591 CY (ten years after the Greyhawk wars)1st of Planting (low summer)
Daily Weather:
Sky: Partly Cloudy
Temp: Cool, ~About 40 degrees
Prec:None
Time: Early Afternoon
Another cool day has come to Diamond Lake, it seems the long winter will never end. However it is warm and comfortable in the Feral Dog Tavern. It is not the classiest joint in town, but it is one of the cheaper ones. The tavern is a buzz with activity as several workers have stopped in for midday supper.
"I'm telling ya, barkeep, dere just ain no respect for natural talent anymore." Kyle places a few copper on the bar. "The usual."
Kyle takes his drink and raises it to the barkeep, swiveling around on the stool to take a look over the afternoon crowd. Kyle smiles a big, toothy grin.
Working for the Bronzewood Lodge isn't very exciting, Queslin realized, it didn't pay well either. That is why he was at the Feral Dog Tavern tonight. Sometimes it can get rather rowdy in here, so at least there could be that. Plus it would be good to have something to distract him from the fact that he paid for the swill they call alcohol.
Gorvic the rough looking half-elf bartender laughs at Kyle as he orders his Diamond Lake Muddy Bottom Stout (brewed on-site).
"Here ya go Kyle, what big score you got planned to today, rob the stables?"
"Har, Har, Har" as Grovic laughs at his own joke, "Always the schemer aren't ya boy"
"Someday you will wise up and get back down in that mine, where ya belong, working for Maester Smenk."
Gorvic looks over at Queslin, "Hey you young wide-eyed elf, Bronzewood lodge is on the outskirts, we don't sell elven wine here."
He then looks over at the strange looking Suloise woman entering the bar and ordering her bourbon. "Sure love coming right up, not a normal ladies drink if I do say so my self, but to each there own. The name is Gorvic, I be the main bartender. Say you waiting on your paramour to show up?"
Tara stamps her feet to shake off the chill and heads straight for the hearth. The last few days of her journey here were downright uncomfortable, and it's good to be back in a town, with a tavern and a fire. She's small even for a halfling, but she moves with assurance. She has long, dark hair and her features are long and graceful. She wears trousers instead of a skirt and a long leather coat under a heavy cloak.
She stands in front of the fire, rubbing her hands together to warm them and listening to the noise of the tavern, the miners grumbling to one another like rocks grinding underground, and then the others. An elf, a human woman with a pipe, and a rough looking man chatting with the bartender.
When she's shaken off the worst of the chill, she makes her way to the bar, climbing onto a stool and waving to the barman.
"A glass of that stout, if you will," she says, nodding towards Kyle's drink.
"Worry not, Gorvic, your secret is safe with me. I don't want any of the others knowing I've spent even a moment here."
Kyle sniffs the air. "No, based on the smell coming from da kitchen, I'd say ya already cleaned out the stables."
He watches as Breda enters, instantly captivated. His brain finally catches up with the conversation when Gorvic attempts to hand her the bourbon. He intercepts her drink from Gorvic's grasp and hands it to her, smiling broadly. "Why would she waiting on another man when she's got da best one in town right here?"
He notices Tara approaching over Breda's shoulder, smiling with more teeth than you would think possible. He winks at Tara as she nods at his drink.
Gorvic gives a sneer to Queslin, "well just dont't get all uppity with us, we ain't shutting down the dog fighting here. You nature types always want save stuff."
Gorvic looks at Tara, "hey we don't serve kids here, haa just kidding, I love razzing you little midgets. Here ya go half pint. Haa get it? Gods I crack myself up."
" Oh ain't that cute, little Klye the town deadbeat is hittin on the new pretty lady in town. Here is that bourbon you wanted honey. Stay away from Kyle his hands will be in your purse before you know it."
"I should be so lucky." Kyle smiles. "But, Gorvic, I'm afraid my tolerance for insults stops at my own pride being wounded. You shouldn't insult the young ladies in my presence. Hard to serve alcohol when the town deadbeat has your serving fingers in a pouch." Kyle smiles and raises his hand, a knife suddenly appearing in his hand. He begins picking his teeth with the knife, smiling the while.
"Oh, then you'd like ol Gorvi here. He's about six feet of it." Kyle laughs. "But seriously, enjoy your drink, lady. If things go well, I guess I'll never need the services you would be willing to provide."
Kyle puts his knife back into his sleeve-hidden spring loaded sheath and grabs a nearby empty stool, dragging it next to him. He smiles at Taram saying "And how about you miss, will you share a common space wid Kyle, as well as a common beverage?
A squat pale swarf with bright red hair matching his bright red beard somps his way into the tavern. Everything about him just seems heavy. His clothes are sturdy. His beard hands in heavy braids. His footsteps rattle the floorboards. Even his voice sounds weighed down. "I'll 'ave a pin' ah stoat." He slaps a silver piece on the bar and looks about the tavern.
When he gets a blank look from the 'tender, he points at Tara's drink. Stoat.
Tara rolls her eyes at the barman and takes a sip of her drink, setting the mug down with a satisfied sigh.
"Well the beer at least makes up for the jokes," she says. "Now if you'd just take off that hideous mask, I'd be quite comfortable."
When Kyle approaches, she shakes her head and laughs.
"Aye, deadbeat," she says. "We can sit in the same bar, but beyond that? Well, when you whip your blade out to impress every girl you see, there's not much point in hiding it up your sleeve, is there? You can brag about what a great swordsman you are, but we've all seen that what you're wielding is a wee dagger."
"I'm Tara. Thank you for the drink." She lifts her drink and takes a healthy gulp. Looking around, she slides the new mug down to the dwarf. "Pint of stoat for you, sir. From the lawyer, by way of me."
Eldgrim catches the pint and takes a long pull. Ahh. Tha's tha stuff. He strides forward and offers a meaty hand by way of greeting. There's an earthy smell to him. It's not unclean. it's more like freshly turned soil in a field. Thank ye lass. Names Eldgrim. Frien's call m' Digger. An' anyone tha'll gi' me a drink is a frien' s'far 's 'm concerned. It almost seems like he's repressing a deeper accent. Like this is about as clear as he can get.
The lively banter at the comes to a sudden halt as a large purple skinned half-ogre with greasy black hair dressed in ill fitting half-plate comes barreling through the door.
"Mongo fifstry, two fifts o'ale na" as he grabs Gorvic by the shirt collar. The quickly thrusts him back into the bar.
Three others follow the half-ogre into the bar, one is a balding man with a neat goatee, he is dressed in a fine red robe and carries a staff.
The second is a man with long dark hair and looks to be brooding, he is dressed in plate mail and carries a mace.
The fourth is a lithe young female elf dressed in leather with a sword and bow.
The man with the goatee is next to speak after the Half-ogre roughly sets down the Gorvic. "Sorry about that friend, here is a plate* for your trouble" and flips Gorvic a platinum piece.
The man continues, "Mongo doesn't have good manners, and he was thirsty before we set off. Apologies"
Ye kin say tha' 'gin. Bes' t' keep his sart on a leash, aye? It's difficult to guage just how much of a jest that's intended to be from the pale dwarf.
Eldgrim eyes the newcomers one more time and moves off with Breda. Aye...
The man with the goatee, continues to looks around making sure everybody is watching him.
"Hey barkeep, round for everybody in this dive." He then sets down a dozen platinum plates on the bar, which of course is more than enough for everyone in the bar to drink the entire night for free.
As the half-ogre continues to suck down his ale, the man continues his grandstanding. "That is right friends we are The Four and we are the best adventures in the region. So remember that name, because we shall be back in about a week so laden with treasures of the Stirgenest Carin, we may need some help carrying it all!"
The man then does a few waves of his staff and makes a few gestures with his hands producing a brilliant light show. "Come my companions, let us become filthy rich!"
With a dramatic turn the man exits the bar with his companions in tow.
Kyle laughs with good nature at Tara's jest. "Ah finally, someone who keeps her wits as sharp as my blades. Pay attention, Gorvic, da's how ya lay an insult down." "Now, lass, are ya gonna say that if I din't spend all day sharpening my knive it might not be so short? Or have ya somethin better?"
Kyle watches as "The Four" come in and watches as they do their dance, being sure to smile and wink at the elven lady.
Kyle grabs the nearest patron, that being Queslin, by the sleeve and drags him over to Breda's table, sitting down uninvited. "My friends, surely 'The Five' can beat out 'The Four' if for no other reason than our numbers, aye? Surely there's better pickins than da old Stirgenest. Dat ole place has been cleaned out by adventurers and dirtied up by teenagers for decades."
Queslin looks at the patch of sleeve that Kyle grabbed to see if its dirty. Then he searches for his money pouch to make sure it's still there. "Touch me again like that, human, and I'll show you that size does matter." Queslin indicates the greatsword on his back.
"Woah, somebody's compensating. I myself feel no need." Kyle flashes Queslin a smile, and pushes right up into his face, noses less than an inch apart. ((He may have to stand on the chair to make that happen.))"Try it, pointy, and I'll show you how speed beats size in this particular case."
Calm duin, knif-ear. 'm sure th' chil' meant nae harm. He looks over the others. 'm sure some'n' 'ere 's gonnae wake up summat they shoulnae. Might be i's them... Any o' you know a knit 'bout 'em?
Kyle
Tara
Queslin
Breda
Eldgrim
If the paper is close enough to him, Kyle jumps off the chair, "stumbling" as he does so and tucking the parchment away in a sleeve or down his shirt.
"Oof, that was higher than I thought." Kyle rolls onto his back "You win this round, pointy. Next one's mine." he extends his hand for a hand getting up, in Queslin's direction. "No hard feelings, eh?"
A young man dressed in the plain brown and orange trimmed robes of a priest of Pelor tenetively pokes his head into the tavern for a moment, then ducks back out. A moment later he walks all the way into the tavern and goes to the center of the room, the holy symbol of Pelor out and prominently displayed on his chest.
He waits a moment, for all eyes to be on him before he raises a hand and the room quiets a bit at this unexpected intrusion.
"Good evening. I just wanted to introduce myself, and I figured that I would find most of the miners here wetting their throats after a long day in the mines. I am Radiant Servant Terrin. I have the pleasure of helping bring the light of Pelor into your lives...and I hear if anyone could use a little extra light, a miner can." he says with a smile.
"In any regard, I will be holding a very quick sunrise blessing tomorrow morning for all those who want to participate. I figure that a blessing before you head down into the mine is the best way to do it...Pelor knows that after working all day, I would be more interested in a mug of ale than sitting around listening to me speak."
"And now that my introduction is done...I need an ale too. It was a long walk from Greyhawk." he grins, and walks over to the bar.
"Little AND quick to finish? You really are a prize." Tara teases Kyle, but with a smile that shows it's in fun. She slips between him and the elf, craning her neck to look up at Queslin.
"Pay him no mind," she speaks loudly, as though unsure such a tall creature could hear her otherwise. "We don't call him All-Smoke-No-Fire because he's dangerous. Just unpleasant to breathe around. If his knife were as sharp as his wit you might get a letter open with it."
She slides into a seat at the table, and looks after the four as they leave. She sighs, softly. The four are going to have a proper adventure, it seems, and she will spend the rest of the evening trading barbs with a horny toad. If they hadn't been so godawful arrogant, she'd have asked to join them, but at least some of these seem to know what's what.
"I can't say I'd be unhappy to beat those pompous twits to the punch," she says, and turns to Kyle. "What've you got there, Claymore?"
The miners in the tavern eating their afternoon lunch all turn to look at the young priest of Pelor during his speech. After Terrin is finished speaking, there is a moment of silence. Then the room bursts into laughter.
"Good one priest, you do your morning prayer, I'll be breaking my back in the mine."
"Hey how about a blessing for me to get a million gold Orbs*."
Quickly the ruckus calms down and the miners return to their meals and free drinks. Completely ignoring the priest.
Kyle looks at his hand. "Why, it's my hand. I was hoping pointy would be kind enough to help me up. I'm afraid I'm too weak to do it on my own after that lashing your tongue just gave me."
Terrin mentally shrugs at the laughter. Nobody said that this was going to be easy. Looks like I need to take the long-view. "Pelor's warmth eventually melts the thickest ice..."
Terrin stops, turns from the bar and walks over to the one miner who asked for a blessing. Even if it was in jest...
The oblivious miner was concentrating on his cup when Terrin walked up behind him. Holding his holy symbol in one hand, and the other palm out over the head of the miner he intoned, "May the Light of Pelor shine forth upon you, light your way in the darkness, reside in your heart, and guide you in times of challenge and times of plenty."
Then, a golden light and warmth eminated from Terrin, like the touch of the sun on a summer day.
"I hope it helps." he says, laying a hand on the miner's shoulder. He then turns an heads back towards the bar.
Kyle shivers as the healing light of Pelor embraces the room. "Woah, thanks, Terrin, was it? That tooth has been bothering me all week." he looks up towards Queslin. "Seems Pointy here has forgotten his manners."
He rolls over shifting the parchment into a different hiding spot as he does so, and stands up in a swift motion. He grabs his chair, spins it around and sits, leaning against its back with his chest.
"Tomb raiding? Sure, why not? I've got no solid plans for this week." He smiles brightly at Breda "Course, most of the good tombs have already been picked over. All 'The Four' are likely to find at the Stirgenest is horny teenagers." He looks at Tara "And, yeah, before you say it, I've been there plenty of times. Ole Kyle could give you a private tour of the place sometime if ya like." he says loud enough to be overheard by anyone listening.
More quietly he says "Maybe we wait awhile till the crowd thins out ta discuss bidness proper-like. Lunchtime is almost over."
"Little AND quick to finish? You really are a prize." Tara teases Kyle, but with a smile that shows it's in fun. She slips between him and the elf, craning her neck to look up at Queslin.
"Pay him no mind," she speaks loudly, as though unsure such a tall creature could hear her otherwise. "We don't call him All-Smoke-No-Fire because he's dangerous. Just unpleasant to breathe around. If his knife were as sharp as his wit you might get a letter open with it."
Queslin smiles at Tara's jibe against Kyle.
She slides into a seat at the table, and looks after the four as they leave. She sighs, softly. The four are going to have a proper adventure, it seems, and she will spend the rest of the evening trading barbs with a horny toad. If they hadn't been so godawful arrogant, she'd have asked to join them, but at least some of these seem to know what's what.
"I can't say I'd be unhappy to beat those pompous twits to the punch,"
Much like Tara, Queslin looks thoughtfully after the departing adventurers. "I agree. That would be most satisfying."
"Seems Pointy here has forgotten his manners."
"I have done no such thing. I believe that it would be best for us to not come into contact with one another."
When the idea of heading into the tombs arises, DIgger will comment If'n the dead be res'less I be happy tae haelp.
In response to Kyle's antics, Ye cannae be offended when folk're put off by ye. Ye're offensive to ever'one ye meet. P'rposefuly, 't seems.
"I have done no such thing. I believe that it would be best for us to not come into contact with one another."
He points his chin at Queslin as if to punctuate his statement.
Tara sizes up the priest as he makes his entrance, and smiles when he uses his power to assist the miners. It is good to see a priest who does more than talk about his god's power and importance.
She nods at the dwarf's statement to Kyle, but adds nothing. She is more interested in the parchment the thug palmed, but this is not the moment to talk about it. For whatever reason, he wished to keep it to himself, and for now, it is enough for her to know he is as trustworthy as he seems.
"I'm a fair shot with a bow," she said, in answer to Breda's question. "I can scout the way ahead, and sing a little song to keep spirits up in the dark places."
Queslin looks almost insulted by Breda's question. "I am a High Elf. Our skill with bow and blade is as well known and feared as our ability with woods lore and magic. Though I have not yet come into my magic, it is only a matter of time."
Kyle smiles at Queslin, "That's ok, pointy. Not all of us have reached our potential. Maybe yer jest a late bloomer."
Quieter again, to Eldgrim "Ah, come on now. Ole Kyle don' mean no harm, least not to those not needing harm. People with discerning eyes like yours can see that and might be worth gettin ta know."
Kyle slides his chair next to Tara's and whispers without moving his lips "Now let's see what the guy dropped, eh? You really shouldn't try to make it so obvious to the other patrons of this place. Some of them act as spies for Smenk and his like." He slides the parchment on the table in front of the two of them and takes a look.
"You think I have some cause to trust you?" Tara mutters, but looks at the parchment the rogue recovered without further comment.
"Sometimes a few good quick thrusts of da knife is all it takes ta git the job done, lass." Kyle smiles broadly giving dirty cold looks at anyone paying too much attention to their table. He whispers back to Tara "Not yet, of course not. You're too smart for that. But maybe once you get to know me. Anyway, you saw this too, so it's as much yours as mine."
Enough is enough. Eldgrim rises from his seat and strides to the bar. He reclaims his seat and signals for another pint from Gorvic.
Terrin moves up to the bar and stands next to the dwarf.
"I'll have one of whatever he is having." he says to Gorvic, pointing at Eldgrim.
Eldgrim raises what remains of his pint towards Terrin. Saervan'. Good tae see yer ilk 'roun' these parts.
Terrin beams at the dwarf. "It is always better to be wanted than the reverse." he says with a laugh. "Thank you. You are the first person to actually be pleasant since I reached the town."
Terrin sticks out his hand to the dwarf, "Terrin. Pleased to meet you. Do you work in the mine?" he asks courtously.