Latoya
Pheonii, a city labeled as one of the finer points on interest within the mountainous region of Forstead, it's suffocatingly high peaks and unfathomably low valleys have often been considered uninhabitable by most others within the whole of Aeterna. A place of icy misery and chilling conflict, a region of the world lorded by colossal giants with war-like tendencies. Forstead has always been a place where the weak either die or become strong and where the strong either continue to be so or are broken into the weak- not a region for the faint of heart. Those factors have caused the hospitable Pheonii to become an every growing bastion of culture and life within Forstead, those who have ventured across the wider range of the realms will have seen the majesty of various places such as this city; a beacon of life and simple joy in a cold and unforgiving region.

As such, the devastation that's overtaken it is jarring to see.

Homes crushed by flying boulders, landslides ripping away chunks of the beautiful landscape. Scorch marks dotting the land and the city, rain having soaked the grasses far beyond their limits- turning the cities streets into muddy swamps. A cold and damp fog hangs over the whole of the city, those who walk the streets shiver with blankets or robes pulled tight around their bodies, beggars line the streets- lacking money, clothes, food or even their very homes. The only place that seems to have any form of life is a tavern at the center of the city with the sign "***Borbal's Bowl***" Hanging by one of its two chains above the door. 

Whatever has caused such devastation must be the reason the cry was sent across the whole continent, a broken and ragged cry for help- a plea for aid so that they might live to see another day.
Mattie
In the heart of Forstead, where icy peaks and treacherous valleys ruled, Yamakozu Hagane journeyed with purpose toward the beleaguered city of Pheonii. The renowned swordsmith and master swordsman had heard the desperate cries for help that had echoed across the continent, and he could not ignore them.

As he traversed the rugged terrain, Hagane's thoughts were consumed by the devastation that had befallen Pheonii. The once-thriving city, a bastion of culture and life amidst the harsh landscape of Forstead, now lay in ruins, its inhabitants left to fend for themselves against an unknown foe.

With each step, Hagane felt the weight of responsibility settle upon his shoulders. As a master of his craft and a samurai bound by honor, it was his duty to protect the weak and defend the innocent, no matter the cost. And so, he pressed on, his determination unwavering despite the challenges that lay ahead.

*"This journey is not just for myself,"* Hagane thought to himself, his gaze fixed on the horizon. *"It is in the name of honor, of duty, that I must answer the call for aid. For centuries, my ancestors have upheld the values of bushido, of loyalty, courage, and righteousness. It is my duty to continue their legacy—to stand as a beacon amidst the darkness, and to defend those who cannot defend themselves."*

As he approached the outskirts of Pheonii, Hagane's keen eyes took in the devastation that surrounded him. Homes lay in ruins, their walls shattered by flying boulders, while landslides had torn away chunks of the once-beautiful landscape. Scorch marks marred the land, evidence of some great and terrible force that had laid waste to the city.

The air hung heavy with a palpable sense of despair, mingling with the cold fog that shrouded the streets in an eerie silence. But amidst the chaos, there was a flicker of hope—a beacon of life amidst the darkness.

Drawing upon his inner strength, Hagane pushed forward, his resolve unwavering as he made his way toward the center of the city. There, amidst the ruins, stood a tavern bearing the sign "***Borbal's Bowl***," Its doors open to all who sought refuge from the storm.

With each step, Hagane felt a sense of purpose swell within him. "For honor," He whispered to himself, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. "For duty. For the people of Pheonii." And with those words as his guiding light, he entered Borbal's Bowl, ready to face whatever darkness awaited him within.
Richard
Ever one to take the call when help was called for, Amunet made for Forstead immediately after first seeing one of the fliers. Anyone she might have had to cancel on would understand and, if not, was not someone she wanted a terribly strong connection with, anyway. She'd been to Pheonii off and on over the years, and the change wrought to it was nothing short of devastating. It had a mountainous charm before that had now been reduced to rubble. Her neutral expression slowly turned to one of mixed anger and confusion; either a great natural disaster or an incredible foe had caused such destruction. It was too farspread and too significant to be anything lesser. She had come somewhat prepared, with an extra coin purse full to bursting, but saw that even that wasn't going to be enough. Still, she resolved to give it to whoever seemed trusthworthy enough to ensure it went to those who needed help most.

All the troubles that had been plaguing her felt so trivial and melted away quickly. A prickle in the back of her mind said this might be the beginning of an ongoing problem, might spread out of Forstead if it couldn't be stopped. The splash of her boots in the mud, as sky blue eyes searched for the tavern indicated in the flier, served to keep her somewhat grounded in the darkness that surrounded her. For Amunet, Champion of Elira, she was dressed more modestly today, in a hooded black robe with golden embroidery of stars. She wore her scimitars, one on each hip, with many throwing knives and daggers hidden on her person. Her aura was one of grace and power, giving her a bit of a berth even from the most bold beggars. Her long wavy black hair, poking out of the hood of her cloak, was the only wild, mildly unkempt thing about her. 

Approaching the tavern, she took a deep breath and put on a strong but schooled expression as she pushed open the doors, scanning the room for who was in charge.
Henry
Tyril knew very well about the dangers here. He had heard about the stories various times although he wasn't certain what caused the sudden change here in phenoii. From the ancient texts he had read about this place as part of his research he knew that this was a very beautiful place in the mountains. But now it was filled with danger and had lost any and all charms. When he read the flier about the call for help he couldn't help but accept it. He wasn't certain what it was about that made him accept it despite being fully aware about the risks. Was it his innate desire to always help those in need? Or a sense of great adventure calling him here. Or maybe it was both. Whatever the case maybe he simply found unable to refuse the opportunity and joined the party here. 


He had made certain to stock up on supplies before coming here. He made certain to bring his sword as well as money and ample water with him. He also had a few daggers on him which he kept expertly hidden. He made certain to wear his armour for this. He kept his armour hidden now underneath his cloak. After arriving here he stood outside the tavern for a moment letting his eyes travel around the place. He wanted to be certain there were no hidden dangers or anything that could be threatening before he made his way inside. 



With a deep calming breath and his senses being fully in tune he stepped into the tavern before letting his eyes travel the place going from face to face.
Mattie
Seated at a corner table in Borbal's Bowl, Yamakozu Hagane observed the comings and goings of the tavern with a watchful eye. The warmth of the hearth bathed him in its comforting glow, casting flickering shadows across the worn wooden table before him. As the door swung open, admitting a blast of cold air and the sound of rain, Hagane's attention was drawn to the two figures who entered the tavern.

The first was a woman, her sky blue eyes scanning the room with a mixture of determination and concern. Her presence was striking, exuding a quiet strength that resonated with Hagane. He could sense the weight of responsibility upon her shoulders, the burden of leadership that she bore with grace and poise. In her, he saw echoes of his own dedication to duty, and he felt a sense of kinship with her despite their differences.

The second figure, a man cloaked in armor, followed closely behind her. His gaze swept over the room with a cautious intensity, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. There was a quiet confidence about him, a sense of purpose that belied the danger that lurked just beyond the tavern walls. Hagane recognized the look of a seasoned warrior in his eyes, someone who had faced adversity and emerged stronger for it.

As the newcomers made their way further into the tavern, Hagane's gaze lingered on them, a silent acknowledgment of their presence. He couldn't help but admire their courage and determination, knowing that they had come to Pheonii for the same reason he had—to offer whatever aid they could to the beleaguered city and its people.

But beneath his outward calm, Hagane's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He wondered about the woman with the sky blue eyes, Amunet, and the man in armor, Tyril. What trials had they faced in their own lives? What drove them to answer the call for help, to risk their own safety for the sake of others?

In Amunet, he sensed a kindred spirit—a fellow warrior who understood the true meaning of sacrifice and honor. He admired her strength and determination, and he knew that she would be a valuable ally in the days to come.

As for Tyril, there was something about him that intrigued Hagane. Beneath his stoic exterior, he sensed a depth of character and resilience that spoke volumes. He wondered what secrets lay hidden behind the man's steel gaze, what demons he wrestled with in the silence of his own thoughts.

With a silent sigh, Hagane pushed aside his musings, focusing once more on the task at hand. Whatever challenges lay in store, he was ready to face them alongside Amunet, Tyril, and the rest of the brave souls who had gathered in Borbal's Bowl. For in their unity lay the strength to overcome even the greatest of obstacles, and together, they would stand as guardians of hope in the face of darkness.
Carol
Y'all know to ping me after
Latoya
The tavern, Borbal's Bowl, was alive. Patrons drank and sang songs, food and drink was passed out quickly and coin was handed over in generosity. The tavern had always been akin to a second home for most in Pheonii, a place to eat and drink with friends aplenty all around- even when such devastation has overcome the once wondrous city it seems that the life the tavern brings has not gone astray. Thanks to the patrons indeed, but mainly thanks to the owner, Borbal.

"***NEXT ROUND UP, GET 'EM WHILE THEYRE COLD!!!***" A burly man standing well over seven foot tall lumbered out from behind a pair of swinging doors and set down almost twenty frothing mugs of ale on the bar counter with a thud.

"*BORBAL!!*" Various voices cried out; some raised mugs and some whooped or cheered. The big man, looking to be part giant and part human, laughed from his belly- a booming laughter that filled any and all who heard it with a sense of joy and comfort.

"***Get your damn ale ye fiends. Oi! Darbar, any news?? Fliers have been out for days now, any adventures come about yet?!?***" The burly man yelled to a small lizard man who rushed through the door behind Tyril.

"*No ssssign yet bosssss, maybe ssssoon?*" The little lizard called out to Borbal. "***Aye, damn. Hopefully someone turns up soon... Last nights storm took three with 'em.***"

Borbal replied with a slowly growing look of sadness even as he passed out the drinks, so many folk had filled his tavern he didn't even notice the three oddities come in- if anything, they fit well within the crowd for every race or species can be spotted in someplace around the cozy tavern.
Richard
The Rhakotian noble continued her way inside, Borbal rather immediately commanding the attention of the room with both his voice, stature, and offering of ale. Amunet wasn't accustomed to a less than grand entrance or with the attention being on someone else, but she didn't let it show that it irked her a little. Her glance over the room didn't turn up much of interest, other than a few. Most looked to be locals, looking for refuge from the calamity or like this was their usual routine, disaster or no. Of note, she noticed the man with dark hair and eyes at a table in the corner, giving him a slight bow of her head upon their eyes meeting. He exuded the strength and grace that only a seasoned warrior could. She would be glad if he was here to help, it would certainly make things easier. Turning, she saw Tyril behind her, her expression changing quickly to a beaming smile.

**"Ah, my Lord Nerijor! We meet again!"** Her voice was bright and cheery, in contrast to the filth and destruction around them, **"Though I would it were under better circumstances. If this business wraps up in time, I was still planning to visit you soon. Perhaps we could head back together?"** She tilted her head to the side a moment, **"Assuming you're also here to help. I know we've a like mind, in that way."** Nodding satisfactorily, she began to walk towards Borbal.

Making her way through the crowd and the tables with elegant ease, she strode up to stand right in front of the large man on the other side of the counter. She spoke with confidence, her melodic voice soft yet commanding, **"A storm, you say? I wish I could say I command such magics, but I do not. I'm Amunet, Champion of Elira, at your service in whatever way I might be. I saw the flier and came as quickly as I was able."** Fishing around in the pack from her back, she produced a large coin purse, handing it to the tavern keeper. **"If you're smart and organized enough to produce that flier so widely, then I trust you can also disperse or use this gold to get people clothes, food, and shelter. Use it at your will."** Her eyes brokered no argument and also spoke a threat that if he misused her funds, she would remember his face.

Gesturing and looking behind her, she spoke again, **"I believe my friend here also came to help."** She laughed, a mischievous smile turned on the count, **"Well, he is now anyway; I'm roping him into it, regardless."** She was rather sure it would be why he was here and that he wouldn't mind even if it wasn't.
Mattie
As Amunet made her way through the bustling tavern, Hagane watched her with a keen interest. There was a grace and confidence to her movements that spoke of a lifetime spent honing her skills, a familiarity with danger that mirrored his own. He admired her resilience, her unwavering commitment to the cause, and he felt a sense of camaraderie with her that went beyond mere words.

When their eyes met, Hagane returned her slight bow with a nod of his own, acknowledging the silent exchange between warriors. There was a mutual understanding that passed between them, a recognition of the challenges they faced and the strength they possessed to overcome them.

As Amunet turned her attention to Tyril, Hagane observed their interaction with a mixture of curiosity and respect. He could sense the bond that existed between them, forged through shared experiences and a common purpose. And though he remained a silent observer, he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for their camaraderie.

As Amunet approached Borbal, Hagane's thoughts turned inward, reflecting on his own reasons for being here. He had come to Pheonii not out of duty or obligation, but out of a deep-seated sense of honor and duty. For too long, he had stood on the sidelines, watching as the world around him descended into chaos. Now, he saw an opportunity to make a difference, to lend his strength to those in need.

With a silent resolve, Hagane rose from his seat, his movements fluid and deliberate. Stepping forward, he joined Amunet and Tyril at the bar, his presence a silent testament to his commitment to the cause.

As Hagane approached Amunet and Tyril at the bar, he greeted them with a respectful nod, his expression serious yet welcoming. 

"Greetings," He began, his voice carrying the weight of his years of experience. "I am Yamakozu Hagane, a swordsmith and warrior. It seems we have all been drawn here by the same call for aid."

He paused for a moment, studying their faces with a keen gaze before continuing, "I have seen the devastation that has befallen Pheonii, and I am here to offer my assistance in whatever way I can. It is clear that you both possess skills and strength of your own, and I believe that together, we can make a difference in this troubled land."

His words were measured and deliberate, reflecting his unwavering resolve to help those in need. As he spoke, Hagane's eyes flickered with determination, a silent promise of solidarity and support.