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: DragonBones: For your own reasons, you are journeying towards The Keep on the Borderlands, the last bastion against the hordes of chaos, but your journey has been strange. As you journeyed through the forest, five times you could have sworn you heard rustling in the trees or the soft padding of footsteps behind you. Something was amiss.
  
  But now you have arrived. As you emerge from the forest and march along the paved road through the open plains, you see the grandeur of the keep before you. It stands atop a hill, and despite the slightly battered walls, its banner is raised high, a sign that the keep is still defended. As a group you approach the fortress and wander up to the gates, as a harsh voice cries out, "Halt! Who goes there? What is your business in these lands?"
  
  What do you do?
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: hoverfrog: Boric steps forward with an elaborate flourish and bows low, "  Good day, Sir Knight.  " Doubtless the simple guard would appreciate being mistaken for a knight and be putty in the gnome's hands. He ran an open palm across his shaved head and smiled up at the man, "  My name is Boric Gunta Skullsmiter Mort, former soldier, master prestidigitator and veteran gambler. I would be exceedingly grateful if you could direct me to a suitable gaming hall or inn. Preferably one that sells ale in pints.  " He'd been impressed by the large measures of drinks that these giants imbibed ever since he'd arrived in human lands.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: NRSASD: Right behind Boric is a 4' 3" block of jingling metal, leather, and flaming red hair. A leather clad hand is thrust forward, " Thogar Ironmonger, Priest of Blerred, at yer service. I'm here to discuss the Iron Mule " he brandishes his holy symbol with the other hand, " with yer armorers an' smiths. If that be in order, I'll be off drinking with this fine gnomish chap. "
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: SCARY WIZARD: In the middle of the group is a tall, blonde-haired woman in iron scale  armour and black robes.  Her hair is long and worn back, and eyes are  grey-blue.    "Nessi, Servant of Istus."    Judging by the iron symbol of said Goddess, she seems to be one of those  miracle-working, preaching servants thereof!    "I  wish I could say I was an artisan like Mister Ironmonger..."   eyes drift to the Dwarf,   "But a room, a meal, and some parchment and ink would do me well for now."  
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: DragonBones: There is a long pause, as the guards contemplate your words, before the portcullis slowly opens. You hurry inside, escorted by two men-at-arms, who take you through past two flanking towers filled to the brim with crossbowmen, and into the entry yard, where a man in plate armour and a scribe await you.
  "I am The Corporal of the Watch," Says the man in plate armour gruffly, "Please state any illegal or suspicious items you may have on your person and feel free to ask me any questions about the keep, just so long as they wouldn't compromise its security!" At his final remark he laughs, as the scribe scribbles like a madman.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: hoverfrog: "  I don't have anything.  " Boric smiles up at the corporal, "  Apart from this stick and a pack of cards. Oh and my books. I was hoping to buy a few things, actually.  "
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: SCARY WIZARD: "Weaponry aside, I've nothing suspicious."  
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: NRSASD: "Likewise laddy. I be a travelin' cleric of Blerred and nothing more. I've me hammer, in honor of his Steadfastness and to deter unsavory sorts, and me sling to keep me fed. Speakin' of food..."  Thogar peers 'round the corporal trying to spot a promising tavern sign or two. After a moment, he refocuses on the watchman.  "Actually, there is something I need ta' know. One of the smiths here was concerned about rumors o' trouble and the like, and asked me to pay 'im a visit to strengthen his resolve. He dinnae mention what troubles though in his letter. Do ye know anything about it?" 