The afternoon was much like any other in Riverstead. Winter seemed to be approaching early this year and an unusual chill hung in the air. Townsfolk moved about the dirt streets attending to their daily business. In the tavern of the Green Tankard, Jonbon Jovvy, the half-elven minstrel, was recounting the creation tale of the Realm to a couple of patrons. At the bar, his companion Scragg the half-orc barbarian was sharing an ale with Tim Frostbucket, a goliath warden that had traveled from the mountain ice farms of the northland. Deciding to pool their resources to find work, they had just agreed that the name “Masters of the Universe” had quite a potent ring to it as well as nice marketing potential.