CHARACTER INTROS
Thumparr Ironfist (Dwarf Fighter):
You were wrong. A stuffy old has-been named Gravin Goldhammer met you at the gate and after introductions he started giving you the stink eye. Since you had only a basic dwarven understanding of smelting and metallurgy, he groused and grumbled but eventually gave you a job as a guard. For the slag pit.
This was the place they dumped the useless ore they had separated from the valuable stuff, and was located down a long mine shaft at the western edge of town. You couldn't believe in your wildest dreams why anyone would be interested in nicking some slag, but a job was a job.
Well, that lasted about a week. At that point you were so bored beyond belief that you just didn't show up one morning. Sure, the dwarves that ran the place were filthy rich, but you were never going to see any of it, not working a crap job like that.
You'd heard about the opening of the Golden Goblin Gambling Hall and and their "Cheat the Devil and Take his Gold" tournament, and that sounded interesting to you. The entrance fee would only be a gold piece, so that would at least keep the beggars out.
It's a drizzly, overcast evening as you make your way to the Gold Goblin, near the eastern banks of the Velashu River. A good evening to spend inside winning some easy money!
Sevegny Veilstar (Human Cleric):
Within hours you found the local temple of Calistria and brothel, the "House of the Silken Vail". It's an octagonal pyramid topped with a blood-red steeple; nice and subtle. The walls were once of white marble but are now grimed and stained by years of exposure to the salt air and the pollutants of the Gas Forges, a dwarf-run smelting operation. Inside, though, the place is run by the high priestess Pamodae, a tiefling with a penchant for leather. Looks like she turns a good profit, although some of the ladies who work there have seen better days.
You made friends with another tiefling woman who worked there, a call girl there named Lavender Lil. She wasn't a priestess, but certainly was a faithful follower of the Unquenchable Fire. She began to confide in you that she was in some trouble with the crime boss Clegg Zincher, a brute who liked to inflict pain. You soon got out of her that she wasn't completely innocent in this business, but didn't feel that she deserved what Zincher was supposedly planning for her.
You've been hearing about this tournament at the Golden Goblin Gambling Hall that's happening tonight. It may not compare to the glittering casinos of Taldor, but it might be all the fun that's to be had on a dreary, wet evening like tonight in a two horse town like this.
Ngozi (Mwangi Ranger):
Despite your recent good luck, it is still a long journey back to Garund and your home, and long journeys are never cheap. The tournament at the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall might be the answer, and you might be able to impress the owner, Saul Vancaskerkin enough, for him to offer you a job.
At first you thought that everyone in Riddleport would shun you for your accent and the color of your skin, but you soon found out that this town is filled with the cast-offs of a dozen cultures. You've even seen a few tieflings walking openly down the street, and hardly anyone even gives them a second look.
Having said that, Riddleport is also not a town that suffers fools lightly. It has that in common with your jungle home; one false move and your in the tiger's jaws. That's why it's doubly important to find a pack to run with. There is always safety in numbers ... as long as you can trust those you surround yourself with.
Mel Evendale (Human Rogue):
To this end you have trained in the arena, but not too much, you've visited the Zincher tenement, but not enough to arouse suspicion, and you've never actually been seen talking to the "Old Man" Clegg Zincher.
You have recently heard rumors of the re-emergence of Saul Vancaskerkin. Zincher had thought him out of the picture after the death of his brother Falk and the subsequent inquiry. It seems that over the past few years, Saul has been painstakingly rebuilding his fortune and reputation to the point where he was able to purchase and refurbish the crumbling Gold Goblin game hall. Zincher has been watching the whole time, waiting to strike.
The "Cheat the Devil and Steal his Gold" tournament at the Gold Goblin seems a perfect occasion to show off your skills. You've received instructions to spy on Vancaskerkin and see if you can find out what he is up to. More importantly, there are rumors that he has a major backer that no one has been able to pin down and identify. If there's a way to drive a wedge between the two of them, so much the better. You have been picked for your innocuousness and the fact that you have yet to be associated with any of the criminal gangs in the city.
Kappasc (Elven Wizard)
That had been the word written on the piece of paper you had found in your luggage when you left the island of Mordant Spire a month ago. You had traveled to the fabled western-most outpost of the elves in search of knowledge, and perhaps a rumor of your father, but had never been allowed beyond the small entry building. Almost two months you had stayed there, making entreaty after entreaty, but to no avail. The elves there keep Mordant Spire a very closely guarded secret, even from others of their kind, and they obviously didn't want you meddling in their affairs. You had left greatly disappointed.
But you found the note in your bag on board the ship that had brought you to Riddleport. Someone must have slipped it in while you were away or not paying attention. The word itself is elven and quite literally means "lantern bearer". You are sure it must have another meanings as well, as most elvish words do, but have not been able to puzzle it out.
Perhaps the arcanists of the Order of Cyphers here in Riddleport can help you. After all, they make it their business to study all manner of strange esoterica, with encrypted words being their specialty. It is said that their knowledge of the written forms of magic is so deep that they can embed symbols in regular magical text, strengthening its arcane connection and power. Perhaps there might even be a Cypher Mage at the tournament tonight. Their master, Elias Tammerhawk, is known to not be an armchair intellectual and quite fond of a bit of carousing.
Gornak Elf-Toes
Only Boss Croat has been a reliable friend to the half-orcs. He continues to hire only your kind, and as he is a major player in the city's supply of narcotics and contraband, there is always work. It's not exactly what you had been hoping to do in Riddleport, but a half-orc's got to eat, right?
You've been working as a lookout for a few weeks, making sure that other gangs didn't interrupt Boss Croat's business dealings. So far it's been pretty quiet until last night when a small group of Clegg Zincher's bullyboys tried to highjack a shipment of fine product from Thuvia. Luckily you had been there and had given advanced warning, but it still got ugly.
Now you want to put all this behind you. Perhaps you'll find some luck at the Golden Goblin tournament. You'd heard that its owner Saul Vancaskerkin had been a bit of a player a few years back, but since his supposed fall nobody had heard from him. If luck can be on his side, maybe it can be on yours as well. And who knows, maybe he's in need of a good spotter for his gambling tables?
Ebendar (Halfling Monk)
You've spent the past few days in a place down in the Wharf District. It was cheap, which was good since your fortunes are limited at the moment. Then last night two knife fights broke out within inches of your head and when you finally cleaned the blood out of your clothes you saw a cockroach the size of a cat in your room. You hadn't seen one of those since that night in the Shackles. You haven't been able to stand bugs since then, and certainly not ones that could walk off with your foot in the night.
You had left the inn soon afterwards and spent the night looking for new lodgings before finally giving up and sleeping in the hidden corner of a rooftop in the River District. It stunk of the tanneries and the Gas Forges there, but at least there had been no vermin.
Today was spent walking the streets, trying to find some work, but the pickings are slim. You've thought of selling yourself as a bodyguard or bouncer, but nobody seems to take a halfling seriously in that capacity. Sure, you could turn any would-be attacker ass over tea kettle if they looked at you wrong, but according to the potential employers you asked, being a bodyguard is mostly about looking tough. In a town where half-orcs and tieflings are not uncommon, a halfling just doesn't cut it. Of course you don't have to look tough to be tough, but what do these idiots know? They just throw epithets like "dog biter" and "scrawny slip" at you and laugh.
Perhaps your luck will change at the Golden Goblin Gaming Hall tonight. The place is having a big tournament for its grand reopening, and if it goes well, perhaps they'll be hiring. The owner, Saul Vancaskerkin, sounds like he's had some hard times and might not be able to be too choosy when it comes to hiring muscle.
Beriaden (Elf Ranger):
In order to investigate the phenomenon more closely, you had to come to Riddleport, even though it was one of the last places on earth you wanted to visit. The stink from the tanneries and the Gas Works alone would normally have been enough to make you take a five league circuitous route around it. You have heard that the Cypher Mages here study all manner of strange arcane esoterica, but they seem difficult to get hold of. Perhaps one of them might be at the Gold Goblin Gambling hall tonight, who knows?
The evening had not started off very promising. First of all there had been the weather, which was doing its best to ruin everyone's mood. Cold for this time of year, it had been raining or drizzling all day, and you never even saw the sun. Even the infamous Blot had been covered by low-hanging clouds.
You had made your way to the Wharf District where the Green Goblin is located. This rough-and-tumble part of town lies hard on the edge of the docks of the city and is where much of the city's day-to-day action of commerce and thievery occurs. Nearest the docks are a series of warehouses and cheap grog houses where merchant and pirate crews alike mingle in the haze of rum-soaked blood and debauchery. In other words, lots of local color, but basically a dump.
The Gold Goblin Gambling Hall itself had recently been renovated after standing empty for years. Standing before the main doors of the building is an eight foot tall statue cast in shining gold to resemble a larger-than-life goblin. It balances a golden dogslicer on a pile of gold as it smiles smugly down on all who pass beneath its gaze. The more observant quickly realize that the goblin is in fact not gold, but simply shiny brass.
The front doors are made of a strong, dark wood (surely imported), and are decorated with multiple panels depicting signs of luck and fortune. Just inside the main doors, two sultry beauties scantily clad and wearing faux bat wings, devil horns, and tails play the part of alluring succubi. Both are employees of the Gold Goblin, and they cheerfully register contestants for the tournament and process entry fees. Armed guards stand nearby to either side of an immense treasure chest into which each patron’s entry fee is added. The guards are on hand to not only protect the money, but to prevent any overzealous admirers from trying to dare the infamous touch of a succubus.
Beyond the registration table is the hall’s game floor. Dozens of gamblers, waitresses dressed as succubi, and bouncers mill about the room, wandering amid tables offering various games while dealers shuffle cards, roll dice, and spin wheels. Moving through this throng are a dozen more of the barely clad, batwinged vixens serving drinks and batting coal-black eyelashes flirtatiously for tips. In the center of the chamber is a short podium atop which sits a massive gold chest affixed to the floor by similarly gaudy chains. On either side of it stands a barechested bouncer in the exotic garb of some foreign sultan’s court. Each stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and with a naked scimitar of prodigious size tucked through his waistband. High above them, from the hall’s cloth-draped ceiling, hangs a brass birdcage within which crouches a small, bat-winged, pointy-tailed devilish creature that sulks as it gazes over the room and occasionally rattles the bars threateningly.
Ebenadar slips into the crowd, unaccustomed to such large groups of...large people. Not much in the mood for any gambling, the halfling decides that this sort of establishment is just the place for a little guy like him who can sniff out trouble without being noticed, and then take care of that trouble once found. He'll keep an eye open for anyone official-looking enough that he might be the owner, but for now tries his best to get lost in the crowd and spot any would-be troublemakers.
Stealth (1d20+12=22)
Perception (1d20+7=13)
Just as soon as he sets his plan in motion, however, he spots a pretty looking halfling barmaid and forgets all about looking for trouble. He starts making his way towards her, intending to introduce himself at first opportunity.
Ebendar looks around the room, but does not see anyone fitting the description of Saul Vancaskerkin he was given (short, balding, older human with only one hand).
The halfling waitress he spotted notices him, and saunters over tray in hand. She is dressed in a scarlet bustier and thong (with attached devil tail), high-heeled shoes and a headband with red horns attached. She looks to be in her early twenties and has dark green eyes the color of a forest pool. Batting her false eyelashes she cozies up to Ebendar, "Anything I can get you, Tall Stuff?"
Ebendar looks around the room, but does not see anyone fitting the description of Saul Vancaskerkin he was given (short, balding, older human with only one hand).
The halfling waitress he spotted notices him, and saunters over tray in hand. She is dressed in a scarlet bustier and thong (with attached devil tail), high-heeled shoes and a headband with red horns attached. She looks to be in her early twenties and has dark green eyes the color of a forest pool. Batting her false eyelashes she cozies up to Ebendar, "Anything I can get you, Tall Stuff?"
Slightly taken aback, Ebenadar replies "Aye, pretty miss, I'll 'ave an ale." He makes a mostly successful attempt to keep his eyes on her face - he's not used to being around many girls anyways, and certainly not this...open. As she turns away to fetch his drink, his eyes follow her curves all the way up and down her body before he shakes his head vigorously. Lass like that's gonna make me the one gettin' inta trouble. He tries to return his attention to scanning the room for mischief, but has a hard time getting that shapely image out of his head.
A little off put by how crowded it is (Kap never feels comfortable around such large social gatherings), Kap keeps his head low, avoiding eye contact, and shuffles about the lobby. He notices the waitress and approaches her, "M.mm...miss...think I could get su...susu...some water, please?" Kap then offers a very awkward smile...
While waiting for the waitress, Kap looks around watching the various games, trying to see which one, logically, he should play if any...all the tables seem a little too crowded for him...He also is keeping an eye out for anyone who looks like they might be a Cyphermage...
Mel leaves his humble garret in one of the tenement blocks that cluster together on the cities eastern edge having spent enough time on his boy disguise to pass the sort of cursory examination he is likely to face in the gambling hall. Dressed as a bravo he maneuvers his way through the still crowded streets of Riddleport to the Golden Goblin's door.
He stops on the edge of the crowd gathered round the somewhat seedy establishments door careful not to draw attention to himself but scanning the building for any signs of where Saul has aqquired his new found wealth
Once inside he signs in purchases 5 GP worth of chips and moves dexterously through the crowd observing the various games before slipping into a seat at one of the bounder tables.He scans the crowd picking out any outstanding characters within the heaving masses
Beriadan, still feeling ill at ease in the urban setting, enters the gambling hall with a smooth, graceful stride. His hawkish eyes take in the scene and narrow in disgust at the blatant human debauchery he saw before him. Place any of these patrons in the wild and see how they handled themselves then, probably choke on their useless coins.
Beriadan smirks a bit at the thought as he continues into the room, weaving among the crowd as he keeps an eye out for anyone that could match the image of a mage. His evident elven features garner a few looks and whispers from the people he passes, but he pays them no heed as he continues to wander through the hall.
Ngozi will enter the building scowling, heading towards the nearest waitress. How was Ngozi to know it wasn't real gold if he didn't check! Glancing around, he'll head towards the bar, bumping into the halfling waitress on the way, saying."Little one, you can bring Ngozi a drink, yeh? Me thanks you." He then heads off to find a quiet place to observe and await his drink.
Gornak walks into Gold Goblin. Steps on man's foot. Man starts to yell, but stops when he gets a good look at Gornak. Gornak is big man, has lots of weapons. Gornak doesn't notice. He looks for Saul. Maybe Saul wants a new dancer for gambling hall. Gornak can dance good. He knows all kinds of dances. War dance. Mating dance. Funny dance.
Gornak looks in purse. Not much money left. Maybe he can make big money playing gambling games. Not likely.
Gornak grabs serving woman by arm. "Where is Saul? I am looking for Saul," Gornak asks in his gravelly bass.
Kap looks around the main hall as he waits for his water to arrive. It looks as if the rich red carpet has recently been patched in many different places. Silken banners hang from floor to ceiling along the walls, and wide vertical blinds are hung over the windows, presumably closed during daylight hours. The chamber has a false ceiling 20 feet above, draped in layers of horizontally hung, gauzy beige curtains. Light is provided by numerous chandeliers hanging below this false ceiling as well as several large copper braziers spaced around the room with live coals to give the chamber a more hellish light for the tournament.
Other then the large front doors, numerous doors and passaged lead from this chamber. To the south-west is an archway leading to the cashier's counter with numerous people coming in and out. To the west are doors which presumably lead to offices or private dining rooms, which are infrequently used. Directly across from the main doors (to the northwest) are the swinging doors to the main kitchens, scantily-clad waitresses coming to and fro. To the north is the main bar, also called the Goblin's Tankard, which is already crowded with casino customers and waitresses placing orders for the gaming floor. To the northeast are doors leading to the privies as well as the entrance to the guest rooms.
Kap finds himself standing next to the strangest game table he has ever seen. It seems to be a roulette wheel with the head of what appears to be an undead creature of some kind (you're guessing it's a ghoul) affixed to the center. Players place their bets in one of twelve labeled sections on the wheel. Then the croupier (an attractive human girl also dressed as a devil, but with somewhat more clothes on than the waitresses) spins the wheel. The table turns around the head and whatever section the head ends up facing (skill, hygiene, body, race, appearance, etc) causes the ghoul head to hurl insults and invectives on that topic at whomever placed the bet there. Those who are insulted win, everyone else looses. What puzzles the elf, is that he can't figure out how the ghoulette table was created. Is it an intelligent magical item of some kind? From what you have heard, most undead don't stay alive after their heads are severed, and they certainly don't continue to verbally abuse those around them. The insults it hurls at the players are tailored specifically to the subject on the wheel and the person or persons who placed the bets, as if the head still possessed normal (if highly acerbic) intelligence.
The waitress finally arrives with Kap's drink: hard cider. She smiles apologetically at the elf, "Sorry, sir elf, it's the weakest drink we have. Only the suicidal drink the water in Riddleport."
Mel takes a seat at the bounder table. The dealer (a human male dressed in dark robes) is just finishing the last round. Mild curses of frustrations rise from the other three players as none of them win. After collecting the house's winnings, the dealer hands Mel two twenty-sided dice, announcing, "Opening bets, please!"
The other players at the table look like a pair of low-level bosses from one of the city cartels and a merchant of some kind. All seem to be loosing at the moment, although the merchant still has a nice stack of gold and silver tokens in front of him.
Beriaden scans the crowd looking for arcanists. The patrons mostly seem to be members of the various criminal gangs of the city in addition to mid-level merchants. It is still early in the evening and the actual tournament has not yet begun, so perhaps more important members of the community won't show up until later.
Then the ranger's eye picks out something he is truly surprised by: another elf. Although half-elves are a sizable minority in Riddleport, elves are truly rare. Mierani elves seldom leave their troubled forest, the effete Mordant Spire elves never do, and Kyonin is thousands of miles away. Could this be a Forlorn?
Ngozi has a hard time finding a quiet corner in this establishment. It's bustling with people on the opening night tournament and nearly every square foot has gambling. Even the bar area is filled with patrons and waitresses filling their orders.
The halfling eventually brings the Garundi a beer, and pauses momentarily waiting for payment and a tip, adjusting her stance to give Ngozi a good look at her assets.
The waitress pales as she turns to look up at who has grabbed her arm. "He is not on the floor yet, sir," she stammers at Gornak, "he'll be here once the tournament begins. Can I get you anything?"
Gornak glares at woman. After uncomfortable pause, Gornak grunts: "Milk." Gornak waits for her to return with drink, then pays. Then Gornak moves over to gambling tables to wait for Saul.
Gornak doesn't gamble. Just watches.
Gornak glares at woman. After uncomfortable pause, Gornak grunts: "Milk."
The succubus/waitress gives Gornak a strange look. "Milk? But we have no goats."
Gornak glares at the woman for a while until she goes away.
Mel lets his gaze drift over the crowd noting the large half Orc's altercation with the waitress..the unusual sight of not one but two elves..and the Mwangi man who seems uneasy here all of which is filed away for later use.
Turning his attention to the game he makes 5 bets in succession of one Gold each
He loses the first, wins the second, loses the third, then wins the fourth and fifth making a total profit of one gold. Satisfied that the games are not rigged any more than usual and having recouped his entrance fee, he moves on to observe the other games.
Kap finds himself standing next to the strangest game table he has ever seen. It seems to be a roulette wheel with the head of what appears to be an undead creature of some kind (you're guessing it's a ghoul) affixed to the center. Players place their bets in one of twelve labeled sections on the wheel. Then the croupier (an attractive human girl also dressed as a devil, but with somewhat more clothes on than the waitresses) spins the wheel. The table turns around the head and whatever section the head ends up facing (skill, hygiene, body, race, appearance, etc) causes the ghoul head to hurl insults and invectives on that topic at whomever placed the bet there. Those who are insulted...
Kap nervously sips from his hard cider, noticing the sharp flavor of apples wash across his tongue. "Th...thanks ma'am...hit the spot..."
Intrigued by the ghoul's head, he approaches the table and asks the minimum to bet...
With an arrogant smirk, Kap mutters "A game of chance....no skill...how...interesting..." and throws down his bet into the Race part.
With an arrogant smirk, Kap mutters "A game of chance....no skill...how...interesting..." and throws down his bet into the Race part.
The croupier waits until everyone has placed their bets then spins the boards. It whirs around until it comes to rest on the "Brains" section. No one has put money on it. "Well," the head mutters, "it's obvious no one had half-a-brain to place their bet on the right space! Heh, heh." The female croupier then pushes a button on the side of the table. The entire board tilts and all the chips slide into a slot that feeds to a storage bank under the table somewhere. "New bets, please!" she says, smiling at the assembled group.
Beriadan, seeing the other elf, weaves through the crowd, his body seemingly bending around the bodies that were already crowding the tables and aisles of the game floor. As Kap places his bet, the elven ranger stops next to him and says <Elven>"Just don't fall for the tricks that a city like this can play on the unsuspecting, these aren't the games of Kyonin.<Elven>
Beriadan is decked out in brown, studded leather and his pale hair is held back in a feathered strap of leather. Around his shoulders is a well cared for green cloak and at his hip rests en elegant rapier. The design of his armor and cut of his clothes marks him as having lived outside of Kyonin for quite sometime, making him one of the Forlorn.
He doesn't spend much time at Kap's side, heading for the bar and ordering an ale which he drinks more to pass the time than to enjoy the taste of the watered down drink.
Ebenadar starts to tab his food impatiently. I wonder where tha lass went wit' me drink. He starts wandering through the crowds in search of her, only to find a very large half-orc shoving him aside. Taking another direction, he notices the two elves and their brief dialogue. My, what a lot we got 'ere tonight! He decides it best to avoid the big ugly fella and concentrate on finding the pretty serving girl instead.
The halfling barmaid finds Ebendar, bringing him his drink. "There you are! I thought you were hiding from me for a while there." She smiles warmly as she hands him the beer and waits to be paid.
Though he had every intention of taking the drink and returning to his search for trouble, Ebenadar is unable to resist the alluring charms of the barmaid and, losing himself in her deep green eyes, flirts shamelessly with her for the next several minutes.
Sevegny casts her gaze about, paying more attention to the young waitresses than to the men.
Mel sticks to ale as his drink for the evening...refusing any further offers of drink food or...companionship that come his way from the staff.
He apologises as he almost trips over a pair of halflings making cow eyes at each other and glances briefly at a tall red cloaked woman who seems to be devouring one particularly attractive young waitress with her eyes
Beriadan takes a drink from the filth that this place calls alcohol as he scans the room once more. Still not finding any Cyphermages among the crowd, Beriadan does note the presence of some interesting humans. One, a Garundi possibly, seems as uncomfortable here as the elven ranger felt, and another, a fairly attractive woman, who seemed to have more than a passing interest in women.
Turning back to his drink, he thinks back to what had led him to this place. That haze in the sky that hung over the cesspool called Riddleport and the tournament that might attract some of the more intellectuals of this place. This Blot was nothing but trouble, and Beriadan was gonna get to the bottom of this trouble.
Thumparr steps into the Gold Goblin and pauses for a few seconds to size up the place. The barmaids in devilish attire raise an eyebrow and bring a grin to his face and then he is on his way to the bar to quench his thirst.
"Got any beer worth drinkin' in this place?" he asks and then waits for his drink. While waiting, he can't help but notice the large half-orc shoving his way around the place. And is he drinking...milk? Thumparr shakes his head, figuring it must be some hard liquor he ain't never heard of before.
Once his beer arrives, he pays for it, tucks his purse inside his leggings, and walks over to the roulette wheel to watch. As he watches and drinks, his eyes are ever on the move, watching out for trouble.
Realizing that while this game of chance was interesting, he probably wasn't going to win anything at this table...plus it would grow tiresome quickly as there'd be no way to use his intellect in this game. Kappasc finishes his apple cider and quickly walks over to Beridian. Much more comfortable around his own kind, Kap addressed Beridian bluntly, "Not like the games of Kyonin, indead...Tell me, friend, I see you've got the looks of a Forlorn...what brings you 'round these part?"
Kap then turns to the bar and asks, "Could I get another one of those Apple juices...er...ciders?"
[Elven]"I live around these parts granted though, it isn't in the city itself. I am here in search of a mage that can tell me more about that thing the city-dwellers call 'the Blot'. And though I do indeed consider myself Forlorn, I remember well the spiraling architecture of Kyonin as well as the great deeds of our people. It is much more exquisite than the buildings of this place, though to tell the truth, I feel this city is considered a stain, even by human standards."[Elven] The Elf gives a brief elven cheers to Kap before taking a short sip from his ale and continuing, [Elven]"What brings you here? Come to investigate the Blot as well? Must be a serious concern indeed if the Queen has taken an interest in this phenomenon.[Elven]
Kap, relaxes even more around his newfound associate and raises his drink to the cheer.
[Elven] " I come her looking for my father, he was sent on a mission many, many years ago. During my travels, what little bits of information I could gather started leading this way...Although to be far, my mild-concern has sort of dissipated in the face of rabid curiousity...I, too, seek the councel of the Cyphermages, although I'm guessing for entirely different reasons. Reasons aside, though, it'd be nice to work with a fellow Elf in this town.... [/Elven]
"And is he drinking...milk?"
At the mention of milk, Gornak turns his great, shaggy head around.
"No, puny dwarf. Gornak is not drinking milk. Stupid Golden Goblin does not have milk. That makes Gornak angry. But Gornak will wait until he has job before making trouble. After getting job, then there is lots of time to make trouble."
Gornak glares at the dwarf.
At the mention of milk, Gornak turns his great, shaggy head around.
"No, puny dwarf. Gornak is not drinking milk. Stupid Golden Goblin does not have milk. That makes Gornak angry. But Gornak will wait until he has job before making trouble. After getting job, then there is lots of time to make trouble."
Gornak glares at the dwarf.
Thumparr chuckles and cracks his knuckles and takes a swig of his beer. "Makin' trouble be me middle name. Me name's Thumparr," he sticks out a hand in Gornak's direction. "What ye be called?"
"Gornak's name is Gornak Elf-Toes. Maybe you heard of Elf-Toes and Oakleg? Was famous comedy team. Not any more."
Gornak grabs the proffered hand and squeezes, impressed by the strong grip of the squat little fellow.
"Never heard of 'em," Thumparr replies, sizing the half-orc up and down. "Elf-toes, eh? Hmm." Thumparr automatically looks down at Gornak's feet. "So what brings ye to Riddleport?"
"Looking for job. Gornak is a dancer. Maybe Saul needs entertainers for casino."
Gornak pauses. His torn chain shirt and bloody rapier don't suggest light entertainment.
"What are you looking for in Riddleport, dwarf?"
"Looking for job. Gornak is a dancer. Maybe Saul needs entertainers for casino."
Gornak pauses. His torn chain shirt and bloody rapier don't suggest light entertainment.
Thumparr spits beer all over the person next to him, coughs a bit and then looks up at Gornak in disbelief. "Yer shi++ing me! Ye ain't no dancer! Yer too...well...er...just look at ye!"
And then Thumparr starts to chuckle. "What kind of...dances do you do?"Tears begin to run from the dwarf's eyes as he tries not to laugh in Gornak's face.
"What are you looking for in Riddleport, dwarf?"
Assuming Gornak doesn't start wailing on Thumparr, the dwarf replies, "Looking fer work, same as ye. Although, ye can bet yer ass I won't be dancin' fer me supper! Figured I might win a few gold at this place tonight. Heard there was gonna be some kinda contest going on. You gettin' in on it?"
Gornak growls in a low tone, like an angry dog.
"Gornak dances good. War dance, fan dance, rain dance. Once Gornak gets job, maybe I take you outside and dance on your head." Gornak smiles menacingly, revealing various crooked and missing teeth.
"Gornak is not gambling tonight. Just looking for Saul, to get a job."
Mel finds himself with too many things to keep an eye on...the spooning halflins are forgotten as he watches the two elves in conversation wishing he spoke the language.
The big half orc and a dwarf also occupy some of his interest mainly because he thinks they could be a flash point for some trouble. He notes the bouncers seem to have reached the same conclusion and are hovering close to the mismatched pair
Ngozi ignores the waitress and walks over to where the half-orc and dwarf are talking.
"You can dance the rain dance, yeh, orc man? Maybe you show Ngozi your rain dance sometime. Just make sure you and dwarf man not dance the war dance. Not yet, anyway. The big door men are watching, yeh?"
Ngozi will split into a wide, toothy grin and nod toward the bouncers who are quietly making their way towards the pair. He eyes the dwarf and the half-orc, and then gives a nod towards the bar.
"Ngozi is here to win gold in big game. If you two fight, maybe there be no big game. Then no gold. Maybe, instead, Ngozi buy you two a drink at bar, and maybe we forget war dance for now, yeh?"
Gornak growls in a low tone, like an angry dog.
"Gornak dances good. War dance, fan dance, rain dance. Once Gornak gets job, maybe I take you outside and dance on your head." Gornak smiles menacingly, revealing various crooked and missing teeth.
"Gornak is not gambling tonight. Just looking for Saul, to get a job."
Thumparr returns the smile and leans in closer to the Half-Orc whispering loudly, "How 'bout a dance to get rid of that damned Blot? Thing makes me nervous. Ain't right, I tell ye! It ain't right."
Ngozi ignores the waitress and walks over to where the half-orc and dwarf are talking.
"You can dance the rain dance, yeh, orc man? Maybe you show Ngozi your rain dance sometime. Just make sure you and dwarf man not dance the war dance. Not yet, anyway. The big door men are watching, yeh?"
Ngozi will split into a wide, toothy grin and nod toward the bouncers who are quietly making their way towards the pair. He eyes the dwarf and the half-orc, and then gives a nod towards the bar.
"Ngozi is here to win gold in big game. If you two fight, maybe there be no big game. Then no gold. Maybe, instead, Ngozi buy you two a drink at bar, and maybe we forget war dance for now, yeh?"
Thumparr looks up at Gornak and shrugs before replying, "Hell, we ain't gonna tear up the place. Not yet anyway. And if yer buyin', then me be drinkin'. The name's Thumparr. This here's Gornak." He sticks out a hand to Ngozi.
Ngozi takes the hand proffered and gives it a good shake, though he looks like he feels a little awkward doing it. Regardless, he smiles again saying, "Good, Ngozi likes you, dwarf man. Direct. I drink to that, yeh. You drink too, yeh orc man?" Ngozi turns and starts looking for that waitress again...
Mel relaxes slightly as the man from Mwangi apparently defuses the situation. He moves closer to the two elves but all he hears are words in elvish..a language he vows to learn someday.
Beriadan wrote
Buchedda am hyn banodau 'n ganiataol er , dydy mo i mewn 'r caer itself. Dwi 'ma i mewn chwilia chan ddewin a all ddeud 'm hychwaneg am a beth 'r caer - trigolion alw ' 'r blotia '. A er Gwna yn wir bwyllo myfi ar goll , Atgofia bydew 'r adeiladaeth chan Kyonin cystal fel 'r 'n fawr gweithredoedd chan 'n boblogi. Dydy lawer hychwaneg 'n goeth na 'r adeiladaethau chan hon chyflea , er a dweud y gwir , Balfala hon caer bwyllir staen , hyd yn oed at 'n ddynol llumanau Beth cyrchedig 'ch 'ma? D at edrych ar 'r Blotia cystal? A 'n brudd berthyn yn wir ai 'r Banon wedi cymeryd buddiant i mewn hon
Kappasc wrote
Ddeua 'ma yn chwilio 'm dadogi , bu 'n anfonedig acha anfonedigaeth lawer , lawer blynedd yn ôl. Yn ystod 'm deithio beth bachigion chan gwybodaeth Allais aeddfeda cychwynedig yn arwain hon ffordd. Serch at bod 'n bell , 'm 'n addfwyn berthyn has bath chan 'n ofer i mewn 'r gwynebu chan 'n gynddeiriog 'n chwilfrydig. Fi hefyd argeisia 'r chwnsel chan 'r chyfundrefn brudwyr , serch fi m yn amcanu achos 'n gyfa 'n amgen achlysuron. Achlysuron hwnt , er , bai 'n glws at gweithia ag chilydd Choblyn i mewn hon dref
"You can dance the rain dance, yeh, orc man? Maybe you show Ngozi your rain dance sometime. Just make sure you and dwarf man not dance the war dance. Not yet, anyway. The big door men are watching, yeh?"
"Yup, rain dance work every time. Sometimes it take three, four weeks, but it always work."
"Ngozi is here to win gold in big game. If you two fight, maybe there be no big game. Then no gold. Maybe, instead, Ngozi buy you two a drink at bar, and maybe we forget war dance for now, yeh?"
"Yes, we fight later. First Gornak needs a job. If you see Saul, tell Gornak."
[Elven] "...Reasons aside, though, it'd be nice to work with a fellow Elf in this town.... [/Elven]
Beriadan keeps an eye on the situation brewing between the dwarf and the half-orc as he says [Elven]"I agree, it has been too long since I have even come in contact with another of my kind. It has been 100 years since I last stepped foot in our home land. I fear living among the shorter lived races may have dulled my knowledge of current events. What news can you tell me of Kyonin? I was but a child when I was forced to leave...[/Elven] Beriadan's voice trails off at the last sentence, as if remembering something he had thought forgotten.
Then he simply smiles a bit as he notices that a Mwangi seemed to have diffused the situation between the two rather stubborn looking individuals. While Beriadan prided himself on his swordsmanship, he wasn't the type who liked to use it when he didn't need to, and judging from the type and caste of humans around him, if a fight broke out among those two, it would surely drag in the others who were frequenting this place.
"Yes, we fight later. First Gornak needs a job. If you see Saul, tell Gornak."
"Who is this Saul feller ye keep spoutin' about? He supposed to be here or sommat?"
When Thumparr gets his beer he thanks Ngozi and raises his mug in a toast. "Here's to ye both - I's got a feelin' things are gonna happen tonight - good things for all of us!"
Ngozi takes his own beer and raises it along with Thumparr, saying, "Ngozi drinks to that! As to Saul, he big man in town. Owns Gold Goblin. This his game, so maybe he be here today, yeh?"