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Sekteth sits cross-legged next to the fire, eyes lidded, but not closed, in the Verrik fashion, sound asleep (having simply shut down input from his visual senses, rather than closing his eyes fully).
His dark eyes fly open, and the darkness falls away, as he reclaims his visual senses. 'What is wrong with that man?' he thinks uncharitably, as he hauls himself to his feet, shaking circulation back into his legs.
"Are we under attack my large friend?" he asks, his voice soft, even if there is no longer any reason to avoid raising his voice.
Adrian's jaw drops open at the sight of the creature, but he quickly closes it realizing he looks like a country bumpkin.
"A dracha! But... how? Why? I never thought I would see one of your kind so far from the major cities."
Adrian pauses a moment, knowing he still sounds like an idiot.
"Not that I have seen many of your kind. Only the Seven in De-Shamod (from a distance, mind you). And one in Gahanis when I visited the Steward."
Sekteth is unprepared to address the newcomer, as he is still processing the sight of him, and chooses to compartmentalize that reaction, turning instead to Ran-Hajad and saying softly, "You may be more comfortable in the garden out back, large one."
Seeing his companions reactions to the man-dragon, Sekteth faces the newcomer and says, in Draconic, "A private room is one scale of the golden sun," holding up one finger, "the common room," he says, pointing to where they have bedded down near the fire, "is four scales of the silvered moon." he finishes, flicking up four fingers in a vaguely claw-like gesture, attempting to phrase the comment in the descriptive manner he has seen in draconic texts, referring to coins as scales, and the colors by items of similar hue.
"Not that I have seen many of your kind. Only the Seven in De-Shamod (from a distance, mind you). And one in Gahanis when I visited the Steward."
The Dracha lowers his wings slightly. "I was sent in Gahanis, yes. But things got complicated. I am now nothing but a traveler looking for a cause to lend my axe to."
Upon seeing the dracha he blanches and his eyes grow large.
"W-w-welcome. May I be of some assistance?"
"Yes, first, calm down weakling. I'm not here to hurt you. Your gate guard saw to it that I was disarmed. Second, sustenance and rest are needed ... cooked meat preferably."
Seeing his companions reactions to the man-dragon, Sekteth faces the newcomer and says, in Draconic, "A private room is one scale of the golden sun," holding up one finger, "the common room," he says, pointing to where they have bedded down near the fire, "is four scales of the silvered moon." he finishes, flicking up four fingers in a vaguely claw-like gesture, attempting to phrase the comment in the descriptive manner he has seen in draconic texts, referring to coins as scales, and the colors by items of similar hue.
Y'rjar'n nods respectfully at the verrik, pulls 5 sp from his belt pouch and puts them in front of the innkeeper. "This should cover my stay."
Ran-Hajad was beginning to think he'd angered the Gods. First it was 'come inside', then 'go outside', then 'go inside', now it's 'go outside again'. He looked to Gargarath for wisdom but was dismayed to see the Sibeccai roll over and go back to sleep.
Poor Ran-Hajad. Miserably, he picked up his blanket and slunk over to one corner of the room. Sighing, he wrapped it round himself, and sat glumly playing with the flower he still had in his hands.
"Well met Adrian, I am called Yrakxil'arjar'n, but most use the simpler Y'rjar'n." After a pause, the dracha adds: "I have no wish to discuss my reasons for being here, human. I have no obligations at the moment, however. Should you need an extra pair of strong arms for tomorrow's work, I'm your ... man as they say in your language."
"We'll see. For now, lets just get some rest. It's been a wild journey from Gahanis. Tomorrow I plan on heading to the Trade Council building and see if any mercenary or trade guard groups or hiring. You never know with bandits, and rhodin on the rise."
The way he mentions rhodin, its apparent he harbors a great deal of animosity towards them.
The Garden
Casey's garden is a beautiful assortment of flowers and fruit trees, flowering vines, a small pool with a gurgling natural spring surrounded by moss covered stones. Everywhere, the garden is filled with the Green and a sense of magical energy. A few stone benches line a moss-covered path, but there is a particularly soft mound, shaded by honeysuckle and hyacinth, that seems a perfect place to lay down.
The Next Morning
After a restful night's sleep, the day breaks clear and sunny. The scent of eggs and ham cooking and warm bread drifts through the common room.
Y'rjar'n is up early, as per his normal habit, and heads outside to work on his daily routine of exercise. He does this training to keep his strength, endurance and skill to the highest possible level. Once he's done, he returns to the inn and orders a large helping of ham.
"You have a problem with any of those, Sibeccai?" He asks Gargerath.
Gargerath looks the dragon man up and down. "I hate giants; men and dragons don't interest me much. Well, except for that giant," points at the sleeping giant in the garden, "he's alright. Not like the stuck up buggers who rule this rock. They can sniff my tail. And you? You got a problem with sibbecai?"
Ran-Hajad yawns, stretches and has a good scratch after a night's deep sleep. The mossy bank in the garden proved to be an ideal place to dream about plants and flowers, and when he wakes up, his subconscious mind appears to have connected with the little pocket of Green around him, as the grass in the area is about 3 inches longer than it was the night before.
Splashing his face in the small pool, the giant limps inside to join the others. He automatically goes and sits beside Gargarath, still slightly unsure of the strange scaly (and scary!) man who came in the night.
Casey enters the room through the front door.
"Ah good morning, everyone. Please help yourself to some breakfast. I'll be running in and out most of the day. It seems that our new friend is the talk of the town. Bean Silvertongue herself has extended an invitation for you to introduce yourself at the Liar's Club. I'd recommend it, you'll probably find more work there then you would find at the Trade Council."
Sekteth nods politely to their host, carefully picking up any items that may have been strewn about as he slept near the hearth, trying to make the area show no sign of his presence.
When his possessions are neatly arranged on his person, pack resting by his seat, he takes advantage of breakfast, avoiding the meat and sticking to any eggs, bread or cheeses available.
"You seem to have brought excitement in your wake," he says to the dracha who has joined them. "I imagine that the locals, like myself, have never seen an emissary such as yourself before."
"I haven't meet enough of your kind to make such a judgement, Sibeccai. I can however say I don't have much love for this cage's gate watcher."
When Casey enters the room, Y'rjar'n asks: "The Liar's Club? This is a peculiar name. Why would you openly declare yourself a liar?"
Y'rjar'n also replies to Sekteth in the Dracha's simpler Draconic dialect. He deploys his wings slightly as he speaks. "This is hardly surprising. While we are far from being the Dragons' equal, we Dracha share some of their magnificence. Simple beings can't look at us without being impressed."
Ran-Hajad is busy taking slices of ham from the table. He puts one on his plate, lifts it with his fingers and chews delicately. When he thinks no-one is looking he takes another piece and quickly stuffs it into the folds of his robe, then tries to look innocent...
He hasn't been following the conversation of the others until the mention of the Liar's Club. At that word, he jumps out of his chair and hides, quivering, behind Gargarath. Peeping out from behind the Sibbecai's chair he says in a trembling voice 'Club...beating?' then cowers behind his furry companion, obviously hoping that if he can't see this mysterious person with the 'club', it can't see him!
Adrian nods and stands. "It's settled then. I've an interest to see the Liar's Club myself. I've heard the ale is fantastic. And as our good innkeeper has informed us, it's the prospect of work that really holds my interest. It's been too long since I lived in De-Shamod. Work is rare and difficult to come by for the most part."
Sekteth gets up in a smooth motion, and produces a dark nut, about the size of a walnut with the coloration of a brazil nut, tied around with a bit of twine and formed into a crude necklace. On it, a character is inscribed. He presses it into the giant's hand, "Within this seed, the power of the Green, of life and potential itself, resides. Once and once alone, so long as it remains upon your person, you may call upon it to lend you strength or skill for a single action." If the giant doesn't stop him, he gently places it around his large neck.
"My gift to you."
Turning, he joins the others as they move for the exit, to seek out this Liar's Club.
Ran-Hajad's natural reaction when Sekteth reached for his neck was to shrink back, quailing in fear. Once it became plain the red man wasn't trying to throttle him, the giant, still fearful, waited for something bad to happen when the twine was slipped over his head.
After a few moments, with no obvious ill effect, and all eyes on him, tears began to well up in his large brown eyes. He fought to suppress a sniffle, and with a loud 'Paaaarp' blew his nose on the sleeve of his robe. Once he had calmed himself he beamed first at Sekteth, then at Gargarath - pointing at the Verrik he said 'Red Man' while nodding sagely.
Still smiling, he caught sight of the fearsome countenance of the dracha, and immediately found himself cowering from his stony glower; only this time, it wasn't the Sibbecai behind whom he took cover, but his new friend the red man.
The Roads of Lothis
The main roads are composed of gravel, with cobbled sidewalks on the sides. They are about 15 feet wide, large enough for merchant carts and horses to travel easily. Alleys are generally dirt paths between the buildings.
As you make your way to the central marketplace and the Liar's Club, several passersby notice the dracha and gawk at it for a few seconds, uncertain what the creature is. Children cower behind their parents or disappear into the nearest buildings.
There is a muffled sound of a yell and the clink of metal against stone down the alley to your left.
Sekteth is waylaid by another verrik on the road, who swiftly pulls him aside and whispers something in his ear. Sekteth nods, glances at his adventuring companions apologetically, and follows the verrik into a nearby storefront. In traditional verrik fashion, it is unclear if he will be returning.