Dot - thanks.
In for some lawful goodness.
"Dot-ho, m'lads!"
It looked worse than the rumors.
The gray, weather-beaten wood of the town walls gave the town a defeated appearance. The surrounding farming villages, and the few weary folk in them had looked much the same way, but that was expected. Redwall had once been a major stop for caravans travelling between Sal Kavun and the elves and dwarves to the north. That was common knowledge. The rumors of Redwall's decline, though, were considered to either be gross slander or greatly exaggerated. The rumors turned out to be understating things. The guards at the gate sneered at any who entered. The people in town seemed to be hunched by the weariness, the sheer bleakness that seemed to radiate from every street and alley.
Those that weren't looked like they were on the hunt. Looking for some one to rob, or kill, or worse. Most of those seemed to hang around the few taverns and inns that lined the main way that lead from the town gates to the blackened walls of the keep in the center of town. Whether by luck, design, or foreknowledge, you have arrived at a small inn called the Sleeping Leopard.
The Sleeping Leopard's main floor is dominated by the common room. At the back stands a bar and shelves that are on the verge becoming bare of liquor. The weary barkeep gives you a nod as you walk in. He calls out for one of the two young women to serve the new guest. A door to the kitchen lies to the left of the bar and a staircase sits to the right. Several stools line the bar, and a half-dozen tables are scattered throughout the room. A small fire crackles in the hearth to the left, with a sleeping snow-leopard curled up in front of it. Three dirty men in ragged clothes sit at a table on the right side of the room. They have a good view of it especially the front door, the stairs, and the leopard. They welcome anyone who enters with a hard glare, or a leer if you meet their fancy.
As you take a seat, a brown-haired serving girl walks up with a pleasant smile.
"Welcome traveler! What can I be gettin' for ye."
The tall human enters the common room of the Sleeping Leopard. He seems distant and lofty and his eyes don't seem to focus on anything in particular, but take the entire room in with a single stare.
He smiles when he focuses his eyes on the sleeping leopard. As he passes his gaze toward the three men, his eyes defocus again and he seems to look right past them as if they are beneath his gaze.
A series of deliberate steps put him at a table well away from any other patrons. With a deliberate, cultured voice, "I could use a warm meal with something cold to wash it down my lady."
Long dark hair falls over the left shoulder of the skinny woman who walks through the door. Dressed in a plain red dress, she is modestly attractive, but her confident swagger gives her an air of sensuality. A strange band of tattoos travel south from h her hairline, headlining south for parts hidden. Only her bloodshot eyes and a long smudge of ink down her arm belie her otherwise chilly demeanor. Give me something with a kick and throw in a vegetable she purrs as she orders her liquid breakfast from the bartender. She prefers to stand, leaning on the bar.
You see a tall thin man with a thick brown beard enter the tavern. You see twigs sticking out his unkept beard and hair. He appears to be either wearing the pelts of animals, or armor made of animal hides. At his hip swings a cutlass and over his shoulder are slung a bow and a huge axe.
As he walks in, he turns and stares at the dirty men. Whadda ya want. If yas want food, go and hunt and get some, lazy bums.
He then turns and walks up to the bar where he grabs a stool at the end which provides a good view of the room and protects his back.
Turning to the barkeep: Afternoon, tough crowd. 'll take a mug a ale iff'n ya could.
He then looks down at the leopard. Wow, what a beautiful beast. I bet you could jump from where you are to where those three bums in the corner are without batting an eyelash. Of course they would probably leave a rotten taste in your mouth.
Ahh, th' town at last... such as it is. Fearghus thought to himself with some dismay at the blatantly poor conditions within the walls after finally passing through the gates. Seeing the looks the guards gave him and other passersby, it was all he could do to hide his contempt for such obvious scoundrels. What wretches be these who call themselves "guards"? Ye could trust a fox t' better guard th' hen-house!
Making his way through the town, Fearghus kept an eye out for an inn that seemed promising enough to live through the night in. Catching sight of one inn with the sign of a leopard that did indeed seem in better repair than most of the others, he made his way across the muck-filled street and entered.
"Good evenin', friends!" proclaimed Fearghus. The three scruffy-looking men off to the side glared at his boisterous greeting, but he ignored them in favor of the approaching serving girl. An' 'ere's a thing as is a sight for sore eyes, someone w' a smile!
"Aye, an' welcome it is, lass! If'n I can, a tankard a' ale 'd be mighty fine for now," he replied to her greeting. "An' a bowl a' stew after I slake me thirst!"
Looking around the rest of the common room, one man off to one side away from anyone else caught his eye. More particularly, the man's clerical vestments of the Inheritor. An' 'ere's one as looks far from home, I reckon. Leastaways, 'e's bound t' be more friendly than th' rest 'a this lot! Walking over to the man's table, he offers a large hand in greeting.
"Name's Fearghus," he said. More quietly, "If'n y' don' min' me askin', y' don' seem to be from roun' these parts - certainly not if them three yonder 're anythin' t' judge by." A quick nod in the direction of the three opposite them indicated who he was referring to.
At this time a oddball enters the room. A cheery and rarther happy-looking Gnome with short and immaculate blond hair, followed by a figure in robes with only her bare feet and hands being revealed. Krolmnite notices the thugish looking people in the corner giving him the eye, but never one for fighting he ignores it, going to a table.
He is quite the attractive and well-spoken gnome for his race wearing fine noble clothing and a gemed stud in one ear. He also appears to have a rune imprinted upon his forehead, strangely shaped somewhat like a kiss, though the lines are more complex and runic.
The mark on the forehead appears to be that of what a summoner gains when he is able to summon his Eidolon, a creature from another plane unique and bound to the summoner.
He appears to be overly dressed with his noble clothing, a signet ring and a stud in his left ear with a gem of somekind in it. He also had a backpack on him as does his conspicous looking traveller. When asked about beer Krol stares off not sure what to choose and not controlling where his eyes wonder on the serving girl. It's quite obvious he's never been in the outside world before.
"A...err..." he takes a glance around the room before focusing on the woman in the red dress "Whatever she's having. Err...two please."
The feminine figure following Krol looks around the room and at the three men she leers before taking her seat next to Krol, her back facing the wall and her eyes on him and everyone else in the tavern. The parts of her body revealed, feet and hands show that she has pale but beautiful skin though her nails appear to be slightly long and razor sharp. She takes a sniff in the air.
"I do not like the smell here. I think that cat has marked it's territory." she states flatly and after Krol's awkward exchange she then also focuses on the groun with curiosity. Her eyes being able to penetrait the darkness to notice anyone lurking in the shadows. "Mast-I mean Krol. Are you sure we should be here? There must be better towns with more welcoming people." at this she leers back at the thugs.
You notice something appears to be moving under her robe behind her like some kind of long appendage. Now that she's sitting down it's quite obvious.
As you are able to see under the darkness that obscures her face you see a average looking woman with long black hair and eyes that seem to sparkle like gems. You notice that her features, though humanoid are slightly off but you can't quite place where. She also has a rune on her forehead same as Krol.
The feminine figure following Krol looks around the room and at the three men she leers before taking her seat next to Krol, her back facing the wall and her eyes on him and everyone else in the tavern. She takes a sniff in the air.
"I do not like the smell here. I think that cat has marked it's territory." she states flatly and after Krol's awkward exchange she then also focuses on the groun with curiosity. Her eyes being able to penetrait the darkness to notice anyone lurking in the shadows. "Mast-I mean Krol. Are you sure we should be here? There must be better towns with more welcoming people." at this she leers back at the thugs.** spoiler omitted **
"Fret not. We cause them no trouble and they won't cause us any." he explains as he decides to give a smile and a wink over to the woman in red.
Luther takes Ferghus hand and shakes it warmly.
"No, I'm not from around here. It appears this town has seen better times. The name is Luther, and I am a cleric of Iomedae. Looks like this town needs some old school justice."
He gets a thoughtful look, "A divine hand has guided me here. I get the feeling I am supposed to do something here, what it is, I am sure will be apparent in time. Have a seat--I ordered a hot meal and something to drink, join me and we can partake in the local color together."
Later as more guests arrive, "Curiouser and curiouser." Speaking to the bearded man at the end of the bar "How is the hunting?"
I think that is the polite thing to say to a man with a bow.
"Divine hand, eh? Maybe somethin' to do wi' the King's Bounty bein' offered for criminals an' th' like - an' even better for th' filthy orcs 'n goblins," replied Fearghus, a peculiar light momentarily flashing in his eyes at the mention of greenskins. "Ach, an' glad I am for your offer t' share a meal. I'm one as follows th' Path a' 'rastil, myself - though i' might be said we've our own ways a' heedin' th' Call" he grinned, and shrugged his shoulders to make plain the veritable armory strapped to himself.
"Would'ja look a' that: a gnome! Rare t' see one a' them 'round these parts," exclaimed Fearghus, looking around the taproom at other newly-arrived guests. "An' who's that with 'im? Seems right odd t' be walkin' 'round all covered up."
Why, look a' that! Somethin's as is movin' under 'er robes!
Knowledge(untrained)
Perception:
Durnak calmly watches as more patrons wander in.
Two holy men of good gods, a strange woman who seems to like her brew a little too much, and I do not even know what to make out about the little person and his companion. Wonder if I should tell him that she seems to have something growing where no woman should have something growing.
Suddenly realizing that the priest of Iomedae had spoken to him. He turns toward the man and scans him up and down as though expecting the devil to jump out. After finishing his evaluation:
Sorry, hunt'n 's good. These mis'rable city folk don't know squat 'bout hunting'. So, the woods always has plenny iffn ya know where t' look. After pausing for a second, he continues: So, what brings a priest a da Inheritor ta this backwat'r cesspool 'f civ'lazation.
The serving girl is pretty quickly overwhelmed by all the newcomers. She disappears into the kitchen a second time and returns with a bowl of steaming stew for Fearghus. Behind her is another young serving girl. She goes behind the bar and helps the large barkeep keep up with the orders for drinks.
After she sets the bowl on the table in front of Fearghus, she asks, {b]"Is there anythin' I can get fer ye two?"[/b]
Durnak takes a deep breath of the smell of the stew.
Much 's I hates cities. That thar stew smells mighty fine. 'll take a bowl, iffn ya gots 'nother.
Durnak takes a deep breath of the smell of the stew.
Much 's I hates cities. That thar stew smells mighty fine. 'll take a bowl, iffn ya gots 'nother.
The second gives Durnak a nod of the head and goes back into the kitchen. She returns with a bowl of stew with smells of venison, hearty vegetables, and several different spices wafting off of it. Definitely smells like it's better than the ale.
"Is there anything else I can get ye? Don't worry there's at least half a pot in there."
She gives the ranger a warm smile.
There is something not quite human about this girl, but you can't put your finger on it.
As a matter of fact, there is something very familiar about her. Though you can't tell if it's her hair or her eyes. It could even be here skin. It also seems like your holy symbol is humming very softly whenever she walks by.
I would have taken a seat at D4. Since I have been talking with the other two, I assume they are at the table next to me, probably E4/F5. Not sure where the gnome and monk decided to sit. I would think that the monk is 2-3 stools from me at the bar and the gnome is at another table since he did not join anyone, probably C11/D10 so that they can also keep an eye on the trouble in the corner. This is how I would assume we are set up since we do not know each other yet and in this town everyone would know to watch their backs.
Perception:
Durnak watches carefully as the serving girl walks away. Definitely something strange about that girl. I don't think that she is all human.
Knowledge(nature):
Huh, somethin's diff'ren' 'bout 'er... ahh, well, me appetite's roused somethin' fierce!
"Nay, lass, th' stew'll be all for now," smiled Fearghus in thanks to the girl before digging in.
Krol's perception:
Ava's perception:
Ava leans over to Krol to whisper something.
"Krol, she is not human. Perhaps she can aid you in your search for adventure and my mother?"
Krol then turns to the serving girl and then clicks his fingers for attention. If she comes close he'll lean towards her.
"May I ask, where do you come from dear?" he remains calm as he asks this question as if it were mild curiosity.
Valyana walks over. She looks a little puzzled at being asked where she's from.
"I've been in Redwall for a few years, but I used to live in a small village several miles from here."
She's not telling the entire truth.
"Blessed Elk, th' stew's delicious!" muttered Fearghus to himself, unaware of Krol and Valyana's conversation, before taking another heaping spoonful of stew.
Krol:
Ava:
"I see. I was just curious where such a beautiful woman such as yourself would come from as I do not see how you could end up in such surroundings." he gives a warm smile hoping to convince her with his charm.
Krol's Bluff:
Sense Motive:
"Nice to have some excellent food my lady."
"Aye, friend - I noticed she seemed odd. Now tha' I think on it, she's th' look o' a..."
"She's a' aasimar."
"'S'cuse me, lass," interrupted Fearghus, "bu' i' seem t' me tha' mebbe my friend Luther 'ere as could use a bowl 'a stew. 'An fer tha' matter, I could use 'nuther bowl - and mebbe an extra for our other friend, th' 'unter 'ere, as well. If'n ya'd like, mebbe I could give ya a han wi' fetchin' so many meals at once?" Without waiting for an answer, he set off towards the kitchen.
When in alone in the kitchen with Valyana, Fearghus turned to her and smiled warmly. "Ne'er ye min' th' gnome, lass: 'm sure 'e mean' no 'arm. A'course, I recognize'd ye for a touch a' angel blood - but we all got our secre's t' keep and i's me oath on i' no one'll hear a word a' such from me! Aye, an' Luther, too, ne'er ye worry!"
Smiling reassuringly at the girl, Fearghus turned back to the kitchen. "Na', where'd ye say th' stew is? 'm sure th' inkeep'll be right hoppin' fierce if'n ye don' get it out t' them as wants it!"
Durnak gets up from his stool and carries his bowl over to the two holy men. What brings holy knights such 's yerselves ta dis accursed town? Nuthen here but pov'rty, pain and suf'rin.
Perception
The door opens and a robed figure steps in, the hood pulled up and partially obscuring the face within. The figure looks around at the availible tables before heading over the nearest . As the figure puts a hand on a chair to pull it out, a ripple travels from under that sleeve and reveals a red and brown weasel that chitters as it jumps from the chair to the table.
"Peace little one, we are stopping here to eat." the woman says, pushing her hood back to reveal a human woman with black hair and golden eyes. A red gem had been afixed at the very center of her forehead surrounded by a pale blue tattoo that flowed down around her eyes to stop on her cheeks.
She looks up as the serving girl approaches her. "Just some juice and stew if you have it. Oh, and a small plate of meats please."
Look at the spoiler next to How to format your text below.
Luther gestures for Durnak to sit.
"I have had somewhat of a feeling that I should be here at this particular time and place. When I wander without much apparent thought, a divine hand sometimes seems to guide me to places where my actions and intervention seem appropriate."
Luther breaks into a smile,
"Either this is one of those times, or a pleasant sightseeing trip to Redwall. The company here seem to say it is not a 'false alarm'"
I actually hope it is time for some action.
No divine han' guided me. I'm here 'cause I need ta resupply. Six months in da woods 'n yer blades get dull. I hate the city, but hot food from a good cook is someth'n I miss. Only so many ways ta cook a r'bit.
Fearghus emerges from the kitchen bearing multiple bowls of stew, and set them down at the table with Luther and hunter.
"Aye, 'n 'ere we go, friends - fresh 'n hot off th' fire!" he trumpeted before turning to address the gnome and his robed companion. "Y'r pardon, sir, but mayhap ye 'n y'r friend 'ere 'd like to join us in fell'a'ship o'er dinner? Seems as is we's all birds 'o diff'ren' feathers, mayhaps as makes us birds 'o a flock t'dine t'gether, if'n ye know what I'm sayin'."
"Aye, 'n, ye too, lass," said Fearghus to the young woman leaning on the bar. "Y'r more'n' welcome t' join us as well, if'n y'd like, w' no leg t'show first!"
Seeing yet another traveler enter the inn, Fearghus gestures in welcome to the attractive, black-haired woman . "'Ere, now, lass: me friends 'n me've plenty a' space - aye, 'n compan'nship to boot in a town such as this - o'er 'ere." With an eye to the ragged fellows in the corner, he continued, "'N to speak me mind fully, is as them three in the corner as don' look trustw'rthy 'n I'd feel right safer were ye to join us." Thumping Luther on the shoulder, "Aye, 'n Luther 'ere's a right cleric o' th'In'eritor 'erself!"
Fearghus emerges from the kitchen bearing multiple bowls of stew, and set them down at the table with Luther and hunter.
"Aye, 'n 'ere we go, friends - fresh 'n hot off th' fire!" he trumpeted before turning to address the gnome and his robed companion. "Y'r pardon, sir, but mayhap ye 'n y'r friend 'ere 'd like to join us in fell'a'ship o'er dinner? Seems as is we's all birds 'o diff'ren' feathers, mayhaps as makes us birds 'o a flock t'dine t'gether, if'n ye know what I'm sayin'."
Krol seems to take his time listening to everything that Fearghus says, trying to decipher what he says as if it's some kind of forign language.
"I see...yes I believe that would be a good idea. What do you think Ava?" he asks, his strange companion leering at the many then looking back to Krol before sighing and nodding her head as if knowing she'd lose in the argument with a child. "It's settled. My name is Krolmnite Underhill, but please call me Krol. This is my companion, Ava."bluff:
You notice that he very mildly stammered when calling her his companion and that there is more to the relationship between them besides as a mere companion.
Sense Motive:
Durnik gives the "companion" a strange look, still wondering what she is hiding under that robe.
Well met master Krol and miss Ava. I'm Durnik. Hun'r and wander'r, currently stuck in this cesspool of a city wannabe. Welcome, grab a seat 'n enjoy.
Sense Motive: 1d20+2
Durnik gives the "companion" a strange look, still wondering what she is hiding under that robe.
Well met master Krol and miss Ava. I'm Durnik. Hun'r and wander'r, currently stuck in this cesspool of a city wannabe. Welcome, grab a seat 'n enjoy.
"I shall. Thank you, good sir." Krol says politely, taking a seat with Durnik and co with Ava following behind, shifting her hood slightly to keep herself obscured in darkness.