Frankie stops murder hoboing the old man long enough to listen to Meredith's tale. "That's a real good story, kinda sad though. I'm glad you two got to be friends afterwards!" He then proceeds to pretend to chop down Denny with the axe while occasionally stopping to drink his cocoa. "I'm gonna make firewood outta you!" Frankie roars as he chops away.
Now rubbing this throbbing head, Frankie sees the awkward new half orc being left out so he slides over and off of the bench and chooses what he hopes is a safer moment to give the guy a hug. "Hugs always make me feel better." After the a few seconds he backs off and smiles. "Show me those claws again, they were pretty cool. I bet you give a mean back scratch!"
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Zavubak freezes as Frankie gives him a hug, nearly dropping his weapon but instead catching it and letting it dangle at his side. He doesn't know what to think. It had been years since anyone had laid a finger on him, much less hugged him.
He again lets his blood rage (hah), again growing a fearsome set of black claws. "How's this, kid?" He holds them out in front of Frankie.
"OOO, are they sharp too? Here try to scratch my new axe! Watch out for splinters though, they sure do hurt!" He sits back down after he hands over the wooden axe to Zavubak. "Maybe we should all sit down and play some games, and have some lunch... maybe some more cocoa?"He looks at everyone smiling expectantly. Outside the peel of lightning and boom of thunder echoes, not to mention the heavy spatter of rain drops hitting the windows. "What else is there to do on a day like this? Cards or Dobbel? Or something else maybe?"
He hollers over to the bartender before they can answer, asking for hot cocoas all around! And some lunch too!
As the odd assembly of new acquaintances discuss the sensitive subject of who will be paying for the next round of cocoa, the beggar in his baggy robes approaches. “Have you any coin to spare, fine folk? I've run out of wine...”
The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again...?” Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour outside.
“Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing around in a tavern is doing none of us any favors.” As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled venture-captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.
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Frankie's eyes double in size when he sees the hood thrown off the old man as he stammers a bit "Aaaare you my daddy? You look so familiar!"
His attention quickly gets turned to the map "Woah a treasure map! Holy smokes we're goin' on an adventure!" He snatches up the wooden axe and chugs down his hot cocoa, grimacing as he does, before hopping off the bench, ready to bolt out the door.
Alice's face takes a look of surprise, as her brows go up.
"The bum is the contact in disguise?"
Dreng gets a mischievous grin on his face as Alice expresses her surprise. “Sometimes you need more than magic to remain unseen. This disguise serves its purpose and lets me pry secrets from loose lips better than any magical enchantment. Right now, I’m following up on a group operating out of this district that I believe to be associated with the Onyx Alliance... it’s a bit of a long story, but sufficed to say, this disguise is quite important to my investigation.” He looks across at Meredith as she pats the "child" on the head to take her leave of him. "It would seem that my disguise wasn't the only one to fool you this afternoon, eh 'Lil Frankie'?" He smiles approvingly at the boy, then turns to Zavubak and asks, "Are there any other questions?'
Pathfinder Chronicles.
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Zavubak grins. "A fine disguise, really. I'd thought you were a simple beggar, I was even about to get you acquainted with my axe if there weren't children around..." The half-orc looks over at Frankie, rolling his eyes and laughing. "As for the matter at hand... A retrieval request? What exactly does this package contain?"
"As for the matter at hand... A retrieval request? What exactly does this package contain?"
“Before you judge, despite my current attire, I’m still a man of taste. The parcel is actually a special vintage of wine from the cellar of the Wounded Wisp. I’ve been sampling their finer wines in descending order of bottling. I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, but I also would appreciate some comfort items. After all, I doubt anyone would judge a supposed beggar sipping from a bottle of wine." He grins, then adds in a hoarse whisper, "Plus, to be honest, the fare here is not to the standard of what I've had from the Wisp lately”
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Frankie listens in intently, ignoring the comments from Dreng and Meredith for the time being. "A beer run? You sound like my mother!" He sits back and folds his arms over his chest and pouts a bit.
After a few minutes he slides himself off the bench with axe in hand "I gotta go pee, I think I had too much cocoa." And he heads over/outside to the privy.
"Alright alright. Go take care of your business, Frankie. The adults are talking. Now, ladies and gentle-orc and...tree, if you don't have any more questions for me, you can be on your way. That wine won't get appreciably older just from you standing around, and Heryn is expecting some agents to pick up my order." The venture-captain begins to make his way back out into the rain, but pauses and turns back to face the assembled Pathfinders, "Oh! And don't forget to soak in the atmosphere at the Wisp! As fresh Pathfinders you may find its history particularly interesting." He gives the agents a quick wink and begins walking toward the door again.
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Meredith isn't sure what the Venture Captain meant, but she's certain he'll keep an eye out on Frankie.
"The Wounded Wisp. I think I've heard of it before." Meredith clearly isn't from around here. "The founders of the Pathfinder Society used to hang out there before they started the society, right? I guess that's where they would go to share stories with their friends."
"I guess we'll go and pick up your wine. At least it's a good reason to take a look out there."
"Denair, let's go- Where did you go? Ah, there you are. Stop trying to swipe their ale. We got a mission."
Denair emerges from underneath one of the barstools, frowning. "How did YOU see me? Do we go to another bar now?"
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"Wait, what? Fresh pathfinders?"
Alice looks at the Venture Captain as if somehow cheated into something.
"I agreed to taking a job for the day for this posh looking lady, but i'm basically being drafted?"
She leans against a table, arms crossed.
"Some policy you people have....but that's for another time."
Alice picks up pace, walking out along with Meredith.
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Zavubak half-listens as Meredith talks about the Wounded Wisp, then adds, "Yeah, they'd share a tale or two, and there was an adventurer by the name of Selmius Foster who would often take up residence at a spare room at the Wisp during his travels. They fool's exploits are all detailed in those Pathfinder Chronicles you've probably seen here in Absalom." With that, he stands up and throws his axe over his shoulder.
"Right, this shouldn't take long at all. Let's get your wine and call it a day."
With their questions answered, Alice, Zavubak, Meredith, and Denair begin to make their way to the Wounded Wisp. The hastily-sketched map Dreng provided gives some sense of direction, but still requires some slight knowledge of the city's streets to avoid losing your way.
Despite some wrong turns and mistaken landmarks, the recruits (or the two recruits and Alice, if she prefers) eventually make their way out of the Docks district where they met Dreng and into the Foreign Quarter, which the map seems to indicate is the location of the Wounded Wisp. A short while later, they arrive at the tavern itself. Built from dark, discolored wood, the exterior of the Wounded Wisp is the image of an iconic dive bar. Stained and barred windows obscure direct vision into the establishment, though ruddy yellow light bleeds from a window in the front hall out onto the rain-soaked street. The only distinguishing feature on the Wisp’s exterior is a thick wooden sign hanging from above the bar’s entrance. A brass ring fitted onto the sign anchors a lantern—referred to by the staff as “the wisp”— that hangs there during the evening hours.
Entering into the Wisp, you pass through a short entry hallway and find yourselves surrounded by decorations and trophies left by successful Pathfinders who’ve donated minor paraphernalia to the bar. Before you pass into the main hall of the bar, a teenaged human speaks up from a small closet to one side, his voice cracking in all his pubescence, "May I take your cloaks, ladies? Sir? Wouldn't want to soak the other patrons, eh?"
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Alice turns at the sound of the voice and sees the teenaged boy leaning on a counter that appears the the bottom half of a door, the top half of which is opened separately and resting inside the closet. A rack full of cloaks of various sizes and hues hangs behind the boy.
Once you decide whether or not to hand over your coats/cloaks, you move into the main hall of the Wounded Wisp. The smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within. In a corner close to the bar, a familiar young boy sits between two massive half-orcs, who are laughing riotously and slamming their tankards against the table, apparently enjoying some joke or story the boy has shared with them. A steaming cup of cocoa sits before the child, who wears a wide grin on his small face.
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"That's quite alright," Zavubak shakes his head and decides to keep his coat on. The idea of a coat check is a foreign concept to him.
Seeing the two buff half-orcs, Zavubak grins and confidently marches over, flexing every muscle in his chest and arms as he does so. "Seems you're having a good time here. Perhaps I might be in on the joke as well?" He looks for a seat at the same table, inviting himself before anyone else does, and sees if he can recognize the boy.
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Frankie waves his wooden axe at Zavubak as he comes over. "Hey its my other new orc friend with the AWESOME claws! You should show them how awesome they are! Where you guys been? Want a cocoa? These nice guys bought me one since they said I'm too small for ale I guess. Ale smells funny anyhow. What took you all so long?"
Frankie waves at the others as they come in as well. Then continues to chat with the pair of orcs "You guys sure you're twins? You don't look like twins.. Aren't twins both girls or boys? Either way, you both sure are professional ale drinkers wow! Best I've ever seen, and my mom brings home some really really good drinkers!" He chugs down his remaining cocoa leaving a frothy mustache on his face and slams the mug on the table doing his best to imitate how the orcs are doing it.
Frankie pulls out a few silvers and waves at the bartender "Can we have some more drinks please Heryn? This cocoa is AMAZING! Way better than at the Rowdy Rooster! And these guys are really knocking down these mugs!" As he waves the coins in her direction.
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Meredith feels like she has to drag Denair around everytime the fey sees something interesting. By the time they reach the Wounded Wisp she's glad to hear Denair gargling water again.
When they enter, she takes off her cloak, ready to give it to the boy. Denair snaps her fingers and dries off Meredith. "Oh...I guess I won't soak anyone else. Thanks, Den- dry yourself off, as well."
Denair shrugs.
And tries to blend into the crowd. But it's pretty easy to notice the soaking wet moving tree.
Meredith could call her out, but she's much more worried about Lil' Frankie. "F-Frankie! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with the captain. And what do you mean more drinks? Kids shouldn't be drinking ale!"
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"Oh, it's you. I thought you'd run off somewhere," Zavubak says as he eyes Frankie. He looks the half-orcs up and down, sizing up their skills and prowess. "What brings you two to the Wounded Wisp? You look like formidable warriors... Yet you drink cocoa? What is this cocoa, anyway?" He grabs Frankie's cup and takes a swig. His eyes grow wide as the chocolatey goodness coats his throat. "This... This is delicious." He gulps the rest down.
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"F-Frankie! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with the captain. And what do you mean more drinks? Kids shouldn't be drinking ale!"
Frankie smiles at the nice woman and her cool tree friend "I'm not drinking ale, these guys are! I'm drinking cocoa! And its SOO good here! It makes me feel... so EXCITED!" As he races up to the bar to collect the tray with 2 ales and another cocoa, drops the coins, and does a U turn racing back doing his best to balance the tray only to have Zav intercept his fresh cocoa. "Ohh man! Snaked my drink!" Then slides the remaining two mugs over to the other orcs.
Frankie then looks at Alice with a funny look "You're strange! Why did you stop growing so soon? Shouldn't you be big and strong like Meredith over there?" After he pulls up a spot on the bench again he looks back to Alice "What's a halfling anyhow?"
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"A Halfling? One of the many races of people around here. Shorter than me, yeah. But very courageous, brave and a little lucky." She sits down. "Alright kid, I guess we'll have to watch over you while we're here. But you gotta follow our orders, alright?"
"Halflings who can pass for children, Alice? Weird. I guess it would make one heck of a disguise." The human remains oblivious to the world around her as she sits down. "I'll order some cocoa as well."
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Zavubak snorts as Frankie calls Alice a kid, nearly spilling some of his cocoa. "Indeed, some halflings do look rather young. It must be tough being so... Vertically challenged, no, Frankie?" He shoots the child a smug grin and places his massive palm on his head, ruffling his hair. "Maybe one day, you can even join the Pathfinder Society!"
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Frankie shugs sheepishly. "You got me, I know what a halfling is, I was just trying to get a rise out of ya. This is my voice for sure! Is that yours? Or are you just a small human person like me?"
"Indeed, some halflings do look rather young. It must be tough being so... Vertically challenged, no, Frankie?"
Frankie will turn back to the Zav with a smile on his face, smoothing his hair back down "Being short isn't too bad, I don't hardly ever hit my head on stuff, and people don't ask me to get stuff off high shelves either! I bet Denair gets top shelf stuff at the time!" He turns pointing to the tree.
Denair is in mid stealthy stride when Frankie points at her. She is shocked Frankie noticed her, then giggles. "Yup, people ask me all the time to reach up! Meredith asks me to get fruits from trees all the time." She pauses when Alice tries to out Frankie. "Halflings are cute. They run around my trunk and talk about their family and how to raise crops and who they spoke to. They sure are chatty!"
As Meredith approaches the bar to order herself a cocoa, she is greeted by a human woman wearing an ale-soaked smock. The woman hustles back and forth along the bar, serving the patrons seated on barstools directly while simultaneously preparing drinks for the servers to deliver to patrons throughout the tavern. "'Ello there, dear," she says with a kind smile,
"Don't think I've seen you in 'ere before. I'm Heryn Gale. Welcome to the Wounded Wisp! If there's anything I can grab you, just let me know, alright love?" The woman continues to bustle around behind the bar, tending to her other patrons with incredible dexterity, but it's clear she'll stop to take your order or answer any questions if you can grab her attention.
He looks the half-orcs up and down, sizing up their skills and prowess. "What brings you two to the Wounded Wisp? You look like formidable warriors... Yet you drink cocoa? What is this cocoa, anyway?" He grabs Frankie's cup and takes a swig. His eyes grow wide as the chocolatey goodness coats his throat. "This... This is delicious." He gulps the rest down.
The half-orcs are caught up in a fresh roar of laughter as Zavubak mistakes their drinks for more cocoa. One of the orcs finally catches his breath and answers the question, "HARHARHAR! No no, we're not drinking the cocoa. That's the half-pint here!" He pats Frankie on the head, then grabs his tankard again. "We're drinking ale, of course! And Heryn serves the best in town far as we're concerned!" He takes a deep draught of his ale and sighs with delight at the taste. "By the way," he says, wiping the excess ale from his face, "I'm Garl Boartusk, and this here's my sister Shrade. You lot Pathfinders, too? There's enough of 'em in here to be sure! HARHARHAR!"
You turn to look around the bar as Garl motions to the crowds around you and recognize many familiar faces you've seen around the Grand Lodge, the headquarters of the Pathfinder Society. Some of the faces belong to particularly prominent agents or friends of the Society, including the Boartusk twins themselves.
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"Uh, ma'am. Good to meet you. We're actually here to look for some vintage wine. Venture Captain Drandle Dreng sent us to pick it up." Meredith gets Heryn's attention.
Denair springs up. "What's wine again?"
"It's um...like grape water. Really old grape water."
"I bet Frankie will love it!" Denair turns back to look at the child, curious.
"No, he shouldn't drink that either. He should stick to his cocoa. Speaking of which, I'd love some if you have it."
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"Nope, all strangers to me. Though i think i've seen that face before, he fell face flat in a pool of muddy water, after tripping over his own feet."
"Regardless, good day to you, Boartusk twins.
Mind if i take a seat?", she climbs onto the stool near.
"There's some days i'd wish i were a bit taller."
"Are you pathfinders yourselves?
By physique, i'd rather be guessing you've got some action packed missions under the belt, if you are. If you have, can i hear some about it? I love a good action tale."