Their journey had been a long one and especially tiring as of late. One can only subsist on bedding rough and choking down jerky and dry rations for so many days before it takes its toll. It did not help matters that young Ravencourt had taken to brooding recently. Donovan would attempt a smile for curious glances but there was no denying he was in a more somber mood than was his usual habit.
The whole company was in low spirits this morning. Unusually quiet as they gathered up camp and set off on the last leg of their journey.
Dimitrio still had a piece of jerky that he was slowly chewing hanging from his mouth. The usually cheerful rogue was not in a good mood, even his hair was somewhat unkempt.
The rogue adjusted his swordbelt and looked around then shook his head in resignation; he stated in heavily accented common "I tell you this is not normal. One of you must be cursed. Cursed I tell you and you're bringing Dimitrio down with you."
He looked around at each one of his companions, "Now I ask you again so make sure to pay attention. Do you feel like you have worms in your stomach? Eh? No? Because that is a sure sign of a curse."
He smacked his forehead as he remembered, "OK, what about this? I know it's kind of disgusting but we must know. Are your... you know, your... feces, yes, your feces. Are they particularly black and odorous? Another sign of a curse for sure."
When no one was paying attention to him, the rogue put up his hands. "So why is it then, eh? If no one is cursed, where is the bad luck coming from?"
The dwarf wakes just before morning light, he removes his soggy cigar from his cheek, and does a vigorous head shake of his head his long orange-red bread flies wildly.
Apparently not noticing a thing as his morning ritual continues, he saunters over to glimpse at the eastern sun and kneels for his morning prayers.
"Ye'ave awakened my soul with the morning light, may ye guide me true and just. Lead me fer yer purpose and permit me da'strength to defend those in need. May I stand firm beside by me companions and provide me the wisdom to serve in your name."
"Morning Dimitrio, ye 'ave anymore of the jerky my stomach is churning like it hasn't been fed in week. Why are ye whining about being cursed again...oh, ya you were bit by a wolf." One of his bushy eye brows raises.
But what if I am cursed? What if it’s me? No. Well, what if it is?
”Dimitrio, why do you think someone is cursed? It’s really not so bad, a few days of solitude, a bit of time to reflect, but we are all well. Surely it isn’t, you know, a curse, I mean a real curse, is it?”
The rogue turned to the halfling, "Listen. A curse is a curse; you know what I mean? It's been many days since Dimitrio hasn't slept in a soft bed, seen a pretty face, or eaten a good meal."
He pulled a chunk of his jerky and swallowed, "And don't even get me started on the lack of proper beverages. By Desna's butterfly, look at my boots; there's no shine to them and I cleaned them this norning already. This has all the making of very bad luck. Like somebody is cursed; you know what I mean?"
The wolf, Ylva and Talus both raise their noses to the breeze and sniff appreciatively. Now that the smell has been pointed out it is easy to make out the distinctive aroma of cook fires. The scent seems to bolster you all and quicken your step as you advance toward the enticing vision of a loaded table and a warm bed.
As the sun rises in the sky and warms all it touches the band of weary travelers crest the last hill and stop a moment to observe the scene below. A small town of crowded buildings with fresh looking paint and brightly colored awnings and tents stands out from the surrounding landscape as if it had no right to be there. As if it had yet to earn its place among the scrubby vegetation.
You now hear music and your noses are nearly assaulted with an assortment of food smells competing for your attention. There are baking smells and brewing smells, roasting meat with savory herbs and hard cider with mulling spices. You also hear many voices raised in laughter and song. The mood of celebration seems contagious and you feel somewhat comforted just to know that you will soon find some long awaited merriment.
As your group draws nearer, you see more clearly that the streets of the town are bustling with people. The homes and storefronts are brightly decorated with ribbons and scarves of all manner of texture and color. Some merchant tents are set up on the outskirts of the town and the majority of their wares appear to be various inexpensive toys such as pinwheels, paper kites and other assorted amusements. There is a surprising amount of children frolicking in the streets but you also see that the adults are also engaged in games of their own. Gaming tables of many types are spread throughout the streets side by side with many different food vendors.
You soon notice that one of the young citizens of this township has taken notice of you and is now striding confidently toward you straightening a folded paper crown circling his head and a wooden sword in hand which he now levels at you as he announces “Who disturbs my kingdom today? Be thee friend or be thee foe?!”
"Those aren't signs of a curse." the lanky knight said as he saddled up his horse. "Those are signs of indigestion. Probably from badly cured jerky."
Smiling at the child's antics, Sir Donovan removed his wide-brimmed hat and held up his hands. "Friends, your Highness. We are not drawn, there is no need for such a mighty weapon leveled on us. There must be dangers about for such a greeting. May we be of service?"
"The moon's been waxing, we'll know in 5 days time if y'be cursed or not."
"Aye, laddie w'be friends," in a gruff voice.
The rogue's demeanor changed for the better and he starts walking like a rooster in a henhouse. "Now this is much more to Dimitrio's liking. Food, good food and drinks and merry-making."
He stomped his feet on the ground in a little dance step, "Perhaps these folks would like to see Dimitrio perform. I'm sure the young ladies would like that."
"Aye lad, we be simple but friendly travelers that come to enjoy your hospitality. We have coin to spend and joy to spread." The rogue bowed, "I am called Dimitrio, at your service. Perhaps you have heard of my dancing show?"
I smile at the boy, and keep my halberd held low, in my right hand, parallel to the ground.
But I prefer to let the others interact with the boy while I look around and take in the area’s geography.
“Master Rockborn, do you imagine we should immediately report ourselves to the local village head man or woman? I would not want there to be rumors started that people, you know, people who look and dress like us, have come to this place looking for trouble.”
"Aye Boote best we see what's happenin' in the village, no reason ta worry 'em with a fiery dwarf walkin' around." He unconsciously touches his belt pouch, "wonder what their tobacca's like, nearly smoke me last of it."
"They should be happy t'get out coin, sort of unexpected treat for the locals."
"No, no! That’s not the line! You’re ‘posed to say “We be brigands, come to rob ye!” and then we fight, see!" the boy again brandishes his sword at you now looking slightly confused.
About this time a sandy haired man looks up from his seat at a nearby crate where some men are rolling dice and shouting boisterously and startles when he notices the boys posture facing a group of rather rough looking strangers. He springs from his seat and rushes toward you waving his hands excitedly and shouting ”Marco! Marco, come here at once, son!” The man is huffing as he has sprinted several yards at what you suspect is full speed. He puts a hand over his child’s and lowers his toy sword, pushing the perplexed looking young man behind him as he turns to you with a sheepish look on his face and says “Begging your pardon, sirs. My son is just practicing for the children’s pageant later this evening. He meant no harm, I promise… Are you all come for the Children’s Day festival?” He pauses as he inspects your party more closely as he catches his breath. His son now tugs at his tunic hem saying “But Papa, they’re not brigands really, are they?” The man shushes his son, and then addresses you again. “I’m Jovanni, and my family and I run the Piazza Inn. You folk look as if you’ll be needing rooms and a bite to eat, I’d wager." He smiles, still protectively shielding his son as if worried he may have caused some offense.
Nathaniel looks to the others and then moves forward. He bows deeply, at the waist, and then stands, looking up at the man he says, “Thank you, sir. We are weary, and have travelled far. My name is Na, I mean, Artegal, Artegal Boote, from Dove’s Winter River the home of the Cairn of Morn upon the Green. I am not familiar with this festival, of which you speak, but if I can attend, and be at your service in any way, please allow me the privilege. Tell, me, Sir Jovanni, where can we find your fine establishment.”
Rannveig's hackles had risen at the boy's approach, but Ylva bumped against her legs. The tall woman looked down at her companion, whose ears had flicked in an amused-seeming fashion, and Rannveig blushes as understanding dawns.
[/b] The man shushes his son, and then addresses you again. “I’m Jovanni, and my family and I run the Piazza Inn. You folk look as if you’ll be needing rooms and a bite to eat, I’d wager." He smiles, still protectively shielding his son as if worried he may have caused some offense.
The rogue repeated his pompous bow, "Master Jovanni, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Dimitrio Carini and these fine folks and I are indeed tired."
He scratched his neatly trimmed beard, "Your Piazza Inn sounds exactly like what we need right now and you can count on us spending some gold in your fine establishment."
He surveyed the town's festivities and cocked his head slightly, "Perhaps if you would be so kind as to show us the way then maybe we can all freshen up and wear our best clothes to your festival, eh?
"By the way, will there be dancing in your celebration?"
Rannveig looks up at the mention of dancing, and manages to give the impression of hear ears leaning forward. Apparently, the idea intrigues her.
"wonder what their tobacca's like, nearly smoke me last of it."
"I'd say the next pouch of pipeweed is on me, my generous friend, you shared more than a little on the road north." Nicu grins at his stocky traveling companion, then joins the conversation with Dimitrio and Jovanni. "Good innkeeper, could we request hot baths to go with those rooms? The road dust sits a bit thick on us and a festival can't be enjoyed properly with grit in all the wrong places, especially when dancing, eh Dimitirio?"
*sighs heavily, and moves toward the back of the group*
Taking note of Nat's sigh, Nicu shows concern, "What's wrong, bold Boote, we're about to get a hot bath, a warm meal, and some entertainment, it's a good evening my friend!"
"Good innkeeper, could we request hot baths to go with those rooms? The road dust sits a bit thick on us and a festival can't be enjoyed properly with grit in all the wrong places, especially when dancing, eh Dimitirio?"
Dimitrio nodded, "Yes, my half-elf friend here has the right of it. Dimitrio can't dance with dirt in his boots. You expect a great show and Dimitrio will show you dancing like you never seen before."
The rogue winked at the innkeeper, "I wonder if you know of any young ladies that would like to participate in the show. If you do, tell them that Dimitrio has come to town and that there will be dancing."
"Now kind sir, where is your most fine establishment?"
The gruff looking dwarf frowns at all the talk about a hot bath, then starts to scrap some dried blood off his sleeve, "Guess our clothes could use some attention." Chewing on his cigar, "Tobacca and mead would sit well with me along with a hefty meal."
Jovanni smiles amicably as your friendly words and mention of gold have soothed his nerves considerably. “Yes, please! Allow me to escort you to our Inn now, it is not far. My Sophia is likely to have the lunch on by this time and we will see you well fed and attend to those baths, that I promise!” His gaze falls on Rannveig and the wolf and his pleasant expression falters slightly.
”Umm… Miss? That, er uh… is a wolf you have there, yes? You’ll forgive me, I hope, but I’m not sure we have um… suitable stabling for such a uh… creature here. The horse and dog are no problem at all, of course. But they do have rabbit races on the other side of town, do you think the wolf will cause any problems with the townsfolk or the children?" He clearly does not want to turn you away, but he is also obviously worried about leading a wolf into the town proper.
"Should be fun t'watch, haven't seen a rabbit out race 'im yet." The dwarf chuckles. "Me golds on th'wolf."
Jovanni and Marco lead the group of travelers into the streets of Piazza and to his family Inn. The walk is not a long one at all, but it does take some time to navigate the crowded streets. Jovanni and Marco both talk animatedly to the group about the town and the festival.
“Do you tend to travel this area often, Sir Donovan? We often hear from frequent travelers how surprised they are to find this place. Piazza has only been here for five years this past winter. This is only our third annual Children’s Festival. But look at how successful it has been! Look how the people come!” he spreads his arms and indicates the many wagons and tents as he beams with such pride that his eyes shine with it. "I tell you, it is a virtue of my people that we took the fabric of our hardships and stitched them together into this beautiful tapestry of love.” his eyes well with unshed tears and you notice he is holding something small in his hand that hangs from a cord around his neck. He raises it to dab his eyes and you notice it is a small child’s mitten. He kisses this strange pendant and then tucks it under the neck of his tunic. ”We lost many, you see during those early winters. Many children and many parents too. The first Children’s festival was a sort of adoption fair. We added a carnival of games and trading just to make it less sad in the beginning. But it seems to work quite well, and we have less orphans this year than ever before.” he goes on a bit more and describes Piazza as a merchant hub. This area had become a popular road of travel, especially among merchants. The site of the town was originally a popular campsite where friendly merchants would meet together to trade and visit, share news and gossip and other such companionable things. Eventually a group banded together to build a town and Piazza has been growing ever since. There isn’t much farming in the area, but many people keep sheep and goats nearby, so there is a lot of good cheese and wool. Since many traders have set up shop here, you can find many varied goods.
"Oh and you’ll be wanting to see Madam Azura for that tobacco you were asking about, Master Dwarf. She owns the Tavern next door to our Inn and is well known as a connoisseur. And don’t worry Master, uh… Dimitrio, was it? There is a street dance around dinner time and all the ladies will be out in splendor!"
Marco seems interested in the biggest dog he has ever seen and keeps walking backwards beside his father and bobbing his head to keep the animal in site. Eventually he maneuvers himself where he can see the malamute and he speaks to the Halfling plodding along beside him. “He’s a big dog, isn’t he? Do dogs even get bigger than that? We have some stables for horses, but no dog houses or kennels. But he’s almost as big as a pony, do you think he’ll be ok in the stable? Or do you keep him with you where you sleep? I’d probably sleep with him if he was my dog, but my Mamma wouldn’t like it much.” He reaches out tentatively and looks at Artegal as if hoping for permission to pat the massive canine. "Oh, we have some Halfling quarters available too, I know because I had to clean them today since Tanzi was busy helping in the kitchens today."
As you gaze down the crowded streets of Piazza, you see many more children bustling about playing with all manner of toys and dolls. A group of three young ladies are shopping at a kiosk with several different types of wooden puppets. A dark haired beauty catches sight of Dimitrio’s gaze lingering on them and smiles coyly. She then gathers her friends around her and whispers something to them that sets them giggling. One of her friends gestures excitedly to something behind them that you cannot see and a moment later the young girl is walking toward you, her girlfriends trailing behind her. She approaches Dimitrio and pulls from behind her back a wooden puppet from the kiosk that is painted and dressed to look like a pirate. Other than the eye-patch and peg-leg the toy looks remarkably like Dimitrio. She offers him the puppet and says “Look! It resembles you so, it must be fate! Please take it as a gift of welcome. And maybe I will see you at the street dance tonight?” she presses the gift into your hands as her friends pull her away with girlish squeals at her bold move and haul her off into the crowd.
You round a corner and find the entrances to both the Piazza Inn and Azura’s Tavern. Marco offers to lead the mounts to the stables and Jovanni steps inside the Inn and calls out to his wife. He takes a moment to point out to you a map of the town with a numbered key written out beside it. "I’ll be just a moment seeing about rooms, and baths. In the meantime why don’t you go and see Madam Azura. She’ll have drinks and food for you and tell her you’re staying with us and she may give you a good deal on the tobacco.” With that he heads into the kitchens calling for his wife.
Map of Piazza.
Map Key
1 – Alchemist
2 – Candlemaker
3 – Azura's Tavern
4 – Piazza Inn
5 – Sertino Home
6 – Sertino’s Knives
7 – Apothecary
8 – Leather Worker
9 – Flophouse
10 – Limner
11 – Cobbler
12 – Woodworker
13 – Wizard’s Charms
14 – Silversmith
15 – Toymaker
16 – Warehouse
17 – Vegetable Market
18 – Tailor
19 – Fishmonger
20 – Healer
21 – Secolo Theatre
22 – Brewer
23 – Potter
24 – Butcher
25 – Blacksmith
26 – Abandoned
27 – Baker
28 – Garden Courtyard
29 – Boarding House
30 – Fortune Teller
31 - ???
32 – Basketweaver
33- Fresh Game Market
34 – Jeweler
35 – Constabulary
36 – Merchant Markets
37 – Spice Merchant
38 – Bowyer/Fletcher
39 – Moneylender
40 – Stable & Coach House
41 – Temple
42 – Undertaker
43 – Town Square
H – Homes
Sir Donovan similes, pulling out a dog-earved almanac and flipping through it. "I've never personally been this way, but my family has written most of the Pathfinder's reports on the area. "Roads are mostly safe, the woods are to, for the first half mile or so near towns. Weather is mostly awful with occasional bursts of grey skies that are as close to clear as it gets in the area. People are hardy, wary of strangers but surprisingly giving once you convince them you mean them no harm." that's what they say, at any rate. Your town in particular is recommended as having an Inn with an excellent cook. Is that true?"
Putting aside his troubles for the sake of making new friends, Donovan almost seemed like the man he was before the incident with the werewolf girl.
She offers him the puppet and says “Look! It resembles you so, it must be fate! Please take it as a gift of welcome. And maybe I will see you at the street dance tonight?” she presses the gift into your hands as her friends pull her away with girlish squeals at her bold move and haul her off into the crowd.
Dimitrio is pretty much walking on air, his boots click-clacking as he saunters the streets. He looks at the puppet with a curious stare and then concentrates on the girls. "Thank you very much. I shall save the first dance for you tonight."
The girls start pulling away and Dimitrio waves to them and turns the group, "Now this is much better. Not only are the people here nice but they have also have girls that can recognize talent and good looks. I like this place very much."
He takes the toy pirate and hands it to the boy, "Here, you can have this for your collection. A gift from Dimitrio to you."
"Madam Azura's tavern for tobacco, mead and it's right next door to the Inn, Iomedae's goodly blessings have truly touched me soul this fine sunny day." The dwarf is noticeably more chipper with musical news to his ears. "Might just set some roots here," He jests.
He doesn't have to be told twice, his sturdy legs are already half way to the Madam Azura's door.
Rannveig was looking around at the busy town with a wary air. She was still unused to being among so many people, and she moved close behind Donovan, Ylva huddled to her side for support.
Particularly after the incident when entering town, wherein she had to speak up to convince Jovanni that Ylva would be no threat to the children or their rabbits, she was unsure how to behave in civilized society. Wolves were so much easier. You were either alpha, and you did as your whim or survival dictated, or you weren't, and you did as your alpha wished. People had so many differing rules, and they never bothered to tell you even half of them.
She was more comfortable with the young Ravencourt than most other humans, their brief adventures in the hills having brought her a measure of understanding when it came to him. Puzzled, trying to come to grips with being among her own kind, she edged closer still to Donovan, practically stepping on the knight's heels. Being of a height with Donovan and thicker of chest and arm, it made for a strange sight, with her apparently trying to hide in his shadow.
The dwarf pushes open the door to Madam Azura's his short stocky frame filling the lower half of the entrance. He closes his eyes and takes in the aromas that greet him, the various tobaccos mixed with an assortment of alcohol. Relaxation at last. He then scans the area and finds a large table on the side of the room and sways his way over. Three pitchers of mead," he announces "...and a sampling of your tobaccas if you please.."
As he walks over, eyes are on him, he casually unslings his hefty battle axe from his back. He nods to a few folks that catch his attention, then he lays the axe on the large table before him just before sitting down.
Donovan was used to Rannveig's discomfort in towns. He smiled, amused.
Hopefully she won't accidentally knock me over this time.
“You can pet her, it’s fine,” Nathaniel says with a smile to the boy. “Actually I found her in a large city where they have a stable that breeds dogs just like her, for people like me, small people, to ride. I don’t always ride her. Her name is Talus. It means justice, and she is very good. She wasn’t the largest of her little, no, there are larger dogs than her, but I liked her, and she seemed to like me. We get along well. If your parents approve, I would prefer that she sleeps with me, and then we can sleep in a regular human sized bed, close to the rest of my companions.”
"Master Rockborn, please give me a moment to stow my gear, and clean my uniform as best I can, and if you are going to the tavern, I would like to accompany you, if you do not mind. I have some questions and concerns."
He motions to Boote that he'll meet him at the tavern. Cleanin' his uniform can take an hour. "Meetcha there...I'll fetch ya a tankard." As the dwarf stomps off. Not much can keep, or slow, a thirsty dwarf down.
Madam Azura’s tavern is a lively place with many patrons engaged in games of cards or dice or tile games. There is a group of young men throwing darts at a felt covered board in the back of the room. Madam Azura, or so you presume is robust human woman with a matronly figure and blue ribbons braided into her gray streaked auburn hair. She looks up as the fire haired dwarf announces his order and answers back with a laugh in her voice, “Three pitchers, you say? Will you be needing a cup with that? Or were you meaning to pour it straight down yer gullet?” she turns and reaches under the bar and pulls out a large redwood box and carries it to the dwarf’s table along with the first pitcher of mead. "Here’s a sampling box if ever there was one." as she flips the hinged box open you see twenty smaller pouches with labels indicating the region, name and cut of each type. The last pouch is simply labeled Azura’s blend and smells vaguely of vanilla and fine rum.
You also notice glass jars on shelves behind the bar that display some cigars of various sizes. She ducks behind the bar again and returns with a tray holding several tankards, two more pitchers of mead and a basket of bread with butter and olive oil. She sets the table and then plops down onto a chair herself and pulls a small redwood pipe from her vest pocket and begins puffing contentedly. “You lot have to be the most interesting group of travelers I’ve seen today and that is saying something, I assure you. What brings you Piazza? Anything specific you are looking for? Although since you came through the door requesting tobacco, someone must have given you some direction already, eh?” she smiles at you expectantly with a twinkle in her clear blue eyes. You get the distinct impression that Azura has rarely met a stranger and seems to find everything amusing to some degree.
"No need t'dirty a cup...milady...but I almost fergot, I'll need an tankard of ale to for traveling companion when he gets here." His eyes widen and massive smile crosses his bearded face, "Truly yer a gift from Iomedea herself." He eyes the last pouch, "destiny," he proudly says as he starts to roll a fat cigar.
By the time Madame Azura makes it back to the table the dwarf's nimble cigar rolling fingers have already rolled and sparked the fine tobacco. The pitcher is nearly empty and his beard is coated with a wonderful foam. "Aye, we just got into town, ran into the boy and his father from the inn...Piazzo...I believe, and he directed me to your divine location. Dirt ain't even settled from me boots." He puffs a triple smoke ring each larger then the last. "Name's Luc Rockborn but me friends just call me Ninefingers, with that he wiggles a little stumpy ring finger on his left hand." He sits back visibly relaxing. "The others should be along soon."
[/b] He sits back visibly relaxing. "The others should be along soon."
A much refreshed rogue stepped into the tavern. Dimitrio had discarded his leather vest and had put on his embroidered white shirt, with a convenient opening to show off his chest. A heavy gold chain with his lucky medallion adorned the Varisian.
"Ah, master Rockborn I see you have acquired drinks for us. I thank you, very much."
Dimitrio filled his cup and turned to the dwarf, "It looks like you'll have your choice of tobacco this time. Maybe you can pick a little better this time because your last cigars have been a little... how do you say...a little stinky, yes?"
The dwarf's expression is one of disbelief as Dimitrio pours one of his pitchers then slanders his choice of tobacco. He swallows and motions to the pitcher, while he firmly grabs the remaining pitcher for himself. "Yes, I was thinking of you when I ordered the mead."
Seeing a serving lass approach, "Refill... please." He adds the please for good measure.
Taking a big mouthful of smoke he blows it towards the clean dandy, "How does that blend suit yer sniffer." As he smiles there's a bit of tobacco wrapper on his front tooth. "This here is Lady Azura, the purveyor of this establishment."
Washed and refreshed, dressed in simple breeches and a tunic, a relaxed Nicu enters the tavern to see Luc wreathed in smoke and ordering up another pitcher a moment before he blankets Dimitrio in a cloud of the blue vapor and introduces Lady Azura.
"Luc, that smoke is on me, a promise is a promise! And by the smells of it, I say you have some fine offerings here, Lady Azura, it's a pleasure to find your establishment at the end of the day's trail." Sitting down to peruse the tobacco sampler, Nicu slides the bread and butter his way, taking the time to enjoy the simple pleasures of fresh baking, fresh tobacco, and good company.
Her hand raised to tap his shoulder, Esme sighs as Nicu steps inside the tavern and the door swings closed behind him. Taking a moment to catch her breath, lost from chasing after the young half elf, her glance finds the children playing in the square and her lips purse in disapproval again.
"Sweets and play are all well for children but must be earned by hard work. None of these look to have worked a day, what with all of them being so plump. Surprising that they haven't got apples stuck in their mouths and mud on their little hooves."
Straightening her dress, the young woman lowers her head and pushing open the door, enters the tavern.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Inside the tavern, Esme peers at the patrons, her eyes having difficulty adjusting to the dim light. Seeing the three men at a table she carefully picks her way across the barroom floor as if fearful of treading on a serpent.
Esme's pointed hat nearly brushes the ceiling and the young woman ducts reflexively, scrunching her shoulders uncomfortably. Her full-sleeved, long black dress looks overly warm for the room and it's lace and stitching contrasts the simple peasant attire of the locals. Nearing the table, dark-green lips purse in consternation while she decides which of the three men to address.
Master Dimitrio, it is with surprise that I greet you on this..."fine"... morning. I'd expected you to already be relishing the local company in a hay bin somewhere. I have had my things placed in the room across from yours at the inn. Please do try to keep the...giggling...down to a reasonable level tonight.
A glance toward the dwarf and his brimming flask of mead stirs the beginnings of a protest before the sight of the cigar sends her into a paroxysm of coughing. Holding on to the edge of the table, she gets her balance before meeting the gaze of Master Constine.
"Sir, I beg of you, please aid me before I faint. Where is the young woman Rannveig. You have not left her in any danger by chance, have you?" It's hard to tell if she is serious here, for while the prospect of danger in this town seems ridiculously remote, young Esme does seem sincrere. "If you could direct me to where you last saw her, I will go check on her...just for the sake of safety of course."
The dwarf picks up a pitcher and raises it high, "To a fine rest stop." Clinking it against those that raise theirs. Drinking down the honey spiced mead in one long pull, wearing rivers of froth on his beard. "That was a hard journey...and Nicu, a dwarf never forgets a promise." He says with smile.
Lady Azura have a tankard with us and hear our tale."
"Ah, Esme, glad you joined us, try the bread, it's still warm." Nicu slides the basket and butter to Esme. "Rannveig was shadowing Sir Donovan, I believe they're still together at the Inn. I swear, at times I think those two are siblings, like a little sister and her big brother."
Clinking glasses with Luc and the others, Nicu concurs on the fortune of finding Piazza, "Yes, to a superb break from our travels!"
Master Dimitrio, it is with surprise that I greet you on this..."fine"... morning. I'd expected you to already be relishing the local company in a hay bin somewhere. I have had my things placed in the room across from yours at the inn. Please do try to keep the...giggling...down to a reasonable level tonight.
Dimitrio was very comfortable around women and being the center of attention, but the rogue was very superstitious and couldn't quite shake the fact that the witch sort of scared him.
The rogue swallowed, "Esme, it's go-- good to see you here." He looked away trying to change the subject quickly but not finding en easy way out, turned to the wild-haired girl, "Dimitrio will keep merry-making on a low key tonight; promise."
However he was in too much of a good mood, "With regards to girls, Dimitrio has already made his mark. One of the locals promised me the first dance this evening. She also gave me her little doll as a souvenir but I gave that away. Dimitrio doesn't play with dolls; you know what I mean?"
Nathaniel does his best to brush dried mud and grime from his uniform, and uses the last of the black polish he has to shine his leather boots. He stows his armor, combs his hair, and washes his face. Then he checks the ribbons fastened to the leather guard tied with silver ropes over the blade and point of his halberd. For a moment he stands near a corner of the room, and places the halberd gently, so that it rests in the corner. But then he picks it up again, frowns at himself, and places it back against the walls, and tunrs. He pats Talus and tells her to “stay”, and is almost to the door, when he is overcome by anxiety and quickly returns to the corner to take his Halberd again.
I can tell people it is a staff, nothing more. It shouldn’t be a problem
When he enters the tavern, he is immediately uncomfortable. He had hoped to spend a moment or two with Master Rockborn, and cursed himself for taking too long. The others had already joind the dwarf, and now he knew he would be unwelcome.
It wasn’t that he knew they didn’t like him, he tried not to let those kinds of thoughts enter his head, but they were always strange around him. There was no point in making it an issue. He knew why they were they way they were, and he knew why he was the way he was.
“Good morning, Miss Proust, Sir Constine, Dimitrio,” he said with a slight bow to everyone, except Dimitrio, and then with a deep bow, “and Master Rockburn.” He looked from side to side, his left hand nervously tightening and relaxing on the shaft of the halberd. “Where is Master Ravencourt, and the Lady Pack'Bound? Have they been detained for some reason?” he knew that the chances of someone answering him were slim, but he smiled anyway, and then moved to sit down.
"Aye, good day, Boote...gotcha beer right here. Glad you were quick 'bout gettin' cleaned-up." Not sure if this is jest, or serious, as there are four empty pitchers near the dwarf on the table and a tiny stub of a smoked cigar in a tin cup. "Have a seat, they will be 'round in awhile probably tending to the wolf and those rabbits." He chuckles at the thought of the wolf chasing all the children's rabbits a the festival.
Donovan comes in the door as if on cue, Rannveig right on his heels.
"Had to put Shadow away. Hello Esme. Good to see you."
"Sir Boote, welcome, pull in a chair." Nicu scrapes his chair to the side, opening a place for the halfling near Rockborn." Wasn't so long ago I was that uncomfortable myself, being the undersized outcast is a tough role for any, but for someone that puts so much pressure on himself as Nat it's a heavy burden Casually, Nicu moves the pitcher and a mug closer to Nat, along with the bread and butter, a learned habit from their short time traveling north together.
At the swing of the door, Nicu looks over his shoulder to see Ravencourt and Rannveig enter the tavern. "Welcome, friends, pull up a chair, grab a mug, and join us in sharing a few tales with Lady Azura."
She sets the table and then plops down onto a chair herself and pulls a small redwood pipe from her vest pocket and begins puffing contentedly. “You lot have to be the most interesting group of travelers I’ve seen today and that is saying something, I assure you. What brings you Piazza? Anything specific you are looking for?..."
"Lady Azura, thank you for your hospitality, it's welcome relief after our days on the road. Among the group of us there's likely to be a wide variety of items we'll be seeking to acquire, your help in directing us to the proper merchants would be most appreciated."
Azura sits watching the newcomer’s antics merrily and laughing appreciatively. When the odd looking young woman in the black dress and conical hat enter, she gets a curious expression on her face and considers for a moment then takes her pipe out of her mouth and uses the stem to gesture with as she speaks “Oh my dear, you’ve been to see that hack of an alchemist, haven’t you? Don’t worry now, just stop by to see Hazel at the Apothecary across the way and she’ll help fix whatever is the matter, dear. “
“Indeed Master Ninefingers! Yours is a tale I would hear. My patrons are usually merchants and if they have a tale of interest, it is usually a tale of woe. Give me but a moment to call my children; they will not forgive me if I leave them out.” she leans back in her chair and yells toward the ceiling with surprising volume. “Gregorio! Olivia! Come and meet our guests!” she is eyeing the young halfing with particular interest as she turns back to your group and stage whispers to you all. “You’ll have to lend me your aid and maybe we can get her to sing for us.”
You hear an answering racket of opening and closing doors from upstairs and it doesn’t take long before a young fellow of about 14 tromps down the stairs. He has dark hair and his mother’s clear blue eyes as well as a lovely clay pipe in the shape of a star hanging around his neck. “This is my son, Gregorio. And I suppose Olivia is taking her time?” The boy shrugs and says “She’s still getting ready. She said don’t forget she’s already planning to go to the street dance tonight and she’s leaving soon.”
About that time, you hear a light step on the stairs and a soft yellow boot is followed by the fluttering yellow hem of a sundress as a young female Halfling drifts almost silently down the stairs. She has a sun kissed complexion with freckles across her nose and cheeks and striking green-gold eyes all framed in a copious amount of golden curls tied up in yellow ribbons and spilling down her back to her waist. As she passes a window, the sunlight seems to shine right through her as she seems to glow from within. Olivia reaches the tavern floor and looks her “little” brother (who appears to be roughly twice her height) up and down thoroughly with a critical eye, stopping to turn down a cuff of his breeches and pull down the hem of his tunic which has ridden up in the back. He makes a show of trying to fend off her quick little hands, but clearly puts no real effort into the move. “I swear, you’re hopeless, Alexandria is never going to dance with you looking like you just rolled out of your bunk. Mama tell him!” She chirps in her song-bird like voice. “And remember I told you we’re leaving soon, so we can’t stay long.” She finally turns to look at the people sitting with her apparently adoptive mother. It’s hard to say how old she is for sure, but she’s definitely no child. “Oh, h-hello. Have you come to Piazza for the festival?” her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the appearances of each individual of the group. She seems a bit nervous suddenly, her eyes occasionally darting in Boote’s general direction.
"And this is my lovely daughter Olivia, who apparently doesn't have long to spend with us, my friends." Azura's eyes again take on a mischievous glint as blows a few smoke rings. "Of course, the dance isn't for an hour yet at least. Our guests have offered to tell us of their adventures. Maybe you'll reward them with a song when they are finished?" she winks and smiles at Olivia and is rewarded with smoldering look which turns Azura's smile into a chuckle.
"Certainly I'd be happy to direct you, Master Nicu, was it? What is it you'll be needing then?"
Esme withdraws from table as the proprietress begins to smoke. Taking a seat between, but well behind, Nicu and Donovan. She mutters a phrase under her breath, "Doamnă păstra'mi ca I s'ar putea respira." after which she seems to actually breath a little easier.
Emboldened by her success, she tries another, "Mama, trimiteţi'mi de parfum de ceva dulce." Her attitude seems to perk up as the five foot area around her slowly takes on the faint aroma of candy.
Quite pleased with herself, she looks back toward the table, her expression immediately becoming crestfallen again. After brief consideration, she sits up straight, squares her shoulders and fixes an expression of rapt attention on her face. She sits like this throughout Lady Azura's conversation before once again becoming lost in thought. As the children come downstairs, she works with her smile, trying different arrangements on until finally settling on one that feels almost right, although it doesn't touch the eyes.