Betony takes her bag and shakes it, liking the noise it makes. Looking inside it, she is surprised to see all the shiny metal bits. She holds open the bag and allows THistledown to stick his head in and give it a sniff.
"See those shiny ones, they are worth more than the dull dirty ones. I bet I can polish these up and they will be worth even more."
At the mention of food, she is eager to tag along.
|Skäne “Countless” Ingvârssonn|
Skane listens to Bjorn, then answers measuring his words;
"Já okkar fey félagsskapur vilja koma. Við öxl allur finna a arinn til hlýja við , með öl og fæða aplenty. Þá einu sinni þú hafa þinn örlög selveiðimaður í sígauni spilahrappur við geta gera skyndiárás áfram og próf Deeptown's baráttuhugur?"
Turning to the lean ranger Skane nods and beckons he lead the way.
As the group begin to drift out of the compound he bellows to no-one and everyone; "ANYONE among us know where we might find a welcoming hearth, strong ale and good food in this place?"
DM: How out of place do members of the group look? Are there clear mixes of cultures and races here in Deeptown?? Or is it too early to tell???
Já okkar fey félagsskapur vilja koma. Við öxl allur finna a arinn til hlýja við , með öl og fæða aplenty. Þá einu sinni þú hafa þinn örlög selveiðimaður í sígauni spilahrappur við geta gera skyndiárás áfram og próf Deeptown's baráttuhugur? = Aye our fey comrades will come. We should all find a hearth to warm by, with ale and food aplenty. Then once you have your fate sealed in gypsy cards we can sally forth and test Deeptown's mettle?
Já okkar fey félagsskapur vilja koma. Við öxl allur finna a arinn til hlýja við , með öl og fæða aplenty. Þá einu sinni þú hafa þinn örlög selveiðimaður í sígauni spilahrappur við geta gera skyndiárás áfram og próf Deeptown's baráttuhugur? = Yes our fey society wish come. Accustom öxl total find a fireplace to warm accustom , with malt and give birth to aplenty. Then one time you á brjósti thy exhausted sealer into gypsy cardsharp accustom be able to do swoop forward and test Deeptown's fighting spirit? half truths and inferences abound here!
Dieredon will look for one of the best dressed locals while moving slowly into town. He leans down from Riman and says,
Would you by any chance be able to direct us to one of your finer inns in town?
I had posted a Knowledge: local, earlier hoping to get a little more information on Deeptown. Waiting patiently for DM's reply.
As the group moves out from the Caravansary, Rianna begins asking around about different establishments. Taverns and Inns from cheap to luxurious, even asking discretely about brothels and gaming houses when appropriate. Maybe she can find a place for a group like ours.
Diplomacy (gather info): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
"You know, I usually don't have such a hard time finding a place to eat." Rianna smiles broadly at Dieredon. "But we should probably find something soon, by the sound of his stomach, Bjorn is going to start eating your horse if we don't."
There are also rumors of criminal masterminds playing their part in influencing Deeptown, in which your knowledge is limited.
As a part to attract more visitors to Deeptown, the trade council allows various temples and cults to be set up in Deeptown regardless of alignment. The larger visible and popular temples include those dedicated to Abadar, Desna and some are less obvious, including temples that are banned on other parts of Golarion. The difference of opinion between rival churches often flare up once in a while but are kept in check by the town's rulers.
Emerging out from the caravansary, you make out various mixes of cultures mingling in the bazaar-like courtyard. Your arrival adds flavor to the scene in addition attracting the attention of well organized touts who converge to your location, advertising services, and holding up sketches of local maps. Rianna's apparently interested demeanor earns enthusiastic replies. However most advise her to enjoy the ongoing festival held near the waterfront with a sly wink.
The touts make sure that these inns are worth considering: The Withered Oak, situated with a grand old oak tree near its entrance, frequented mostly by hired hands from the caravansary due to its proximity. The Sun and Stars, placed near the temple district, gets its name from the floating continual flames that acts as lighting at night. The Black Stag, its namesake referred to an trophy of a 12 point black stag head mounted on its walls. Its vicinity to the trade district reflects on its upscale rate and quality.
Wesh asks Rianna "What did you find?" Wesh thinks about hearing about the sun and the stars and says "I doubt a magical spell can really have the true effect of the sun and the stars seems more like a way to make money. The withered oak will have other travelers that have the true tales of travelers."
At Rianna's description of the various inns, Bjorn remarks, 'Eik og hjörtur ert báðir góður fyrirboði.'
Eik og hjörtur ert báðir góður fyrirboði = The oak and the stag are both good omens
Are you getting bad characters when you reverse translate from Icelandic to English?
Eik og hjörtur ert báðir góður fyrirboði = Oak and deer art either good fortune
Rianna thanks a gentleman for his help and turns to the group. "From what I can gather, money is king here. If the sale of it means prosperity and wealth, you can find it. As far as the Inn's go, my best bet for information would be the Withered Oak. Hired hands always loosen their tongues with a little alcohol."
@DM: How much time do we have before nightfall? I would like to ply my trade if there is time. I would also like to look for a Masterwork Fortune Tellers Deck to purchase.
The Withered Oak sounds fine to me as well. We may even be able to find work there. I am also interested in this festival near the waterfront.
|Skäne “Countless” Ingvârssonn|
Skane muses on the words of both Rianna and his fellow Northman...
"Já bróðir eik er góð kaup fyrirboði a sterkur viður með sterkur skap innan. A visna eik mega hafa glataður this gæði og við öxl tendrast á ný þess styrkur með okkar eiga heill söngmaður og verk."
...as he pushes belligerently past touts, not savouring their attentions and glowers down at any man stupid enough to meet his gaze.
"The only time I feel at home in crowds is standing with my brothers in the shield wall...and the crushing embrace of the boar's snout as it smashes..." he grumbles to anyone in earshot.
Já bróðir eik er góð kaup fyrirboði a sterkur viður með sterkur skap innan. A visna eik mega hafa glataður this gæði og við öxl tendrast á ný þess styrkur með okkar eiga heill söngmaður og verk.=Aye brother oak is a good omen - a strong wood with strong spirits within. A withered oak may have lost this quality and we should rekindle its strength with our own hale songs and deeds.
Yeah I do get bad characters... just drop them and fill in the gaps I guess?
Já bróðir eik er góð kaup fyrirboði a sterkur viður með sterkur skap innan. A visna eik mega hafa glataður this gæði og við öxl tendrast á ný þess styrkur með okkar eiga heill söngmaður og verk. = Yes brother oak is góð kaup trade prognostication a strong close-grained with strong temper within. A wither oak be allowed á brjósti no-win this sophistication and accustom öxl tendrast á ný river neo- þess vegna vigorous with our own whole songster and work.
As the group collectively moves towards the general direction of the Withered Oak, the touts relent. Soon their attention focuses towards another posse of new arrivals emerging from the caravansary's entrance.
The Withered Oak is easily found due to the grand presence of a huge oak tree right in front of its main doors. The presence of now empty worn stools seem to indicate its location as a favored place for locals to while away their time. A few water troughs and a tethering bar could also be seen placed nearby to take advantage of the tree's shade.
As you breach the interior of the building, the continuous background chatter of its current patrons seem to halt for an instance before resuming on.
A horseshoe shaped bar sits in the center surrounded by 11 well used stools. Placed in the corners of the room are two circle tables for four with 3 long tables for six straddle between the two. A common room opens at the far right, the brazier in the center, currently unlit.
You spot a pair of barmaids, looking harried as they rush to fulfill demands, while the bartender, a medium aged human seems preoccupied in listening to an energetic Halfling who seems to be telling a story.
The early afternoon crowd is minimal, most currently enjoying lunch or steadily sipping drinks.
GM: Assuming the Withered Oak has a stable for mounts...Dieredon will secure Riman with feed and grooming, if available. If not, I will seek out such a stable before meeting the party at the Inn. Cost please to board Riman?
Dieredon scans the room. he leans in towards Rianna.
We should secure one of the long tables for six, if possible. If not, maybe you could inquire as to the possibility of a private room, if they have any?
"MISS, MISS! Can we have one of the long tables?" Assuming we are allowed to sit at one of the long tables... "Well, we found the Withered Oak. And it's just past noon. After a light lunch, how about we agree to come back here at sunset and eat a meal and share drinks together? I've got a few things I'm looking for, and need to spend some time in the markets. Of course, anyone is welcome to come along."
Bjorn stops to look at the great oak standing sentinel before it's inn. He nods in acknowledgement of nature's dominion even in the heart of civilization before moving to the door. Upon entering, he balefully glares at the weak southerners slouched on their stools and benches. Heedless of the niceties of polite society, Bjorn moves past the alfur and gypsy to occupy a long board. Scythe in one hand, he grabs the table with his other hand and pushes it towards a wall, oh so subtly rearranging the occupants of other tables between him and said wall. Diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (8) - 2 = 6 Oooh! He is being nice today
Sitting on one of the benches with his back to the wall, he slams down his money purse on the board and, giving his best smile (read: least snarly growl), loudly calls out, 'Food! Mead!'
Regarding Rianna and her words, Bjorn replies, 'Hvaða? Leyfi? Við réttlátur koma hér og ÉG er of hungraður til fara frekari. Hvernig þessi matreiða hugsun ÉG lifa af á vistir og grípa fyrir bless var móðgun. Láta okkur borða, drykkur og syngja af vinátta, stríð og dauði af okkar óverðugur stólpípa. Þá seinna, rétt fyrir við ert of drukkinn til spjara sig til a rúm, við mega hætta störfum. Fyrir á meðan okkar sigur mega vera upplitaður frá minn húð, það enn kápa minn loðfeldur og við mega halda hátíðlegan á þá.'
Hvaða? Leyfi? Við réttlátur koma hér og ÉG er of hungraður til fara frekari. Hvernig þessi matreiða hugsun ÉG lifa af á vistir og grípa fyrir bless var móðgun. Láta okkur borða, drykkur og syngja af vinátta, stríð og dauði af okkar óverðugur stólpípa. Þá seinna, rétt fyrir við ert of drukkinn til spjara sig til a rúm, við mega hætta störfum. Fyrir á meðan okkar sigur mega vera upplitaður frá minn húð, það enn kápa minn loðfeldur og við mega halda hátíðlegan á þá = What? Leave? We just arrived here and I am too hungry to go further. How that cook thought I could survive on grubs and grass for so long was insulting. Let us eat, drink and sing of friendship, war and the death of our unworthy enemies. Then later, just before we are too drunk to make it to a bed, we may retire. For while our victory may be washed from my skin, it still covers my fur and we may celebrate on them.
Hvaða? Leyfi? Við réttlátur koma hér og ÉG er of hungraður til fara frekari. Hvernig þessi matreiða hugsun ÉG lifa af á vistir og grípa fyrir bless var móðgun. Láta okkur borða, drykkur og syngja af vinátta, stríð og dauði af okkar óverðugur stólpípa. Þá seinna, rétt fyrir við ert of drukkinn til spjara sig til a rúm, við mega hætta störfum. Fyrir á meðan okkar sigur mega vera upplitaður frá minn húð, það enn kápa minn loðfeldur og við mega halda hátíðlegan á þá = licence Accustom righteous come here and I is too hungry to go further. How prepare thought I come through river victuals and catch pay lip service to ta-ta var offence. Put us eat, potion and sing with friendship, war and death with our unworthy enema. Then later, just before accustom art too sloshed to spjara sig swagger to a bed, accustom be allowed retire. Pay lip service to meanwhile our win be allowed be washed out of my skin, there yet coat my fur and accustom be allowed think hátíðlegan river then
|Skäne “Countless” Ingvârssonn|
Skane follows his shield brother but happily sits at the table with his back to the other patrons;
"Hvers vegna staður þinn bak til a veggur bróðir? Við ert öruggur hér við hafa okkar sígauni og prestur til vernda þú har har har!! Að auki allir bjáni hver hrollur á bak við mig munu finna bragð af minn öxi!"
Then setting his notched axe close by his leg like a loyal dog, the scarred Northman stoically waits to be served.
Hvers vegna staður þinn bak til a veggur bróðir? Við ert öruggur hér við hafa okkar sígauni og prestur til vernda þú har har har!! Að auki allir bjáni hver hrollur á bak við mig munu finna bragð af minn öxi! = Why place your back to a wall brother? We are safe here - we have our gypsy and priest to protect you har-har-har!! Besides any fool who creeps behind me shall taste my axe!
Hvers vegna staður þinn bak til a veggur bróðir? Við ert öruggur hér við hafa okkar sígauni og prestur til vernda þú har har har!! Að auki allir bjáni hver hrollur á bak við mig munu finna bragð af minn öxi! = Why stead thy back to a wall brother? Accustom art sure here accustom á breast our gypsy and priest to secure you har har har!! Besides everyone fool who shiver behind myself shall taste my axe!
'Þessir sunnanmaður hafa útlit af huglaus hundur. Í a pakki á þinn bak, þeir ert stríðsmaður, en andlit þá og þeir brot þeirra spunaflug á milli þeirra fótur og neita til hitta þinn auga.'
Þessir sunnanmaður hafa útlit af huglaus hundur. Í a pakki á þinn bak, þeir ert stríðsmaður, en andlit þá og þeir brot þeirra spunaflug á milli þeirra fótur og neita til hitta þinn auga = These southerners have the look of craven dogs. In a pack at your back, they are brave, but face them and they tuck their tails between their legs and refuse to meet your eye.
Þessir sunnanmaður hafa útlit af huglaus hundur. Í a pakki á þinn bak, þeir ert stríðsmaður, en andlit þá og þeir brot þeirra spunaflug á milli þeirra fótur og neita til hitta þinn auga = Southerner á brjósti semblance with white-livered doggy. INTO a parcel river thy back , they art warrior , while face then and they fracture them tailspin in between them tootsie and refuse to meet thy eye
Dieredon, upon seeing the actions of Bjorn and Countless, he walks slowly to the table with a smile, making eye contact with any patrons looking at the spectacle. He places a hand on each of the Northmen's shoulders and puts his head between them leaning over the table to quietly say.
As weak as these locals may appear, we need to tread a little more lightly if we plan to loosen their purses with a new job. They may have killing that needs to be done, and we want to be the ones they hire, no? Let's have some fun, but don't wreck the place. I would not want to have to pay for repairs out the of gold we have yet to make here.
He stands and turns to the barmaid.
Please accept my apologies for our gruff mannner. We have spent many days on the road without the benefits of such a fine establishment. A round for our table and please keep them coming.
Dieredon walks to a position opposite Countless and next to Bjorn. He slides Bjorn's purse back to him, and smiles.
First round is on me Bjorn.
Rianna rolls her eyes and shakes her head as the two northman push their way past her and Dieredon. Watching the spectacle before her, Rianna can easily imagine what a life with these northman would be like. "Porcine nerafinat." She says in a low huff.
Rianna follows Dieredon to the table and sits opposite Bjorn and Dieredon, lightly settling down next to Skane. "I will share one drink, but then I must go. There are things I have been desiring to purchase since I left home, and now have the gold to get them."
Rianna looks back over her shoulder, "Betony, care to join us for a drink? I would greatly appreciate it if you would accompany me on my search through the markets. After a drink of course."
Turning back to Bjorn, with a stern look on her face and fire in her eyes, "Stundum þú hegðar þér meira eins mule en hugrakkur stríðsmaður sem þú segist vera. Ég mun vera harður þrýsta á að fá upplýsingar frá þessu fólki núna."
"I would LOVE to go to the markets."
She stays on Thistledown until they reach the table. Her elevated position allows her to get a good look at the food on each person's plate or bowl. Her and Thistledown pause at each occupied table eying the array of foods, but reluctantly continue as the group winds its way deeper into the Tavern. When the group settles around the empty table Betony is confused. "Guys! don't sit here. This table is broken, all the food is at those other tables."
Bjorn smiles at Rianna. 'Þú vilja mig til spyrja?'
At Betony's words, Bjorn looks down at the table frowning. Placing his hands palm down on the long board, he concentrates, muttering a phrase. The planks look less worn and the splits have lessened or disappeared entirely. (Mending) Looking back to the gnome, he tells her, 'Er fastur.'
So saying, he grabs up the gnome and gently sets her on the bench next to him. Returning Thistledown's snarling growl with one of his own, he speaks to the wolf, 'Góður hvolpur.'
He reaches out and pats the wolf on it's head, heedless of the snapping jaws trying to bite off his hand. 'Ruf! Ruf! HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!'
Þú vilja mig til spyrja? = You want me to ask?
Er fastur = Is fixed
Góður hvolpur = Good puppy
Countless, can you be sure to communicate to Bjorn the importance of treading lightly so that Rianna can work her silvered tongue to our benefit amongst the locals?
|Skäne “Countless” Ingvârssonn|
Skane smiles grimly at Rianna's advice
"Surely bartering is always better over horns of mead and with two warriors at your back... best price guarenteed!"
Seeing the interplay between Bethony, Bjorn and Thistledown he merely shakes his head; "Barn á leika. báðir loðskinnasali og fey!
Upon Dieredon's request he again nods and stonely addresses his oar-brother:
Okkar ráðleggja þessi þú rólegur dúnn og leyfa okkar sígauni stúlka til nota hana silfur tunga á heimamaður!" he then cracks into a rasping laugh and bangs the table hard with his fist "Har-har-har!"
Regaining his composure he assures Dieredon the message has been passed on with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
Barn á leika. báðir loðskinnasali og fey! = Children at play... both furred and fey!
Okkar ráðleggja þessi þú rólegur dúnn og leyfa okkar sígauni stúlka til nota hana silfur tunga á heimamaður. har-har-har! = Our elf advises that you quiet down and allow our gypsy girl to use her silvered tongue on locals....har-har-har!
Barn á leika. báðir loðskinnasali og fey! = Barn river play. both furrier and fey!
Okkar ráðleggja þessi þú rólegur dúnn og leyfa okkar sígauni stúlka til nota hana silfur tunga á heimamaður. har-har-har! = Our elf recommend you calm fuzz and permit our gypsy difficulties to use her silverware tongue river native. har-har-har!
The innkeeper looks up, searching for the source of the impromptu furniture rearrangement. Growls for food and mead spur him into action after the chink of the heavily laden purse lands on the table.
He approaches the table, noting the well trained wolf and her rider. His middle aged face smiles at the group in hospitality, nodding as he begins to talk.
Greetings, welcome to the Withered Oak, the owner, Mallus Bruwer at your service. I'm sure we could make your stay all the more pleasant after sampling our home brewed mead and our fine cuisine. He waves his hand and soon the barmaids bring in trays with mounds of roasted quartered fowl and a gravy bowl of onion sauce dip. A bowl of whipped potato follows, with a knob of butter completing the table soon after the apple pie is set down. Another clap brings in pitchers of fermented honey drink and wooden mugs around.
All for the inclusive price of 4 golds per head, you could rest upstairs in our coupled two bed rooms. We do provide services for your mounts, if needed, which would be an additional 5 silvers per beast. He adds, stroking his chin. After seeing his newest guests settling in, he returns back to his post at the bar.
The pronounced entry of the groups sets the other patrons talking, with occasional covered glances.
'Aye, that's the group which took down Smart Aleck Kurt' ; 'Surely Modus or Lucien would like to know more 'bout them.' ; 'Stop staring about, you'd don't wanta bring that hairy Northerner over, wouldja?'
Dieredon addresses Mallus Brewer.
Thank you for your hospitality, good sir.
He hands him 5 gold.
This is for the room and stabling. I have already settled my mount in your stables. The extra is in consideration for the furniture rearrangement by my Northern friend here.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
He leans in and speaks in a hushed tone to the party after Mallus departs.
Apparently from what my fine Elven hearing picks up, we are already known to many in this establishment as the group who took down Smart Aleck Kurt, and our friend Lucien and someone named Modus would have a great interest in our comings and goings. Rianna, we need to investigate these two names further. There may be work in it for us.
|Skäne “Countless” Ingvârssonn|
Skane piles a little of everything onto his plate, but pays particular attention to the mead, foregoing a mug and drinking a pitcher to himself.
He raises the pitcher and toasts "Skál systkin!" to all and sundry and drinks heartily, mead soaking his beard.
Upon hearing Dieredon's words, his scarred eyebrows furrow and he bellows to the inn, brandishing a pitcher of mead as if it were his axe!
"Monthani Kurt var ekki svo sviði nei? Og ef Skýr eða Mát- vilja okkur til drykkur frá þeirra höfuðkúpa þá láta þá koma! LÁTA ÞÁ Koma!!!"
Skál systkin = Cheers brothers and sisters
Monthani Kurt var ekki svo sviði nei? Og ef Lucian eða Modus vilja okkur til drykkur frá þeirra höfuðkúpa þá láta þá koma! LÁTA ÞÁ Koma!!! = Smart Aleck Kurt was not so smart nei? And if Lucien or Modus wish us to drink from their skulls then let them come! LET THEM COME!!!
Skál systkin = Cheers brothers and sisters
Monthani Kurt var ekki svo sviði nei? Og ef Lucian eða Modus vilja okkur til drykkur frá þeirra höfuðkúpa þá láta þá koma! LÁTA ÞÁ Koma!!! = Braggart Well-mannered var not thus smart nah? And maybe Lucian or Modus wish us to potion of them skull then put then come! PUT THEN Come!!!
Temptation to great, Thistledown slowly moves his head closer to the table, all the while, watching the others at the table. In a flash he has a quartered fowl and settles under the table, crunching happily.
Betony pulls the apple pie closer and grabs a fistful, which she quickly moves to her mouth. As her eyes expand in delight, she exclaims around the fist still in her mouth, "Thff iff gouuff."
The antics of the adventurers celebrating a successful outing causes some heads to turn, but most other patrons are seemingly used to such displays.
In the midst of it all, an dark robed figure with a red sash with a inlaid symbol enters the premises, pulls down her hood and raises her hand in greeting at Mallus. She proceed to head towards the inn's noticeboard and puts up a large canvas notice before raising her hood back up again, casually tossing a coin at Mallus who catches it without missing a beat. A few patrons get up, starts reading the notice, murmurs in assent before collecting their gear and leaving.
a) The Sect of Sixty is offering a temporary post as law-keeper for the on-going Festival of Plenty, if interested, please hustle up to the organizer's tent located at the festival grounds.
b) Madame Nibong, famed fortune teller and diviner will be visiting during the festival and will opening up a booth for all your future telling needs. Take advantage in knowing something that may change your life!
Wesh turns and looks at the individaul that seems a little out of place wondering if there was actually something more disruptive tahn his party to see what happens. Tries to see if he recognizes the holy symbol or anything and then looks back.
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
Dieredon takes in the figure posting the notice, then rises and quickly crosses the room to peruse the notice.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
He hails the female elf in the Elven tongue as he moves to greet her.
Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22
Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (9) + 0 = 9
Rianna glances at the newcomer, trying to remember her face, wondering if she has seen her before. Before Dieredon can return from the Notice Board, Rianna yells, "What she post?"
Rianna finishes her meal, "Well Betony, you ready to go shopping? Or do you need a few more minutes?"
Rianna chuckles at Betony's comment. "Lets go Betony. I wanna get a few things and be back here in time to see the show when these guys are too drunk to stand." Rianna heads out the Withered Oak, stopping briefly to look at the Notice Board. Her eyebrows raise at the sight of Madame Nibong's posting. "Perhaps we will have time to peruse the future." Heading out the door, Rianna leads Betony and Thistledown if he comes with back to the markets.
"Mind your purse. I'm sure there will be more than one or two thieves roaming the markets today."
I'm looking for the scorpion whip and a new Harrow deck (Something special, Masterwork Quality +2 in game bonus).
|Skäne “Countless” Ingvârssonn|
Between draughts of his pitcher Skane casts an eye in the general direction of what seems to be detracting from the toasting...
Perception 1d20 ⇒ 8
Squinting he realises the woman is another alfur and when Dieredon moves to greet her he grins and shouts in Skald:
"Ho Bjorn , virðast okkar alfur hefur got hans túnfífill upp. har-har! Hann hefur yddari hans blað og nú hann útlit til knippi það har har har! Fara fara ALFUR!"
He slaps his fellow Northman's shoulder and gives a bawdy laugh...
Ho Bjorn , virðast okkar alfur hefur got hans túnfífill upp. har-har! Hann hefur yddari hans blað og nú hann útlit til knippi það har har har! Fara fara ALFUR! = Ho Bjorn, seems our alfur has got his dander up... har-har! He has sharpened his blade and now he looks to shealth it har-har-har! Go go ALFUR!
Ho Bjorn , virðast okkar alfur hefur got hans túnfífill upp. har-har! Hann hefur yddari hans blað og nú hann útlit til knippi það har har har! Fara fara ALFUR! = Ho Bjorn , seem our alfur hast litter his dandelion devise. har-har! He hast sharpener his leaf and today he semblance to truss there har har har! Go go ALFUR! I have no idea...
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Bjorn notices the elf enter, giving a single unconcerned grunt before putting his face back into the feed trough.
Laughing at Skane's words, the northman rejoins, 'Bestur hann gefa hana eftirför. Hann er ákveðið lostæti nógur. ÉG ótti hún er svo fínlegur þessi minn blað vildi eyðileggja hana slíður.'
Bestur hann gefa hana eftirför. Hann er ákveðið lostæti nógur. ÉG ótti hún er svo fínlegur þessi minn blað vildi eyðileggja hana slíður = Best he gives her chase. He is definitely dainty enough. I fear she is so delicate that my blade would ruin her sheath
Bestur hann gefa hana eftirför. Hann er ákveðið lostæti nógur. ÉG ótti hún er svo fínlegur þessi minn blað vildi eyðileggja hana slíður = Best he give her pursuit. He is definitely tidbit enough. I fear she is thus delicate my leaf would wreck her sheath
I have to be honest. The reverse translation was even better than what I said.
@Rianna "Well....I am Betonyy," as she pats herself on the head. She then pounds her chest plate and then bends down over Thistledown's neck and gives his head a playful wiggle while growling. "Rrrrrr...and we are the Brambleknight...or the new Brambleknight.."
"As for shopping...I need some woolen socks and maybe a thicker blanket..did I get enough from Aleph for that?"
As the Northmen shout out seemingly innocent remarks during the course of their celebration, the two elves continue conversing in a series of back and forth discussion.
Rianna and the Brambleknight, completing their meal heads out through the main entrance.
Diplomacy (Gather Info): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Dieredon walks back to the table motioning for Wesh to folllow. He addresses the Nothmen and Wesh.
It would appear that there is an opportunity for employment at Lawkeepers at the Festival. I should like to check out the fee for such services. Is anyone interested in joining me after lunch?
|Skäne “Countless” Ingvârssonn|
Skane clearly is getting drunk and has to focus on Dieredon's words intently, he then scowls and addresses his brother Northman;
"Ungur áll vilja okkur til verða ögsögumaður. Vafalaust það betri til vera a heilbrigður fed kind hundur en a hungraður úlfur neitun bróðir?"
The scarred viking grasps Bjorn's huge shoulder and looks at Dieredon intently, wieighing the proposition...
Ungur áll vilja okkur til verða ögsögumaður. Vafalaust það betri til vera a heilbrigður fed kind hundur en a hungraður úlfur neitun bróðir? = Elves want us to become law speakers ... Surely it better to be a well fed sheep dog than a hungry wolf no brother?
Pulling out his new cup, Bjorn cradles the open topped skull in one hand so it faces the elves while filling it with mead. Taking a long slow drink locking gazes with first one and then the other elf from under his brow. Lowering the cup, he replies, 'Bless eins og þeir skilja málsókn af náttúran.'
Bless eins og þeir skilja the málsókn af náttúran = So long as they understand the laws of nature.
Dieredon looks to the remaining three party members.
It can't hurt to check out the festival this afternoon while the ladies are shopping. Let's see what the details of the job are, shall we? Drink up boys. We can come back after to finish the party!
|Skäne “Countless” Ingvârssonn|
Skane nods slowly at his shield brothers words, then as Wesh moves to leave he roughly grabs him by the shoulder loudly exclaiming:
"One for the road eh vinur Wesh? You are now an honourary Norðurlander... so drink like one by Gorum! Let us fill our hauskúpa and drink to more glory!"
Skane retrieves his own skull cup and allows Bjorn to fill it with mead to the brim, then holding it aloft he stares at Wesh expectantly...
"Batna lítill bróðir..." he mutters drunkenly in Skald...
hauskúpa = skullcup
Batna lítill bróðir = Come on little brother