You could also have a lawyer class that can’t leave town, is required to wear the most expensive cloth armor made, is unable to move from place to place without a bodyguard, and can slowly revise the rules of the game with proper financial backing from other players.

Elar wakes from his bed to shouts of confusion and dissention. Someone is riding a horse through the village and waking people up.

“CTA! Tell your alliances! Everyone to Renaris!”

Elar sits up on the side of the bed and wipes his eyes. It’s still quite dark out. The noise starts to spread. The hotel is the same one he has stayed in for weeks now, but the owners, or residents, still don’t seem to know him. He just keeps returning to this place as a convenient constant. He stands up and picks up his staff again. Stretching to get the kinks out of his legs, he wanders downstairs and out the door to see what is going on. The residents are still praising someone’s singing, but he’s learned to tune it out.

“Get to Renaris!” yells a passing woman on a horse. She is wearing a large decorated shield and chain mail, carrying a torch. The glow illuminates the houses on each side of the path, leaving a streak in Elar’s eyes.
“You need a group? We’re going to Ren.” says a passing man in plate mail. He’s about average height, but does not have the decorated cape that he has seen on so many others with heavy armor.
“I could – what’s happening?”
“Mids want the reliic back. Should be a good fight. Personally, I’m inclined to keep it.”
“Sure,” says Elar. The announcer is back, announcing that Elar has been invited to a group, another strange thing that he has learned to just ignore as it seems to have no side effect.
The stranger starts running back up to the castle, where horses can be found to take you to a number of places. Elar follows at a trot and meets up with the horse master.
Somehow, the new stranger is picked up and instantly placed on the back of the horse and is off and running in an instant. Elar walks up to the horse vendor.
Elar’s experiences with this merchant were never quite good, as he always felt that he was being hit on  the head g immediately used – why buy a ticket at all? = and then wakes up on the horse, never having gone through  the motions of actually getting on the horse. 

The ride was over in very little time. He was curious about the traveller and his group of friends whom he could now see. There were three of them standing in the courtyard. The enormous stone castle loomed over the trench it rested in. The stone walls stretched from one hill to the next with an enormous bastion blocking the way. Inside the gates, curiously unguarded, there was a courtyard.  This is where the stranger’s friends were gathered.
“ok, let’s go thru” said one.
“porting” said another. With this, they moved through the farther gate, apparently running at full speed into a closed door. Just at the point they should have hit the door, they disappeared. Elar continued to be worried by this type of behavior, but realized that this must be part of the magic that held these people and this land. The stranger also ran into the doorway and disappeared, and Elar followed.
On the other side of the portal was pure mayhem. There were perhaps 200 people standing around, casting spells, trading, and in general smelling quite awful. Many were bleeding and pale.  One man was running around in circles as fast as he could with a drum out, leaving a trail of blood on the ground behind him, singing, “THIS IS THE SONG THAT NEVER ENDS!” at the top of his voice. Another woman shouted, “wts croc tears, 5p”. There was a crowd of people surrounding a man with a star on his armor. The military man was handing out orders.
Elar looked about, found the party he had been following, and made his way over.
“We all here?” asked one of them. There were various nods of assent.
“i’ll b3e late, meet you at the keep” came a voice with no apparent owner.
“ok, lets go” said the man in plate.
Elar still felt wrongfooted by the whole situation, but there was clearly a pressing situation going on. People were anxious, standing in herds as if by standing together they would protect each other. It reminded him of sheep standing together pretending that there were no wolves.
“MOOOVING” shouted someone in the throng. At that there was a large departure to the left along the rocky wall.
“af up” said one of the group. With that they were off. Elar ran along behind the man in plate.
As they ran along, Elar was amazed at how fast they were moving. It felt as if he were being propelled faster than he could normally move. He decided it must have something to do with the pressing issue and dismissed it – after all, who could be moving so fast in reality. Then suddenly, he realized how fast he was moving when a branch narrowly missed his head, let fly from one of the previous passers. Then in a moment, everyone stopped short at once, there was a cascade of sickening crunches. All at once, everyone grabbed their noses. The whole group, at once, had slammed into a tree.
“noob” said someone in the pile.
“let me drive” said another.
“i’m lagging too hard, someone else drive”, said the man they were all following.
In a moment they were all off, noses streaming. The number of people now reached fifty or more. They went around the offending tree and rushed through a thicket. In the distance after a clearing rose a large building.
The building resembled a stone arena. There were stone stags guarding three large entrances positioned on the northeast, west, and south. The building was elevated slightly, ramps leading into each entrance. The internal courtyard was circular, about a hundred meters around. Small alcoves were built into three sides with large towers. There was lighting under the flagstone floor in three locations, making a pattern of three independent circles, each facing one of the alcoves; one red, one green, one blue.
“OK, set up traps. You have ST elar?”
“ST?”
“static tempest. I’m guessing he doesn’t have it.”
Many people were walking out the northern entrance and standing relatively still for a few seconds at a time, some as many as a minute. The would leave small marks and stone pillars on the ground where they stood. Some of the marks were red, some of the towers had elaborate pulsing spheres at the top. When people stood near some of the towers their noses stopped bleeding quite quickly. The stains on their armor and robes were still visible. Elar stood amazed by the reactions, just watching people heal.
This continued for approximately ten minutes. Then someone started constructing a large wooden device. Elar walked over to see what was happening. Suddenly it was done. It was a catapult. But more than the fact that someone had just built a catapult out of apparently nothing but scaps of wood from his pockets, the catapult simply appeared in the middle of the air at around head height and dropped to the ground, making a tremendous thunk as it settled. Even the wood and materials in this place had unnatural qualities, thought Elar. Another catapult sprang into existance some feet to his left, coming down on top of a smallish blue man. This didn’t even seem to affect the blue man who simply walked over the farther beams and went on his way.
In a couple minutes more, two more catapults and a pair of crossbows on stands were constructed, all facing approximately north. All this time there was a somewhat steady stream of people arriving from the southeast. The crowd now swelled to over three hundred. The day was now growing warm, and the smell became harder to ignore. Three hundred people that have apparently never bathed is a smell that Is better experienced than explained.
Another half hour passed. People were sitting down, some ran around the entire building, watching for enemies that might come from other directions. The Song that Never Ends was started again. There was a scuffle out the east gate accompanied by shouts and blows. Someone shouted that a ranger was found and killed. Another scuffle off to the west revealed a pair of enemies that were sneaking in among the trees. They had killed four before they were killed themselves. Those defending the building were getting nervous, starting to move more. Then there was a great shout from two or three locations on the north. “INC!” “Incoming!” “mids!”
In a moment Elar could see them. He and the group were gathered together in a game of cards that Elar hadn’t quite picked up on the rules of. They dropped the game and looked around in the direction of the shouts. Off in the distance there was a cloud of dust. The dust was moving closer. Then all at once, there was a black line of an army running at the building.
The men at the seige engines started aiming them toward the enemy lines. A couple fired ranging shots. One shot landed well within the enemy and one body fell. A couple were limping as they ran, but the others came on. It struck Elar how very large they were, some of them in excess of eight feet tall. As they got close enough to make out individuals, he saw that almost none of them were human.
“Troll zerkers. Great,” said one of the group behind him. The trolls were large and dressed in heavy scaly armor, resembling that of a large metallic lizard. The stony faces of the trolls were painted, but made of an earthy stony material. Watching them move was unnerving, as if the ground itself was coming to kill you. They displayed no emotion, but ran onward at an astounding pace. There were also smaller blue skinned people at about four feet height behind them, and some men. The wind had backed around behind the army, blowing into the faces of the defenders. The sky began to dim, it was either becoming stormy or very late in the day, and either was a strong possibility.
In only moments, the enemy was at the feet of the frontmost defenders. One of the closer trolls stepped on a rune left earlier as a trap. The troll and all those near him were engulfed in a fireball that ascended to the heavens, leaving two of them on the ground dead and flaming. Those that survived ran on. Their skin was apparently unaffected, but their armor had caught fire. It burned as they ran, but they did not deviate.
At last bows were being fired. One fell, then two, then two more at a time. But they were coming so quickly. Elar began to concentrate on his staff and what things may work to keep him alive against such large and heavy enemies.
“our turn” said the plated soldier, a paladin. At this he charged into the fray among the soldiers with burning armor. Elar ran in behind him. The plated man struck the nearest troll with his shield and passed his sword through his leg. Elar brought his staff down on the other thigh, breaking the leg off as if it were made of  sun-dried clay. The troll went down and stopped moving at once. The cloth cape it wore continued to burn, sending smoke up into Elar’s face. A second troll hit Elar with a stone mallet, knocking him to the ground. The troll suddenly lifted his mallet again, then froze. Elar, already in the action of rolling away, stood up and looked back at the troll, still backing away. The troll continued to hold the hammer high in the air, ready to strike, but not moving.
“he’s mezzed, leave him” said one of Elar’s group from the back.
“over here!” yelled another of the group. Another troll was locked in battle with him, the sword he held being caught in the robes of Elar’s groupmate. Both Elar and the chain-clad drum carrier started towards the fight. The troll put his foot on the caster and heaved the sword free, kicking the slender body down. In a moment the sword was brought high and came down. The sword barely slowed as it cut the body in half and struck into the ground. Elar arrived after the chain-wearer. He stabbed two short swords into the recovering troll’s shoulders. Elar spun his staff and hit the troll’s back just below the neck and the troll fell.
“shizt!” said the dead half body.
This caused Elar to jump and retreat three paces or more from the body. But there was no time to reflect on this, another troll was bearing down on them. It was the narcoleptic troll again, cloak still ablaze. All at once the shield of the paladin slammed into the side of the troll and the troll stood limply, the hammer and shield falling from his hand. Three swords and Elar’s staff struck the troll at once, but it stayed vertical. Then there was a great explosion, dense black smoke, and nothing remained.
As they now had some space to look around, they realized that there will still enemies streaming into the space surrounding the building. Many defenders had fallen, as well as many foes. The numbers seemed about equal. Great fireballs streaked across the field. Mountains of ice grew out of the ground to freeze to the legs and torsos of the enemy. Clouds of firey spears fell from the sky to strike the defenders. Arrows fell randomly everywhere.
Next to Elar, a short blue humanoid in black leather pulled his knives out of the back of the mercenary in chain. The mercenary fell immediately. Two quick stabs came towards Elar, but he managed to duck out of the way. A great blue glowing sword struck the assassin in the head, the helm flew off and into the distance. The short man the fell asleep. The paladin’s next strike cut the head off the blue man.
“nice” said the caster, still in two pieces on the ground beside Elar. This was far more disgusting in action than in theory, for both halves of the body were moving in unison but unable to work against each other, leaking blood and organs into the grass.
“excellent!” said the mercenary.
Elar looked at him, and then did a double take. Had he not just seen the mercenary fall dead? Was he mistaken?
“thx bud” said the caster. He too was now standing next to Elar, covered in blood, but clearly in one piece.
“How did you do that?” said Elar, too stunned even to think anything else.
“what?”
“You’re whole again. How did you do that?”
“someone rezzed me. god your a noob.”
An arrow struck Elar in the calf, passing cleanly through and into the ground on the other side. He screamed and fell, grasping the arrow and leg. He pulled his leg free of the back end of the arrow and rolled away, wincing. The pain shot up his leg, dismissing all other thought. Then suddenly he didn’t hurt at all. He unclasped his hands and looked at the leg. The hole was closed as well. He gently rolled over and pushed himself up, adding weight slowly to the leg. It didn’t hurt at all. He hopped on the injured leg. It didn’t seem to have a problem at all. “Thanks,” he said, not knowing who or what had done this for him.
“np” shouted a passing soldier in blue enamelled armor.
In twenty minutes, it was over. There was a final stand in which a cluster of trolls and norsemen had gathered and charged into the arena. They were overpowered almost instantly by those inside. Many hundreds had died on both sides of the battle. The ground was red and slushy underneath the grass. The battered bits of troll clay were everywhere. The bodies lay singly in many places, covering the field. Occasional scraps of bodies were in many places.
“woot! That was hella fun!” said someone in the group.
“YAY” shouted another.
“OK, we’re going to close the gates. Need 2 groups to stay here.”
“We’ll stay” said the paladin. He was still more or less upright, having been knocked down at least twice, but slaying three for each that hit him. It was an amazing sight, and Elar was glad of the protection. Elar was on his knees, leaning on his staff.
“How did you get that caster up?” he asked the paladin.
“Rez. You have to train in rejuvenation,” came the reply.
“Show me,” said Elar. He had seen many raise fallen defenders from the ground during the fight. Some from many punctures, some from tremendous burns and hemmorages, and the most vivid was the bisected caster. They had all been pulled back from death, and in some cases immediately started fighting again. One had been brought back as a skeleton that arced lightning to anyone that came close. He had charged the enemy and killed many before he withered to himself again. He was desperate, he had to learn this.
“Tell you what, here’s what we’ll do. You need a guild. If you want, you can join the guild and i’ll shhow you around and give you some real armor and weapons. If you don’t feel like it, you can just follow the zerg and you’ll still have some fun.”
Elar considered this for a moment. “OK” he said.
“Cool! Welcome Elar, our newest member!”
There were various shouts of welcome and greeting.
“Let’s get you some gear. My name is Matrium.”

Elar arrived back in town. His staff was now quite messy and was missing significant chunks near the ends. His robes were greasy, bloody, and torn. More than anything at the moment, he wanted to wash off the day and find somewhere to rest out of reach of the odd fauna of this land.
The sign at the middle of town read “Cotswold”. There were the same unusual bobbing attendants to the town stores and even a blacksmith. Elar hobbled toward the smith’s fire and warmed his hands for a few minutes, saying nothing. What could possibly cause people to regenerate that fast? What is wrong with the townsfolk that do not seem to be conscious? How can they survive standing out in the cold and wet, never resting?
He saw the entrance to Camelot and remembered the stream. He walked to the streambank and plunged in, clothes and all. He wiped down his armor and clothing, removing the largest and most disgusting bits of gore from his person. It went a long way to making him feel human, but now he was cold.
With the grisly death of Jirkkin so fresh in his mind and a decent chill in his bones, he moved off toward the inn. He opened the door and walked inside cautiously. There were five or six townsfolk here, weaving and standing as always. Elar walked to the desk.
“I’d like a room.” There was a long pause.
“Pardon, I’d like a room.” The innkeeper didn’t seem to notice him at all.
“I’ll just find one myself then?” asked Elar. Again, there was no response.
He walked toward the staircase and then upstairs to a collection of rooms. He opened a door. Inside was a small, essentially empty room containing a green water jug and a straw bed with a linen sheet. It would have to do. He was asleep before he hit the straw mat. Throughout the night, one of the residents kept shouting something about one of the other’s voices. Elar wrapped his head in his robes until he could no longer hear it and slept.

Elar moved off to the nearby hilly lands, through another town of semi-zombie people and merchants and is now trying to find his way to a different city. Stepping off the beaten path doesn’t seem to have been a good idea, as he is being jumped by the local fauna as he travels.

Elar still doesn’t have a clear recollection of what left him in this place, but he’s sure this isn’t where he is from. Having to beat his way from town to town would surely be familiar, and this staff isn’t exactly a fun thing to need to keep with you. Every time he tries to buy another weapon, they refuse to give it to him. He also noticed that he had no money, which made bartering for what items were available difficult.

WHOOSH!

A walking skeleton has just run up to Elar and swung his arm past him, missing very narrowly. Elar had been thinking to himself and did not notice the approach, but quickly comes out of his reverie. The skeleton is standing there now, just waving his arm as if threatening to actually hit Elar next time. Three or four seconds pass as Elar gets his balance back and stares, not sure how to react. This time the skeleton strikes Elar squarely in the navel. Elar jumps backward, but notices that it didn’t hurt much. Out comes the staff again, as the skeleton runs back up to him and again starts the 3 to 5 seconds of arm waving. Elar spins the staff around his back to pick up momentum and cracks the skeleton in the midriff, sending ribs flying and effectively breaking the skeleton in half. There is definitely something strange about this place. Even the aggressive creatures in the lands about are not all that smart. Elar decides he would settle for a place with plumbing and a supply of food in the short term. He coninues on past a tall tower.

As he nears the tower, someone runs up and stops in front of him. “you spec rejuv?” asks the girl. She is about the same height and build as Elar, wearing a kilt and linen clothes like the townsfolk, but carrying a short sword and a wooden shield.

“yeah, just 15 tho,” says Elar. Again, he’s not sure what is happening, as this is not what he meant to say. This happened to him once before when he was speaking to an old man, but that had been some time ago. It was clearly his voice speaking, but he didn’t even understand what he said. Was the enchantment starting to work on him? There had to be another explanation.

“Jirkkin has invited you to join a group,” said the announcer’s voice again. “we’re going to keltoi, af me” said the girl, and turned away. She ran in a very stiff upright position, as if her skeleton was made of steel. Elar wondered if keltoi was any better than Camelot City.

They ran for a few minutes in silence, reaching a hilly area that smelled of trampled turf and dust. There was a hill with a circle of trees that was surrounded by more of the skeletons that had attacked Elar earlier. By now Elar’s staff was getting rather slippery with sweat and the remains of the pixie blood. This wasn’t shaping up to be his day. Panting, he slowed down at the base of the hill.

Jirkkin continued running, back ramrod straight, into the skeleton party and then straight through. The skeletons instantly started their slap and stare process. Jirkkin flinched, but showed no other signs that skeletons were removing small tatters of flesh as she ran. Elar, still panting, leaning on his staff at the base of the hill, looked horrified. “just drag to zone,” shouted Jirkkin, still moving quickly into the circle of trees, leaving bloody footprints on the grass now.

“What are you DOING!?” shouted Elar.

“jusst run up here an dzone in” shot back Jirkkin.

Elar decided he should at least go help. He ran as fast as he could manage up the hill. Following the trail of blood into the dim light of the trees, he saw the skeletons all facing the entrance of a cave. Jirkkin was hobbling now, the blood pouring from her ruined armor. Then suddenly, she wasn’t there at all. She simply disappeared. She had not fallen, for there was no body. Perhaps there was a hole in the entrance of the cave.

The skeletons instantly turned to face Elar. There were three or four, hands and arms covered in red, the boney fingers still clutching bits of armor, hair, and flesh from Jirkkin. Elar paused for a moment considering his odds and decided if there was going to be a fight, he’d rather have the confined tunnel walls to limit how many enemies could hit him at once. He charged around them and dove into the entrance of the tunnel, hoping there really was a hole to fall into and that it wasn’t very deep.
 

“Can I help you?” asked the man.

“/level 30″ said Elar. This was not what Elar meant to say. He didn’t even understand what it meant. But it was his voice that said it and therefore he must have subliminally known that was the proper thing to do. He looks quizzically around.

A loud voice boomed in his ears that nobody else appeared able to hear, “You have been granted enough experience to reach level 20! Click on your trainer to gain levels.” Now Elar was thoroughly confused. He approached the old man again. “Excuse me, but what was that I said about 30?”

“Can I help you?” asked the man, in the same kindly voice.

Elar is suddenly startled by the noise of trumpets and a light show that left him dazed and slightly deafened. He ducks and covers his ears. The kind old man hadn’t noticed, but people all around him started to talk. “GRATZ!” “W-0-0-t!” “Conga Rats!” “dingrats!” While he didn’t understand, they didn’t seem hostile. After gazing around, he returned to the old man again.

This time, Elar was surprised less by the noise and lights, but he did find them disconcerting. But this time there was no fanfare from the lunatics. Elar decided to drop the stick, as it didn’t seem to be doing him any good. “I need to use the restroom. Where can I find one?” Again with the trumpets and fireworks. “Can I help you?” came the same deadpan reply.

Elar decides the old man must be deaf or playing a joke on him and decides to wander off in search of the loo. Continuing on his way, he sees what appear to be pig farms. But these pig farms seem unusual. For one thing, there are no fences. Also, no barn or feed. Assuming this is connected with the nonsense with the old man, he takes note and continues on. Not far away he discovers a road that appears to have been well travelled, but bears no distinct marks of actual travellers. There are a set of pillars leading into the distance, and he follows them to the gates of a large stone city.

At the gates, he finds a lumpy set of stones and three guards. The guards are standing upright and in position, slightly swaying in place. They are wearing shining plate armor and kilts, which strikes him as a rather odd combination. But as he has to go, he approaches the nearest one and asks, “Pardon me sir, could you point the way to the little boys’ room?”

The guard turns and looks at Elar, but says nothing. There is no change of expression to indicate that he has heard properly or not, but he is clearly  not replying. “Is it inside?” The guard stares on. Elar looks off into the distance behind him to see what the guard is looking at, but there is nothing of interest in the trees. Elar turns and walks across the lawn toward another guard.

“Pardon mate, could you point out the loo?” At this point he’s feeling some pressure and would be more comfortable knowing there’s a public restroom nearby than thinking there isn’t.

“Hail traveller! Do you have [ a moment ]?” Replies the guard.

Elar is so taken aback by the actual pronunciation of brackets that he is stunned to silence. He reassembles his face into what he hopes is a non-offensive gape and asks faintly, “A moment? Why, is it far?”

“I sent a message to our nothern patrol two days ago and have not heard from [ Lieutenant Keebler ].”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Listen, where is the restroom in this city?” The guard takes on the same glazed look that the first guard gave Elar. “Hello?” Waving his hands in front of the guard confirms to Elar that this man is narcoleptic. Elar decides that a sleeping man is not going to help him find relief, he moves into the corridor that leads to the city.

Walking into the corridor, he finds himself paralyzed. Then the world goes black for an everlasting painful moment. He’s unable to breathe. Then a colorful banner appears. After perhaps 15 seconds of this, he is dropped on his feet from 2 feet over the cobbles. He staggers a bit and stays upright. “Well, that was odd,” he mumbles.

He turns a corner to his right, leaving the corridor and looking into a courtyard. There are a few people around, apparently doing nothing. They appear to not see each other and are not talking. They have booths of clothing, armor, swords, and daggers. It appears to be a merchant quarter. He approaches the nearest vendor. The vendor looks to be about twenty, slim and bearded, wearing unadorned linen clothes that seem to fit almost too well. “Where’s the loo? I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Elar asks.

The vendor does not reply but pushes out what appears to be a price sheet. Elar pushes the sheet down and tries again. “No, thanks anyway, but I really need to find the water closet. Could you point the way?” The vendor pushes another sheet toward Elar.

Elar’s now starting to panic. Little restroom alarms are going off all up and down his torso, telling him that he has very little time left. He rushes off toward a large building farther from the entry. There are no doors, but it is a covered building. Inside on the left is a grey stone staircase. In front of him is a gorgeous, perfectly geometric table with a golden challace emblem on a red field in the middle. The table shows no sign of use. As he stares at this, someone jumps from the upper balcony, which Elar had not yet noticed, squarely onto the table. Elar can hear the bones in his legs shatter as the man tumbles to the floor.

“Geez man, are you hurt?!” Elar rushes over.

“yah, 1 mroe shoud do it tho, thx” says the man, dragging himself toward the staircase with only his arms.

“What?!” asks Elar, amazed. The man is already up the stairs as Elar chases him. The man flops his broken body over the railing and falls again onto the table and stops moving.

Elar isn’t sure what to make of this. The man apparently was aware of what he was doing, but Elar wasn’t able to stop him. His bowels give a groan of warning, and Elar decides that he’d better not be found above a dead body that obviously fell to its demise. He backs out of the balcony, down the stairs and back out into the courtyard.

He is now on the other side of the courtyard from where he entered. There is a forge and anvil here, and some people are standing next to it, swaying in the same gentle way that all the others have. Things below are getting desparate, but he decides to approach these people. “Perhaps if I show a bit more interest they’ll point the way,” he thinks. They are talking as he approaches.

“… then cleric casts HoG on the paladin, but the casters stay outside the walls.”
“Hi everyone.” Elar says.
“hey”
“oy”
Elar watches for a few moments. The conversation does not continue. “What are you doing today?”
All at once, one of the men blurts out as fast as he can speak, “then send in rogues and dmg casters. theurgs cast no more than 8 pets each and hide on teh hill”
One of them replies, “makin hinges lol”.
Elar looks at the man. He doesn’t appear to be making anything at all. He’s standing quite still, many feet from the forge and anvil, and is quite clearly not holding a hammer or heating any metals. “Don’t you need a hammer for that?” He asks the odd man.
“got one, they’re only like 2sp”. He pronounces the “2sp” as if it were spelled toosp.
At this point, Elar is starting to think there is something wrong with all the people in town and has more pressing things to be concerned with. The pressure on his insides is becoming quite uncomfortable in waves. “Listen, I need to find the loo.”
“stoopid rp server. I shoulda gone to gaheris.” says the taller of the two men. He is dressed in plate and holding a 7 foot long spear with a jagged point that appears to have never been used.
“noob” replies Hingeman.
Elar has had enough. He runs off. To his right he sees what appear to be close packed two story houses in a small cobbled street. As he comes through the gateway to this street, he spots another guard. He also is swaying gently, as if to some etherial unheard Lawrence Welk music. “Quick! Where’s the loo?” asks Elar.
“Hail traveller! Would you be ready to assist the [ Defenders of Albion ]?”
Elar is noting clear signs of danger below. Throwing caution to the wind, he yells “I HAVE TO POO! WHERE DO I GO!?”
A voice returns from no particular location, “dude you’re safe in town, just go”

And so he does.