, so he headed over, albeit slowly, to the dwarven table setting one down where a tray had recently emptied and then back over toward the corner where the other beastmen had all gathered*

"dog kin, this dwarf fizzy water. taste good. but not drink too much cause then it make you dizzy."

rothek sat down and set down the other two trays he had been carrying and took a tankard for himself.

Thiseus moved toward Korrigan and took a map as he handed them out. He then moved towards the bar and got a mug of mead and found another corner with which to watch the goings on.

The slightly indignant look on the Av'yana's face quickly vanished as the maps were displayed, and she just as quickly set one of the mugs on the ground near the first to snatch one closer to her. The three mugs made a neat cluster within the seated crouch she dropped into as she produced quill and ink from the pouch at her side. She then smoothed out the armor on her thigh, rested the map on it, and proceeded to make her own annotations in cramped Common. Cirrus' head cocked thoughtfully, her spare hand flicking fingers in and out as it darted down for the drink she had rested on the ground first, and took a long draught from it as she scribbled in a legend, traced out the paths of creeks, and drew in symbols of landmarks.

As the portly man strove ever harder to gain Korrigan's attention and Cirrus heard the name of the innkeeper who had taken to traveling with the Havenites on their ramblings, she spoke up without ever taking her eyes off the map, or indeed stopping her work.

"Oy, Raphisto's lackey. Leddim know I'm up for helpin' him out again. Make sure you got the hotboxes lit this time though, fire and feathers don't mix all that well, you know?"

To Alinar
Silence returns Alinar's quip.

As he is speaking, the Tsunotaur wheels around attempting to find the offender but sees nothing. Mumbling under his breath he ignores the Guthrie woman scrambling around the ground and stomps off, crushing a small cucumber with no notice. The crowd begins to move back in as no harm seems to have occurred crushing a sweetroll in the process.

The woman flutters from one thing to the next not actually picking anything up, just fretting. She finally bends down to scoop up the fallen mugs when one is kicked away by a man backing up. She jumps at the mug and in the process has her hand stepped on.

Nursing the bruised fingers, she listens to Alinar with a look of anger on her face and a single wet tear running down her face. When she realizes the elf is sincere her face softens and she gently blushes.

• Yes, I could use some help, sir.

She smiles as her calm returns and she begins to pick up the fallen food.

To Rothek
A Beastman with black fur and two white spots under his chin leans over cautiously and sniffs at the proffered drinks. He wrinkles his nose but, trusting Rothek, sticks his tongue into the ale. Blanching at the taste he begins to wipe at his tongue frantically. Another Beastman with unkempt fur smelling slightly of pickles grabs the drink, scoffing at the first one. He takes a slug of the liquid and promptly spits it all over his compatriots.

Most don't seem to actually care that they are damper (and stickier) then they were. Most seemed fascinated by this drink that some of the boldest didn't like.

• You try. No, you try. I try! No, me first!

They fought over the rights to be the next Beastman to despise this brown liquid, and before Rothek has time to explain the after-effects, all of the ale was gone in a pile of fur, tails, and wet noses. Two different paws shot out of the pile, each exclaiming...

• More fizzy water! Is terrible!

To Thiseus

As Thiseus settles down at a small unoccupied table in the corner of the room, he notices he isn't alone. Sitting at the opposite side of the table sits a man so still, he seemed as part of the canvas wall. He narrows his one good eye at Thiseus, the other a mess of scars and a beady little black orb that didn't even seem natural. He huffed loudly and stood up, quickly moving away.

This wouldn't have seemed strange to Thiseus, expect for the dull shine left behind on the mans seat. When Thiseus took a closer look he could see something on the tenantless stool: an uninteresting grey dagger. Uninteresting, that was, until it smiled at him.

Old Man Waterfall looks around him and notices quiet a few of the townsfolk gathered around him. He clears his throat and begins.

• As we are in Hunter's Hill, I believe it would be appropriate to start here. Master Crispin Windmere, if you would please step forward?

A youngish man steps forward. He bounces on his heels, not with impatience, but with youthful energy.

• Master Windmere here is the youngest son of Terrald Windmere, the founder and builder of the old buildings you see about town. Since, King Korrigan Drochlann has found it amiable to set up the Tipsy Traveler within the grounds of Hunter's Hill. Around the rolling hills and gentle forests, you will see many a man hard at work in the fields by day. By night you will see them sitting around fires and tables eating good food and discussing and debating great ethical and moral quandaries. Those particularly interested in those subjects can always find The Doors, a local group of Tsunotaurs and men who enjoy the debates so much they hold their own at least once a moon.

The old man gestures at Crispin and he waves, smiles, and sits back down.

• If you travel a good half-days walk to the east you will find a town most likely in the midst of a festival as they are well known for their love of epic stories and tales. Here, quiet a few members of town have given their services to the Queen Regnant. They serve her faithfully each and every day. A town so kind and caring, the Order of the Silver Tree was created for the singular purpose of making sure food and supplies are delivered to each and every house within the city. I, of course, speak of Hornberg. Master Mareth, would you please stand?

As an old man shakily stands, there are a few gasps from the crowd. Confused, Mareth turns towards the sounds to show the words "Hemi Poyo" Written in Elven scrawled across his dress cape. An attendant quickly removes the cape and replaces it before anymore could be said.

Mareth stands and Old Man Waterfall nods to him.

• Or would you prefer Doctor Mareth? The old men grin at each other, obviously some history shows through.
  
  Leader of the town and a great healer, Doctor Mareth cares for the people within the borders of Hornberg as if they were his own children. Exporting many supplies for other towns and importing gems and raw materials, the town has a thriving economy that is constantly on the rise.

Nodding at Mareth, Old Man Waterfall takes a deep breath and waits a moment. After, he begins again.

• If instead we headed Northwest, we would come upon the twin cities of Green Hollow and Honorwood. Master Vetch Ducdrum, would you please stand to represent the whole of Green Hollow?

A ripple of unrest rippled through the gathering and was quickly silenced with a stern look from Vetch Ducdrum. He was a hard man with a smile on his face that didn't seem to meet his cold dark eyes. He stood, turned, and waved to those gathered with the grace of someone who has practiced this moment many times. He sat back down and remained as rigid as a block of ice.

• Guild Master of Tuchhändlerguilden, Master Ducdrum represents but one of three separate guilds that make up most of the populace of Green Hollow. The three guilds; Tuchhändlerguilden, the Clothiers Guild, and the Menders all specialize in the finery that you see most everyone wearing this evening. Most of the clothing across all of Final Haven have passed through the hands and watchful eyes of the Guilds of Green Hollow. These guilds work closely with one another to makes sure that clothing is available to all at reasonable rates.
  
  Ah, but do not forget that they are capable of creating the most luxurious of fineries, the most comfortable of footwear, and the most ridiculous hats!

At this there was an outbreak of tittering from the crowd gathered outside as a group of ladies in ridiculous hats waved at the guild leaders.

• A dedicated group, the town tends to be quiet and uneventful, which is wonderful when peace and quiet are what is desired. The calming sounds of the Brandy Brook running through the town are a wonder to hear. Remember though, here all life is precious, even that of the animals so please treat them with as much respect as you would treat each other. The deer, fowl, and other woodland creatures will wander directly through town on occasion, so keep your eyes open!

He then turns to a woman seated in a plain white sundress. She is quite stunning and her age is difficult to distinguish, though the elven ears poking up from her light hat show why. Old Man gestures for her to rise. She stands gracefully, turns in one well poised movement and sits back down in a flourish. He starts again, he breathe lightly taken away.

• Rivorndis, Lady of Honorwood. A town found occupying both land and sky. The homes in the trees show a reverence to the earth where the homes on land reach up towards the sky. It is a beautiful sight to behold. It is with a heavy heart I must say that Lady Rivorndis will never have the chance to see it as she was blinded as a child. Renouncing her claims to a great heritage and a wealth of a dowry, she wants nothing more then to live as an individual and as such gives all she makes back to the village. Though she may be blind, she sees the good in everyone and believes with all she is in the people of Honorwood and all the people of the lands of Final Haven.

Blinking a few times to move the tears away from his face, Old Man Waterfall clears his throat a few too many times. He reaches down to the glass of water near his feet and drinks the glass empty. Taking a deep breath he continues as strongly as he has before.

• Known for their technical skills, the town of Honorwood is known for its crafting and building skills. The people of Honorwood believe completely in peace, and as such will only build weapons for protection. Any attempts to use their goods for harms sake will find they no longer have a supplier. Most here use the crafting of weaponry and other goods as a form of meditation and focus. As such, much time is devoted to a single blade and they are said to be the finest in Final Haven.
  
  Sculptures, fountains, and other large crafted items are known to be the specialties of the town with a life-sized intricately carved elven man in the center of town made by Lady Rivorndis herself. It took her years and if you did not know it was carved, you would think he was standing their waiting for someone.

With this Old Man stops and trails off, eyes off in another place. Blinking once then twice he realized he was being watch by everyone. Blushing he huffed and grumbled, excusing himself for a few minutes to rest his voice.

Nellie (one of the first to claim a map from Korrigan, eyes sparkling at the prospect of more paper), sitting at a table with two mugs (one empty, the other less than half-filled with ale) close to hand, can be seen mouthing a recital of the Old Man's words as her quill scratches at the pages of her thin notebook, a finger trailing across the map to each of the villages as they're listed. Any who glance at the pages of her notebook notice that nothing looks very organized at first glance, and some paragraphs even switch languages back and forth mid sentence. Smack dab in the middle of the page she's currently on is cribbed mathematical calculations that the words skip over to continue on the other side of the page.

When the flow of words stops, she frowns, double taps the map in irritation, and looks up with a questioning cock to her head. Noticing that Olmen is leaving the stage momentarily, she pouts and drinks down the last of her ale before storing away all of her papers, quill, and ink to go back to the makeshift bar for another refill of both her mugs.