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She walks in, her armor gleaming, time spent on polishing it to a shine.
Her cloak neatly pressed and flows out from behind her as she moves, a weel used warhamer belted to her right side and a shield loosely slung over her right shoulder. Her eyes bright as she looks around, eager to be on her patron's business once more.
"I would like a mug of ale please, barkeep."
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A suave and stately gentleman approaches the fiery beauty across the room. "Ah, I have been expecting you. Father Grigori Yefimovich, at your service." Taking her hand gently into his own, he bends to lightly kiss the back of her hand, without breaking eye contact.
Laying on the honeyed voice even thicker now, he continues. "For I have prayed to the Goddess for your loveliness to enter my life. And lo! My prayers have been answered."
The scent of cologne emanates from the man almost as strongly as his intense passion for the beautiful woman before him.
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A curious creature is entertaining some people with his stories. He has a pale face and wairs some makeup to accentuate his eyes and mouth. On his head is a jesters hat and his clothing is flashy in colour and cut. For all his ridiculous looks and wear he knows how to entertain the crowd and looks good doing it. A good eye sees that he has a few two handed weapons with him and is wearing armor underneath his clothing.
When he sees someone trying to woo the fiery redhead he can't help himself and walks over. Out loud for all to hear he rhymes "Hoo hoo hooo! What is this that I spy with my little eye? A peacock sure and true trying to woo? A pretty girl out of his league she is. Maybe he is hoping on his odor, though it smells like pis. With words he tries, slick and untrue. To his bed he wants her and so he started to woo. Hoo hoo hoo!"
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At the mention of peacock, Taalaako's eyes perk up, and he looks around for the supposed bird. Then he realizes it was a joke.
To Hanud: "I am named Taalaako, though you may call me Tal, as my name is apparently a bit difficult for human and dwarven tongues. My kind are called the Tengu, sir. We come from the east, where dragons are long, snake-like creatures and armor is made from paper, as it should be. I am pleased to meet you."
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Hanud chuckles at the act that Grigori is putting on.
"Ahh, me manners! I do apologize Tal, my name is Hanud Bakos. I am called the Wanderer by some in Osiron, although I hail from Five Kings Mountains, originally."
He takes a drink of his ale.
"I'm not terribly confident that paper armor would be as useful as fine dwarven steel in a battle. Perhaps I am missing something, is the armor enchanted?"
Seeing Faerin ordering ale, he smiles and hollers her direction.
"Lass! How're you doing? Going on a bar crawl as well? Come, join me and Tal, enjoy your ale and have a toast to yer health!"
He raises a glass to toast to the health of the others in the tavern.
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Grigori raises an eyebrow at the jester's antics, but tries to remain focused on the lovely prize of a lady before him. At the mention of an "odor" of "piss," however, his face obviously wrinkles in disdain.
But only for a moment. The priest remains undaunted by the jests, and very quickly regains his composure. He then dismisses the silly jester with a smile and sarcastic wit of his own, "Ah! What have we here? Courtship advice... from a man who heaps on dreadful quantities of eyeshadow and lipstick! I thank you, but no, my friend, I will pass. I will however be sure to seek out your most precious advice should I ever wish to frighten small children!"
Turning back to the lovely lady, "Now, my dear, where were we..."
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Darius laughs in delight as he has distracted the man and receives some jests in return.
He dances from one leg to the other and wiggles his head to let the little bells ring to accentuate the rhymes.
"Hoo hoo hooo.
This one has a tongue like a whip.
But he should take care at whom he waggles it, lest he trrrrip.
Best be careful lady, with a tongue as sharp hisss.
He might draw blood as you kisss.
I hope I do not scare you little boy. This is merely for show.
With your lovely act for the lady, *sniffff* *ieuwww*, you should know!
Hoo hoo hooo."
He rhymes and sings as he sniffs near you and pinches his nose on the last sentance to draw attention to the cologne.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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This clown does not let up. Fool! There's plenty of киска to go around in this tavern. Get your own! Well, if the bones cannot get to the graveyard, then bring the graveyard to the bones...
As the jester completes his rhyming prose, the priest stares him down for a moment. Then, suddenly, a belly laugh erupts from the man. Looking back and forth between the lady and the jester, he speaks only to the lady in his thick, Ustalavic accent, "He is quite the character, eh? I wonder if foolish men dressed in funny makeup and silly hats are common in this land? Have you been here before, my sweet? For I have traveled far and wide, yet have not been here in Absalom before. Perhaps, after a drink, you might grant me a tour..."
The priest suavely attempts to lock elbows together with the fiery lady and guide her like a gentleman towards the bar... and away from the jester.
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"They be funny, that be true, miss..." Hanud begins to speak. "I do apologize, I forgot me manners. I am Hanud Bakos, this here is Tal. He may be a bird, but he is a nice drinkin' companion.
Looking back to the jester, the Ustalavic gentleman, and the fiery woman, he asks Tal, "What's yer take on this, Tal?"
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Tal has been watching the banter with amusement, though his bird like face does not betray emotions as much as humans. "I find you all sufficient entertainment for the evening. Mr. Jester, can you sing us a song, perchance? While poems are nice, I find a melody makes them even more widely appreciated."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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As Grigori nears the bar (presumably) with the lovely lady, he orders her whatever drink she requests, enjoys his own vodka, and becomes engrossed in conversation that includes the occasional double entendre.
On overhearing Tal's request of the jester, however, he looks to the dwarves and crowish person now nearby and proudly remarks, "I only buy the best, I will have you know. The fool obviously knows nothing about fine cologne. Hmpf."
"Ah, but where are my manners. Father Grigori Yefimovich, at your service." Having met Hanud but seeing two new faces, the priest in black and crimson takes a slight, formal bow to them. A silver spiral symbol hangs on a silver chain around his neck. A curved sword is sheathed by his side, as is a curved dagger.
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Sehrli looks to Grigory and Darius.
"Not sure which one is more lovely," says ironically, but accepts the drink.
"Whatever is the strongest you have," says to the barman. Once served, she touches the surface of the liquid and ignites it with a spark of fire, then takes a sip slowly.
"I've been in Absalom once, but I didn't stop to admire the city. I was on a mission and had to travel to the less pleasant suburbs. You will need tons of that cologne if you ever go to that places Grigori."
"I, myself, am from the deserts of Qadira, but my mother is a Varisian sorceress. Really pleased to meet you all," says raising the flaming mug.
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Grigori is impressed with the hot chick's fiery performance. As he fires off a double entendre, he loosens his collar to reveal a slight bit of his black hairy chest to her, "My! Is it just me, or is it getting quite sultry in here?"
Smiling with the elegance of a nobleman, the alluring priest stares into Sehrli's eyes with apparent interest.
To Sehrli again, "Ah! A sorceress she was? Perhaps that explains your enchanting beauty. I am Varisian as well, though I come from Ustalav. Have you ever been to Varisia? Lovely country. Would you like me to tell you of my recent journey there? Perhaps over dinner tonight."
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"Everything tastes better with fire, my friend," Sehrli replies to Faerin.
She takes another sip and looks to Grigori again.
"And yes, I've been in Varisia. Lovely country, true. And lovely people, many of them with silver tongue. I'm sure your stories would be fascinating, but I'm afraid we'll have no much time before our mission starts. Maybe you can share them here, with all of your team mates,"
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Grigori puffs up and begins to retell his tale at the Godsmouth Cathedral in Kaer Maga, Varisia. I'll leave it to the imagination, for the sake of those who haven't played that module yet. Needless to say though, he makes himself sound courageous and cunning, and his own role crucially important to the success of the mission.
He does reminisce about his companions during that adventure, including a particularly roguish fellow who shared his fondness for the ladies.
In light of his desire not to ruin his chances with the fiery lady, he makes sure to SKIP the part about sleeping with the high priestess of the cathedral...
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The evenings merriment continues well, until a well dressed pathfinder apprentice turns up.
"There you are! You are requested to attend upon Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin... about an hour ago." As you get up to leave, he quickly takes one of the seats vacated and orders a drink. His timing seems perfect as a bevy of beautiful barmaids starts their shift just then. Some people get all the luck.
Seated behind a large, antique desk in his wood-paneled
office, Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin looks up from the pile
of papers before him and shuffles them to one side. “Perfect
timing! Welcome Pathfinders!
“I had an interesting conversation with the Master of Spells
Aram Zey yesterday. An old friend—Lady Darchana, Archdean
of the Arcanamirium here in Absalom—contacted Master Zey.
She’s a councilmember on the Low Council, too. It seems her
dinner party last week had an unexpected guest: a handmaiden
of her fancy guest’s had picked up a scrying sensor somewhere.
When Lady Darchana learned that someone was attempting to
eavesdrop on her party, she used her magic to trace the sensor
back to its source. It sounds as though she didn’t learn anything
conclusive, and she’s interested in bringing in an independent
party to try and learn more. Master Zey agrees."
He pauses for a moment then continues.
“Make no mistake, this is an excellent opportunity for you to
impress a well-connected friend of the Society. Lady Darchana
requested that the Pathfinders call upon her at her estate in the
Petal District once they learn something of the origins of this
servant. The owner of the handmaiden is named Lady Silviana
Dimora. Lady Silviana isn’t a councilmember or the like—at
least not yet. From what I understand, though, she is an upand-
comer who is rubbing elbows with all of the right people,
and she likely has little knowledge of where the slave was
purchased. I recommend speaking to her majordomo Milana
about the handmaiden, or you can pay a visit to her solicitor,
a Chelish fellow named Salbus over in the Coins. Questions?”
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The priest in black and crimson takes a formal bow after the Venture-Captain introduces himself. In his thick, Ustalavic accent, "Greetings. Father Grigori Yefimovich, at your service."
Grigori scratches his bearded chin in thoughtful contemplation of the ranking Pathfinder's story. After the tengu swordsman's query is answered, the priest chimes in with a brief plan of action, followed by a question. "Hmmm. Vell then, we should not leave any stone unturned. We should speak with both Salbus and Milana at once about... and vwhat might the slave-girl's name be, pray tell?"
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Hanud properly introduces himself to the Venture-Captain with the others. He smiles at the thought that Lady Silviana isn't a suspect.
All the more reason to distrust her, but they didn't ask me.
He then speaks more openly.
"Perhaps visiting Salbus is a good idea, and the girl's name would be a good thing here, so we know who we're looking for. Although the Chels haven't been forthcoming with information in the past... and like to stab ye in the back when they get a chance. I'm up fer it." Hanud addresses the Venture-Captain with respect. "Sir, I dinnae know exactly how magic works, being a simple craftsman an' all, but was the sensor 'attached' to anything, an item perhaps?"
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Darius seems very interested with all the intrigue. "Hoo hoo hoo this will be a hoot. Who would be the snoop?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"Ah just a puppet she is. I wonder who is pulling the strrrings, hoo hoo hooo." Darius continues.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Suddenly, a messenger bursts into the room. "I am looking for a Taalaako... Hindjan? It is urgent!"
He hands Tal a letter, which Tal quickly reads. "My friends, I am afraid I cannot accompany you on this mission. A family friend is gravely ill, and I must travel quickly to her side. Good luck on the mission!"
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An 8-foot-high fieldstone wall surrounds Lady Silviana
Dimora’s estate. The grounds are recently tended with
thick, soft grass, several well-placed shade trees, and
many species of flowering plants. Directly in front of
the manor house is a pond with several large lilies and a
lion-shaped marble fountain that bubbles gently.
An impressively ornate door stands between the Pathfinders and the cool interior of the mannor. Knocking on it bring a servant who asks
"What business do you have at Mannor Dimora?"