Greeted by a welcoming committee each and every person coming to the city is being settled in at the town Tavern. The Tavern owner himself greets you.
"The city of Trunau welcomes you. Although it is a most dangerous place, come in, sit for a spell, and talk of the days ahead. There are many others to share your time with as we wait for supplies. "
A half-elf man in leather and chain armor, wearing a green cloak comes in through the door. His cowl over his face hiding it from view, on his hip, a glinting reddish orange blade, on his chest a sheath containing a hopeknife showing use. He knows the owner, and the owner knows him, if only slightly.
the usual, but this time make the coffee sweeter than usual
He takes a seat in a shadowed corner of the tavern.
He rests a bow against the wall and takes a seat pulling out a long smoking pipe and sets it alite and awaits his coffee and meal.
he takes a look around the tavern, wondering why so many new folks were coming into town.
"Ah , the usual indeed. Raf you got that? So how's it going out there Rydell? I hear the orcs still pounding at our walls day and night but luckily men like you have come to stop them. It seems we get newcomers by the hour here to join the fight."
The owner seeing a usual patron stopped for a moment to converse. The bartender, Rafy began putting together Rydell's order. Coffee and a hot meal consisting of no more than some heated ole dried out meat, and a couple of slices of potato.
"Enjoy the food while we still have it."
yes, I slew a scouting force the other night. Nasty buggers. They aren't very quiet. And you can thank my father, he taught me everything I know after all
He takes a drink
yes, I've seen several, I've even heard stories of some not making it. Meals as good as always RAF. Maybe if we suddenly gained a liking for orc meat we would never go hungry eh? Although it'd probably have to be cooked to a char to get all the dirt out.
The dwarf made his rounds through town, and happened upon the inn. Although he worked for Cham and the Ramblinghouse, he occasionally stopped in to see if anyone else of interest had come to their small town. He definitely knew better than spend some of his precious silver, as the food was passable at best. Halflings knew their grub.
The dwarf with the ruddy complexion and weathered skin made a quick appraising glance at the visitors. His eyes passed over the elf, and the ranger noted the elf had a bow. His calloused right fingers probably meant he knew how to use it. He considered carefully the claims of slaying an entire scouting force.
Well dwarves and elves had little in common, but a hatred of orcs was one of them. It seemed considering eating them was NOT one of them, as Dundin ate the local boar and deer with relish.
Dressed in simple laborer's clothes, the dwarf knew he exuded a ripe odor after helping Cham and the ladies by dragging the laundry presses down to the river and back. He hoped to go at least three more days before another bath. Dundin wanted to say something witty about orcs and his exploits, but opened his mouth and said: "Orcish blood runs through this town."
After his cryptic warning, Dundin rushed back to his chores. Six words was enough for today.
A ruckus is heard from the door, followed by an ear-piercing screech, and the words, "I am good. I have a writ."
A hulking figure walks in the tavern, greataxe at his back and covered in rough hides of a Realm of the Mammoth Lords local, holding a parchment of the thickest vellum anyone has ever seen out for everyone to see, looks at Rafy pouring a drink, and sets in his direction. The huge figure, standing at over 6 and a half feet tall, is most definitely an orc, wearing a giant cat's fang around his neck, in a fashion vaguely similar to that of a hopeknife.
"I offer you a trade, master of food. One shiny coin for one mammoth brew.", says Valax, pulling out a gold coin to pay for the drink. He then looks at the dwarf and the half-elf on both his sides, and says in a thickly accented Taldan,
"What talk are you having, strong clanmen of True-Now?"
The half elf laughs at the dwarves remark.
Yes, that is true. But it is not blood that makes you what you are. Orc blood does not make you an orc, elf blood does not make you an elf. Look at me, I am both human and elf, yet I am neither. I am Rydell, yes, blood pushes you to a certain end, but it is your mentality, and your mindset that makes you something. If someone wants to be offended by my words, let them. It would not be me insulting them.
as the orc busts in. Rydell quickly unsheathes his blade. Then stops, remembering that if this orc was actually hostile like the others he would be dead by now. He re-sheathes his blade but keeps a wary eye on the orc, and his hand always on his hilt.
wonder how he will react..
We were simply discussing the finer points of using an orc for food, and whether or not the locals here with orc blood would take offense to that.
Rydell gives a large grin ending his sentence with a wave and flick of his left hand.
The elf-man is thinking how to provide food for True-Now. Or he is making a joke. I think they don't eat smart creatures here. I think only some orcs eat smart creatures, and maybe the Bloodtusk Following.
The orc looks at the half-elf, with a thoughful expression on his face, and after a bit, replies in a thoughful tone, "Shaman says you shouldn't eat your own race. Makes you sick in the head and gives you brain maggots. I think you aren't going to get brain maggots from eating orcs."
Arzam walks into the Tavern after selling a few beaver pelts. The smell of the Wild follows his every step. He walks up to the bar and ask for an Ale. After many years alone in the Wild, this taller than average, well tanned and lean Half-Elf, has found the fruity flavor of a good Ale to be a treat.
When he sees the Orc in the room, he put his hand on the hilt of his Scimitar. But relaxes when he notices that the situation is not hostile; and that this Orc is conversing in the Common tongue.
"I would not eat Orc. There is plenty of deer," the wild Ranger says somewhat matter-of-factly. Then he looks at the Orc directly, "The last I saw of your kind was the day before yesterday. I saw a party of Orcs carrying off the wares and goods of a Pilgrim family. Their bodies lay naked in the sun. I buried them, women and children too. I had soon put my Scimitar into the belly of every Orc I see." He stares at the Orc, "How are you different?"
"I was born in Wyvernsting. But I went to the Lands of the Mammoth Men. My family joined the Bearpelt Following. I am a Follower of Mighty Kuldor, strongest man alive, and I earned my right to be a huntman.", gestures Valax to his sabrecat dagger, hanging from his neck. "I am here to see what happens in the Hold of Belkzen, and if orcs and men and giant-men go to war. Bearpelts do not hunt the weak. Bearpelts protect the weak and make them strong.", says Valax in a slow and calm voice, except the excitement he shows explaining about Kuldor and the Bearpelts. "You smell like a scout. Are you a scout for the tribe of True-Now?"
"Huntsman? To answer your question, I am not a Scout for anyone other than myself. But, I too am a huntsman, though not in any official way. You are not like any other Orc that I have ever seen. Someone like you may make me think differently about your kind," Arzam is surprised by the honorable mannerisms of this Orc.
Rydell smirks.
See, it's like I said. Blood doesn't make a person something. Just because you have savage orc blood in your veins doesn't mean you have to be, or will be one. It's your character and mindset that make you what you are. Even if it is rare that an orc can overcome it's bloods power.
He glances at the strange orc.
Uh, no offense, and you guys need to take things a little less serious sometimes, it was a joke.
at this time Hunter walks in, he glances at all the new people in Trunau. He walks up to the bartender. Any specials going on today?
"New to Trunau, I see. Lately supplies have been low as the attacks have stepped up. Here take the house special."
The bartender pours a liquid from a glass bottle underneath the counter. He shakes it up after pouring ale in with the mix behind the bar into a small tin cup. The now opened cup is placed on the counter and seems heated as a steam like vapor rising in the air.
The smell is unexpected and almost causes those about to vomit including yourself. He hands it to the blue eyed and white skinned male now at the bar.
"Drink up! It is much better than it appears."
The bartender stares and waits while cleaning the mixing containers in front of him.
"If you don't like that maybe I have a little something special for a price."
Hunter smiles thanks, but I was hoping to get some food to go with it too. And actually I've been here for a few months maybe years, lost track, just never been to this tavern before, just always been busy and never had time. He then grabs the drink walks over to Rydells table and introduces himself. How you fellows do today? Name is Hunter, Mind if I sit down?
He then glances over at the bartender Yes, I'm aware of the attacks, though at the wall it was much worse and not everyone wanted to defend it.
"Ah don't worry you, I can't hardly see in front of my face in this old building. However you should know food is short. We'll be needing help soon if we don't get more food for all these incomers.
The bartender grabs a bit of bread and some aging meat for the pale one.
"Here you go, better than nothing. Goes with the drink."
He then turns and heads down to the end of the bar where others are gathering.
Hunter then puts his plate and cup on the table and sticks his hand out to shake Derrick's hand to greet him.
He then turns to the bartender. Thank you
"Why doesn't True-Now have enough food? Why would the orcs attack the food gatherers? If you attack the food gatherers, you don't catch anything and they don't catch anything and you both starve.", says Valax, not paying attention to the fact that he is, by blood, an orc himself.
"Shaman said most people in the south have lots of animals in one place, and they feed them plants that come out of the ground. The plants are in big pieces of land, and they care for them. Like for children, or baby deer. Why don't you have those 'farms', I believe Shaman called them?"
Hunter gives Valax a funny look Obviously, you don't seem to be from around here, they attacked the wall too. Why, I don't know why, but it was horrible. The fact that you are asking questions obviously means you come from a different group of Orcs, ones that didn't raid this place or its neighboring cities. And the place does have farms, yeah, but they were under siege too.
He then looks over again at Valax Say, where are you from, not from around here I take it? Oh and don't wonder off by yourself, people don't know you here, and they don't know you are from a different Orc tribe, as they will assume you are a part of that tribe that raided these towns. That would be like me wandering off alone in a city where elves have raided a place. Though he hints a people that he is an elf, one can tell his ears aren't pointed, but his long hair and his face does make him look elvish or at best a human that likes to have his hair long.
to tell he is neither human, elf or half-elf.
"I am not from an orc tribe. I am a follower of Mighty Kuldor, strongest man in the world, and leader of the Bearpelt Following in the Land of the Mammoth Men! I have a writ." Valax says, showing the writ from the shaman of the tribe, inscribed on thick leather.
"You don't have pointy ears.", says Valax, confused, as Hunter mentions elven raids.
Derrick eyes the new comer curiously.
I care not what blood flows in you, but I can attest that it is not human or elf. I've got both see.
He grins
this fine fellow is no orc except by fates decree of blood. This is another lesson my father taught me. Don't judge one based on appearance, judge them by character. While I can't say I've seen his character to make much of a call. I'd say he is quite civil enough to be counted among the non-orcs. If a tad slow in his speech.
He thinks to himself just a moment
that being said, I've never been abkr to judge one of pure orc blood. They were always to busy yelling and swinging an axe at me.
"Aye. The only Orcs I know of looked to kill any that were not of their kind. They take what they want, and leave nothing for others. Until this one," Arzam looks over at Valax.
Arzam will look at the bartender, "How much coin do you want for an Ale?"
Out of the shadows walks Fesk.. you barely see him.. and then he is gone again in a patch of shadow.. only to appear again as he passes a stretch of light from the continual flames.
Fesk walks up to the bar and standing on the stool normally reserved for halflings he puts a coin on the bar "Wine and food please" his voice is almost a whisper but can be clearly heard.
Derrick eyes the new comer curiously.
I care not what blood flows in you, but I can attest that it is not human or elf. I've got both see.
He grins
this fine fellow is no orc except by fates decree of blood. This is another lesson my father taught me. Don't judge one based on appearance, judge them by character. While I can't say I've seen his character to make much of a call. I'd say he is quite civil enough to be counted among the non-orcs. If a tad slow in his speech.
He thinks to himself just a moment
that being said, I've never been abkr to judge one of pure orc blood. They were always to busy yelling and swinging an axe at me.
Well I appreciate that you don't discriminate, but many people don't know any better. Yes it would be odd to find an Orc traveling by himself, but many people have never known an Orc to not attack. I'm talking about the people that shoot first and ask questions later type of people
he then pauses for a minute No, not an elf, but I was raised by them, which means I picked up some of their habits, and I kind of look like them, but the concept for me still applies, and my one of my grand parents is human, though my ancestry counts me a different race entirely.
"I am not by myself. My bird is with me. But the watcher of the food tent told me to leave him outside. I go through forests, and not roads. That may be why I haven't seen many travellers.", says Valax, struggling to understand most of the conversation.
At the mention of the yelling and axe-swinging, he answers, in an attempt at an educational tone. "Bearpelts usually yell and swing axes at enemies. Yelling makes you feel stronger and axes are useful for other things. Swords and spears are not."
The doors swing wide to admit a barrel-chested dwarf with a tightly-braided beard and two eyes like green emeralds. He has checked his long-handled axe at the gate, but still wears a double-bladed battle axe on his back. He glances about the room and says aloud (to no one in particular), "You can always tell a human town; they let anything wander through the gates." His eyes linger on the orc, especially.
"Barkeep! I'll have some of whatever swill passes for drink in this burg!" He takes a table with his back to a wall, facing the door.
Hunter whispers to Derrik and Valax. What was that all about? Do you know this guy? That is like the most random comment I heard, and I have no idea what he is talking about
Derrick chuckles. Saying in no particular whisper but rather normal speaking tone
those shoot first, ask later types you mentioned? Well dwarves are the most likely to fit that bill. Their hatred for orcs goblins and giants run deep. Seated a tenant in their cultrue. They go through classes to train them to fight and hate them even better. They also have often been known to have issues with elves from time to time. A more stubborn and xenophobic culture you won't find. he glances at the dwarf making sure he heard. Then smiles and continues on.
a more stalwart companion and friend ye won't find either though, once ye prove ye character and and friendship.
He makes sure to use the dwarven accent on you when speaking in common. Though the way he does it seems to show it in good fun, then again perhaps not.
"Stubborn and zee... zeeno... whatever ye said, aye, pointy-ears! And with good reason. And stalwart as well, 'tis true! Ye'll find no truer friend or ally than a dwarf! And while I've no more love for the greenskins than me kin, if the likes of him should prove loyal and stand with me agin' his kin," he indicates the orc, "I'd even give me life for him as well."
Fesk takes his wine, bread and meat and sits at a well lit table. He listens to the conversations going on with interest.
Fesk now that he is in light can be seen. He is about 3 and a half tall.. exceptionally skinny but wiry, his arms and legs seem longer than is proportional to his body. He gas sgarp facial features a hook nose, he almost appears to be something out of a scary children's book.
Hunter with a surprise and confused look on his face turns to Fesk I didn't even see you there, even with my darkvision, where you practicing an invisibility spell that just now wore off?
"I was merely being subtle, friend Hunter, usually I cannot hide so easily from the keen sighted, but maybe my dissolution helped me slip into the shadows more fully than normal"
"There seems to be more activity than usual, seems there must be something... happening, we should find out about"
The dwarf had ambled over to the gathering at the inn after his chores. He heard the words of the half elf scout who had slain the orc band earlier and decided, upon reflection, that the words were mostly an insult. Warned not to get into any more trouble, he approached the hearty looking dwarf shaking his head no as he approached.
With a single silver he gets a mug of ale himself from the tap--leaving the coin on the bar. Having brought his own mug, he seems to be getting a quantity discount on the ale.
"Hatte nicht die Absicht es, Bruder! Ich bin nur hier, um das Bier zu genießen!" He says cheerfully, with a broad smile.
He helps himself to a hearty slice of cheese.
"Aber jetzt, wenn der Grünhäute oder spitzen Ohren beginnt etwas, das ist eine ganz andere Sache jetzt, nicht wahr?" His tone is somewhat darker, but he is still smiling.
Fesk stands and says to the room.
Fesk bows and sits back down.
A need to brag shows a need of recognition, a need of recognition shows a low sense of self worth.
he smiles at the little fellow
I judge ones skills by the usefulness they endear, around here, the only languages worth learning other than common would be giant and orc. However, you do know more languages than I know, or at least enough to claim you do.
"Yeah, what he said," Drex waves a hand at the wayang. He hadn't understood a word of it, of course, but he wasn't about to let his ignorance show.
After the Magus stands and speaks, Azram will look at this odd creature, "Can you speak in the Common Tongue? What are you, by the way? I have never seen anyone like you. If I had been drinking some Ale, I might have said it must be the Ale. But I still haven't got any Ale yet!" Arzam says in an elevated voice.
He addresses the Wayang I'll remember those languages when they become useful
And I assume noone here knows Auran or Terran, so it would be useless to for me to speak in that language for now
"Well, I speak the tongue o' me kin and the common language, and that's all I ever needed," Drex remarks aloud. "I kin order an ale in just about any tavern, an' more 'an that, I dinna need to know."
Addressing Azram
"I am wayang, my people come from shadow like fey are from the third world, thus our bodies are built to be in shadow and shadows take many varied forms"
"I hear many languages I do not know, this is wonderful"
"Well met! I am Arzam. Can your bodies consume Ale? If so, I will buy you an Ale." Arzam is very intrigued by this new creature. He will look the wayang over, "Now you would make a good scout."
"Drex, son of Balock, son of Gunder, son of Urgeth, of clan Thunderhall. But ye can be callin' me Drex. If'n ye'd like ta buy me an ale, I won't refuse," the dwarf says, pointedly ignoring the fact that it was the wayang, and not he, being addressed.
Well Drex, son of Balock, son of Gunder, son of Urgeth, of Clan Thunderhall, well met too. Should some barkeep at some point decide to serve us I would be most happy to part with more coin and buy you too and ale," Arzam likes the boldness and direct nature of this Dwarf.
"Do you collect words, small shadow? Like a Skald? I think I can tell you a song of my people." The orc starts reciting quietly to the wayang in a language, one you can tell he definitely has better mastery of.
"Det gamle Træ, o lad det staa
Indtil det døer af Ælde;
Saamange Ting det husker paa.
Hvad kan det ikke melde."
That ancient tree, don't let it fall
Until old age is knelling;
So many things it can recall
What tales it could be telling.
The orc continues,"It's about wisdom in age. And stories. There is much to be learned from stories. But I can't translate it for you as good as is sounds in my language."
"Dunno what ya just said, greenie, but I liked th' sound o' it." Drex says, with genuine appreciation (and that is no small matter from a dwarf to an orc).
"Our bodies are just like yours just smaller so, yes I can have ale, but I just had wine and I can only drink a little compared to the bigger folk...
"I have no talent for song myself, the whispers of the shadows bring danger, but here in this world I think I would like to enjoy music
The room is quieted by the sound of a Gong.
BRANNNGGGG! BRANNNGGGG!
The bartender then yells,
"ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK! To arms at once!"
Hunter will go outside the bar to investigate what is going on.
Arzam will ready his bow, look around, then leave the tavern. He will then look for combatants.