"Oh, I didn't say cure. Nonono - after all, 'prevention is better than cure', and who couldn't do with a bit of extra help? No, trust me - Falteroll knew what he was doing with this wondrous concoction"
Crap. Ogre crap, at that. They're not biting. This could go badly. Hope Brahm isn't paying attention...
"However, you fine, healthy folks have no need of my nostrums, so I'll take my reasonably priced goods elsewhere. Aheheh. Good evening to you!"
The suspicious looking Cheliaxian moves off towards the knivesies game as fast as he can.
"It so happens that I have the very thing - Dr. Falteroll's own famous specific against mephitics, ha ha, and yours for only one gold piece per bottle! I am a charitable man, after all, and have no wish to take advantage of folk in such desperate straits. Any takers?"
Cheliax!
Othoe eyes the new visitor to his table warily, but relaxes after a tense moment.
He's just a huckster. That potion looks nothing like my antiplague, and the price is far too generous.
Othoe clears his throat, still dry from his fright.
"I mean no disrespect, but that's too fair a price for a potion that does what you claim it does. Too fair a price by far. So fair that I question it's anything but colored water. Who is this Dr. Falteroll?"
"...wait! Where are you going?"
I guess he too is fleeing something of his past...
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Sarek
"Aye, I've a room you can use for a day or three. Coin up front for three nights. If your stay goes longer, we'll have settle on something new." Trading a mug of walnut ale for the clatter of the promised coins, Brahm motions the waitress over to the bar, "It's the stables for you and Becka tonight, Fleur. See this man to your room and make sure he's comfortable."
The young girl struggles with her emotions, fatigue and disappointment warring on her wan face. "Of course, sir. Right this way. Will you be wanting stew brought up, or will ye be coming down for it again?"
I peer around the room, taking in the sequestered locals, the knivesies, and the jumpy circle of travellers.
At least they look like an interesting bunch
I notice one of them peeling away, toward the knivesies: I hope he doesn't play, he looks like the kind that would have to go for the knife.
I give the landlord a long look: "I've changed my mind. Keep the coin, I'll take the stables."
Then I heft my pack onto a broad shoulder: "C'mon then girl, show me the warm spot with the horses."
Taking a swig of ale, I follow after Fleur, shaking my head.
|
|
"What? Oh no,sir, you should definitely take the room." She gives a shaky glance over her shoulder at the barkeep, then urges you towards the stairs. "The room is much nicer."
Lowering her voice, she nods her head at the half-orc trying to gurgle his way through Sweet Home, Andoran while beating out something near the beat on battered keys of the organ. "Besides, Eli snores. You don't want to put up with that."
Following the girl with a smile and a broad, open-armed shrug, I declare: "Whatever you say."
As we head up to the room, I shake my head and beat the road-dust out of my coat and hat: "Is this normal? I don't know how long I will be here. It's not fitting that I leave you in the sky-dark with your weak eyes." Sometimes there are only bad choices.
Concerned that my talk might make the girl uncomfortable, I move on: "If I can help you at all, speak of it and I will listen."
Then I head back down to the taproom, scratching thougtfully at my beard.
So this is Falcon's Hollow, huh? Well, it would be a good spot to stop for the night, maybe I can find somewhere to drink. Trafalgar looks over to his right and sees "The Sitting duck." That works. Trafalgar soon heads inside and takes a stool at the bar ledge. Barkeep, may I have a fresh drink as soon as possible?
what I have heard from the towns folk about the plague sine I arrived earlier is...
Diplomacy 1d20+6...not a lot, in all actuality. Some call it the slacking of lazy workers, making more of a cold than they ought. Others, though, swear it'll be the death of 'em, if it weren't for Laurel and her teas and tinctures.
Dorial, I have heard that there is a lady in town that goes by Laurel and she brews a mean cup of Tea. Would you and your companion care to check her establishment out with me later, it seems to me like you may be well skilled in grass lore and she may know more about this plague
Uhm...this is 'interesting. *This* is the Sitting Duck?
Kast looks up and down the street while debating whether to enter or go to a nicer establishment. However, the growl of his stomach and the lightness of his coinpurse makes him concede that this might be the right place for now.
Kast pushes open the doors to the Inn tentatively, giving his eyes times to adjust.
This place is packed. Don't matter, Kast, go do what you gotta do. And no one here knows that you failed.
Kast enters and leaves his longspear by the door and moves his backpack to one strap, holding it on his right shoulder. As small patch/badge of the Sandpoint militia shows right above a similar badge for Lastwall on his right shoulder/arm.
Kast approaches the bar while looking for an empty and unused mug to borrow. At the bar, he will stow his backpack close at his feet while he orders.
"Barkeep! Barkeep? A plate of food, meat if you have it."
Kast's eyes look about for an used and unattended mug.
Perception
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Trafalgar
The raucous noise from inside sweeps out as the door opens,nearly overwhelming as you enter. Three others fall out at the same time, heading into the dark together, laughing as they go.
The grizzled barkeeper looks you up and over before pouring and setting a drink in front of you. "New in town, are you? He doesn't recognize the face, and he's usually pretty good about such things.
Indeed, I just happened to be traveling when I heard word from some folk who said their was this town along the way, so I soon headed here. Who were those three that just left?
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Kast Phaer: Coming back down stairs, after the dwarf, Fleur looks about the room, her already well trained eye seeking new faces in the crowd. Brahm has the one in hand, but another looks a little lost at the end of the bar. She hurries as best she can through the crowd, weaving her small frame around a group in heated discussion regarding their start time on the morrow, then to the right and under the bar to pop up on the other side.
"Can I help you, Sir? We've stew if your hungry and the walnut ale isn't bad if you've had a long day." Her hopeful eyes shine kindly, though not once do they skitter to your leg and back again, like so many would.
Indeed, I just happened to be traveling when I heard word from some folk who said their was this town along the way, so I soon headed here. Who were those three that just left?
"Nosy much?" Brahm laughs heartily and looks at the door as if that will help him narrow it down. "Hmmm, they didn't say, Mister uhhh... what did you say you're called again, friend?"
In truth, he probably wouldn't say even if he did know. Business is better on both sides of the bar if people aren't worried about their business becoming public fodder.
"Can I help you, Sir? We've stew if your hungry and the walnut ale isn't bad if you've had a long day."
"Sir? Me? Uh...yeah, stew please. Can I also get an empty mug? Thanks," Kast replies, hopeful that the rest of the town is as open and welcoming as she.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but what was your name?" Kast tries to ask before she moves away.
"The name's Trafalgar. Trafalgar drinks until the mug is half full. I am just inquisitive is all. So what is your name sir?"
And... I have a new name and avatar, to help it easier to keep track of things.
"Can I help you, Sir? We've stew if your hungry and the walnut ale isn't bad if you've had a long day.""Sir? Me? Uh...yeah, stew please. Can I also get an empty mug? Thanks," Kast replies, hopeful that the rest of the town is as open and welcoming as she.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but what was your name?" Kast tries to ask before she moves away.
"Of course, Sir. t'will be but a moment." She frowns, trying to decide if you truly meant an *empty* mug. Deciding that she'll take the cuffing if she's wrong, she pulls an empty from the shelf and hands it over to you before hurrying away to serve up some stew.
Setting a thick clay bowl down in front of you, the once steaming stew inside now a thick and less heated porridge consistency.
"Me? oh I'm nobody, sir. Just Fleur." She blushes like a schoolgirl, though in truth she never did see inside that building in all her 14 years. The cough that follows, however, bends her over like an old woman. She holds tight to the bar until it passes, then excuses herself.
Simon rubs at his weary eyes and digs his fingers into the knotted muscles of his neck and shoulders. Pushing himself back from the workbench of his greenhouse, he stretches his stiff limbs and gathers his things before shuffling out the front door. A little food and drink is in order, a mug of ale or three will help wash away this fatigue. Pulling his cloak tight about him, Simon scampers down the streets to The Sitting Duck. Slipping in the door after another patron enters, he slinks to the bar and orders a mug of ale and bowl of stew.
"Aye, Brahm, the usual please." Simon slides a few coins across the worn counter. "Busy evening, full crowd in here I see. How goes that new batch of stout you were crafting, still green in the cask, or you ready to tap it?"
At the cough of the Fleur, Simon turns a concerned glance in her direction, then looks back to Brahm with watery eyes. "Tell me, old friend, that it hasn't crept into her lungs as well, how long has she been coughing like that?"
Simon has made a fine living for himself on the sale of herbal potions and remedies. His cluttered workshop and greenhouse adjoins his small, comfortable home on the edge of town. Stubborn to a fault, Simon refuses to flee the danger. This is his home and he'll not abandon it or his neighbors to the current troubles.
Born and raised as an only child in Falcon's Hollow, Simon has lived here all his life. His parents succumbed to the wasting sickness around his 20th birthday. Already an apprentice for an elderly herbalist in town, Simon dedicated himself to the healing work, forever seeking to spare families from the anguish he experienced.
As a child he suffered from intense nightmares, but as he grew older he came to understand them as visions. The gods showed him veiled images of things that stirred in this world, from the brightest fields to the darkest corners. Fearing ridicule, Simon has kept this secret mostly to himself, sharing it only with his closer friends in the town.
A plain faced man of smaller stature, Simon has a bristly goatee and wears his dirty brown hair pulled into a small ponytail. His clothes are frayed and faded, but the thread and stitching of the garments are those of a wealthy man creating an odd contrast in his appearance. Still a bachelor, the shy man appears not to be skilled in the art of personal grooming. Luckily, his obvious concern for the welfare of others overshadows his unkempt appearance and endures him to both acquaintances and strangers.
Human Male, Oracle, nice guy with a fondness for ale that dwarves would appreciate.
"Evening, Simon," Brahm eases down to that part of the bar, pulling your usual mug from it's place on the shelf. Tapping first from the walnut ale, he tops it off with the darkleaf brew before handing it over to you. "Yes, the new stuff will be awhile yet. I'm trying something new."
He shoots a glance to Fleur, then forces a calm to his countenance as he returns to wiping the bar and counting coins.
"She's fine. I'll take a trip to Miss Laurel's tomorrow and get her another draught of that blackscour brew. It's not perfect, but it's what we've got. God's help us if anything happened to her." Brahm tries to keep his worry to himself. Carrying about someone too much in this place is a good way to get them dead, or worse. But even Kreed tries to keep his workers upright and working. No one should fault him for that.
Kast seems oblivious to Fleur's blushing and thanks her for the stew and mug.
When she leaves, he put the mug below the bar (trying to keep it somewhat hidden) and casts Create Water, filling the mug with cheap and free water.
I hope they don't mind, I can't afford real drink right now.
Kast puts the mug a top the bar and dives into the stew, saving the flavor and putting any gristle to the side.
Kast takes notice of Simon, seeing the man's familiarity with the barkeep ("Brahm"...I'll make a note of that.) and his coinage.
"Excuse me. You local here? Maybe you can help me?" Kast asks of Simon.
"My name is Kast. You are...?" Kast extends his fist for Simon to bump, as is the proper greeting for a defender of Lastwall.
Simon sees the pain that Brahm struggles to hide, a sight all too familiar these days. "I'll be at Miss Laurel's early tomorrow morning, dropping off a fresh batch of wolf's bane, I'll get the blackscour brew and bring it by first thing. No need for the lass to suffer even an extra minute." Simon glances back at Fleur and says a silent prayer to Korada for her health.
The gentleman beside Simon introduces himself as Kast and offers the standard greeting among the folks of Lastwall. As their knuckles knock, "Pleased to meet you Kast, my name is Simon. I can't help but notice you're drinking water, let me get you a mug of ale, Brahm here makes a fine walnut ale, though I like a bit of the darkleaf topping it off."
Simon slides another few coins across the bar to Brahm, requesting a mug of the blended ales for his new friend.
"So friend, what brings you to town and what's that you wanted help with?"
Kast smiles at the genuine niceness of the man and offered drink. Kast's smile is full of honest appreciation, as if he were expecting ridicule and harshness, but had received the opposite.
"Thank you, Simon. Your kindness is appreciated." Kast looks very happy at the idea of having a free drink. Any drink, actually, besides water.
Kast takes a good look at Simon and kindness he offered.
Irori blesses me to find one such as this. First the niceness of Fleur, now this man.
"You are local, right? You did mention that?" Kast asks before continuing to the meat of his inquiry. "I'm looking for work. I heard that this town needed a scholar or teacher...I think I might fit the bill. Do you know of any work that might be needed for an educated man?"
Kast wears studded leather armor. A shield is tied about his backpack and a morningstar lies clipped about his waist. Kast bears a few scars on his arms, which shows some martial training.
With barely a nod, Brahm acknowledges both the reassurance and the order of another drink for the newcomer. He fills it the way he does most things; quickly and quietly.
"Excuse me. Eli's drifting off again.ELI! A round of Me and my Arrow for the good people, or it's the stye for bed tonight!" Brahm shakes his head as he wakes the young half-orc, who startles awake and starts singing before he even knows what it is he's supposed to sing.
"I had a home down in.... huh? What? No, Brahm, I'm singing, I'm singing..."
Nimeon leans against the wall, taking stock of all the new arrivals.
Haven't seen this much activity in here in...well ever actually. Might have to head out into the wilds again just to get some space.
"Dorial was it? You might be more comfortable out front. There's a porch there and fewer people, might give you some room to breath."
I don't mean to intrude barkeep, but is the young half Orc just drunk or does he suffer some other ailment. The place is packed and noisy I believe you can go easy on him.
I don't mean to intrude barkeep, but is the young half Orc just drunk or does he suffer some other ailment. The place is packed and noisy I believe you can go easy on him.
With Eli already back at the keys, singing away. Brahm turns his attention non-intruding intruder, his smile showing entirely too many teeth before he answers.
"I *could*, but I won't. T'wouldn't be doin' him any favors. Eli's fine, aren't you, Eli?!" The young man nods vigorously and smiles too; this isn't the sort of attention he ever likes to have.
"He's fine. We're all fine." he says into the sudden quiet of the bar. "Aren't we?" The question is rhetorical, of course. Nearly everyone knows that things in Falcon's Hollow aren't fine. But his smile gentles a little as the noise level rises again.
At Kast's inquiry, Simon's eyes widen, "Why, Yes, we have been without a teacher since our last one broke her neck in an unfortunately accident. Tripped over her cat she did, little thing was always wrapping itself around her feet, begging for another treat."
With a shifty glance, Simon looks about the bar, making sure no one is eavesdropping on their conversation, then he leans in closer to Kast. "Truth be told, some of us suspect the cat had nothing to do with it and the whole story is just a cover-up for something more sinister."
Leaning back and taking a long swig of his ale, Simon continues as if nothing had transpired. "The right man to discuss the teaching position would be Thaldrin Kreed, though I suggest you take a day or two to get prepared for your interview, he's a busy man and won't appreciate his time being wasted."
"Tell you what, I have need of some labor around my greenhouse, just some simple mixing of soil and mending of planter boxes. Stop by tomorrow and we'll discuss the teaching job in detail and get you working for a few coins to pass the days."
Simon plunks down a few more coins, securing another two mugs of ale for him and Kast.
"To new beginnings my friend", he raises the mug in toast, "may fortune fill our days ahead."
"I mean no disrespect, but that's too fair a price for a potion that does what you claim it does. Too fair a price by far. So fair that I question it's anything but colored water. Who is this Dr. Falteroll?"
"...wait! Where are you going?"
I guess he too is fleeing something of his past...
"H'mmm. Is the slip onto me? Wait! Mustn't say 'slip'. Very rude, and I'm not one of those bigoted devil-kissing bastards any more, after all. Odd-looking, though, isn't he? Oh, to the hells with it. I'm not working tonight
Chrystosm turns upon hearing Othoe's words and moves back over, speaking to him as quietly as he can.
"No, eagle eyes, it isn't just coloured water. It's coloured water, raw spirit, a smidgin of powdered poppy-tears and a drop of senna pod essence, too. So there. You're not one of the flats, I can tell, so I won't get far with you, but keep your voice down, eh? I've got a living to make, after all. And if you want to know who Dr. Falteroll is..."
He reaches inside his doublet and pulls out a poorly printed pamphlet featuring a heavily bearded man waving a gauntlet with a short-sword blade welded to it on the cover entitled DR. FALTEROLL, PATA PHEZICIAN TO THE ROYYAL CURT OF VUEDRA. HIS SECRRETS OF LOVE TECHNEEK AND VIBRATE HEALTH REVILED TO ALL"
"15 silver. 10 silver more if you want the one with the, ah, curious illustrations. Well worth it!" He winks at Othoe, preparing for a quick getaway if things pan out the wrong way again.
"Dorial, I have heard that there is a lady in town that goes by Laurel and she brews a mean cup of Tea. Would you and your companion care to check her establishment out with me later, it seems to me like you may be well skilled in grass lore and she may know more about this plague"
"So you're interested in the plague ?" the young half-elf with green hair says to Dorial in a neutral tone.
"I'm called Lamtheer" he adds as an afterthought after a few seconds of awkward silence.
"Pleased. To meet you."
He grins largely, showing white teeth in a disconcerting display of hostility or friendship.
This young woodsman doesn't seem particularly gifted in the social niceties department.
(Maybe his age could explain it: somewhat relaxed against the wall at the moment, he looks like a 14 years old human boy - which means he's probably a little older, being a half-elf. Or he's just a weird kid.)
For an instant, Lamtheer looks a little distracted by Othoe's hairdo, but he looks at Dorial again, awaiting her answer.
Sarek returns to the bar, out of his travelling gear he is a stocky dwarf with long, straw-coloured hair and a thick beard of the same. He adjusts his dark leather belt so that his clothes, well-made but travel-worn, sit a little more comfortably and leans up against the bar.
Taking another mouthful of ale, the dwarf listens in to the warm-dense conversation of the room: "Aye, barkeep, I'll be looking to eat now. What have you got?"
As the barkeep finishes with another patron, I turn to the smiling man at the bar, the barman called him Simon: Sorry, if I'm butting in, do you know Falcon's Hollow well?"
Suddenly bombarded by questions and stares, Dorial tries making herself disappear by pulling her knees up to her chest and lowering her head.
I must get out of here! Did he say that a Laurel may know more about the plague? Perhaps I should seek her out.
Dorial starts to uncurl herself and stand up. Oh right, paying! She pulls a few coins out of a pouch hidden in her tunic and leaves them on the table. "I beggin your pardons, but there is awfully too many people in here."
She bows to Nimeon, "I thank you for your offer, but I need to stretch my legs a little more. Perhaps another time.
She turns to Elandor, "Thank you for your suggestion, I will keep that in mind."
Without even turning to Lamtheer, "Yes.. plague. Weren't you listening?"
She turns her attention back to Orthoe, "If you are still interested in helping me, then meet me at the wall just on the other side of here in half an hour."
She bows to anyone else nearby and ducks out through the crowd unseen.
He reaches inside his doublet and pulls out a poorly printed pamphlet featuring a heavily bearded man waving a gauntlet with a short-sword blade welded to it on the cover entitled DR. FALTEROLL, PATA PHEZICIAN TO THE ROYYAL CURT OF VUEDRA. HIS SECRRETS OF LOVE TECHNEEK AND VIBRATE HEALTH REVILED TO ALL"
"15 silver. 10 silver more if you want the one with the, ah, curious illustrations. Well worth it!" He winks at Othoe, preparing for a quick getaway if things pan out the wrong way again.
Othoe chuckles a bit and grins.
"No friend, I'm not interested in your illustrations. Well, I am but my purse is light and I need to save my coin. Come, if you're not working too hard, and join us. It is a busy place, and you'll need to shout just to be heard - might be a touch too loud for decent commerce."
She turns her attention back to Orthoe, "If you are still interested in helping me, then meet me at the wall just on the other side of here in half an hour."
"I'm sorry you're so vexed! I'll be there, and good health to us both in the meantime!"
Othoe settles down a bit. Crowds are good for hiding. In this mess I can see the Chelaxian guard coming a mile away.
He looks around the table and his companions. I wonder what has attracted so many people to the plague? There must be something in this town worth fighting for. I wonder what it might be?
He thoughtfully sips his drink and ponders the future.
"Fair enough. To tell the truth, it's a load of auroch dung anyway, and most of the woodcuts are upside down. Serves me right for using goblin printers, but that's another story."
He squeezes in next to his diminutive countryman, taking a long swallow of his drink.
"If it's none of my business, say so and I'll button my lip, but I think I recognise your accent. You're a Northerner, aren't you - Kintargo? Pessack? I'm from Westcrown, myself - army brat. Glad I'm out of the bloody place and out of the reach of that lemure-loving old heifer of a queen. Someone told me there were treasures galore in these mountains - not got so much of a smell of it, though, and I'm never going to get rich selling crap like that"
He indicates the pamphlet with a contemptuous gesture, then raises his voice to address the whole table.
"Don't suppose any of you fine folks know of anywhere a highly-trained mercenary, scout and man about town could pick up work suitable for a gentleman?"
"Well it seems that you are to busy for me directly, so I'll let you get back to your work. Thanks for the ale though." After a few minutes of drinking alone, and soaking up the bar scene, Trafalgar looks around and makes a double check. "Wait, wasn't their a woman in here, but a few moments ago'" he asks to no one directly. I could have sworn there was a woman sitting with that gnome and the other two gentleman. "Maybe I should ask them." Trafalgar walks over and questions the gnome. "Excuse me, two questions; First, my name is Trafalgar and may ask what is your name? Second, wasn't their a woman with you here earlier?"
"If it's none of my business, say so and I'll button my lip, but I think I recognise your accent. You're a Northerner, aren't you - Kintargo? Pessack? I'm from Westcrown, myself - army brat. Glad I'm out of the bloody place and out of the reach of that lemure-loving old heifer of a queen. Someone told me there were treasures galore in these mountains - not got so much of a smell of it, though, and I'm never going to get rich selling crap like that"
Westcrown! What are the odds! He may know my mentor!
Othoe frowns and blushes slightly.
Into the breach!
"Westcrown, hehehe. No. I'm from all over. I've been traveling a long time looking for the same as you. I'm a wizard by trade, but aside from assistance in various libraries there isn't much honest work for my kind. And I loathe libraries. So dusty and silent."
"I think Dorial has a plan to bring some relief to the town. I don't think she has a cure, but I think she has something to ease the plague. If she's at all successful there may be some money in it. Nothing guaranteed though."
"If you're interested, I'll mention you to her when I see her again."
Trafalgar walks over and questions the gnome. "Excuse me, two questions; First, my name is Trafalgar and may ask what is your name? Second, wasn't their a woman with you here earlier?"
Othoe stands and offers his hand to the new guest.
"Greetings! I'm Othoe, well met. Yes there was, she just stepped out for a little air. Do you know her?"
"Ah, thank you." Trafalgar happily offers his own hand and gives Othoe a strong single shake. "Sadly no. I saw so many people arrive, and few had left, so I was a little suspicious. Who may you two gentleman be," questioned Trafalgar blatantly.
Nimeon nods and heads back to the bar, the questions surrounding Othoe are beginning to make his head swirl. He approaches the other newcomers there and introduces himself.
"Greetings friend. My name is Nimeon, servant of Erastil, what brings you to Falcon's Hollow? I see you've met Simon. Did I hear you correctly, you are a teacher Kast?"
"Elandor, pleasure to meet you. I am architect in the employ of the church of Abadar. I hail from the capital, but felt the call of the road for some research. Never thought these parts would be so lively. Does anyone know of a place to rest for a night?"
"Well hello Elandor, it is a pleasure to meet you as well. I alas am just a nomad, searching for something to set me free as it were. Sadly I am not from this town so I don't know were any lodgings happen to be. Perhaps we can search together," Turns to othoe, "Othoe, would you care to join us, it would be easier to find somewhere to stay with three people searching compared to two."
"I think Dorial has a plan to bring some relief to the town. I don't think she has a cure, but I think she has something to ease the plague. If she's at all successful there may be some money in it. Nothing guaranteed though."
"If you're interested, I'll mention you to her when I see her again."
Chrystosm nods, "I'd appreciate that" then turns to Trafalgar. "Chrystosm, swordsman and scholar, at your service. They've probably got rooms here, if you're not too particular."
He frowns at his mug of ale.
"I've still got the best part of this quart to get through, so if you're off, let us know if that job turns up, Othoe. You can leave a message with Brahm if I'm not here"
"Why hello Chrystosm, pleasure to meet you. These rooms are fine, I would take the comfort of a room over the streets any day."Turns to Othoe, "If this place does indeed have rooms, their is no need to hurry Othoe. I just wanted to make sure so that I would know where to go after these bar festivities."
"Why hello Chrystosm, pleasure to meet you. These rooms are fine, I would take the comfort of a room over the streets any day. If this place does indeed have rooms, their is no need to hurry Othoe. I just wanted to make sure so that I would know where to go after these bar festivities."
How deeply can I trust these people? Still, I have no where else to stay...
"It is agreed then! Please do include me in our search for lodging. I will need a place, and ideally a pillow if one is available, to rest my head."
"If you'll excuse me, there is something I must attend to. I shall return."
Othoe heads out into the night air to clear his head, and take his time heading for his meeting with Dorial. He drinks deeply of the night air and clears out the stench of the bar as he casually strides toward the wall.
hahaha! I question the trust of the others, yet here I am about to meet a woman I barely know in a place I know even less! I guess it's my blind spot.
Othoe grins as he walks, laughing to himself at the absurdity of the evening so far.
Lamtheer has listened to all this dialogue without speaking.
Now, he leaves the wall he was leaning against and walks across the room. He puts his empty mug across the counter.
Then he exits the inn.
Outside, the fresh air and relative silence do him good. He takes a deep breath.
Then he looks around him, to see if he spots this "Dorial" who described herself as a druid.
If she's nowhere to be seen, he crosses the street and turns around a corner. Looking behind him to reassure himself he's alone, he comes back towards the inn after having made a large detour.
He sits cross-legged comfortably on the ground behind a wooden fence, hiding himself so he will be able to observe unseen the spot where the druid said she would make contact with the halfling with the wig.
And he waits.
Sure enough, not long after Lamtheer hid behind his fence, the false gnome exits the inn and evidently goes looking for the druid woman.
"Good, a plan it is then. I will go ask ask the barkeep if their are any rooms available, and if so, at what cost. I will be right back in one moment fellows." Trafalgar weaves his way up to the bar and hails the barkeep, "Excuse me, do you have any rooms available, and if so, how much would they cost for the night?"
New town, actually meet some people and talk to them, this is going rather smoothly. Must be cautious though, seems like their is something a little eerie about tonight.
Chrystosm turns to Elandor.
"You mentioned research. 'Scuse my nosiness - bad habit - but what are you looking into? I've heard rumours of unexplored ruins in these parts which interest me greatly. Purely from a scholarly perspective, of course..."
At Kast's inquiry, Simon's eyes widen, "Why, Yes, we have been without a teacher since our last one broke her neck in an unfortunately accident. Tripped over her cat she did, little thing was always wrapping itself around her feet, begging for another treat."
...
"The right man to discuss the teaching position would be Thaldrin Kreed, though I suggest you take a day or two to get prepared for your interview, he's a busy man and won't appreciate his time being wasted."
"Tell you what, I have need of some labor around my greenhouse, just some simple mixing of soil and mending of planter boxes. Stop by tomorrow and we'll discuss the teaching job in detail and get you working for a few coins to pass the days."
"To new beginnings my friend", he raises the mug in toast, "may fortune fill our days ahead."
Kast salutes and drinks deep of the offered ale, finding refreshment in ale that he has not tasted in some time.
"To new beginnings, Simon!"
Wow! The people in this town are really nice! I'm making friends! And maybe I have a job!
Kast rubs his mouth with is arm, removing any drops of ale from his lips.
"So...this Kreen guy might know more about potential scholarly work?"
Thaldred Kreen? I should make a note of that. He sounds important.
Kast smiles at the thought of work. "What do you do in town, Simon? What's with all the greenhouse?"
Might as well know a bit about him before I go work for him.