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Sheets of rain have been falling for several hours but despite this throughout Ptolus the taverns and bars are full to bursting with the celebrating citizen drinking to the new year on this 1st of Newyear. Lightning strikes illuminate the night every few minutes revealing the most striking feature of Ptolus, the Spire. The Spire a constant reminder of all the evil the lurks above, below, and in the streets of Ptolus. It's evil presence seems to weigh heavily in the air tonight. The streets seem empty despite the occassional patroling guard and the shivvel addicts wondering about in a haze. All of you are making your way to the Ghostly Minstrel, for a gathering of local adventurers being hosted by The Delver's Guild, to be held this evening in honor of the New Year. Strangely the snow that usually coats the ground this time of year can only be seen in clumps of mush resting the in gutters, and the eves of windows. Strange warm weather started a week ago. What would normally been an occasion to get out of the cold and in front of a warm fire at the Minstrel instead is a chance to drink some cold mead to cool down and wring out your wet clothing near the hearth after a humid day.
On the corner of each street are posted various announcements from around the city the most prominent of which is are several flyer’s for an upcoming Republican rally in Oldtown and wanted posters for various crimnals. Across from the entrance to Delver’s Square you see the small chapel of St. Gustav’s Chapel, a welcome sight to all adventurers who frequent the dungeons below Ptolus.
As you enter Delver’s Sqaure from Center Street, you pull your already drenched cloaks tighter to protect you from the steady downpour and you look at the shops as you pass them. It becomes apparent that those not partying at the taverns have turned in for the evening as most of the shops seem closed. The only citizens you have noticed in the last several blocks venturing onto the streets are the shivvel addicts. They seem to stare out at you from within the confines of doorways and behind broken windows with their bloodshot eyes, blackened fingers and constant shaking. You swear you can smell their horrid breath as you pass them. This alone brings a depressing air to a day of festivities if the hot weather had not nearly ruined them already. May be it is a bad omen of things to come this year. Despite this you head Northwest toward the square's inviting lights and sounds of the Minstrel up ahead.
About 40 feet from the front of the Minstrel you come together old friends and new, for some of you this is the first time you have met each other, for other its is a welcome sight to see old friends and past acquaintances on such an eerie evening like this...
Smiling despite the weather, Kelwyn walks toward the Ghostly Minstrel, eager to get out of the rain and enjoy some company. Coming upon a small gathering, he calls out, "Greetings, friends," as he looks for familiar faces. "Happy New Year to all! Anyone headed to the 'Minstrel?"
Aye, I'm on my way now. The name's Doran
Doran extends a large hand to Kelwyn.
Captain Orsal Hort has not been this nervous since the mutiny that considered killing him and instead put him off in the dingy to row to Ptolus. Since then, he has dreamed of becoming an adventurer to earn enough to purchase his own ship. Tonight holds the event to start making that dream a reality. A month ago, he overheard a regular of the Mad Clam talk about this gathering of the Delver’s Guild, and he decided then not to miss it. Meelyn was pissed when Orsal told her to find a replacement bouncer for one of the rowdiest night’s of the year. He knows it will take months to resupply his credit with her.
Orsal is a little bigger than an average half-orc standing a bit over six feet tall with broad-shoulders and large, strong hands. Typical of half-orcs, he has green skin, beady eyes, and a mouth of over-sized teeth that jut from his bottom lip. A bandana covering a shaved head, long coat, and clothes virtually scream his preferred occupation as a pirate. On a weapon’s belt, he wears a longsword, scorpion whip, and a quiver with an unstrung composite shortbow. A perceptive person might notice a few links of a chain shirt beneath his tunic. Having weathered many storms aboard ship, he strides unbowed through the steady downpour. The rain soaks his clothes and equipment with water rolling off his prominent facial features: ears, nose, chin, and teeth.
He approaches the Ghostly Minstrel as if he owns the entire Delver’s Square sizing up the competition and potential allies.
"Well met, Doran. I'm Kelwyn," he says taking the large Aram's hand. At the sound of a familiar voice, he turns and greets Victoria. "Hello, my dear. It's been sometime since I've see you, and it's good to see a familiar face on a night such as this."
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An eager looking youth with sandy brown hair, a smooth face, and a wiry build wearing simple but worn clothing, stands in the doorway with a mug in his hand smiling in admiration at you guys as you approach the Minstrel. You all know him as a clerk by the name of Illumater Shorn. He works at the Bull and Bear Armory and has always been a friend to you on your visits to the shop.
Hail friends, come on in the party is just getting under way. Let's give Zade a run for his money tonight by keeping him busy pouring mugs of ale....
The rumbling voice emerges from the shadowy alley to Illumater's left, causing the young man to jump
"Kelwyn, Doran, Victoria and Illumater...." then towering litorian says , placing a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezing gently. All before him have had occasion to know this singular inquisitor of Lothian, either by reputation or personal contact.
"You are all well met on this unseasonable evening, Lothian protect. An ale would be most welcome, Illumater"
"Who is tall-dark-and-brooding over there? Is he with you?"
"Not yet," the elf replies with a wink of his own. "You there, he says, pointing to the half orc in the long coat. "You look familiar to me. Do I know you?" Without waiting for an answer he gestures and adds, "Come join us!"
A handsome young man in a rakish hat and a scholarly cape approached from up the road. A swept hilt dueling sword was slung at his hip.
"My friends! What a beautiful night!" Tony Nedraid said as he came up and hugged two of them at random.
”Aye, matey,” Orsal replies to Kelwyn and approaches with a degree of swagger. Orsal appears as comfortable in a downpour as in blue skies with the sun and wind in his face.
”If you’ve been to the Docks and the Mad Clam, it be me, Hort, Orsal Hort. I would say Captain Orsal Hort but alas I’m between ships. And who might you and your friends be?” He surveys the group and slyly grins at Victoria. He follows them inside if they go.
"Of course I know the Mad Clam! How's Meelyn? As volatile as ever?" Without waiting for an answer, the elf continues, "I'm Kelwyn and these are some friends," he says, making introductions. As he finishes, he greets yet another person, "Antonio! Good to see you!" Turning back to everyone, he gestures for them to follow. "Come, let us get out of this rain and fill our bellies with drink in celebration of the New Year and good friends gathered!"
Sounds good to me, I could use a strong drink.
"Yes, volatile." Orsal replies to Kelwyn with a wink.
As everyone starts to file inside, he slides next to Victoria, "that's some fearsome ink." He points to your tattoo . "Where'd you get it? I fancy I need one, too."
Jesset welcomes the newcomer with a nod, his eyes evaluating, judging. He does behave civily, holding the door for the sea-man, then joining the rest inside.
The Harrow Elf stalked the soaked streets, as miserable in this weather as a tomcat, and tried to readjust his sopping cloak to keep the rain from pattering his face.
His sensitive eyes pierced the gloom well enough for his purposes, though the downpour didn't help. As always, he kept to himself along the walk, ignoring the gaze of the shivvel-heads with an almost zealous intensity as he walked the familiar paths to the Minstrel. Ironic, he thought, to spend one's night off at one's place of employ.
Though his pace and path were direct, he arrived somewhat after the rest of the group, watching them file through the Minstrel's doors.
Taking the opportunity to slip in behind the rest, he gives a quick nod of recognition to Illumater, saying simply "Shorn," as he navigates into the room. He catches sight of Kelwyn, an elf who was known to him, as he pulls his drenched cloak from his head, and moves nearer the elf.
"Evening, Kelwyn." He states simply. "I see you braved the deluge successfully."
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The rumbling voice emerges from the shadowy alley to Illumater's left, causing the young man to jump
"Kelwyn, Doran, Victoria and Illumater...." then towering litorian says , placing a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezing gently. All before him have had occasion to know this singular inquisitor of Lothian, either by reputation or personal contact.
"You are all well met on this unseasonable evening, Lothian protect. An ale would be most welcome, Illumater"
Illumater nearly jumps out of his skin when you put your hand on his shoulder, Jesset, as he seemed to not initially notice you walking up
Ah its good to see you Jesset...Aye it is unseasonable this evening.
He steps out of the way as he lets the group enter the Minstrel. Once inside its becomes obvious by the vast number of people in the tavern and the waitresses running around madcap that it is certainly a busy night for the Ghostly Minstrel. There are men and women from all races, social classes and creeds represented among the crowd.
A moment or so after you enter a human woman is helped up onto the bar. She is middle aged and comely. She has a slightly aloof look to her and is quiet smartly dressed in a dress that is clearly worth more than most commoners make in a year. She smiles to the crowd and raises her hand to get everyone attention. The crowd grows quiet as she begins to speak
Hail Friends, if you do not know me, my name is Gorti Jurgen and I am work for the Delver's Guild. Let me express our dearest thanks that you braved this foul weather this 1st of Newyear. The Guild appreciates your coming to our party. The drinks our on us and food is being prepared presently for all. Last year was quite successful for the guild and we thank those of you who helped us to continue to grow. To those of you who are new, we thank you for attending we will be glad to discuss with you the merits of the Delver's Guild at anytime whether tonight our in our offices in the Undercity. For now everyone enjoy yourselves and be merry.
With that Gorti steps down from the bar and music begins as several musicians begin playing a jig, which inspires several patrons to begin dancing. The sound in the barroom grows steadly has the party get underway truely. You all notice a empty table that Illumater apparently left resevered you toward the back of the room sitting empty aside from a few now empty mugs that Ilumater has been drinking off of.
Orsal returns the respectful nod to the large Lithorian as he enters the Minstrel behind Victoria. As others adjust themselves to the change of environment between steady downpour to raucous party, Orsal motions with his hand and spits out, Parce mihi. He starts with his face and dries his whole frame of rainwater. While quietly listening to Gorti Jurgen, he dries Victoria of rainwater after receiving her quiet consent. Clean and dry of the inclement weather, Orsal accompanies the group to the reserved table.
Hemmings, you say? He continues his conversation with Victoria. I'm not much of an arteest. How could I get you to mix me some of your ink and design me a pattern? Something as fearsome as your own.
"Evening, Kelwyn." He states simply. "I see you braved the deluge successfully."
"Vaelus! Good to see you my friend," Kelwyn says, "and good to see you're here drinking and not working. Come, join us!"
As Gorti finishes her speech, Kelwyn makes way for the empty table in the back, greeting people with hugs and handshakes all the way. Clearly, he's in his element, for he seems to know everyone. Looking on, an observer would see a well polished and put together young man with his hair pulled back in a deliberate effort to accent his elven ears and features. He wears refined clothes with intricate elvish designs, polished boots and a finely crafted brooch holding his cloak.
"Vaelus! Kelwyn!" Greets Tony as he sits down with a glass of wine. He tossed his cape and hat on the back of his chair.
"I've not seen you at the duelling pistes lately, has something been occupying your attention lately? Or someone?" He prodded with a grin.
His gaze idly wandered to the woman speaking. More recruiting? What happened to the last bunch they signed up? He wondered.
Jesset maneuvers through the crowd, nodding at time to those that call out to him. He shares a mock growling sneer with a fellow litorian, then moves on.
He pauses when Gorti presents her speech, a thoughtful look on his face "More fodder for the Dungeons; though it is said that the evil that plagues this city is as much above as below. Perhaps it would be in Lothian's favour that I venture so..."
Deftly avoiding collision with a harried barmaid, Jesset flicks his cloak around a stool and takes a seat at Illumater's reserved table.
He give's Tony a nod, having encountered the duelist at times in practice. His lip curls in amusement as he growls "Ser Nedraid, how goes your pursuit of the fair Ethisha?"
Perception
"Vaelus! Good to see you my friend," Kelwyn says, "and good to see you're here drinking and not working. Come, join us!"
Vaelus smirks at the comment, but follows the jovial elf nonetheless, plopping himself into a seat, brushes aside the empty mug in front of him and pulls his katana from his belt, resting it against the chair so he may sit comfortably.
He waves an arm in the air to catch the attention of a server and mouths the word 'ale' for her.
"Vaelus! Kelwyn!" Greets Tony as he sits down with a glass of wine. He tossed his cape and hat on the back of his chair.
"I've not seen you at the duelling pistes lately, has something been occupying your attention lately? Or someone?"
As Tony sits down, Vaelus gives him a short wave in acknowledgement. "Hail Nedraid," he says, eyeing the man with another smirk (a smirk was the closest the Harrow Elf came to jubilance). "I've been working! We don't all have mother and father to provide for us. Not that I'm eager to meet you on the field again... unless you promise to keep your feet on the ground this time?"
The dark-souled elf looks about the room casually as he speaks, only half paying attention to Gorti's plug of the Delver's Guild, and devoting the rest of his attention towards tracking down the server with whom he had ordered.
"Ha! True enough, Vaelus! Truth be told, I've avoided the pistes to avoid humiliation at the hands of our friend here," Kelwyn says teasingly as he gestures to Tony.
Thumping his empty mug to the table, he eyes over the room, looking for anything unusual. As the large litorian approaches and takes a seat, Kelwyn greets him, "Good to see you Jesset, and a Happy New Year to you, my litorian friend!"
"Ser Nedraid, how goes your pursuit of the fair Ethisha?"
"Ah, Ethisha!" Tony said, his smile turning sappy.
"Her hair is like spun gold, glowing under the noonday sun. No, surpassing the sun itself! Her eyes..." He looks around (a little offended) at the groans of people who have heard it before. Frequently."What? She is all of that and more!"
He leans back, defeated at the whines and catcalls and sighs.
"In truth Jesset, we have had little more than a stolen kiss between us since the week last. Her mother has tripled her personal guard, and my face is on warning posters all over their mansion."
"We don't all have mother and father to provide for us. Not that I'm eager to meet you on the field again... unless you promise to keep your feet on the ground this time?"
Tony's grin is strained.
"Well, yes, but perhaps not for long. My... involvement with Ethisha has for some reason I cannot comprehend become a real point of contention with my Father. I have already refused appointment to a military college. Disownment is a real possiblity."And as for keeping my feet, that should be easy enough with your defense easily distracted." He grins impudently.
"Truth be told, I've avoided the pistes to avoid humiliation at the hands of our friend here,"
"Now now, you know the only way to avoid humiliation is to practice more! And considering the circles you move in, you will be needing it." Assured Tony with a nod.
Doran looks very awkward standing taller than everyone and taking up so mush space. He makes his way over to the table and grabs a drink. Never was one for parties.
Orsal shrugs at the idea of a hang-over and starts forming potential designs in heatless, crimson light between Victoria and him. Like this? Then with a toothy smile, he iterates the design as they try different ideas between them.
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Doran, Kelwyn, Orsal
You three catch muttering from several nearby conversations. They all seem to be about roughly the same thing, the invasion of Tarsis by the Barbarian Hordes. Recent news from the Imperial Capital is that the Horde has begin moving again across the Grey Mountains and heading west into the Plains of Panish, it is only a matter of time before they reach Tarsis. Which most of the people who you over hear talking seems to indicate Tarsis is going to be invaded again. You know this wouldn't be the first time Tarsis has been invade by the tribes but it has been several years since the last invasion and rebuilding is still going on. Worse still the capital's influence over the rest of the Empire is waning. Some even belief the Empire is no more or is falling apart with each passing year. Only Ptolus seems immune to this decline but that could change at any time if the Horde came this way.
Everyone else:
The rest of the party notices Illumater paying rapt attention to Tony's tales of bawdy bravado as it pertains to Lady Ethisha...your not quite sure whether he is mentally taking notes for his own encounters with current or future paramours or whether he is trying to live vicariously through Tony's stories.
The waitress comes by and drops off ale and meads for everyone at the table she winks and smiles knowingly at Tony as she walks away, clearly she heard some portion of the conversation.
Tony's grin is strained.
"Well, yes, but perhaps not for long. My... involvement with Ethisha has for some reason I cannot comprehend become a real point of contention with my Father. I have already refused appointment to a military college. Disownment is a real possiblity.
"And as for keeping my feet, that should be easy enough with your defense easily distracted." He grins impudently.
Vaelus' sardonic smirk fades, replaced by his everpresent scowl. "Oh..." he says as he grips Tony's shoulder firmly. "Truly, I am sorry to hear of your troubles." The smirk slowly grows on his face at the next thought. "Though if you ever need to work for a living like real folk, let me know. I can put in a good word for ya."
Vaelus thanks the waitress as she distributes beverages and lifts his mug to his friends. "To freedom."
"Tony, my friend, that seems like much too much trouble for a kiss!" Kelwyn teases. "Swordsmanship isn't the only skill that grows rusty without practice."
Nodding at Vaelus' toast, he says, "To freedom!" and clinking mugs, he adds, "and to old friends and new!"
Turning to Orsal and Doran, he nods toward Ilumater and explains, "This young man, whom you may recognize from the Bull & the Bear armory, is enamored with stories of swordplay and romance. As such, our friend Tony may be his biggest inspiration."
AH! Now there we go lass! Doran grabs a tankard of ale and downs the entire thing. Perhaps these parties are more to my liking than i thought.[/b]
He turns to Kelwyn as he speaks. Ha, that he may be. How long you think little Ilumater would last in the pits?
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Illumater chuckles after Kelwyn's comment about inspirstion but then Illumater visibly gulps when Doran mentions the Pits The Pits....I want to fight and adventure not die horribly to cheer of a crowd...More likely to live and find me a lovely lass as an adventurer than I would fighting in the pits, besides.
I jest boy! 'Sides, the pits are no place for a fine specimen such as your self.
"Indeed, the pits are no place but for the most savage, or the most skilled." Jesset rumbles, sharing a look with Doran.
Taking a pull from his flagon of mead, Jesset raises it in salute to his comrades but does not repeat Vaelus' toast.
Tony raises his glass as well.
"To Freedom!"
To Illumater he says; "Hear hear! My sentiments exactly boy!"
Orsal entertains Victoria and anyone else near him with his minor magic. While easily the center of attention, he does not push himself to the forefront and waits to see if there is a good opportunity for one of the pirate stories.
Meanwhile, he continues to casually survey the new scene of adventurers listening to news and stories. He wants to determine that best way to make money in this Delver's Guild and who are the best allies and worst nemesis.
"...to old friends and new," he adds, drawing another sip from his mug before relaxing back in his seat. Socializing was tiring for the Harrow Elf, and this seemed like it would be a long night of it. Best to pace himself lest his manners run low and he tosses a casual offence.
Kelwyn continues to pass the time, eating and drinking and enjoying the company.
As usual in times like these, Jesset can't help but feel the push of duty in the back of him mind. But, among friends and soon to be friends he pushes those thoughts back, enjoying the comaraderie and good humour.
Perception
Orsal loses Victoria's attention to whiskey. He subtly removes his minor magic tricks and himself from near the center of attention. He chats quietly with his neighbors nursing his magically improved ale listening for any new and interesting stories.
"It's good to see someone else an enjoy a good whisky, and I think I'll join you in that," Kelwyn says with a nod of approval at Victoria as he turns, looking for a barmaid.