Haqueton blinked as the half-elf spoke quite derisively of dancing and death, and for some reason seemed to think Haqueton was rusty and covered in barnacles and engaged in making powder wet. Perhaps the halfelf required spectacles.
Dismayed he turned to the hollering broker...
Another exposes their indifference and arrogance. Pay it no mind kind cousin. We remember all, don't we...
Taryn frowns at the direction the conversation appears to be headed. "I never saw myself becoming a mercenary but what coin I do have won't last long and it seems like it might take a while to track down my brother."
With grim resolution, he stands and walks over towards the would-be employer. "Yeah, I need work too."
If T-Bone and Wraps are goin' I'm goin' Liberte' says as he weaves up to sign. Since he's a fugitive, It's best to give a fake name. He takes the pen and writes... Mr. Happy
Hope I don't regret this,Dharrak thinks as he signs his name with a flourish.
He returns to his ale and takes another swig. At least I didn't have to sign with blood, he sighs as he consoles himself.
Haqueton notes Mr Happy's name and then also signs, leaving his contact information as "c/o The Plateworks". Feeling somewhat weary after this most quixotic set of social interactions he duly makes to take his leave. Of all the assembled personages he has made the acquaintance of, only one proved genuine.
"Well met...Dharakk. Perhaps we will meet again."
Seeing the nicknamer also prompts Haqueton to society.
"Fare thee well, Mister Happy!"
With that Haqueton returns home.
Correction: His name is NOT....oh...never mind...
Sal's grin gets wider as his offer has enticed a cadre of coin hungry mercenaries. Many of the patrons near the group toast the heroes and those who would be heroes for making the decision to sign up. At this point many are so drunk they would toast just about anything.
"Carduus, Rission, Beylinda, Haqueton, Taryn, Mr. Happy, and Dharakk. That is a healthy number. With this many of you I can broker some serious deals. I may need only one of ya or I may need all of ya, time will tell. Don't need no last names mind you, if yer some Noble or something lookin' to slum it or a con with a past that's yer business not mine and I don't want to know it either".
He places the sign up sheet into his back pocket, "One more round on me. Then I'm off ta see what's a brewin!"
He shares a drjink with six of you as the Warforged has already taken his leave. Sal shrugs, "Heh, they don't drink anyway, least not that I've seen". He places his glass on the bar and takes his leave, leaving the six of you eyeing one another warily.
Haqueton leaves the Dragon heading through the streets of Sharn replaying the meeting in the Tavern in his mind as he winds his to his eventual destination, the lower levels and the Cogs.
As you walk you soon get the sense that you are being followed by a large figure wearing a dirty cloak.
On leaving the alehouse, Haqueton ejects the useless imbibed alcoholic fluid out a sumphole in his hips. Freshly lightened, he begins his journey back to the plateworks.
Careful, cousin. One follows us. It is time for Harpoon.
Haqueton squirms slightly and nods to himself. As he walks he unfurls his own tattered and stain'd cloak and clutches it close. He walks on, betraying no notice of the follower...
Harpoon turns into an available alley, and unslings his harpoon, ready to ambush the follower.
These streets are my hunting ground. You are my prey.
The cloaked figure steps into the mouth of the alley, enough for the darkness to hide it from those walking by on the streets and removes its cloak. It too is a Warforged!
"Come from the shadows brother, I shall not harm you like the Breathers are wont to do to our kind. I come bearing a message, from he who would free us all..."
Harppon did not expect this.
This one has no Blood... whispers the voice inside, that Haqueton does not hear.
He wavers, yet the harpoon stays held with an iron double handed grip pointed directly at the newcomer's solar plexus.
"I am yet free. Yet you seem to be beholden to another. Relay your message."
The Warforged does not move from his current spot simply standing there peering into the alleyway and speaking to you, "Free? Do you not toil to make coin for breathers in the bowels of this city brother? No, you are not free, freedom is being able to work towards a higher purpose, a purpose that will make our people more than simply tools of the Breathers, or work not at all as you so choose.
I am no slave, I work with Him to free others of our kind from their oppression. No doubt his good work has been slandered by the Breathers information network in this city, surely you have heard of the Lord of Blades?"
"I have not heard of this "Lord". And as I suspected - you pay homage to a "lord" - indicating your fealty, your...slavery. If you worked "with" him, would I not see him here, now?."
Harpoon makes a show of looking left and right, up and down before staring back at the warforged stranger..
"No matter. Tell me of the higher purpose your "lord" proposes."
Harpoon shrugs inside his cloak, hoping it hides his front foot edging forward to enable a quick powerful stab with his namesake weapon...
Rission looks at his drink warily. Upon being offered another the half elf pushes the mug away from himself.
"No more for me I'm afraid. But well met all, so what brings everybody here to Sharn? Since I'm speaking I guess I'll go first. My name is Rission, Rission d'Lyrandar. Truthfully nothing but the wind and seas brought me here."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Well met? The inebriated warrior says Weren't you the guy who chewed Gears up and spit on the floor...with him. Are you some sort of ... Liberte' tries to figure out the right word for a warforge racist. Machine-ist?
Rission points to himself with a quizzical look on his face.
"Me? No, goodness no. The warforged barreled into a strangers conversation without so much as an "excuse me." Mother always said to mind your manners when meeting new people. But Taryn, you've met her, so you know how she can get."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"I'm Carduus, and I'm here for work. I wouldn't hold your breath waiting for Sal to come through - in my experience, there's a whole lot of talk and very little action from men like him. I mean, open recruitment in a barroom? Amateur move."
Carduus takes a long pull off his ale. Hmph. Tastes just as bad as when I pay for it. Maybe even worse.
"Only thing worse than patching up soldiers is patching up drunks who think they're soldiers."
Then don't go making your mother ashamed, being rude to strange warforges looking to make friends. Liberte' hiccups. MotherShamer
Watching the conversation unfold between Lierte' and Rission, Dharrak can't help but think, the booze is starting to talk. He walks up and puts his arm around Liberte' shoulder and says, "sure he didn't mean nuthin by it."
He continues, "I be Dharrak, a finder of lost things, most recently from Wroat" Gesturing with his other hand toward Liberte' he says, "and this be me friend ..... hey what did you say your name was?"
If the Warforged has noticed your action he does not respond to it.
"Lord is a name of the Nobility I agree. Generally I refer to him as Blade but placing the word Lord before his name gives him a flourish that the Breathers seem to fear.
Blade cannot be in all places at once so I, and others, are here in his stead.
Our purpose is to forge a place of our own. A land for our peoples where we shall not be abused by the Breathers. Does this not interest you?"
Liberte' visibly relaxes. I'm Longfellow Thunderstud, of the Sharn Thunderstuds. Seeker of won money and women of questionable virtue.
Harpoon takes a few moments to let the warforged think he is mulling the information over.
"Interest me? Yessss!"
Harpoon lunges, stabbing forward with his baleful spike.
[+2 Strength]
Beylinda Will continue to lend an ear to the conversation.
She Will at some point ask for a room at the innkeeper for the night
Dharrak considers Lonfellow Thunderstuds remarks, This man is definitely a lunatic or a drunkard. He concludes, I like the man but I'm not calling him ThunderStud.
This guy can't even remember the last name he gave - Thunderstud, Happy, Liberty. He probably doesn't even remember the name his parents gave him; so much the better for them.
Carduus ignores Liberte' in favor of Rission. "D'Lyrandar? I thought the Houses took care of their own - why are you down here slummin' it with us poor unfortunates?"
As the conversations continue around him Dharrak remains quiet trying to get the measure of the others who signed up to work for Sal. As Carduus questions Rission Dharrak pays close attention seeking to know more about the man but more importantly more about the Gunne.
The Warforged dodges the thrust, drawing a dagger which he feints towards you but you are not fooled or are you? His other hand snatches your harpoon away and throws it into the alley behind you.
Letting out a sigh the Warforged responds, "If you did not wish to listen cousin you could have said so. Your mind has been tainted, warped by this sick city of Breathers. We shall see each other again, cross me again and I shall mark you a Breather sympathizer and deal with you as such".
responds to Carduus' comment, "The House watches over its own but each individual member needs to make their own way in the world. Living in and relying on the past will not take us into the future". Taryn raises his glass, "A toast, to all of us and our futures. Whether together or separate may the world find a way to make all of our lives better".
The Innkeeper grins at Beylinda, "Aye, I've a room fer ya'. Ye'll be wantin' one with a lock yeah? That'll be a bit extra of course..."
The moniker of heroes seems to have caught the drinks are flowing... freely.
"As my friend has said. They can't cover your arse all the time. Currently I work as a cook at the Wayward Lobster. I think I've seen a few of you in there. Especially you Miss. Can't forget a wardrobe like that."
The half elf relaxes in his chair and leans back. Enjoying the chit chat, but watching how much each person drank. How much you drink when they are on the house can be a good judge of character.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Harpoon betrays not even a glance of surprise as the warforged effortlessly disarms him. The harpoon clatters on the ground, and Harpoon makes a mental note of its location. He looks down at the dagger dangerously close to him.
"And by what appellation do you go by? Shiv?"
Harpoon favours the stranger with a garish approximation of a grin.
"It is not as you say. I am as untainted as you are beholden. Now hand over your blade or I will be forced to rearrange your physicality, stranger.
Dharrak realizes he is close to his limit after the last toast and slows down his intake. He replies to Liberte', "You ain't so bad yourself." You just don't know when to stop, he adds silently to himself.
The moniker of heroes seems to have caught and the drinks are flowing... freely. After each round are cheers and congratulations, friendly waves and knowing winks from across the bar. Carduus scowls, the ale turning sour on his tongue.
Nothing's ever free.
Carduus finishes one more ale then stops drinking, irritably turning down any further offers of "free" drinks.
The Warforged seems taken aback by your aggressive stance, "I am Dagger, remember the name..."
He backs away sheathing his dagger as he does so.
One of the patrons plying you all with drinks grins, "Hey, I know a much nicer place than this to go to in the upper levels of Sharn, whattaya say? Tomorrow is a day to remember heroes, dinner's on me!"
Harpoon stares at the warforged.
"Dagger. You keep yours. And leave me mine. Now go."
Harpoon retrieves his namesake weapon.
"And tell your master - a Harpoon has no blade, and thus, no lord."
And with that, he leaves.
Dharrak uncomfortable with all the attention being given to him cautiously responds to the offer of dinner, "Sure name the place and the time."
I need to earn some coin before all of these kind feelings and gratitude wears off, he concludes.
Liberte' tries to get up from the floor, unfortunately he can't unaided. He looks up to see if the patron is a man or a woman.
Dharakk reaches down a extends his hand toward Liberte' and offers, "Need a hand there."
Rission watches the group and waits to follow Taryn's lead.
"I am unsure of going so high up. My station doesn't usually warrant such luxuries."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Carduus nods in agreement with Rission. Last thing I need is to be looking up the noses of the well-to-do.
"Sorry, 'friend,' but it's not worth the time nor the trouble for me. And I doubt you'll get Mr. Happystud Thundermouth here very far before he causes a ruckus that gets the wrong sort of attention in finer environs." The dumb bastard could use some food and water in him, though. "There's a fine enough eatery just down the street that I'm sure we'd all be comfortable at."
Liberte' grabs Dharrak's hand and steadies himself. Thanks man
As the floor continues to spin. the warrior grabs for the bar. His eyes are closed. He quickly opens them to stop from being thrown to the ground by the violent motion of the room. He reaches for a drink only to have it move out of his grasp by his swaying. He tries again, but for some reason it still slides away from his grasp. He frowns.
Hey. I got no problem bein' luxuriated. Count me in.
Beylinda will indeed tack the room with a lock after all one does a lot better not beeing called upon by unwanted visit in the middle of the night