Rise of the Rune Lords (Inactive)

Game Master fatmanspencer

We start the mystical journey here, which will be changed later on, since it is just so the threads are connected

Gathered around the tables of the Rusty Dragon Inn is an odd collection of individuals. Some of them are half-human, others are full human, and yet others are humanoids. A few elves are sat together, one that seems like a ranger due to her dress, but the other two you would have no idea if they are fighters or just simple adventurers.
The smokey haze that covers the room comes from the pipe smoke and other various incenses that everyone else is enjoying, intermingled with the perfumes and colognes from the world over. This seems out of place for the small coastal town, however when anyone walks in, they are greeted by a large help wanted poster, with various jobs, some ranging from finding a lost wedding rings " Third time this week" you her someone whisper, all the way to exploring Azlanti ruins nearby. Some have a warning that they only wanted new adventures, and others said only groups of 4 or more, or well trained need apply.
The other sight you gather as you come in is a middle aged halfling woman dashing about. You hear cries of " Bethana, over here," and other various phrases, causing her to dash this way and that way. However, no one seems to be disrespectful of her, even so close to Cheliax as you find yourself.
Behind a long highly polished bar, where several other patrons, mostly male, are seated, you spy a beautiful Tian woman. She is joking and laughing, but all can tell those who are near by are drawn in by her. It could be her beauty, the way she hands herself with the customers, or any number of other reasons, but you find even your eye drawn to her. This feeling increases when during the night she breaks out a stringed instrument, and starts to play a song. At that time everyone gets quiet to listen, and those who are new get the impression that is why half of this people, some who could obviously afford a better inn, are staying here.
Intro post, get comfy with each in prep for sundays start

Rigel strode into the Rusty Dragon, his dark brown hair swaying with each step. The bard snickers as he sees the men sitting at the bar, their attention drawn by the Eastern beauty. The actor thought he would get the lay of the land first before he tried to join the crew of infatuated drinkers. He weaved his way between tables, taking care to note the halfling server's name Bethana before finding one of the few empty tables.

Rigel patiently waited for the diminutive woman to draw near, then tried to catch her attention with a short wave. "Ho there, Bethana! Could a thirsty traveler find a tall, foaming mug of ale to wash away the grime of the road from his parched throat?" He shared a winning smile with the halfling woman, then kicked back to enjoy the show as the Tian women broke out her instrument and started to play.

The bartender's skill was impressive, Rigel understanding her appeal to what likely were natives of the town. Her performance brought him somberly to contemplation of his own future. He would see this Cyrdak tomorrow about joining Sandpoint's prized theater. There was a possibility that Rigel's letters had not made it to the man. Still, the actor was running low on coin and couldn't afford a protracted wait. He'd rather not make it a habit of leaving towns as he had left Magnimar. The bard would not take 'no' for an answer...

A diminuative person stomps into the inn, clad in scale mail and armor from the tip of its toes to its neck crowned by a monstrous looking helmet seemed designed more for its unnerving visage than its practicality. Really? what idiot would put horns on a helmet? Its eyes are about the only thing visible and they look human.

Looking around and finding no empty seats, Runt scowls beneath the layers of obfuscation and picks the table with the fewest occupants joining the unfortunate Rigel on the opposite side of the table.

"FOOD!"

Her head barely clears the table top, high enough to grant Rigil a clear view of a pointed and meaningful glare, as if to say "Back off crap head, give me space".

The woman, for it soon becomes apparent it is indeed a woman, yanks off her helmet and sets it on the bench beside her making sure nobody else is tempted to share the space. Her hair is wild and unkempt with little thought given towards appearance. No makeup, no poise, and no nonsense. She looks tough as nails and has a couple of scars on the little flesh visible. Makes you wonder how many more she might have.

When the food arrives, sooner rather than later since her scowl follows the help until it does, she tears into it like a wild animal, her gaze darting furtively about as if searching for a challenger that might want to take it from her. But she momentarily slows down, her features transforming into one of wonder.

"This tastes good!" she announces as if presented with a miracle. But old habits die hard and the tasty meal is quickly consumed.

The dwarf arrives at the bar late, as is her custom, after helping out where she can at the new cathedral and smiles as she enters. Hair a little grey she still appears a formidable woman and carries herself with confidence.

Her cloths give her away as a cleric of Desna though she carries herself a little differently them most. At a glance she appears more a soldier then a healer. Her long thick hair is pulled back giving her face a severe look to it as she scans the room with a practiced eye for detail. Around her neck you can see the markings of Desna but more prominent is the butterfly image on each side of the head of her large hammer.

With the number of patrons it is unsurprising that her usual seat has been taken. "Well it is always good to meet travelers." She spots a shorter woman who she has seen around town tearing into her meal and smiles at the man sitting with her. "She never seems the friendly sort might be best to at least know who she is."

" Any objection to a dwarf of the cloth sitting with you for a spell?" She doesn't really give them a chance to answer as she sits down, her symbol of Desna just visible above the top of the table. She gestures for a bit of ale once she catches Bethana's eys.

"Oh, name is Ansley by the way. So, getting ready for the big celebration?"

A young woman enters the Rusty Dragon, her traveling cloak and boots dusty from travel. As she removes her cloak and hangs it on the rack you can see she is fairly young. Her clothing is loose and flowing,
leaving her back exposed where there is a stylized tattoo of a scorpion which you swear you can see moving. "Popular place," she thinks to herself as she eyes the full room before they fall on the beautiful singer, "and I think I can see why."

She then scans the room looking for an empty seat finding a few open ones at a table with a dwarf, a short human, and a tall human. She approaches the table and makes her introduction. "I'm Syeira and I'm dreadfully tired from the road, do you mind if I join you?" Syeira then slides into the seat visibly relaxing and ordering a pint of ale from the barkeep.

At the barkeeps quick response she smiles and pays while watching the performance. "Nothing like a nice drink and a show to wash away the weariness of travel."

Rigel had just gotten a delicious, foaming tankard of ale when the diminutive person walks in. At first he snickered at the sight of her, with the horns coming out of a helmet that would barely clear his waist. His amusement quickly turns to dismay as the little person climbs into a seat at his table, giving him a glance that said she did not want to be toyed with. Rigel was all too eager to oblige her, sighing as he looked around and saw no other open tables.

The bard nearly jumped out of his seat as the woman yelled for food, then when the meal arrived and she started to tear in he actually felt the need to raise his hands in a 'no problem from me' fashion. He gives her a disinterested nod at her pronouncement of the quality of the food, keeping a side eye on her as he turned his attention back to the comely Eastern woman.

As the dwarf came up he almost sighed in relief. He had more poise than that, though. He smiled and nodded. "Please join us, my friend. My companion here was just finishing up her meal..." He gives the short woman a neutral look. He didn't really have anything against her...she was just obviously rough around the edges. As the dwarf continued, he paid attention somewhat, splitting his attention between her words and the string performance of the bartender. "A pleasure to meet you, Ansley. I am Rigel Pordyras. Ohhh, did you say celebration? What are we celebrating?"

As the woman with the large, detailed tattoo of a scorpion sits at their table, Rigel finally pulls his eyes away from the Tian woman, offering this newest-comer a grin. "It seems this table is getting more popular by the hour. The pleasure is all mine, Syeira. Rigel Pordyras. Are you here for the celebration, as well?" He eyed her apparel with interest. Typically women who exposed that much skin were willing to expose much more after a few drinks.

Runt greets Ansley's invasion of her space with an expression of horror. When Syeira joins slides her helmet over and sits at the end of the bench, effectively trapping her, she starts sweating and smushes herself into the wall at her end of the bench.

"Damn! I should have sat at the end so nobody could sit there. Why can't some people take a hint?"

"Runt!" she declares with a look that almost dares you to make a comment. She reaches for her pint sized falcatta which is very unstrategically trapped in the suddenly cramped space at the end of the bench. Realizing that the large weapon (at least large for her) would not serve her well in this situation, she transfers he grip to the knife she was previously using to slay her meal.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance Rigel, Ansley,.... and Runt is it?" Feeling waves of agitation coming off the diminutive human, Syeira thinks to herself as she tries to give Runt her space, "Did I kick her puppy?"

She then turns her attention to Rigel, noticing the look in his eyes, Syeira smirks, "Must be careful with this one..." She then continues, "I believe I am here for the celebration. I was traveling this way when I heard word of a festival so I decided to stop and see as I'm in no hurry. Is that why you are here?"

Rigel again jumps as the short woman exclaims a word that, well, described herself pretty well. Oh, so that was her name? Ok, well, that was nice to know, in case he had to ask the bar to remove her. At least he could give her the courtesy of offering her name to the bouncer. He holds his tankard up in a short toast. "Welcome, Runt." He eyes the woman's knife hand nervously, glad the other women were sharing that side of the table with her.

Seeing the woman's smirk, the bard realized he had been letting his eyes wander. Back to the face, good sir. He contemplated lying to the woman, Syeira, was it? telling her that he was indeed there for the celebration as well. Birds of a feather flocked together, as the saying went, and the more they shared in common the more likely it would be for them to share other things as well.

But the dwarf (and the pygmy-sized woman) knew the truth, and Rigel decided being called out was worse than offering the truth. "I actually came to talk to the owner of the Theater about some work there. It's a magnificent building for such a small city. It's just fortuitous timing that brings me here in time for the festival."

"Ohhh, did you say celebration? What are we celebrating?"

The dwarf smiles happy to talk about her new found god. Surely you know of the Swallowtail Festival, the celebration of Lady Luck, The Gentle Dreamer, the goddess Desna. I am a new devote to her and was charged to travel here."

Ansley realizes she is kind of going on a bit, not really in keeping with how she saw herself for many years. I must be getting soft in my old age. Giving out information like that next I will tell them my address and favorite color.

Her faces relaxes and she leans back a little. Taking a closer look at Runt she wonders if she could be a danger and rests her arm, casually she hopes, near her mace.

Syeira raises an eyebrow at Rigel and says with genuine interest, "With your way with the spoken word, am I mistaken to assume you are an actor then?"

However, as the dwarf speaks up, Syeira turns her attention to Ansley. "Please forgive my ignorance, but I am not versed in the teachings of the gods. What is the significance of the festival?"

"It's a magnificent building for such a small city. It's just fortuitous timing that brings me here in time for the festival."

"It is often they way with travelers. Come for one thing and find another."

Is there any indication that Runt follow Lamashtu? Ansley would be caution of how she describes what she knows of the festival if there were.

The narcissistic bard can't help but grin at Syeira's assessment, giving a mock bow from across the table. "You are not mistaken at all. Perhaps, if you stay in town long enough, you'll get to see me perform!" He gives the raven-haired woman a suggestive look before turning his attention to the dwarven woman.

He takes a sip of his foamy brew before addressing her, "I know of no such thing, Ansley. Or knew, at any rate. Swallowtails...are those the lovely butterflies? I believe Desna's sign is a butterfly..." He mentally slaps himself on the forehead, of course she would know that! "The town does seem rather swollen with travelers...at least that explains it." In truth, the actor had been getting nervous, thinking that there would be lots of competition for the limited spots in the theater.

He offers a companionable smile to the dwarf before he turns his attention back to the tattooed woman, a sly grin on his face, then slowly turns his eyes back to Ansley. A spark of recognition lit in his eyes, his hand bringing the ale up to his mouth again in an effort to collect himself. The damnable guard captain from Riddleport, here right now. What rotten freaking luck!

He chuckles, setting down his mug. Be cool! She doesn't know you, man! "So when does this Festival happen? Will there be performances?" Fortunately, years of practice in deceit make his nervousness all but unrecognizable except to the most trained of eyes...

Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

Is there any indication that Runt follow Lamashtu? Ansley would be caution of how she describes what she knows of the festival if there were.

Runt is not used to the world outside her temple and really does not understand, yet, the stigma associated with her faith. She has the drawback 'foul brand' so YES you will see that she worships, or at least is branded, with the holy symbol of Lamashtu provided she is not wearing gauntlets or gloves or something. And right now she is not, not knowing any better.

Desna, huh? I wonder what it would have been like to have been brought up in one of HER temples. Then again, that obsession with butterflies cannot be healthy. The humans look soft, but that dwarf practically fondling her mace could be trouble. But then again, anyone so into butterflies can't be THAT dangerous.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 Who doesn't like rolling dice?

"I would be honored to see you perform, alas, I don't know how long before I begin my travels again but I have no doubt you will find employment." Syeira then smiles bemusedly as Rigel rambles on to Ansley. "The boy does love to hear himself talk," she muses to herself. As the discussion turns back towards the festival, Syeira pipes back in giddily. "I hope there are performances, particularly magic performances. It's why I decided to stop here."

As the people in the establishment chatted, you would be able to spy a few people walking into the bar, speaking with the bartender. After a few words from her, they head back to the adventure board, talking among themselves. You can also see through the dim light others doing the same thing, some getting up and leaving, others seeming to thank the bartender for her performance. All who leave, atleast the ones who seem like they know one end of a goblin from the other, check the board. THe ones who don't are dressed in simple fair, but none of it seems to be ill tended. You over hear a few people talking about how Ameiko should play again, when some one places a bet that she will play the Lusty Half-dragon Maid, while another says she will play the song of her people. Still others say other songs, some familiar like the Cry of Freedom, Adorean edition, and others a bit foreign, including one that someone said was a defense of the native Shoanti peoples.
Some seem upset by the last comment, but only those native to the area or neighboring Cheliax would understand the tension that came from the comment. However, as Bethana ran drinks back and forth from the bar, and delivered various foodstuffs to the tables, one also realizes that some of them are fairly exotic, and more than one patron dressed in very fine clothing of the last fashions has what you would have to guess is dragon meat, or something else equally dangerous to retrieve, as you can notice payment of gold is done before the dish is even brought out.

" What is the significance of the festival?"

Ansley, happy to share what she knows but having seen the little one's brand hesitates. Best to leave out the part about the battle with Lamashtu I think.

"The festival is an annual holiday, celebrated in many places, to commemorate Desna's transformation of a child her helped her avatar into an immortal Swallowtail butterfly allowing her to explore and experience the world freely for eternity."

"Sorry to go on. As I said I am a convert to Desna and no one is worse then a convert."

Noticing the activity at the job board she thinks about her past life. Part of me wants to check the board like the others are. Swing a weapon again, solve a problem. But no, it is not why I was brought here I don't think.

Syeira listens to Ansley's explanation with a mix of the awe of a child being told a fairy tale and the fascination of one who thirsts for knowledge. Inquisitiveness crosses her face with the later comment."Such a beautiful yet tragic story. It must be amazing to be able to experience everything the world has to offer. However, to be forced to experience it as butterfly and forever be a watcher and not an actor sounds tragic.

Though, I must ask and I don't meant to be rude, simply curious, why is no one worse than a convert? Should not all followers be equal whether you came to them from birth or later in life?"

Seeing the notice as an opportunity to escape captivity and all the talk about butterflies, Runt announces, "Leave. Now."

Pointing at the board. Assuming the others are gracious and allow her to leave she approaches and reads the notice.

The coinage won't last forever. Might as well get busy and see about earning more.

"Sure all followers should be equal but the newly minted tend to go on more. I use to find that when questioning.. well never mind that. Just and observation."

Seeing Runt rise to leave and head over to the board Ansley is intrigued but cannot quite remember her name. "I hope you are not going to take a job by yourself, feel free to let me know if something is interesting and won't take to long."

Rigel's eyes widen as gold passes hands for food in the establishment, letting out a low whistle. Lots of adventuring sorts in here. Possibly at the table with him. Not Rigel, though...Rigel's dreams consisted of a plush chair behind the stage, large crowds clapping at his performance, a gaggle of lovely ladies clamoring for his attention in the evenings. Once he made his name, he'd be able to pass out gold like candy to toddlers at festival time.

The actor is happy to allow Syeira to monopolize Ansley's attention, leaving him free to not be engaged in conversation with the former lawwoman and leaving him free to ogle the dark-haired lady. As the two engage in a friendly debate over a new convert's level of faith versus a seasoned stalwart, the bard grows a bit bored and starts looking over the crowd once again.

He chuckles good-naturedly at the tiny woman's sudden departure to check out the boards, thinking that the dwarf could possibly make a bit of coin in the theater by being comic relief between scenes. She'd need a lot of smoothing, though...probably not worth the effort. As Ansley suggests she might be open to the idea of joining the 'Runt', Rigel becomes more interested. If the dwarf was here just for the Festival, and then went off to adventure, he might never see her here again, were he to stay. Fingers crossed!

Feeling quite good about the turn of events, he turns back to the tattooed woman, holding his mug up. "To Festivals and adventure!" He drains the remainder of his mug, now musing over whether to order another. His coin wouldn't last forever, but it would be awkward to just sit there with nothing to drink or eat. Decisions, decisions.

When the diminutive human gets up from the table, Syeira lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "That girl needs to relax some."

While still curious about religious initiates, Syeira knows enough not to push and turns her attention back towards the rugged actor and smiles and joins him when he toasts, "To Festivals and adventure." She follows suit and finishing off her mug. Seeing the indecision in his eyes Syeria makes the decision for him and orders two more drinks. She then says with a sly smirk, "It is a festival is it not?"

Returning a wicked grin of his own, the actor nods to Syeira. "Indeed, my lady! Although I'm not sure which day the Festival actually is, mind you, but the company itself is worthy of a drink." He winks at the young woman while the two dwarves are both engaged.

When the drinks arrive, he stands, commandeering Syeira's mug. He bows shallowly, launching into a soliloquy, "The young woman was weary after a hard day of travel, willing for nothing more than a bite of food and a drink to wash away the dust of the road." At this, he assumes a tired face, wiping his forearm across his brow. He looked at the young woman's ale longingly, as though it were the nectar of the gods.

At once, he was back into story-telling mode, "But the lovely woman was discouraged as she entered the local Inn, seeing a crowd had gathered. Unable to sit alone and enjoy her own company, she was forced to share a table with several strangers. And they were a strange lot indeed, though the young man at the table was perhaps the strangest of all." The actor sat down at his seat, turning away from the others at the table as though shunning them.

He then stood, "That is, until the charming young man told the lady 'welcome to my table, traveler. Though our group is eclectic to say the least, the ale at this exact spot is the coolest, most refreshing drink that will ever pass your beautiful lips'." At this point, Rigel slides the tankard over to the young woman, beckoning her to have a sip with an eager expression. As (if) Syeira takes a drink, she is surprised to find that the ale is almost as cool as ice, the liquid having an even sweeter taste than the last mug.

"And then?" He prompted her, smug grin on his face.

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

the kitchen of the rusty dragon is a bustle of activity, maybe even more so than the common room.

There is a knock at the kitchen door, which is promptly answered by a half Tien man in a well used apron. Standing there is half Tien woman, sporting a black eye and what may be bruised ribs by the way she holds her side.

Damn it Noro, what trouble you gotten yourself into today? he asks. as he helps her in.

Oh shut up Lou, besides, you should see the other guy. she retorts with a pained smile.

Lou, grabs the bottle of Sake from a nearby shelf, handing it to his beaten up sister.

you need to pick a new line of work.

Noro takes the bottle and takes long swig maybe at the festival. I am hoping that something will come up.

Putting the bottle down, So any new faces in the Dragon tonight? Noro asks her brother, knowing he may over stay her welcome before too long.

heading to the door into the common room Noro scans the room for new faces.

She catches a glance of some short person, her demeanor indicates she may be a wanna be tough as Noro would interpret it. she gives a muffled chuckle at her.

soon her gaze falls on a rather unsuspecting yet attractive man. she leans against the door frame watching him. wondering what he may be up to.

glancing back into the kitchen, not to worry Lou, nobody overtly making a move on you know who. she says with a smile.

As Noro is a native of Sandpoint, and has grown up with many of the people here. also in her back story, her brother Lou is a cook at the Dragon, so she sometime tries to take some liberties there, at least until Amieko says something. (usually along the lines of demanding she pay her bar debts)

perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20 ya know, just in case

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Syeira laughs at Rigel's antics "Gotta say, I'll never get bored around him."

As he finishes and hands her her glass, she takes a sip and raises an eyebrow "Interesting ... he knows some magic

A sly smile crosses her face as she reaches out and brushes her fingertips across Rigel's finger and glass simultaneously. As she does, his ale begins to take on the color of the sky on a mid summer day.

Picking up from his question, she continues with the sly smirk, "And then you realize that two can play your game."

Watching the bard and the flirting with the girl at his side. Damn, another, pretty face ruining my chances. probably couldn't handle a real fight. she thinks, wondering about their capabilities.

Noro turns back into the kitchen to grab a plate of food, Lou, this your special spicy chicken? I'll deliver it for ya. she asks as she grabs some extra "dragon fire spice" and adds a generous amount.

Noro then delivers the food to the "pretty girl" who thinks she is sooo "all that"

compliments of the house, a special Tien specialty she says as she gives the chicken dish to Syeria.

she remains standing by the table looking to see the response. with a smile on her face, that actually looks a little strained considering that Noro is still a little roughed up from a recent fight at the docks.

After her fit of conversation Ansley is content to drink a beer and watch the "kids" talk, flirt and sometimes over due it. As she sits the realization hits her that she can be a little less vigilant in the new roll.

She is particularly amused watching the interplay between Syeira and the actor. Never known an actor to be fully trustworthy but not my issue.

Seeing more food arrive she realizes she could eat and waves down someone to get her food.

When a free plate is delivered, Syeira smiles. "What a fortuitous night." Turning to Ansley she continues, "Lady Desna is the lady of luck is she not?" Syeira then pushes the plate in between herself, Rigel, and Ansley. "Please, I hate to eat alone, so share in my bounty."

Syeira then turns to the girl that brought the food. "I must thank you for this meal, and I don't wish to sound ungrateful but my curiosity is getting the better of me. Why was I selected for a complimentary meal?"

"Well that looks good, smells spicy. Never been afraid of a bit of spice, dwarven stomachs are pretty touch."

She considers the woman who brought the foot. "What is the story with the fancy meals some folks are getting? Looks interesting."

Rigel's eyes widen at the touch from the sorceress, then even further as his own drink takes on a cerulean hue. The actor is not discouraged by the turn of events. Indeed, he imagines the wider range of possibilities in store for him this evening. He shares a crooked grin with the woman, taking a sip of his suddenly-blue ale, when the powerful looking Eastern woman comes up and offers Syeira a plate of chicken. With an angry red color. Looking up at the woman, he doubted it was some sort of magic trick.

Even though the dish was offered to Syeira, Rigel was about to thank the woman when he noticed the dark patch around one of her eyes. Curious, he asks, "I'm going to assume that there's a story behind that black eye, my lady, and that it's not an abusive husband. Care to share it?"

Famished, Rigel shares a smoldering look with the sorceress before reaching down to grab a piece of the complimentary meal. He studied it for just a moment, but self control had never been the young man's strong point. Shrugging, he takes a large bite of it.

no husband at all, never met the right guy. she says as noro squeezes in next to Rigel in between him and Syeira. moving the chicken dish over toward Syeira.

nothing special, just a scuffle with ah.... a coworker at the docks. He won't be bothering me anymore. she adds.

the chicken meal will probably have a heat rating of about an 8 or 9 out of 10

Runt seems to be having issues reading the posting. The offer is not only posted at a height convenient for full sized humans, it is also surrounded by curious adventure seekers. It takes a while before Runt is able to pull up a chair or other suitable platform and get a look.

Waiting to find out what the offer is before returning to the group. RP on hold until then.

sense motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
fortitude: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Syeira shrugs her shoulders as the newcomer pushes her way. She then cuts herself a small bite of the chicken. As she eats it, her face turns a shade of crimson. A coughing fit takes over and her scorpion tattoo appears to start coming out of her skin. She immediately reaches for her mug to wash it down and quickly calms, her tattoo calming as well.

"Apologies. I'm not used to spice of the magnitude." Syeira pushes the plate back towards Rigel and Ansley. "You two can finish it"

"Oh really? I'm sure Mr. Right will be along at some point..." Rigel's brow arches as the larger woman squeezes next to him, pointedly squeezing the sorceress away.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 4

Looking at the powerful muscles on display with this...server? Employee? the bard was fairly certain the woman was not boasting. As the effects of the spiced chicken start to cause a low-burning fire in the actor's mouth, he quickly takes a sip, then a large swallow of the blue brew he now grasped.

"Ummm, quite flavorful, in fact! Definitely gonna need something more to wash that down with!" He grins around the table, his eyes sketchy when he looks at Syeira. Had anyone else noticed that scorpion moving? What in the Nine Hells was that about?

Filing that away in the 'later' category, Rigel begins to eat more of the chicken, although slowly, certainly letting Ansley eat her fill. He tries to converse his ale, though that quickly becomes a fool's game as his tongue starts to lose feeling.

A tall dark man enter into the tavern, a hat on his head. He seems to be a standard face here, as most everyone would move out of the way for him as he posted a note to the board. This note was low enough that even a halfling could read it, giving a clue to how legitimate it was.

If you are looking for some quick and easy gold, the town of Sandpoint will need increased guards during the festival, incase of drunken brawls. Some remember the 6 we had last year. This position will free up the real guard to handle other, more serious crime. Do not kill anyone, but you may break up a fight if you do not start it. It will be for a grand total of 10 gold per person. Any questions see the Sheriff.

From the way some grumbled, this wasnt the notice they were expecting, but the crowd disperses some, talking amongst themselves how much could still be had, since they do not have to answer to the sheriff, just possibly start some violence.
The man who posted the note walks over to the bar, talks with Noro's brother who looks a bit... resigned to the news, before the man walks out. Whatever was said was not the worst news, but it certainly was not good news.

After watching the bard and Syeira... flirt maybe that was. Ansley needs a little break and decides to join Runt at the board. This one may need some guidance, maybe this is why Desna wanted me here.

Reading it she sighs, Guard duty. Well at least I know the ropes of this one.

With a grin she addresses Runt "Runt, it appears this one is at our level. Shall we be guards for the festivals as well as celebrants? I have some small experience at this sort of thing."

Runt jumps a little as Ansley approaches and actually speaks to her - politely. Knowing she lacks social graces, having observed various reactions to her brusque ways, Runt makes a quick decision.

"I'm in."

Best to let her do the talking when we sign up. Who knows how the handful of coins I was able to make off with will last. I wonder how much that food will cost. And where can I stay tonight? Speaking of which...

"Will they feed us?" she asks with a worried expression.

Ansley give a grim smile to the little woman. Why do I feel I will need to keep an eye on how this one does this job. Still better with me watching her then not I guess.

"Well little one if not I certainly will, I came to town with manage resources but can manage that much at least.. I take it you have been in more then one scrap? Ever where the goal was not to kill?"

Rigel watches the dark man come in with a detached air. He's not sure who the man is or what he posted, and doesn't much care. He is silently thankful to the man, though, as the dwarven woman joins their short companion over at the boards. The actor could breathe a little easier, now.

He kept his attention on the mystery man as he talked to the young Eastern man, idly wondering what the matter was. Rigel shrugged, whatever it was the young man was sure it didn't involve him. He goes back to eating the spicy chicken, sneaking charming grins at Syeira around Noro while alternatively offering praise to the larger woman, complimenting the dish.

"Oh really? I'm sure Mr. Right will be along at some point..." Rigel's brow arches as the larger woman squeezes next to him, pointedly squeezing the sorceress away.

Maybe the right one just did. she responds. as she tries to keep interjecting herself between Syeira and Rigel.

"Well little one if not I certainly will, I came to town with manage resources but can manage that much at least... I take it you have been in more then one scrap? Ever where the goal was not to kill?"

Runt bristles a bit. "Don't call me that. Plenty of 'scraps', often over scraps." Runt seems a bit pleased with herself over the wording. "Fought with goblins for food," she adds as if that explains everything.

Ansley laugh's, more deeply then intended, at the chastising. "No offense, no offense. Due to height, not girth, I have been referred to in similar language."

As the abrupt words sink in.

"Goblins for food." She says distracted. This ones life thought short has been hard. Easy to go down a dark path and I would hate to have to put her down, Desna forgive me. "Well now stick with a dwarf and it will be orcs next most likely." she says with forced joviality.

As Runt ruminates over the words of the kindly dwarf, she reminisces about her life at the temple.

A goblin's philosophy seemed to be along the lines of 'kill all you want, we'll make more'. Death was a big joke. And the temple leadership? Well the leadership was all about survival of the fittest - or not. It didn't seem to matter much to them who lived or died, at least among the ranks of the goblins, of which Runt was considered equal to. Runt had thought that learning how to channel the power of Lamashtu would garner more respect, but the dogs and rats that she could summon brought laughter, not respect, from the half-orcs that pretended to leadership and excelled in thuggery. On the bright side, nobody cared whether a goblin went missing. The gold, armor, and weapon she made off with was another story, but they would never know what happened to them if she was careful. Then again, she doubted very much they would even recognize her, or the armor, or the falcatta, if she danced in front of the temple with them on. The temple was not all that well organized, and Runt - she was just another goblin to them.

After a long pause she replies, "I wouldn't mind bashing a few orcs."

The night was winding down now, as everyone started finishing up their meals, leaving with friends, and generally getting ready for the day of the festival that started the next day. The excitement had been high, enough so that several people grumbled as they had to leave the tavern as it started to close for the night. Everyone was settling in for the night, and anyone looking out the window would see some of the town guards walking about, making rounds. However, anyone who was not a small child would notice they were not made often enough to really prevent crime, but often enough to deter it. One could be hopefully the festivities would be safe, with posters up adverstising the events, alongside the poster offering pay for those on guard due. One would feel that the guard duty might just be a way to justify a yearly budget, but you never know.

Anything left you can finish, but it is getting late into the night

Syeria yawns and gets up from the table. She turns to Rigel and says with a smile, "It's late, I'm going to turn in. It was a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps I will see you at the festival?" She then wanders off in search of the owner of the establishment "I hope they have some rooms left... else it will be another night underneath the stars..."

As she wanders, she sees the postings looking for guards. "10 gold to guard the festival... I can use a little extra coin... but I'm not a fighter and would like to enjoy the festival... Something to sleep on I guess."

Runt has not been outside the temple much. Her job was more along th elines of janitorial duty, cleaning up after the goblins who were hired out as rat-catchers and the like. Though small, Runt could not compete with her wiry counterparts so she got the leftovers in more than one way. The dwarf - was her name Ansley? - seemed inclined to help her out and she recognized that she would need all the help she could get. Best to follow her about for a while. Coming back to the table, Runt empties her purse and shuffles her coins about looking uncertain.

"How much should I leave and who do I pay?"

Ansley smiles and nods.

"It is getting late. Do not worry about the cost of the food and drink, Desna has blessed me with the ability to pay. How about we find each other in the morning and we can see about the guard job, unless you want to enjoy the festival. I feel I can do both but I have a few years on most the folks around here."

Having seen enough character Ansley already has a soft spot for the little human and has a feeling she does not have a lot of places to go. The Ansley of old would not be so charitable but now she feels she should be.

Rigel smiles back at the sorceress, offering a slight wave of his hand. "The pleasure was mine. I surely plan on attending such an event, so I will keep a look out for you. You won't be hard to miss, I trust." The bard winked, then sipped at his beverage as he regarded the powerfully-built woman beside him.

He regarded the Eastern woman for a moment, then pointedly stated, "I don't think I have the pleasure of your name yet, friend." He hadn't missed the not so subtle indications of the woman's clumsy attempts at flirting, and with his bed being lonely yet for this evening, he entertained ideas that weren't exactly wholesome.

But it had been a long day, and between the Festival tomorrow and his meeting with Cyrdak (that the theater-owner didn't know was a thing as of yet), he needed to make sure he was well-rested. After Noro offered her name, he politely excused himself after stating that they were well met and he looked forward to seeing her at the festival. He briefly waved to Ansley and Runt before retiring to his room.

Runt had already scouted a few holes where she could lay her head for the night. Most would consider them fit only for beggars, but for Runt the prospect of sleeping somewhere, anywhere, away from her tormentors is a step up. She considers following Ansley but figures that would be pushing her luck, and Lamashtu is not like Desna, so she would have to make her own luck. Heck, Lamashtu hates Desna, and Runt considers the irony of her leaning on the dwarf for a little help. A small smile plays on her lips. Short lived, of course.

"OK. Where?"