conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Jeriah: Level 1-4 
  
  It's a warm summer evening, just about perfect. A cool breeze blusters in from the northwest, carrying the promise of encroaching autumn with it, but at the moment it brings you a welcome relief from the heat of the day.
  
  After spending most of your summer delving into the deeps and dungeons beneath the land, you're just happy to be able to relax in the comforts of a world in which the sun sets and rises. For what seems like the first time in ages, you're not so worries about what might be lurking just around the corner of behind the next door as you are about the terrible prospect of draining dry the local tavern's stores.
  
  You have just finished a marvelous dinner at the Stumble Inn, the weathered wooden sign creaking over the door depicts a booted foot tripping over a lump of gold. The innkeeper and his wife -Carbad and Kamalda, an honest pair of retired farmers as weather beaten as their place's sign - have hauled out their very best for you. They know that you are restless to be on your way and that they aren't bound to have the pleasure of your company for much longer.
  
  Just as you are about to raise a toast to your deserving host, a rumpled shape staggers through the inn's open door.
  
  You reach for your weapon, startled at the intrusion, but before you can act, the figure crumples to the floor. The innkeeper dashes over and kneels beside the stricken stranger.
  
  "Marcaeus!" he gasps, the looks back up at you, his face filled with dread.
  
  You rush to the fallen man's side. He's alive, but barely so. He's literally been beaten within an inch of his life, and his right leg is twisted at a decidedly uncomfortable angle. You roll the man over onto his back, and he groans loudly as the bones in his battered leg crunch together. His eyes flicker for a moment and then open wide. This gaze, clouded by his intense pain, fixes directly on you.
  
  Just before he mercifully passes out, he reaches up and grabs you by the front of your shirt. "My son," he whispers through his battered lips, "they've got my son!"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Rizban: " Who? Who has your son? " the little kobold inquires of the injured man. This was shaping up to be a somewhat  interesting  evening.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Jeriah: The gnome that had been drinking with the kobold hops off of her bar stool and walks over to the man, rocking back and forth or her feet like an anxious child as she comes to a stop.
  
  As she is about to speak, the man loses consciousness from his injuries.
  
   "Oi! Rude much?" 
  
  
  The innkeeper, Carbad, checks over Marcaeus' injuries thoroughly, pulling the coin purse from his belt as he does so.
  
  "It doesn't look like he was robbed. Seems that the boy was their target all along, but if it was ransom they wanted, why didn't they take the coin he had on him too?" he puzzles aloud.
  
  Jabbing the kobold in the ribs with her arm, Sandra asks,  "Hey, you got some of that healing magic ready. Don't you?" 