So... whats your story Seraphine?, Borden asks, raising his tankard to his mouth as he does so. Hopefully no sad tragedies such as our friends here?
The door swings open, and a half elf walks in. He's a muscled figure with dark skin that hints at drow instead of elf blood. Burn scars start somewhere on his chest, hidden under his shirt, and reach all the way up to his neck. He has a bent nose that looks like it has been broken numerous times, long combed back hair, and very unique green eyes with a few gold flecks in them. Half of his right ear is gone, bitten off by something.
There are a few fresh cuts on his forearms and hands, and around his chest and face are multiple new bruises. He moves his nose a little, as if he has just set it after it being broken. Without glancing at a single other patron he heads directly to the bar and his best friend: alcohol.
"Something strong. I got the coin for it, fresh earned." He hunches down over the bar, scratching at his cuts and not even acknowledging the existence of anybody besides the man getting him a drink.
"Appreciate the willingness to listen to the story, and i'm open to hear yours too Sirsi. I have a feeling it would be as interesting as my own."
At Glade's questioning he tilts his head slightly.
"That'll have to wait. It's a turbulent event and it seems there's a toast going on.."
Upon hearing the toast;
"Can't say i've known the professor, but it sounds he was a good man.
I've heard of him though. A pamflet in a plaza mentioned a lecture he was to give one day at the city's college. I've spent only a small amount of time at that lecture, it was about anatomy of devils."
Food? Of course, I didn't get this godly figure by skimping on meals!, Bran jokes.Bran saunter into the tavern, scanning the visitors within, and has a seat at the bar. Hope ya don't mind, I brought my own tankard., he says with gruff. Bran's eyes shift, in no apparent sequence, sizing up the old barkeep. I hope this establishment has something better to offer than the horse urine I just paid for down the way. Bran looks expectantly at the old man.Most certainly good sir, have a Penance on the house! Something warm for the belly?
Heather, another to the front!
Eyes the huge man.
Better make it a double!
Smiles broadly as he pats his stomach.
My wife is an astounding cook.
The door swings open, and a half elf walks in. He's a muscled figure with dark skin that hints at drow instead of elf blood. Burn scars start somewhere on his chest, hidden under his shirt, and reach all the way up to his neck. He has a bent nose that looks like it has been broken numerous times, long combed back hair, and very unique green eyes with a few gold flecks in them. Half of his right ear is gone, bitten off by something.
There are a few fresh cuts on his forearms and hands, and around his chest and face are multiple new bruises. He moves his nose a little, as if he has just set it after it being broken. Without glancing at a single other patron he heads directly to the bar and his best friend: alcohol.
"Something strong. I got the coin for it, fresh earned." He hunches down over the bar, scratching at his cuts and not even acknowledging the existence of anybody besides the man getting him a drink.
Pours a grey liquid into a cup.
On the house, for the Professor. Something fro the belly?
Shush notices a fella flexing his biceps (Bran). He rolls his eyes.
He catches the Tengu’s eye. I never caught your name. I’m called Shush. Are you from Tian Xia? I’ve never been there, but would sorely like to see the place. How did you know the Professor?
"Appreciate the willingness to listen to the story, and i'm open to hear yours too Sirsi. I have a feeling it would be as interesting as my own."
At Glade's questioning he tilts his head slightly.
"That'll have to wait. It's a turbulent event and it seems there's a toast going on.."Upon hearing the toast;
"Can't say i've known the professor, but it sounds he was a good man.
I've heard of him though. A pamflet in a plaza mentioned a lecture he was to give one day at the city's college. I've spent only a small amount of time at that lecture, can't remember what it was about, i sort of had to run off. Family occasion...."
Bran delightedly holds out his tankard as the barkeep fills it to the brim, drinking it down in one giant gulp. Strangely enough, the brew seemingly sharpens his wits and his will.
With a great smile, he pulls a stong porter froma barrel behind him to refill the Brans tankard.
Just the one Pharasman Penitence, lad, to many will have even one as you on your knees!
The Professor gets me a free drink. Don't know if that's a good thing or not. "Suppose I should eat." He catches the scent of the pale man's venison. "I'll have what he's having."
Heather, more deer please!
Moments later a women with masses of curls darts out to serve her many hungry guests. It almost seems her hair is placing the dishes as much as her hands. She smiles to the lot and pats them on the back as she leaves.
Glade looks at Kienyah puzzled? That a Drow, Orc, half-elf? elf?
Over here, you can have a seat by me. He speaks to Kienyach.
Knowledge(arcana) DC 20 Trained only.
Borden leans casually on the bar, nursing his nearly empty drink and waiting for the stories to sort themselves out and for Seraphines response.
Kienyach glances over at the dark haired human, reading his face. Curiosity is better than fear I suppose. For the first time he opens his senses and notices how crowded the tavern is. And here I thought I was special. Well if it's a group going to the gathering I suppose I should learn a name or two. The half-drow picks up his food and drink, bringing them over next to the man who spoke to him. He offers a scarred hand, then glances around. "Kien. Everybody here cause of the professor?"
Fortunately not. My parents are alive and in Lepidstadt. A banker and a healer. Until recently, I was a student at the University, but I left when those bastards threw me out. Insubordinate and aggressive, my ass! You shoot one boorish, pigheaded professor with a bolt of fire and all the sudden you are "too dangerous" to continue. His beard was only a little on fire! He shouldn't have slapped my ass, the old perv!
Her hair, impossibly, seems to get redder as she gets more into her tirade. But by the end of it, she breathes deeply once, then cheerily says What about you, Borden. Tell me more of this job of yours.
They are, I'm not. Say, you have a lot of scars on you Kien? Been in battle much?
Kien looks at the back of his hand. "It's how I pay the rent."
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"I didn't know the Professor well, I met him shortly after my mother died (no demons, or curses, she got sick and died). I was a bit lost, finding shelter wherever I could, I found I could heal folks and it paid my way for a bit.
Lorrimor offered me a place to stay for a few nights, and unlike most of the men who gave me a place to stay - he was all gentleman-like, and he let me look at his books. Struck a chord with me, and gave me a passion. So now I wander again, but now I seek to learn, seek knowledge and stories, seek to teach others when they'll listen.
I met him a couple of other times, and wrote him letters. Sometimes got one back, but I moved around a lot, so it's hard to chat with letters.
Until I got this one..."
Sirsi's smile has dropped and she looks somewhat morose.
Fortunately not. My parents are alive and in Lepidstadt. A banker and a healer. Until recently, I was a student at the University, but I left when those bastards threw me out. Insubordinate and aggressive, my ass! You shoot one boorish, pigheaded professor with a bolt of fire and all the sudden you are "too dangerous" to continue. His beard was only a little on fire! He shouldn't have slapped my ass, the old perv!
Her hair, impossibly, seems to get redder as she gets more into her tirade. But by the end of it, she breathes deeply once, then cheerily says What about you, Borden. Tell me more of this job of yours.
In response he bursts out laughing... the drink spilling from his mouth, down his chin and onto his tunic. He holds up a hand placatingly as he gets himself under control and wipes his face.
Kicked out of university? Thats' just too... , he laughs again.
No offense meant - its just that I was kicked out of the much vaunted 'Pathfinder Society' as an aspirant during training. One too many failed examinations and they washed their hands of me!, he gives her a grin, his laughter now reduced to chuckles.
Well - never would have thought we had so much in common. How much do you know of the 'Pathfinders'? May give me a good place to start depending on how much you know about them.
Well Sirsi, I think you would make a great teacher. You seem to have a passion for learning.
|
Bran delightedly holds out his tankard as the barkeep fills it to the brim, drinking it down in one giant gulp. Strangely enough, the brew seemingly sharpens his wits and his will.With a great smile, he pulls a stong porter froma barrel behind him to refill the Brans tankard.
Just the one Pharasman Penitence, lad, to many will have even one as you on your knees!
Cayden Cailean be praised! Bran carefully savors the much stronger brew, only drinking half and putting the rest in a flask that he produces from his backpack. This will certainly come in handy later, Cayden Cailean smiles upon you, good sir!
Borden holds up his tankard in a fellow worshippers salute to 'The Accidental God'.
Yeah. Admittedly, being kicked out wasn't one of my finer moments, but honestly I was getting tired of that place. Too many old men stuck in their own opinions, refusing to even give the slightest credence to me. Lorrimor was the only one there who ever took an interest and was actually willing to engage my challenges to his teachings and theories. It just rubs me the wrong way they wouldn't even let me finish.
She takes another swig.
I actually know quite a bit about them actually. Before I got the letter, I was planning on journeying to Absalom to join them. Figured it would be a good use of my talents and make my name for myself. Knowledge, magic, and legs.
"Lorrimor was a brave man,"Torak's deep voice carries through the tavern. "The letter did not say how he passed, but it was not quietly I would think." He pours out some of his ale on the floor and then quaffs the rest.
"I may have a tale worth telling. Few years back, the Professor and I were out near the Belkzen border. Orcs were crawling around the place, but we hid and moved slowly enough to keep them from spotting us. He thought he had found some ancient temple to some bird god or something." He sips the last of his tea, tearing into his venison some. "Never did find it. Stumbled in on some Orc shaman practice. They were kind enough to not slit our throats then and there. Long ceremony, lots of feathers. We were stripped and wrapped up in some coarse cloth. Lorrimor started smiling about then. Knew we were safe when I saw that.
A small grin creases his face as memories of the night come back. "I got worried when they separated us, but Lorrimor simply shrugged it off, and they dragged him off to some blasted cave. Didn't see him all night, and then about an hour past sun up, he comes strolling out of the cave, cut me loose and we got our gear and got out." He leans back and chuckles as the memory of the next bit comes forth. "Asked him how he got free, and all he said was 'Diplomacy works wonders. So does knowing Orcish. And that we wandered in on a pre-wedding bash.' Apparently the one who pulled him off had a little liking of him. Poor fellow didn't walk right for a week." A loud laugh leaves the pale man. "To Lorrimor, and the Orc lady who had a fancy for him." He raises his glass before remembering that it's empty. Frowning, he asks for a refill.
A young Varisian man, whose traveling cloak covers what look to be the clothes of a wandering minstrel enters the bar. Looking around for a moment , the newcomer heads to the bar.
Evening innkeeper. I see you have quite the crowd in here. Any interest in hiring some entertainment for the evening?
Yeah. Admittedly, being kicked out wasn't one of my finer moments, but honestly I was getting tired of that place. Too many old men stuck in their own opinions, refusing to even give the slightest credence to me. Lorrimor was the only one there who ever took an interest and was actually willing to engage my challenges to his teachings and theories. It just rubs me the wrong way they would even let me finish.
She takes another swig.
I actually know quite a bit about them actually. Before I got the letter, I was planning on journeying to Absalom to join them. Figured it would be a good use of my talents and make my name for myself. Knowledge, magic, and legs.
You've most definitely got the legs, he says admiringly, looking down in appreciation.
But let me warn you off any notions of joining their number - Absolom is a great place to live but you'd never know it as an Aspirant. Strict hours on rising and sleeping an' even when ya can leave the Lodge, long bloody tedious classes and lectures and a mountain o' scuttwork... oh gods, the scuttwork! They treat ya' like an unpaid servant - more or less, ya are. I thank the day I managed to land the job of guardin' the Professor on that boat outta Absolom.
He launches into a bit of a tale about their journey from Absolom to Ustalav. The telling of which is a performance as much as it is a story about Lorrimor. Its got a bit of everything, though it has more than its fair share of humorous touches.
... an' the Professor said 'And, that sir, is no chicken. You've been dining on rat', he wraps up the story with a bit of a funny anecdote.
The story falls a bit flat, not flowing as it ought, too many asides and rambling twists to really allow the listeners to get into it.
I owe that old man a lot. He gave me a job and a way out of Absolom when I badly needed one and he spent Gods know how many evenings talking history with me. I don't have a degree per se but I'd rate my knowledge of History, especially that of Ustalav against many who are called "learn'ed". I'm sad to hear that he's passed.
He takes another drink.
Anyhows, I had a bunch of knowledge about pretty much everything from sitting through untold hours of lessions - nothing concrete like - but a smattering if ya get me, plus Lorrimors tutor-ledge and add to that years of learning the theory of being what amounts to a glorified tomb robber. He shrugs. I fell into the same sort of job, just digging up tombs an' old battle grounds here in Ustalav. Didn't have the heart to ever tell him about what I do when we bumped into each other about half a year ago - tole him some rubbish about bein' a guard an' explorer an' such.
Shush notices a fella flexing his biceps (Bran). He rolls his eyes.
He catches the Tengu’s eye. I never caught your name. I’m called Shush. Are you from Tian Xia? I’ve never been there, but would sorely like to see the place. How did you know the Professor?
"Blik Gon, I am indeed from Tian Xia. I'm surprise you know the professor too. He raised his glass to Lorrmier's honor. I first met him by bandits. I chased them off, as any good men do, and he hired me as his guide and bodyguard during his travels in Tian Xia. He was a brilliant man, but he was always getting himself into trouble and things he should not have try.
He raised his mask to take a drink, Anyway, when I heard he recently pass away and had named me in his will, I packed up my things and head to Ustalav. How did you know him?
A young Varisian man, whose traveling cloak covers what look to be the clothes of a wandering minstrel enters the bar. Looking around for a moment , the newcomer heads to the bar.
Evening innkeeper. I see you have quite the crowd in here. Any interest in hiring some entertainment for the evening?
Drinks are on the house this night my boy! But we could always have some songs. A dear friend passed, so this night we drink to his name and celebrate his life!
Hands the lad a Penance.
Grab a chair my boy! Something for the belly?
The door opens slowly. Even though it doesn't make a sound it's like a breeze runs through the room, even though there is no wind to be felt. A woman with strange, translucent white hair, which sways to the same breeze which isn't truly there, stands in the door and examines the other guests with a half smile and a short yet intense look straight in the eye, if she catches them.
Even though she wears travel clothes and armor, her symbol of three daggers around her neck marks her affiliation with Calistria to anyone who recognizes it.
She crosses the room, with not quite as elegant steps, since she's quite packed with equipment and addresses the host with audible yet still rather breathed than spoken words and a husky voice. "Good evening, sir. I would like a room for the night, please..."
For a moment it looks like she had more to say but then she closes her mouth and waits for his reply. Her look slips across the room at the strange collection of people.
Quite, yes, m'lady! We have several good rooms with quite soft beds. tis two gold for the night. If, you don't mind sharing a room we've several with four beds each, only room for one. Those are two silver the night. A drink for you, or something for the belly?
Drinks are on the house this night my boy! But we could always have some songs. A dear friend passed, so this night we drink to his name and celebrate his life!Hands the lad a Penance.
Grab a chair my boy! Something for the belly?
Aye, some food would be most welcome. I'm sorry to hear about your friend. What was his name? Sandalero takes a drink from the cup the bartender has provided him and considers what sort of music the crowd would appreciate. If this is a wake, they may be willing to listen to proper dirges. Of course, some of these people look dangerous. If I get them depressed when the innkeeper is getting them drunk, it might end badly.
Quite, yes, m'lady! We have several good rooms with quite soft beds. tis two gold for the night. If, you don't mind sharing a room we've several with four beds each, only room for one. Those are two silver the night. A drink for you, or something for the belly?
"Mead, please, if you have. I like the taste of honey as almost as much as I like to share my resting place, so I'll take a room for four." She drops her equipment on the floor and exhales relieved with her hair fluttering. As much as a certain air of lightness surrounds her, it's obvious that she's pretty exhausted.
"Might I know who of the guests I'll be spending the night with? Anyone around here?"
She fishes two silver pieces out of her purse and arranges them on the table, one by one.
"I am Narah of Calistria's clergy, by the way."
A professor Lorrimor by name. He and I made that drink some time ago for special times. This seems to be one!
Pours goodly serving of mead into a tankard and slides it to the lass.
Most likely, you will have some from this lot here. Best hope none snore! Othan is my name, pleasure to meet you.
All these people are on their way to the Professor's funeral? I had no idea he was so widely known. I met him a few years ago - I had no idea he even remembered my name until I received the letter the other day. You knew him well?
"I am Narah of Calistria's clergy, by the way."
Well nice to meet you. I'm Glade Wolf. Do you need any help with your bags?
Narah takes a sip from her tankard, grabs her gear again and lets the host show her where the room lies.
Well nice to meet you. I'm Glade Wolf. Do you need any help with your bags?
She gives him a radiant smile and takes a good look at him. "I'd appreciate that very much." she breathes in a somewhat promising tone.
She asks him to put the bag on her bed and stands by the door in the room, ready to close it while she says: "Would you give me the pleasure of staying while I change and telling me a little about you? You may look as much or as little as you please." She emphasizes the word look with a raised eyebrow and her pronunciation as though it was particularly important to her and waits whether he decides to leave or stay.
----
When she returns (possibly with Glade) she wears a translucent white silk dress. The dress is folded out of single band of cloth and somehow covers all details, even though it shouldn't be. Other than that she wears a whip instead of a belt around her hip, her holy symbol, two silver bracers of elven making and sandals - nothing else.
She approaches the table with the most interesting travelers she can make out.
"Good evening", she addresses Sandaleron. "I hope you wouldn't mind joining you?" She bites her lower lips and considers. "I couldn't help but overhear you mentioned a 'professor's funeral'... that wouldn't be Professor Lorrimor, would it?"
Given the circumstances and the topic she restraints from a suggestive smile, but not from her intensive, defiant eye contact.
All these people are on their way to the Professor's funeral? I had no idea he was so widely known. I met him a few years ago - I had no idea he even remembered my name until I received the letter the other day. You knew him well?
Better than that lot of fools in Ravensgro. Ignorant, backwoods morons those folk. Always called him a witch or devil worshiper or a necromancer. Traveled a lot seeking out knowledge, helping put down evil, brought me beer recipes from abroad ever now and again. Touched many lives over the years. Poor Kendra, lass must be beside herself with tears.
His face falls, sad for several moments.
With the toast made and conversations underway again, Daniel turns his attention back to Sirsi.
"If i share the story of how i got back to the world of the living, would you share yours?"
As Glade is helping with Narah with her bags, he sees her elven symbols and speaks to her in elven to let her know that they can communicate secretly if ever need be.
Narah closes the door and was just about to start taking off her armor when she hears the word 'demon' she makes a turn to Glade so sudden that it whips her strangely vivid hair all around her.
"I have had my own encounters with creatures of darkness, though Professor Lorrimor seemed to be of the opinion that it had been a devil." She shivers at the thought and for a moment her self control seems to crumble. "Sadly it his funeral that brings me here. I liked working with him." she returns in elven.
Morthos walks up to and greets the beautiful slyph. "Greetings my lady, a pleasure to meet a servant of Calistra here on the path." He smiles brightly.
Morthos appears to be an Aasimar in his early twenties, "I last visted a lady of your order some fifteen years ago on my one hundreth birthday. She was a fine companion, and an astute conversationalist." A look of fond memory crosses his face.
"I am called Morthos Thadrius, Paladin of Iomedae and member of the Mendevian crusade." He bows slightly before her.
"Sir bard!" He says over the slight murmering of voices, "Might we have a tune? A solemn dirge perhaps in honor of the proffesor? And followed by a joyus tune to celebrate warm food and good companions."
Glade responds, Sorry to bring it up, the though and similarities seem to disturb you. changing the subject back to the dead guy So how well did you know him, and how did you know him? back to common all this is.
@Morthos Did you say you were 115?
Turning to the man addressing him, "Yes good sir, 115 nearly 116. Where are my manners I am Morthos, and you are?"