Note: This is not an actual game per se as much as it is a way for the people currently bouncing around the boards to keep entertained while looking for actual games. It will last as long as it needs to last to fill the needs of new people on the board.
When you approach the roadside campground, you see a good sized tent being setup by a gnome and some helpers. As evening approaches, you see the gnome stick a sign up over the main door: "Boomer's Traveling Bar & Grill." If you go inside, you see a bar on one side, a stage in one corner, and half a dozen tables spaced appropriately around the tent. Above the bar is a sign stating expected behavior. "No fighting allowed, be civil, and relax from the road for a bit." The gnome, presumably Boomer, stands behind the bar, finishing up preparations as he awaits guests. His half orc assistants from earlier are lounging about one of the tables.
The wolf and rider emerged from the forest. The gnome looked around, "I think your right Thistledown, something is different. There used to be a cardinal nest in that shrub...oh and there is a big tent over there."
Betony dismounted and the pair entered. They moved past some empty tables on their way to the bar. Thistledown rested his head on the bar surface, enjoying the smells of hot food coming from behind it. Betony hopped, but could not make out what was going on, Oh bother. She climbed back up Thistledown's back, and leaned forward resting her head on Thistledown's, also taking in the good smells.
Boomer walked along the raiser behind the bar, a big smile on his face. "Welcome to Boomer's. Can I get you something my dear?"
Betony gave him a big smile, impressed with his ingenuity, and pulled out a small pouch, "Betony..my name is Betony. This is Thistledown. Well let's see what we can afford here." She pulls out a few glass beads, some copper coins, a seed pod, two dried beetles and a swath of woven cloth.
"This should cover it." He selected out a few of her coins, careful not to take all her coins, and set two bowls of stew on the bar.
She reached into a larger satchel, "Here, you really deserve more for such kindness." She presents him with a scarf, woven from a mix of spiderweb, moss, grass, and dried flowers.
Boomer stifled his laugh when he saw both the young gnome and her wolf companion wore similar outlandish scarves. A few coppers and a scarf. Not a great first sale, thought Boomer but things are already getting interesting.
"Thank you for the scarf, good lady; may I ask if there is a story behind it?" he asks as he reaches for a left over bone and gives it to Thistledown.
A young woman dressed in typical Varisian attire approaches the tent. A sudden wind snaps up and blows a light branch with dried leaves still attached up behind the woman. She sidesteps at the last moment without looking behind her, then continues into the tavern.
She noted with some approval (and a strange sense of familiarity) the gnome, the wolf and its companion.
"And you must be..... Thistledown." She says, gesturing towards Betony. Her voice bears the telltale signs of a Varisian accent. "By Desna's tears, that can't be right!"
She sits down at the bar and places her hand over her eyes as though experiencing a headache.
A small entity, imp like in size but far more malevolent, sits quietly in the darkened shadows of the surrounding forest. It's eyes glow briefly, reflecting the fires of the new establishment as more hopeful souls arrive and seek succour from the darkness.
Hmmmm, I shall watch their progress with....interest
OOC
Seeing the tent starting to fill up, Boomer rings a handbell sitting on the counter, and a halfing waitress emerges from the partition behind the bar, immediately starting to circulate among the patrons not being tended to by Boomer.
Oh these, I make them. Lots of time and ready materials. The forest provides.
Upon hearing his name, Thistledown turns from the bar, his bone at a jaunty angle from his mouth. This of course takes Betony away from her stew. She hangs on and stares at this woman trying to recognize her, the spoon still in her mouth. "Duz hy nozz ya? Removing the spoon, she tries again, with a big smile "Does he know you?..Thist? you making friends without me again?". Her hand ruffles her mount's ruff of thick white fur.
Zalania looks up.
"Ah, yes... of course, the wolf is Thistledown. It makes sense now. Then you must be Betony."
She takes a mug of light ale from the halfling serving wench.
"And of course the owner of this establishment is Boomer."
"That was my name last time I checked." Boomer chuckled. Would you like me to mix up a special tea to deal with your headache? I have a brew that is capable of dealing with everything its been put up against so far, and that is quite a bit given some people's desire to drown their sorrows."
"Pardon my manners, I forgot to get your name, madam. To properly introduce myself, I am Boomer and I am on my way to Absalom to join the exalted order known as the Pathfinder Society. I am running this establishment along the way as a way to bolster my application by maximizing my trove of knowledge and interesting trinkets."
She shakes her head at the mention of the tea.
"No, no. I am alright now. I was only slightly confused. Forewarnings do not work as well sometimes."
At the mention of introducing herself, Zalania starts.
"But I already-... Oh. Yes, of course. I am Zalania Sapphros, diviner of knowledge, reader of fates and fortunes."
In a low voice, "Hey Thist, apparently I forgot she is my friend too."
To the woman, who is obviously a known acquaintance. "Thistledown and I have helped many in need, hopefully we have performed some great deed for you...and ..just can't remember what it was..." Her smile slides to the corner of her mouth as she continues to gaze quizzically at the woman.
Again in a low voice, "She has beautiful scarves."
"Oh yes, Zalania with the pretty scarves. Now I rememb...nope, still got no clue."
"I do have pretty scarves. I would not be surprised if you do not remember me. Often I remember people I have never met before."
Betony laughs, "I have the exact opposite problem. I can never remember people I have yet to meet...I think.." Herself now placing a hand to her temple.
She turns back to Boomer, "You said you have something for headaches." But gives him a big wink and her smile is back.
Boomer chuckles as he does a quick check on the food cooking behind him. "So what drives such fine ladies as yourself to be traveling the road this day?"
Zalania gestures upwards with a shrug and a whisk of her hand.
"I follow the movement of the stars. Where Desna points, there go I."
She places her hand down as though the dramatic movement were distasteful to her.
"But in all honesty, the wheel of my wagon was about to hit something that would break it, so I decided to stop and see what was here."
" Well Desna must be a lot like Thistledown, here. Where ever he points, I seem to go. He is good at sniffing out trouble, and I am good at hanging on for the ride."
She glances back toward the tent opening. "This road is not as safe as some would believe. But Thist and I try see to it that those on the road are safe from the forest and that the forest remains safe from those traveling the road."
"I thought I sensed danger in the forest. I will not stop to ask what kind, for these things are often better left unspoken. Besides, I relish surprises, when I can find them."
"I too have seen my share of the road; I decided to seek out the Pathfinders when I realized that far too many stories of those who regularly experience the dust beneath their feet go untold and unremembered. I seek to remedy this injustice."
"Thistledown likes relish surprises too, when he can find them. But oh, his breath afterward is awful."
She giggles, but upon turning to Boomer. "We have found that remedying injustice is not something that can wait for the end of a road. It must be swift." Her smile gone, she grabs her lance from where it leans against the bar and taps the pommel on the packed earth. The lance appears to be a stout but twisted branch of oak that twists and coils upon itself, yet coming to a point with a leaf-shaped steel blade at its tip.
But the smile comes back. "Thankfully, there is no injustice among new friends."
"Oh, thank Torag, I was beginnin ta think I'd ne're get out o' that durn forest", mumbles a dwarf with light hair and skin that looks like it's seen a few too many summers. He wears dirt smudged armor, and looks to have more than a few leaves stuck in his hair.
Looking around at the other people in the room, he asks, "Sign outside says this here is a bar. That right?"
"Indeed it is, a traveling bar and grill. I think I might have some dwarven stuff in the cart out back even; not the best in the world, but better than anything else within a day's travel from here. Would you also like some rabbit stew? We also have bread cooking that will be finished before too long. Prices are cheap, and I practice the barter system if you are short on coin." Boomer warmly greets the latest traveler to stumble into his traveling tavern. That gnome in the last town was right, this campsite is indeed a good place to setup shop for a few days.
Choosing to not correct the mistranslation, Zalania looks around.
"No, no injustice among friends. Dwarves, gnomes, and halflings... Where are the big folk? Am I the only one?"
"The night is young, I am certain more will join before the evening is over. Also, you are forgetting about my assistants over at yonder table." Boomer points to his half orc companions who seem to be deep in a drinking contest at the moment.
"Many thanks my new friend! I'd be very grateful indeed fr some soup, bread, and mead. It's been more'n a day since I had me a proper meal.", he says as he fishes a some silver coins from his pocket that look just as dirty as he does. "I hope this is enough, at least to start. My name is Solomon Wiseaxe, and it's a pleasure to meetcha..."
"Greetings Solomon, I am Boomer, and that will indeed be sufficient. Forgive my curiosity, what brings you out on the road this evening? Are you merely a wandering soul, similar to these fine ladies, or do you have a more definite purpose?" Boomer rings his handbell again, another halfing, this one a male, enters the tavern room, and after receiving the order from Boomer, leaves and shortly reappears with the requested meal. Turning to the ladies after the second halfling had been set upon his duties, Boomer turns to the ladies, "Would either of you care for some bread, or perhaps some more stew? I got carried away this afternoon working on some new recipes, and have a bit more stew than I usually have to offer."
Solomon begins eating with manners that generally do not befit someone who appears as dirty as he is, and definitely do not befit a dwarf, " I'ma cleric of the church o' Torag. A few weeks ago, durin my daily prayers, I felt that Torag was callin me towards Absolom. I don't yet know what he might have planned for me once I get there, but I go nonetheless."
After finishing his bowl of stew and downing his mead, Solomon stands form his seat, I'm hopin you ladies haven' been offended by my stench. I got lost in that forest over there cause o' all them durned trees, and been wanderin for a couple days now. Boomer, do you happen to have someplace I could wash up a bit in?
" I'll be right back. Would you mind havin one o' your little friends get me some more food and drink?", he says as he lays a few more silver coins on the bar, and walks from the room.
Soloman feels a gentle tug at his hair. When he turns to look, he sees a young gnome studying a dried leaf she pried from his tangles. She had moved herself to the stool beside him, her wolf now content to gnaw his bone on the floor. "You should not be bothering Mr. Wiseaxe so." She says to the leaf. She takes that leaf, quickly plucks a few more and places then safely within a small pouch. She gives him a small bow, while still kneeling on the stool. "Glad to be of service. My name is Betony."
"Uh...the pleasure is mine, ma'am. I'll be right back...and I'll be sure to save you any more leaves I find on my person."
"Interesting, I too am on my way to Absalom; I wish to join the Pathfinder Society so that I may better record at least some of the many tales that get told on the roads of this world every day, most of which, along with those whom they are about, get forgotten all too quickly." Boomer sends for another meal as Solomon leaves the tent for the wash station at the entrance of the camping area.
Boomer turns to Betony. "I don't suppose you have any berries or herbs from the area with you? I have been experimenting with some new recipes, but they just aren't coming together right. Any knowledge, and samples, of local flora you could provide would be of great assistance."
"Oh, oh, I got just the thing." Betony pulls out her small pouch again. She reaches in a pulls out a dried beetle, before dropping it back in." Perhaps that is too much of an acquired taste. But this should do." She instead pulls out the seed pod, dark red in color. "Careful with this. A little bit adds a lot of heat. and the seeds are even hotter."
" Ya know, it just occurred to me while I was out washin, that yer sign says this place is a 'bar 'n grill', but so far, I ain't seen nothin grilled. You holdin out on us, Boomer? , Solomon says as he comes back into the tent, his hair and face still wet, and his armor and clothes much cleaner.
"My partner is currently out working on getting larger game. When he gets back, I hope to be able to make some venison steak that you will be telling tales about for the rest of your days; I have worked long and hard on the recipe, and it is one of my favorites."
Zalania does her best to ignore the loud counting of quaffs by the half orcs.
"Ah yes. I was hoping for more genteel big folk. But I can see this is not just an establishment for persons of small stature."
The halfling serving wench walks by again, and Zalania drops a few more silver pieces on her tray, taking a second light ale.
"Not to say that I dislike half-orcs entirely. I had one as a friend in the distant past who suddenly vanished in the woods. He and his dwarf companion. I did manage to save a fox from a hideous trap though... He is sleeping in my wagon. The fox, that is."
"Graal and Zar are harmless. They're twins, and as far as I can tell, between them, there is one complete brain. They are good workers, though, and loyal. As for small, wait until you see their big brother, and I do mean big. He's even remarkably genteel, at least as half-orcs go." Boomer replies as he examines the seeds handed to him carefully. "Very interesting indeed, the skin is perfect for the chili I've been trying to perfect, and the seeds will do very well for another one of my little projects. I knew the second I saw you and your wolf come in tonight would be a very productive evening."
"Well that sounds like it will be worth the wait. Betony, when I was out washin, I found a coccoon on my cloak and remembered I had some small red berries in my pocket that I found in that forest. If You'd like 'em, you're welcome to 'em."
"Thank you. I find the Forest always provides."
As the group around the bar continues to sit and talk, about half an hour later, a flap of the tent opens partway, and a loud, clear voice rings through the tent. "Graal, Zar, quit tying to kill your few remaining brain cells and haul these kills to the back so that we can get some real supper before everyone falls asleep." The two half-orcs stir at the sound of their name, and after a couple seconds, they get up, and despite clearly being drunk, manage to find their way to the door to help the voice outside. After finishing up his current conversations, Boomer rings his trusty handbell, the male halfling reappears, and Boomer disappears into the back of the tent after assuring his guests that the halfling couple in the room were more than capable of serving their needs.
The tent flap opens and a tall, armored figure enters the bar. He removes his helmet, revealing green-tinged silvery hair, pale skin, almond-shaped grey eyes and a ready smile. He places the helmet on the bar and turns to Betony and Zalania.
The slender elf makes a deep, courtly bow and says "Shade and Sweet Water, ladies. It is an unlooked for pleasure to meet such beauty on the dry and dusty road." Turning to the dwarf, he salutes with his fist on his breast and says "Well met, stout sir. I hight Samisel Donarion, cavalier of the Order of the Dragon, at your service."
Looking around, Samisel asks "Is the proprietor present? I would like to make arrangements for my mount."
A massive half orc tall enough to brush his head against the lower portions of the tent, enters the tent and looks around as the two half orc from earlier follow and promptly return to their table and waiting mugs of ale. At the request for the proprietor, he walks up to the bar and replies. "I'm afraid we don't have any formal arrangements to handle animals, as most guests use their usual traveling practices to handle such affairs. You could probably arrange something with the the halfling gentleman over there for his son to take care of your mount, though you would definitely need to provide your own feed." Taking his place behind the bar, "I see everyone still has ears; that means you all came in after Boomer left to start preparing supper, or by some miracle, he actually managed to not bore you to death. Either way, welcome to our little establishment; supper should be out shortly and perhaps later in the evening, we might convince the versatile gnome to perform a bit on the stage. If you need anything, just let me know." With that, he pulls out a whittling knife and starts whittling a piece of wood he had carried in with him. Realizing he was forgetting something, he added, "My name is Marik."
"Well met, sir knight. Solomon Wiseaxe, of the Church o' Torag, at yer servant."
Zalania looks up a mere second before the elf enters the tent.
"Hello, sir. If you like, I can tie your mount to my wagon with my horses. I - Oh yes, I see. Ornerokh might not like that experience. Well, perhaps on the opposite side?"
At the mention of the performance, Zalania's eyes grow wide.
"Now here is knowledge that has evaded me. Does our esteemed proprietor perform music by chance? Anything of the Varisian variety?"
"Music, no, but he is quite a good storyteller, although you may well have figured that one out already. The benefit of him being on stage is that with no one interrupting him, it's actually possible for him to stay focused enough to finish the stories that he starts." Marik chuckles quietly. "Last place we stopped, we had a Varisian bard stop in one night. He definitely seemed to keep everyone entertained, he was even good enough to get Boomer to stop talking for the duration of his performance. If you wish to hear Varisian related stories, just drop a hint in Boomer's ear when he come back in with the steaks."
Cocking one eyebrow at the Varisian's knowledge, Samisel bows again and says, "Thank you, my lady, the order's riding lizards are quite well-trained. Ornerohk has never eaten a horse or halfling yet."
Turning to Marik, "Supper would be most appreciated, the day's travel has been most taxing."
"The real supper won't be ready for a little bit yet, but I understand we have some rabbit stew and bread ready. It should at least tide you over until the main course."
Solomon takes his mug from the bar, sits at once of the nearby tables, and takes out a small sack of stones, some white and some black. He removes one of the stones along with a small chisel and and what appears to be a rock-polisher, and sets to work, scraping and carving the stone until it bears a striking resemblence to the tower of a castle.
"So Marrik, how did you and Boomer come up with this idea for a travelin bar?"
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The tent flap is held aside for a moment and a weary and dusty young elf woman enters. She wears dusty cleric's robes and Pharasma's holy symbol, and her long silvery-white hair is tied back into a braid. She looks around for a moment and approaches the bar. "Well met," she says to the bar in general. "The sign said that this place is a bar and grill. Might I have a seat?" With the niceties covered, she sits at one of the tables with a small sigh of relief. It's evident that she's been walking for a long time.