@Norvallen
"If you can cook it I can catch it," she says patting her bow.
@Zartana
Cassandra smiles at the joke. It was nice to see someone else who fought against the stigma of those like her. And she could joke about it too. "I was recommended by Medvyed." Then she looks down as if unsure of her next words. "If you don't mind me asking, how...how is it no one seems to bat an eye at you? Considering what most people think about the Drow? I didn't expect them to be so accepting here." Or anywhere for that matter. If she could be viewed as more than her race maybe there was hope for Cassandra...and others.
Veil walks into the Randy Sasquatch. He has a rather ornate an masterfully crafted bow slung over his chest and back. His fine clothes seem very clean even for a normal outing. His slicked back brown hair stays unmoving as he makes his way to Lord Alystair. Anybody who is anybody knows what he looks like. He bows upon getting within talking distance.
"My lord, it is a great honor to make your acquaintance. My name is Veil Silverthistle. You may have even heard of me already. I am a bard you see, my voice carries and as such, so should my name. But enough of my rambling. How are you this fine day?"
Veil kindly keeps eye contact with the lord. His dull blue eyes seemed to grow brighter with each passing moment.
@Norvallen
"A swoop lizard, right, I'll have to remember that. Can you tell me much about him?"Looking Sama's teeth."I take it they are carnivorous? It is true though, what the others are saying, tis far too hard to find good food when you're out exploring."
Eyeing Cassandra
"Another white head huh? This place sure seems to be bringing in some interesting people, I love interesting people. I'm Atamar, Atamar Gorrin if you're into formalities.
You look like your pretty mean with that bow, if we both get hired we will have to go hunting together some time."
@Atamar
"He is carnivorous, as if those teeth of his don't give it away, but he usually hunts rats and mice around my family's home so he doesn't appear to be dangerous. Though he is rather fast on his dives, as most things don't have a chance to react before that enormous mouth of his closes on his prey. Still as he is my familiar, I'm pretty sure he is an odd one as I doubt a normal swoop lizard would use that cantrip or help cook food."
Spotting a bit of color on Atamar's arms, Norvallen can't help but be curious.
"Huh, tattoos? Any meaning to those on your arms there? I can't quite make them out."
@Cassandra
Hearing Cassandra's question to Zartana, Norvallen can't help but cut in.
"I can't speak for the rest, but for why I am currently reacting badly to Zartana here?"
Norvallen pauses for a moment, taking a sip of his drink trying to put it to words.
"She was here before me. The guards over by Lord Alystair are okay with it. And most importantly of all ... she made jokes, about herself even. So she is either not one of the nightmarish legends of the drow we hear so much about, or she is not going to target US to make those nightmares a reality. Either one works for me." Norvallen says with a touch of seriousness, before deciding to return to lightening the mood from the nervousness and tension in the air.
"Anyways, I think I still have a recipe requiring Jackalope hiding in my bags somewhere. So I may have to hold you to that statement one day. I know I would love to watch that chase."
The girl glances to to women stirring the pot, who pays neither of you any attention.
"Tá sí ceart go leor. A níos fearr ná Cheliax ar aon nós. Liom a fháil a íocadh, airgead a sheoladh chuig mo mháthair. Nach le do thoil praiseach seo suas go dtí mé, ceart go leor? amháin 'salach' teacht suas."
** spoiler omitted **
Anghus stands with his chest puffed out defiantly, contrasting the shirking girl halfling. He takes the dirty ale from her and leans in and whispers, sure to speak swiftly and quietly. "Cén fáth cinnte, go mbeadh turas go doras Asmodeus 'buille is dócha in aghaidh an lae sa bpoll vile go Cheliax! Tá tú bhean dubh milis, leis an méid a dhéanann tú do do ma, ach ná déan dearmad go bhfuil tú ag dul a bheith chomh sásta díreach oiread agus is an muc stirring an phota, nó an Taldan uasal thar ann. tá tú nach bhfuil áit mar aon duine footstool, nó fáilte a chur roimh mata, ná lig dóibh a dhéanann tú dearmad air! "
Halfling
"Why sure, a trip to Asmodeus' doorstep would probably beat a day in that stinking pit that's Cheliax! You're a sweet lass, with what you do for your ma, but don't forget that you deserve to be as happy just as much as the pig stirring the pot, or the noble Taldan over there. You're place isn't as anyone's footstool, or welcome mat, don't let them make you forget it!"
She then whirls down the steps to what must serve as a kitchen in this place.
Anghus spins on his heels and makes his way to some of the other "applicants". He might be spending a lot of time with these strangers in the coming weeks and months, and it was always smart to know who it was you were keeping company with. He finds himself at the end of the room where Atamar, Cassandra, Norvallen, and Zartana had gathered. He was taken aback by the drow, but he hid it well. From what he knew of the drow, the majority were evil slavers and obsessed with rank and nobility, two traits he certainly didn't look for in companions. Still, those kind of drow probably wouldn't be in Brevoy, at least not openly.
"I'll have to keep an eye on that one." Anghus made a mental note
" 'Ello there, tall folk. Seems some of you may end up accompanying me on this expedition. We might as well get drunk on this 'ere dirty ale and get to know one another a bit. I'm Anghus," The exuberant halfling began, before pausing to gulp his drink and jump upon a seat so he could be almost eye-to-eye with the others. He drew his small rapier and pierced the air in-front of him in a display of the one-pound weapon. " I fancy myself a bit of a swordsman, And let's just say I've got the skills to make anyone think twice of underestimating those of us underfoot!" He declared, smiling all the while. He returned the weapon to its place at his hip and sipped at his ale,leaning on the rough surface of the table." A pleasure to meet you."
"It seems we have a lot of... interesting characters here tonight." Jonathan says, his dagger pausing in his fingers, primed for a throw. After a few moments, he flips it back into his palm, eyeing the blade for nicks and dull spots. "Seems suspicious to me, but I occasionally forget how far I am from home." He chuckles, a raspy noise that leads into a cough. "Things are less... controlled here." Without seeing his face, his even tone makes it hard to discern his feelings on the matter.
@Norvallen
Atamar rolls up the sleeves on both of his forearms revealing two tattoos, one saying "Travel", the other "Journey".
"Well actually I have four total, I have another on my back and on my chest, but it might not be the best place to remove my shirt for an exhibition." Atamar gives the others a rueful grin. "Unless, of course, you all would like to see what a fine looking Half-Orc body looks like."
He looks around at the others for a second, almost as if it was a serious offer and then continues.
"They are representative of my belief in the goddess Desna. As you might, or might not be aware of, among her domains is that of Traveling and she often referred to as being the goddess of Travel and Journeys. The tattoo on my chest is one of a butterfly, which is her symbol, and the one on my back lays out the basic tenets of the '8 Scrolls', which you might say is her religious text"
I admit, I'm not only interesting in going on this for the bandit removal. I hear that Desna has a decent base of worshipers down there and I'm hoping this trip will provide me an opportunity to find some of them and help strengthen the worship.
What god or goddess do your worship if I might ask?"
Atamar looks a bit abashed at his lone winded monologue and his cheeks noticeably color, even with his dark skin.
Looking over at Jonathan
"You are right, things are a little less controlled, but not nearly enough!"
Atamar points to Anghus "This guy has the right of it, best to get drunk. Atamar is my name, a pleasure to meet you." Atamar then holds up his mug to Anghus.
@Atamar
"Erastil, though not devotedly but rather by habit from my parents while hunting or working the farm lands. Still, that level of devotion is rather awe-inspiring." Norvallen purposely doesn't attempt to make light of the butterfly tattoo after that speech. It deserves a bit more respect then that.
@Anghus
"Blast, you don't have white hair too." were the first words out of Norvallen's mouth after Anghus' boisterous display. "Oh well, just means you don't get the free pass to blame everything you do on her." he states with a grin while pointing at Zartana.
"Anyways, skipping the potential joke about wielding a kabob skewer, I might as well introduce you to the rest. I am Norvallen and my familiar Sama. The next white-haired one with dark skin and female is Zartana. That white-haired one with light skin but also female is Cassandra. This fellow who doesn't have white hair is Atamar as he already said. And that guy is ..." trailing off, Norvallen realizes he hasn't even spoken to the other male nearby Atamar.
"I've got no clue. Who are you?" Norvallen gestures.
Hearing Atamar's mention of getting drunk, Norvallen's long hair quickly moves on its own wrapping around his stein on the table and pulling it out of reach behind his back. That is his drink!
The merchant caravan Sorry was travelling with, passed a group of armored travelers, talking alongside the road. Randy Sasquatch was already a landmark in the distance.
She was detached from the caravan; all she had to do was to walk to the group. Her long raincape, reaching down to her ankles, concealed any sight of weapons or armor.
Maybe those are my unknowing allies in this endeavor. she think as walk past the group.
The long day of travel was ending; Randy Sasquatch’s was the resting place in the merchant’s road. The sun always threatening to hide behind the mountains cast its dying light over the hills and the nearby trees. In the dusk, a walking traveler entered the inn, her entire body hidden behind the raincape, her face hidden inside the darkness of the raised the hood.
Young, sure hands, reaching the hood expose an innocent young girl face. She cannot be more than sixteen or seventeen, yet the military clothes briefly exposed behind the raincape was hard to miss. The metallic sound of someone walking in armor, the volume of her shield in her back told a different history. The pale skin in contrast with black hair. Some would say she was pretty; certainly, the forbidding clothes hide the sinuous and lean body of a girl just reaching adulthood. Nevertheless, it was her eyes that commanded attention.
No young girl had those lifeless, old, dead looking eyes.
She walks to the lordling and present her invitation letter. ”Sorry, my name is Sorry.” she says finally.
"Drunkenness does not serve me well. It loosens tongues and dulls the senses, and neither of those are going to serve me very well. I have things I'd rather keep private, and things I'd like to see." While difficult to tell, the edges of a smile seem to be creeping up under the man's mask. As his food and drink comes by, he looks at the grog and bowl expressionless, most likely scowling beneath his covering. "I suppose I'll just have to nurse this for the night, then..."
Looking to the halfling, his eyebrows rise, looking amused. "A bit... excitable, aren't we?"
@Atamar:
Natural curiosity warred with caution built up over the last few years. "I...I would like that," she tried to say with confidence. That was something she needed to think about more. Hunting back was easier because they all knew the dangers. These people didn't. But so far they were being very pleasant. Maybe that was the difference between them and the common folk. These people had seen a lot.
@Norvallen:
Oh the joy of placing ones foot in ones mouth. "Right. Of course," she says backpedaling a little. "Here things are...nice. But not so everywhere. What do you do then?" It is easy to tell she is interested in the answer but for reasons that currently escape anyone at the table.
@Anghus:
"Um...no thank you," she says to the drink. Rule 7: Avoid too much alcohol. Loosing even a bit of control scarred her.
@Atamar again:
On the question of faith she chimes in with, "Where I am from we...well not worship, but respect the moon and nature. The cycles of balance. The give and take." She looks down shyly, not sure if that is answer enough.
@Sorry
Lord Alystair reacts with bemusement no stronger than he showed the earlier of the menagerie already filling the taproom. He accepts the letter and gestures to the tables and mismatched chairs.
For the first time, however, the young man with the hammer reacts. His vacant expression focuses intently on the young girl and his head tilts slightly to the side as if listening for something. His hand tenses on the hammer at his side.
"Lord . . . " He speaks for the first time. "Shadows. Like Uncle."
The warriors flanking Lord Alystair on each side try to hide grins poorly. Lord Alystair shows the first sign of irritation. "Iacamo, I said none of that foolishness." He turns back to Sorry, "Thank you my dear. Pay him no mind."
@Atamar
The little halfling clinks his tankard against that of the large Half-orc's and takes another drink. " Aye Atamar, I get the feeling I'll like you." He smiled.
@Norvallen
"White ..hair?" He stammers, having missed the beginning of the conversation, still he soon catches on and nods at the gathering of white-haired adventurers. " Ah yes, must be a popular color this season, all the rage in the Taldan courts I hear." He delivers his joke with a deadpan and even tone and a straight face that soon breaks to a snicker. He feigns a wave at Sama" Well-met Norvallen, Since you spared me the joke about my kabob-skewer, I'll spare you the joke about skewering your lizard!" He winks at Sama and claps Norvallen on the back with a laugh.
@Jonathan Hayes
" You might be more fun if you were drunk, give it a try, you're among allies, as far as you know." he said with a sideways smile. " And aye, you might be right about the exciteable thing, but what's it to you long legs? As for you, aren't you a little "dark and brooding?" He shook his head slightly but chuckled.
"bata damanta sa láib ..." He muttered under his breath
Halfling
@Anghus:
"Um...no thank you," she says to the drink. Rule 7: Avoid too much alcohol. Loosing even a bit of control scarred her.
" Ah to each their own, love. That just means more for me and Atamar." he says with a grin. " Well met Cassandra." He bows his head ever-so-slightly.
" Ah to each their own, love. That just means more for me and Atamar." he says with a grin. " Well met Cassandra." He bows his head ever-so-slightly.
All she can do is nod back, unsure what to make of the exuberant halfling.
"Hmpf. Dark and brooding, perhaps, but you might be as well if you had done the things that I had done. Drag a man, bound and pleading, to his doom from his home a mile away. He will tell you of his family, why he deserves to live. He will plead, until the blade falls. Even after, his glassy eyes beg for mercy." A far-away look in his eyes, he focuses again on the halfling. He puts the dagger back into his belt, after realizing he had begun flipping the knife again as he spoke.
"It changes a man. But maybe not you, I suppose. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders." While he doesn't laugh, the lines of a smile are clearly evident now under the mask. "As for being among allies... I suppose. But if all my allies are drunk and rabble-rousing, should not one of our number stay a bit more... level-headed?" He stifles another laugh, but not quick enough for a short chuckle to leave his lips.
@Jonathan
" It's all in perspective, I suppose. All that nasty business you mentioned does sound...nasty." The little halfling agreed, taking a drink and seeming to mull over his words. " I spent my childhood in chains under the thumb of devil-worshipers and I too saw things I won't forget. Don't mistake my spirit for naiveté! We've all got a life to live and we best make the most of it!"
He smiled at the break in the man's hard exterior as the stifled laugh rumbles in the human's throat. " You might not be so bad after all you old stiff, mighty good of you to look after your allies like that, I'll have to watch you get drunk sometime in the future to return the favor!" He said with a chuckle
Tristan finally finds himself at the Randy Sasquatch.
I wonder what this lord will be like.
As he enters he sees many sitting around the table. All look to have certain skills, but surely his knowledge of the land will aid the group.
He approaches the well dressed man who must be lord Alystair.
"My lord. I am Tristan d'Arden. I was told by my lord Cedric Orlovsky that you received a letter on my behalf. I wish to provide my services as a guide to your venture into the stolen lands. I am well aware of the bandit problem as I just left my home. I buried my parents there no more than a few days ago. I returned to find them slain. I have honed my skills with a blade under Lord Cedric. Please allow me to join in your exploration. I know the land well."
"My lord Alystair. I hope this message finds you well. I am sending you my page, Tristan d'Arden. His skill with a long sword will match that of some of our greatest lords one day. He is a bit brash and has no social graces, but finds himself at home with the land. He has grown up in the stolen lands. He learned to hunt, gather and grow what is needed. I feel he would be of great service to you in your endeavor. I ask for you to place your faith in him.
Lord Cedric Orlovsky"
@Jonathan
"It changes a man". Cassandra looks down into her bowl of slowly cooling beef stew. Meat always tasted better to her but now it seemed less appealing. The morose story brought memories she didn't want to think about. Memories she had accepted...but still the guilt haunted her. They always would. They were the source of her tremendous will to never let her guard down. But in the mean time her mood was shot. And it didn't feel right to put on a facade or bring anyone else down. Quietly she slips out of her set and heads for the door. She needed some alone time. Sort things out. The moon wasn't even close to full tonight but it always seemed to comfort her.
Ironic.
"Haven't been drunk a day in my life. When I was younger, my father forbade it. After he passed I... my life took some unexpected turns, and such revelries were far from my mind. I suppose old habits die hard." His hand starts to move to the knife again, before he notices it. He shakes his head slightly, moving his hand towards the grog instead. Shrugging, he picks up the mug and moves it towards his mouth. "I suppose it would be in the spirit of things to share at least a dink with my compatriots, though."
Pulling down the silken mask, Jonathan reveals a horrid looking web of scarring running from the left side of his face, all the way down his neck. Clearly an old wound, the web of burns is still vaguely red and inflamed. He opens his mouth to drink with a bit of a wince, the once "melted" skin stretching as he swallows. "They were right, though. Not half bad."
Taking a drink after clinking glasses.
@Anghus
"Back at you my friend."
Atamar drains the remnants of his drink and then looks at Stella raising his voice to be heard over quickly filling tavern. "Say Stella, when you get a moment could I get a refill, I'll take what I had before. If you please."
Turning his attention back to matters at hand:
@Norvallen
Atamar gives a slight smile.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, Erastil seems to be common enough among Brevoy. I don't know if I would call it awe-inspiring or not, but thank you.
Noticing the Hair Business
"Well that is different, how do you do that. Can you scratch your back too? That would be useful."
@Anghus and Jonathan
"He's right you know, no harm in enjoying the evening. Do you anyone good songs Anghus? We could use something to lighten the mood. A drink on me if you know of any involving strange bedfellows.".
@Cassandra
"I was Militia in Rostland, which basically means a bunch of odd jobs in one sense or another to insure civilian safety. I can track and stalk due to the need to put down predators attacking someone's herd. I think I'm good at unarmed combat, due to breaking up the drunken fights and training with my father. I'm a decent shot with a crossbow, but nothing special. I cast a few spells as well. In the end, I guess I end up more like a Jack-of-Trades rather then an Expert in one thing."
Norvallen pauses to take a drink, only to notice its now empty and that he is still holding it with his hair. Reddening a touch, he grabs the stein with his hand again and his hair goes limp.
@Anghus
"Good one. Though Taldan courts are going with white hair as well? That's ... an odd thought. I may have to find a hair dye that will actually work, if that happens."
@After listening to Jonathan Hayes
Norvallen can't help but wince at the story, killing most of the joviality he had tried to stir up to break the tension.
"Wonderful, I was trying to keep the tension low there, but after that story, even I am feeling a touch depressed," Norvallen states morosely as he stands. "I need another drink after hearing that."
As Gaspar finally approached the Randy Sasquatch, he looked down at his travel-worn clothing and shook his head.
'No. Absolutely not. Won't do.'
He took a quick peak around. Finding the right moment when no one was looking, he ducked into a nearby alleyway and took off all of his clothes down to his undergarments. Quickly rummaging through his backpack, he was able to locate most of his jewelry. 'Aff, good enough' as well as his courtier's clothing.
Taking another quick look around, he quickly donned the clothing and jewelry. Picking out a nearby window, he gazed into his reflection and did everything he could to make his hair a bit more respectable.
'Hm, bet it would help to get some of this sand out. Wet this part here, stylishly part here... there. Fit for a noble.'
He shoved his old desert clothes back into his backpack and removed the scroll case positioned just to the side of it and leaned it against a nearby building just long enough to dust off his clothing and straighten out any wrinkles. Finally finished with that, it was back out into proper public for him.
Stepping into a bar full of people wasn't the tough part. He's done it more times than he can count. Walking in with a foreigner's expectations of his father plastered across his head is a bit harder. Still, he opened the door with an air of confidence... and a keen awareness of every creak of the floor and glancing eye.
Spotting Lord Alystair wasn't difficult. Gaspar quickly, but composedly, made his way across the bar to him.
"Good day. Lord Alystair I presume?" Gaspar spoke only a little shakily. Subtle enough to make him proud of himself. Assuming a confirmation of his question, Gaspar removed the scroll from its case. "I am Gaspar Khemet. I have a letter addressed to you from my father. I am here regarding your expedition into the Stolen Lands."
Gaspar held out the scroll. Despite the slight nervousness one might detect in his voice, his hand was eerily steady. To the trained eye, it was the hand of an expert, though an expert in what remained to be seen.
Zartana was quiet for a while. Drinking slowly. Making sure to just listen for a while. She finally answers
"I tend to carry a sign of my family with me. To avoid things. Not that I always remember to do so. I have had a few interesting encounters. Both from the law and from farmers and the sort. But being a Drow female has detered a lot of violence. I just drop the word Matriarch or scout... or the like. It has been fun. The look on peoples faces were... lets just say it helps me get out of a bad mood. Children are the most fun. Especially if their folks see me give them treats or if I walk along lonely roads with them. To keep them safe. But I dont tell that to other people. Let them find out on their own."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Veil turns to the patrons at the bar, a sudden flare of blue in his eyes.
"How bout a song everyone?!" Veil shouts to the room. Though he only took a few moments before beginning, his eyes fell upon nothing in particular as if gazing at a distant memory.
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.
For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.
The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the dale
And men they looked up with faces pale;
The dragon’s ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.
The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.
Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!
When the song is concluded Veil will bow to the patrons and take a seat at the bar.
A small character walks into the Randy Sasquatch, it is easily Identifiable as a red scaled kobold. It seems anxious after noticing all the characters already assembled. It is wearing strangly what appears to be clothes of the local human custom sized and shaped for itself, with a water-proof-waxed cloak which it has drawn over its head, and appears to be wearing goggles with darkened lenses.
After closing the door with it's tail trying to do it quietly, it starts to fiddle with it's goggles.
After looking about at everyone here it takes him a few moments as he fiddles with the envelope in his hands. He seems unsure of exactly who Lord Alystair is. After a few moments he seems to finally decide to ask the serving lady. "ughm... excuse me but... which one is Lord Alystair?". With a polite point and a giggle his attention fell to the well dressed human with 2 guards. He smacks himself in the head as if it should have been obvious.
---
I approach Lord Alystair giving a small nervous bow "Lord Alystair, Sir..." I say as I hand the envelope over, "I hope we'll be working together soon.".
Tristan takes a seat among the others after he speaks to Lord Alystair.
"Greetings all. I am Tristan." He gets the attention of one of the barmaids.
"My lady, is the drink being provided for? If so a cup of ale please. If not then just some water."
Looking back to the group.
"Yes I am a poor farmer. I grew up in the stolen lands, but my father taught me much and we had plenty. I recently became page to a local lord. I have been trained in the fighting style of the sword lords with my own take on it. You will find the lands harsh but rewarding. They are dangerous. I have lost everything. I am here because my family was killed this week. I came to seek refuge and help from my master, but he was away and sent me here. I plan on serving as guide for the group if the lord will have me. The bandit problem has grow to a point where I feel it is not safe for any that try to make their home out there."
@Tristan d'Arden
"Finally, I think you are the first to actually come from those lands here in this group. Or at least the first I've heard to admit so. You have my sympathy for the fate of your family, and my recommendation to grab some ale and drown those sorrows and forget for a moment. It sounds like you could use it." Norvallen states to Tristan getting a refreshment on food and drink.
@Viel
Shaking his head, he turns towards the bard attempting to entertain everyone with such a dour song.
"Oi, bard! Do you think you could play something a little more upbeat next time?" Norvallen grumbles, why is it everyone suddenly seems to WANT the atmosphere to be such a solemn despair.
@Zartana, Cassandra, Jamahzin, and anyone willing.
"Huh. I think we are no longer the most bizarre sight for leagues now, Zartana and Cassandra." Norvallen states bluntly staring at one of the short new comers. "Because that one is kinda surprising," with that, he gestures towards the small figure wearing the cloak and goggles.
She glances at the little thing
"Nothing new. When I was young I saw them here and there..."
She looks at the kobold. Wanting to see if it reacts to her. That way she can determine how much he knows about her race
-Posted with Wayfinder
Hearing Norvallen and Zartana's exchange while eyeing Jamahzin.
@Zartana and Norvallen
If I remember correctly some Kobolds don't like bright light, maybe that's what the goggles are for. Though to be fair, you two and Cassandra still take the scone. The little guy is at least cute.
Atamar then gives a rueful smile.
Minakeh has spent the last few hours wondering around Restov looking for the Randy Sasquatch.
Where in the world can this one tavern be?!?!
Just as he thinks that a light airy tune floats across the breeze, drawing Minakeh's attention to a building he had passed more than a dozen times within the past hour, the Randy Sasquatch.
Of course its righ there! He sighs, dusts himself off and walks in. As the door closes behind him, Minakeh scans the room, he double takes the Drow and Kobold before he finds Lord Alystair sitting on the far side of the room.
Minakeh takes a confident pose, chest out, shoulders back, etc., and walks up to Lord Alystair. Minakeh bows. Greetings, my lord. I am Minakeh Deepiron and I'm here to apply for your expedition. Minakeh pulls out a fancy envelope sealed with wax and hands it to Alystair. Here is my Letter of Introduction form Count Bogoro Lodovka in New Stetven.
He waits for Lord Alystair to dismiss him and then walks over to group of other candidates.
Hello, everyone. You all here for the expedition too?
Tristan raises his glass to Norvallen.
"Thank you for your words, but I will not waste time grieving now. Revenge is what I seek, and to make safe my lands. If lord Alystair here wants to map and explore the lands, well he is providing me with a tool I need. It is only fair I offer him my services in return. Don't you think? What of the rest of you? All just travelers through? What brings you to the land of the River Kingdoms and Restov?"
@Minakeh
"Well met northman. So you got word of this as well. What brings you to these lands?"
"At least I have magics to shield my eyes from bright light. Only last a few minute or so. For now. Hopefully as I delve deeper into my arcane heritage, those minutes might become hours" she adds with a grin as she adds the shadows over her eyes again with a wave oh her hand
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Glancing over and seeing the newcomer enter, Norvallen sees that the newcomer doesn't have white hair, but blonde and sighs in disappointment.
"Almost another for the white-haired club. Almost"
@Tristan
"It sounds fair, I'll admit. Still, personally I'm here to help curry favor of those in the Stolen Lands for Rostland so my childhood home stays safe. The last thing we need is pressure from Issea and things from the Stolen lands pushing further into my family's land."
Norvallen looks a touch uncomfortable as he calls a detail, and can't help but question uncomfortably.
"You ... mentioned a Master. Do you mind explaining that a bit more?"
@Zartana and Atamar
"Huh. But you don't have trouble seeing in the dark and pitch black like I do, right? That sounds down right useful, rather having to carry a light everywhere. Maybe I'll learn a spell one day to get around that myself."
"Just warn me if you do learn it... being blinded is not a fun feeling... I have to keep this spell up before it expires... have you tried looking directly at the sun, right after you wake up in a dark room? Well, thats what happens to me all the time if i dont cast this spell." she grumbles. Luckely inside it was less of an issue. But she has become so use to casting the spell while she was above ground, its now like second nature
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@Tristan
Well, I was born and raised up in New Stetvan. My parents guard one o' the middling nobles that live there. I defeated a cheater in a duel defending my count's honor and as a reward for my skill and service he let me in on this venture. What brings you to Restov?
@Norvallen
Minakeh chuckles at the "white-haired club" comment.
If I'm anything like my father it'll end up white soon enough.
Standing outside to recenter herself proved useful as she saw even more people coming and going. A man disappeared down an ally and, for a moment, she thought he was up to no good. Then he came back around wearing a different outfit. Odd.
Then a small figure approached with...Are those red scales? A kobold? Really? Cassandra couldn't help but stare.
After that came a man who she thought had to be a recruit but he passed the tavern several times. That is until someone started singing inside.
That was enough to get her walk back in. But now there were far too many people in that corner for her to feel comfortable. But at least her appetite was back. She grabbed another bowl of stew and set down. This time a little further from the group. While she was curious about the Kobold all she could do was sit and observe from the other side of the tavern. But that suited her just fine. This was fine.
After eating she approaches the Lord's table again. If a new one arrives she politely steps out of the way. "Sorry to bother but I had a few questions."
"Should I be chosen, where would we be going?"
"Is there any idea about the terrain or someone I can ask? The map is...sparse."
"Are we walking or caravaning?"
"What does Brevoy expect from us?"
"What, if any, supplies are provided?"
"How do we contact you in case of emergency or completion of the charter's goals?"
"How much freedom do we have to make alliances and war?"
Anghus climbs up to stand on the table where the group sat and cleared his throat. He took another gulp of his dirty ale to wet his whistle and gave a hearty smile.
"A BATHER WHOSE CLOTHING WAS STREWED--
BY WINDS THAT LEFT HER QUITE NUDE--
SAW A MAN COME ALONG-
AND UNLESS I'M WRONG-" The little halfling sung the rhyme at the top of his lungs, stomping a foot for rhythm, he stopped before the last line to build the suspense. "YOU EXPECTED THIS LINE TO BE LEEEEEWD!"
Anghus folded over holding his midsection and chuckled. The song wasn't nearly as funny as it seemed to the halfling, but he delivered it well, inspite of it's simplicity.
" Hardly about strange bedfellows, But I think it's worth a drink anyway Atamar. We could take our show on the road!" He adressed the tattooed half-orc and then the bard with a wink.
@Tristan
" Tis a long story of how I found myself here in the Randy Sasquatch, but it started with getting the Hell out of Cheliax... and it's mostly been a blur since then." The little halfling had sat down on the table-top now, rather than standing. He rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly.
@Deepiron
"Merry met northerner! If the stories of your folks are true you'll enjoy a drink or three with us, right? Anghus's the name!"
"All fine to sing and be merry. But please get off the table. This is not a brothel" she says calmly
"Is this the correct way to act infront of a noble?"
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@Minakeh
"The sooner, the better I say." Norvallen grouches.
"While it was nice to meet others sharing the same hair color for once," Norvallen gestures with a thumb over his shoulder, which the end of the ponytail raises to be in the line-of-sight for a moment before dropping back down. "I'm still waiting to meet another male that isn't an old man, so I don't feel quite as odd anymore."
Stopping to listen to the halfling's song, Norvallen can't help chuckle at the bawdy, if decently sung, limerick.
"Anyways, the name is Norvallen de'Naoch, a Rostlander and former militia. You?"
Surrounded by too many people, the swoop lizard Sama flies up above the door frame to perch comfortably now that he ate his share.
"Humans and their age classifications... am I then to be seen as an old woman? I bet i can handle myself very well. In doors, out doors, under cover... under covers... than most young human woman you know!" she gives him a sly smile
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"Well to be safe and prevent bleeding out, I'll say that age for humans is now defined by wrinkles, not years. At least for me. Then by that definition, you are definitely still young and barely in your prime." Norvallen chuckles back.
She grins back at him
"Good save... good save. I drag you out of bed last... or first. Depends on your preference"
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The roiling hubbub in the ever more crowded Sasquatch, was ever so slightly more crowded than most present were consciously aware of, that one of the times the door opened two figures entered, not one.
When the space in front of Lord Alystair was ever so briefly empty, there was a quiet voice that piped up, in a crisp, yet slightly brisk clear voice.
”Excuse me, Your Lordship, I was instructed to bring this to you, as you might be able to help me find some old friends, or their descendants, in return for my service.”
Moments after the voice pipes up, a thin pair of fore-arms reach out grab the stool placed in front of the odd table Lord Alystair was sitting at and a small figure easily vaults himself up to be more level with the one he was speaking with.
The figure at first glance looks more like a tiny skilled craftsman in a leather apron, than an adventure, festooned with an assortment of hammers and other tools slung through belts and peeking out of a small backpack. Until, of course you look for either the tiny armaments within easy reach, or into his face, gently washed with both age lines, and the clear residue of acid splashes surrounding a pair of vivid ice blue eyes.
A second look for more detail brings in the upswept topknot of sandy brown hair, and shows the evidence of a slightly over large nose common to the Gnomish, and evidence amongst the acid scars of strong laugh lines.
He hands over a letter with an elaborate swan and sun seal, followed by a second unsealed roll of parchment, with signs of an enchantment preserving its coherence.
Lord Alystair Boehnre, Aldori, 3rd of Boehnre, 27th of Rostov, Scion of Brevoy.
I am writing today to request that you allow the bearer, one Roonfizzle Garnackle, called “Many-Arms” to accompany your venture into the Stolen Lands, as I feel his skills will be of use to you, and allow a better chance of success on his request for information about some of our minor holders off in that general direction. In the short time he’s been in our demesnes’ he was instrumental in resolving several matters of a delicate nature, and as the saying goes, ‘beware the old man in profession where one usually dies young.’ It’s clear he’s seen a thing or two, and lived to tell the tale. Or as he tells it, died a time or two, and still here to tell the tale.
Lord Micah Lebeda, 9th of Lebeda, Scion of Brevoy
4715 AR.
May it be known, that Roonfizzle “Many-Arms” Garnackle, Trapmaster, has been of invaluable service, placing himself at great risk of life and limb, so that his comrades might walk safely. Without his service, a great danger to the known world would not have been averted. I count him amongst a small group of close friends, and would recommend him highly to any in need.
Lady Brigid, 42nd of Mor, 256th of Lebeda. Lord of the Forest Keep, Slayer of Imix.
Lord Agnor, 45nd of Mor, 280th of Lebeda. Slayer of Imix.
4640 AR.
”I do not know precisely what Lord Ledeba wrote, but this second was penned by some friends of mine a few years back, and I’d like to find out how their children or grandchildren are doing these days, and all anyone seems to know, is that you might be able to help find them. Ok, it was more than a few years back that they wrote it, but another friend made it so it wouldn’t get damaged!”
After a moment he gives a brief bow to the Lord in front of him, and quite nimbly hops down, for his apparent age, saying.
”Looks like you have quite the selection of interested folks Your Lordship, I hope we can head out soon.”
Pausing briefly and catching the poor serving girl’s attention.
”A bowl of stew, and a water please!”
He meanders over, and pushes one of the miss-matched chairs over to the table everyone else is congregating at, and hops back up.
”Hello all! Yes, looks like everyone is here for the Lords recruitment.”
He nods and briefly introduces each of those who are present to the new comers who haven’t heard the introductions yet.
”As for me, as I haven’t introduced myself yet, I’m Roonie, nice to meet you! It seems all of us here are all extremely talented in one way or another, including more than a few skilled with tracking, scouting, fighting, and some with more esoteric skillsets … I suppose my question is, how well can you observe? Some-times, it’s all that stands between you and disaster.”
"You mean, for instance, when you slipped in previously? Are you implying you might be a threat? " she asks nonchalantly. Her eyes closed as she takes a slow sip of her glass of water
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I smell a gnome but do not see one.
"Excellent, I was afraid no one was truly observant!"
With a slight frown in response to Zartana's further statement.
"For shame, if you saw me enter, you already decided I was not a threat. Otherwise you would have done something. To do else would be careless."