The gates of Burgran Town were high and rigid, sturdy as the keep that dominated the city's skyline. They had been battered, clearly, over the ages; the castle's origins as a defensive fortress in the region would have made it a target for attackers during wartime, Regg would assume. But its old origins as a fortress were irrelevant compared to its role in its province within Axalon. Here, Dal had said, was the regional headquarters of the all-powerful Adventurer's Guild.

Dal had his reasons for wishing to join this organization, but those he kept to himself. But Regg knew his own goals, his own motivations for agreeing to aid Dal in such a seemingly frivolous endeavor. His kind, clearly, was not understood by the common man. Superstition and fear, he realized, would follow him wherever he went if he was open about his past. He had nearly died for not knowing this. But the Guild, clearly those in the Guild had some knowledge of his folk. With enough prestige, he would have access to their knowledge. There would be no other way of solving the mystery of his past life.

He wondered about Dal. He had been fairly quiet since they departed Hemmit, and Regg couldn't help but wonder if his friend was hiding resentment towards him for what had happened with the Reons. Regg didn't blame him, given all that Dal lost back there. It all made so little sense still. The resentment, the chaos and rage, the dedication; what had happened to these people? Who was the Man in Velvet they cursed so religiously? This, Regg concluded, he would need to learn of as well,if he wished to understand his place in this world.

Burgran was a lively, tightly-packed settlement, the complete opposite of the golden fields and well-spaced abodes Regg had grown familiar with over the last month or so. Vendors dominated the sidewalks, selling skewers and jewelry and clay pots and various different trinkets. All manner of people lined the streets. Some were in Reon cloaks and hoods, others in traditional Axalan clothing, with plain tunics and simply-detailed ponchos. Some odd few were in different garb entirely, cowled behind dark linen or draped in white robes. The great river that the town sat along must have attracted many people from a variety of cultures. Winding along the streets Dal took the lead, still ever silent, barely even turning to make sure Regg hadn't lost him.

Regg upped his pace until he reached the younger boy.

"I'm not mad at you, you know," Dal suddenly affirmed. "You didn't know any better. Frankly, the only reason Uncle knew was because I told him what Demen knew."

"Who is Demen, anyway?" Regg asked.

"Who was Demen, you should say," Dal replied. "He was...He was my father, Regg."

The boy continued. "He was a Guildsman, a Classmaster, not high ranking, per say, but definitely respected. My mother, Cynn, she was a Classmaster too, and Ington was her brother."

"Why did you end up with Ington?"

"I think it just had to do with their jobs," Dal said. "They wanted to make sure I had a house over my head, and that I wouldn't have to know about them for some time, so if they died I wouldn't have to live with that. Of course, that's what happened to Cynn."

He continued. "Then, of course, Demen came to town. Him and Cynn always wanted to come back when I was old enough to train me as a Guildsman. I knew him for about a month, back in the spring. Then, he...He went missing again, and I still don't know what happened. I've just been assuming the worst, I guess."

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Regg felt himself growing frustrated with the story. They just abandoned him to his uncle, in the middle of the countryside, and hoped to come back one day to make him a soldier? It struck a chord with Regg. He knew he'd never see his own parents again. But Dal's didn't want a child, they wanted a beast that they could pick up one day and send off to die in a war...

"That's why I want to join the Guild," Dal said with conviction. "I want to honour their dreams. I want to be like them. I want to know what life was like for them. There was a certain look on Demen's face, Regg, when he told all of his stories. He was proud, and passionate, and -"

"So you aren't upset about the fact they abandoned you?"

Dal didn't speak for fifteen seconds. "...No, I guess not."

They made it to the Guild headquarters in a rather awkward state soon after, a spartan building with a tower on one of its corners. Inside, several booths, manned by black robed folks whose forearms were exposed. On the undersides of their arms, Regg noticed many different brandings, all orbiting their lifemarks.

"Signalings," Dal said, trying to break the tension. "They're older Classmasters who can't get into leadership positions but are too frail to fight. So they either retire, or they work to recruit new members."

"Hm. That's...Interesting, I guess," A voice echoed from behind them. "Not as interesting as your story, Dal, but definitely something."

Dal and Regg turned around. A boy, around Regg's age, stood there, leaning on a pillar. He wore a green vest over his shirt, which had a swirling pattern embezzled on it, and his fingers were adorned with silver rings.

"Who-I-" Dal began, but Regg stepped forward first.

"You! Who do you think you are?"

"Well, I'm a simple man, looking for purpose. A...Purpose-seeker, if you will."

"Is your purpose to eavesdrop?"

"Well, given that I'm a Purpose-seeker, I would say that it can't be, because I'm still looking for a purpose-"

"Oh, for the love of..."

"Okay, sure, I may have eavesdropped - but not because I wanted to! I'm a people person, you know, I like people, I like hearing about people. I was...Oh, dear lord, this doesn't make me sound any better."

"Well, what were you doing?"

The stranger chuckled nervously, then sighed. "I didn't know where the Guildhouse was, so I followed you two..."

(Strength Check: Challenge Dice = 1d10, Skill Dice = 1d6+5. Regg fails 6 to 8.)

Wham!

Regg's fist swerved by the stranger, hitting the pillar.

"Okay, okay, easy now, guy," the stranger said, as Dal (much to his unease) tried to hold Regg back, "Look, I'm sorry, I should have just asked you for directions, you know, I wasn't thinking straight."

"Good god no, you weren't thinking straight," Regg muttered. "It doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

"Well, I'm not a geniu-"

"You probably don't want to say that right now," Dal said, "Mr...Er-"

"Folco," the stranger said. "My name's Folco."

Regg

LVL. 1

HP: 10/10

EXP: 11/100

STR +5

DEX +0

CON +2

INT +4

WIS +0

CHA+2

--

Four Skills:

Literacy 4 (+4d4)

Healing 2 (+2d4)

Eyesight 3 (+3d4)

???

Abilities: Final Resolve

Quirks: He is made uncomfortable by people being physically close to him. He has a fairly short temper.

Current Location: Hemmit