Here is our gameplay thread.
Here I am dotting/hope I don't die rotting
The hunter here will, how you say, "dot"
beep boop "dot"
Dotdotdot!
It is the day of the Market Festival in Phaendar. After a day participating in the festival, you are all in the Taproot Inn. The retired Chernisado ranger (now a cleric of Cayden Cailean) is telling stories of her youthful adventures and entertaining everyone in the inn. You hear noises of raucous celebration out in the streets.
Yewleaf sits at a table on a wooden stool near to the door, listening to the tales being woven in the inn. He looks around This place brings back memories of his previous life, his experiences with Anton. He thinks back to the times they used to have together, the experiences that made him who he was today. He fades off into his thought as he remembers the happiness he felt. Then that dreaded day where Anton was taken from him replays in his mind over and over. He watches as Anton is killed, powerless to stop Elmclaw, as his blade sli...., he is jolted back to reality by some of the revelers outside. You would think some of them might consider showing some restraint. He leans back against the wall and pulls his cowl over his head as he returns to his thoughts oblivious to the other occupants of the inn.
Jarvak rubs the bumps on his head.
"That's the problem with the market festival. The fruit they throw isn't quite rotten yet," he says.
Nonetheless, it's been quite a fruitful day. His performance of the cursed lovers Isabeau and Navarre has attracted his biggest audience yet! And reminding locals and merchants about Alysha's potions and hair tonics has also helped pay for the drinks that he is currently slowly consuming.
Jarvak is at a table seated together with the rest of the "strange" folk; the goblins, kobolds, and others that Phaendar tolerates for the festival because of the coin they bring in. Jarvak listens to the ranger recite and caught up in the stories she is telling. One day I'll have adventures like those! And I'll be performing them in an inn like this one!
He sips from the big mug, taking his time; the night is still young. Maybe he'll try performing again later. Thankfully he's become good at dodging and most of the patrons will be at least half-drunk as well.
Kwaizy finds himself a comfortable seat with any of the townfolk who will accept him... which is most everyone these days, as he's not as much an outcast as a goblin might, having proven himself trustworthy and friendly more than once to most of the town. Still, he probably ends up sitting with the other goblins, kobolds and such at least some of the time.
He randomly circulates through the room from time to time, especially when he needs a refill of his mug. He climbs up on a barstool and stands on it to be seen. "More ale please!" With full mug in hand, he heads back to the 'strange folk' table, when he spots Yewleaf. He notices the fellow and walks over to him, climbs up on a seat and stands there, admiring Yewleaf's interesting blades. 'Lo, Me join you okay? Me am... I mean I ... I am... Kwiazy. See your steel. Rapier, yes? Very nice! want to spar when pretty storyteller done? We play fight, and people throw money if we do good. What say?" His common may be a bit rough with odd syntax, but he seems to be struggling to get it right and doing pretty well with a pigeon-common sort of accent.
Charzark squishes a beetle into his mug -These hugemans drink weak, me make better- he is sitting next to Yewleaf trying to use the body of the Wyrwood to hide himself. He looks around the table offering some bug juice to the other goblins. Money good Yewleaf, can buy bug traps! he whispers after hearing Kwiazy's proposal.
With her pack left behind to hold her seat at the 'strange folks' table, Jynnjun gets as close to the Caydenite as she can, so as to be able to hear better and prompt her for the more interesting tales - "of dragons, of course!"
Ducking back as people look at her, Jynnjun tries to avoid the extra attention.
- successfully hiding in the shadow of a chair.
Xakroo sits near Yewleaf, sipping a cup of tea as he takes in the sights and the sounds of the tales being told. He shakes his head when he hears Jynnjun blurting out, but with a small smile-although he would admit hearing the tales of the great and powerful dragons would be a nice thing to tell.
Kwaizy sees the others sitting now at Yewleaf's table, and grins as he recognizes Charzark, his fellow goblin. Xakroo, though, he barely recognizes... being more someone he's heard of but seen rarely. "You are Xakroo, yes? You be good with bow. welcome to festival!"
Yewleaf looks at the newcomer noting his apparent steel as well, Perhaps another time friend, what be your name, mine is Yewleaf. He pulls back his cowl revealing his mask as he speaks.
The kobold looked at the goblin that addressed his name, and said in a soft but serious tone, Yes, I am Xakroo the Arrow Shooter. Who might you be, and how do you know of my name?
"You're not unknown in town... small dragonkin with a bow... I've heard of you. I'm Kwiazy! I live here with the longshanks."
I have heard of a few goblins living in this town-quite bizarre, if I say so myself. Which I do, in fact, say so. he smiled, nodding his head to the funny little goblin.
Morgryn nearly had his ale spilled when the small kobold yelled out and then scurried back away from the tale-telling ranger. "Hey, watch it!" But there was no real malice in his tone when he spoke, just a bit of grumpiness.
He found an empty seat and plopped himself down, at the table near the table full of...goblins...and kobolds? He blinked several times. He looked down at the mug of ale in his hand. He looked back at the table full of small 'monstrous' folk. He lifted the mug up and gave it a sniff.
Finally he shook his head and let out a laugh. "Either I've had too much, or no' nearly enough! Ha!" He downed the rest of the ale and ordered another.
"Kobolds! And one with golden skin! And an arrow shooter.. I guess better an arrow than other things!" Jarvak says. He takes another sip from his mead.
He says to Chazark. "Does putting a bug in improve the flavour? I think I have a fly in mine. Do you want that?"
He turns to Morgryn. "A dwarf! Though there's something a little different about you... I can't quite place it. Ooh what a shiny head you have..." Jarvak says.
Aubrin smiles at the little kobold's request. She smoothly transitions her tale into one of investigating a false rumor of a black dragon nearby.
The bartender, who has a weak spot for Kwiazy, puts a small bowl of pickles down on the table where the goblins and kobolds are sitting.
Charzark looks at Jarvak No any bug! Good bug! Beetle with bright red spots and big pincers! Yummy. Fly just good with absinthe, everything good wit absinthe he stares intently at the dwarf sitting in the next table You burned and covered in ashes? I have good moth, it eats ashes and cleans you. he says smiling with a huge mouth full of pointy teeth I know joke about dwarf and fly on ale! I tell you if you want, maybe dwarf in joke your family
Careful, Charzark. whispers Yewleaf, he stands and strides over to the dark dwarf and extends a hand. Names Yewleaf, I apologize for some of my compatriots, they can be a little rowdy. I hope you can forgive them, whats your name by the way.
"I like your face... it's shiny! How you get such a face? Rest of you not shiny!" Kwiazy is apparently not familiar with the concept of masks, or just doesn't realize Yewleaf is wearing one, hard to say which.
Morgryn's eyes narrow and he lets out a growl at Jarvak. "Dwarf? Pah!" He thumps his chest with the hand not holding his ale, glowering at Charzak as well. "I be a Duergar. Dark Dwarf. The true dwarves! He doesn't raise his voice too much, however, as he didn't want to draw too much attention. Well, more than being a Duergar near a bunch of crazy little oddballs.
He looks down at Yewleaf's small hand and gingerly shakes it. "Morgryn Coldforge is my name. Warpriest of Torag!"
He looks over his shoulder at Kwiazy, It is not my real face but just a covering my little goblinoid friend. He turns back to the dark dwarf in front of him.
"Oh... that's speshul... I like! Want one too! Where you get?"
The kobold shuddered at Charzark mentioning how delicious bugs taste. Ugh, bugs? Really? I mean a field mouse or a stag would be much better when slow roasted with simple spices...
Jarvak digs out the fly in his mead and passes it to Charzak, still a little unsure if it would be helpful.
"Hmm... Torag.. Torag... have I heard of him before.. are you sure he is na the one in charge of backscratches?" Jarvak says.
"Oh wait! I think I have heard of him! To him, everything's a nail yah? To be smelted and struck!" Jarvak says.
"Since we're doing introductions, I'm Jarvak! Goblin musician and tale-teller! Looking for adventure and adventurers! the bard says.
Kwiazy peers around Yewleaf at Morgryn. "Oh hello! You have shiny head So many shiny people! I'm Kwiazy!"
I will try to get you one just like it some day Kwiazy, Yewleaf says hoping the goblin will just forget about the mask.
The goblin thinks for a few seconds You has cold forge? I can make fire if you want. Me helpingful! he stops suddenly listening to Jarvak speaking about Torag You know much Jarvak, where you learn this? Me just know god Cayden he drinks and heroics! he turns again to Morgryn unable to keep his focus in one place with so many interesting people I like your beard, it's shiny! Is that -he says pointing at the rings on Morgrym beard- gold? You be richsome!
Morgryn looks at Jarvak, opens his mouth but then pauses as the goblin goes on. After he glowers a little but with much less heat. "Close enough for a wee brain like you. God o'forges, creation, protection, an' yes hammers." He chuckles.
He notes the names but shakes his head Charzark. "Nay. It's more of a...metaphor. Er, it's not a real forge. It's more like a symbol." He isn't sure how to properly explain it and shakes his head again.
He points to one ring. "That one's fer when I was no longer a slave or captive." He points at the second. "That one's fer when I became a warpriest."
You slave? Me hate slaverers. You better free and with gold rings, yes? the goblin stops chattering for a few seconds I never meet duergar before, they nice people, most bigguns tell goblin to shut up. Why you come to Phaendar?
I agree with the goblin, slavers are the worst. That's honestly the only thing I can say is good about kobold tribes-most don't need slaves, so they don't have slavers. Xakroo muttered, a little agitated at the thought of his old tribe.
"Not like slaverers either!" Kwiazy announces. he turns to Charzark, tugs his sleeve, and whispers in goblin:
Yewleaf turns to Kwiazy and bends down hearing his whispers and responds in kind.
Morgryn spits out some of the ale he'd been drinking, coughing several times. His eyes are wide and he shakes his head vigorously while he gets his coughing under control. "No, no, no! Duergar are NOT nice people!" The last thing he wants is a bunch of goblins and kobolds going to meet Duergar thinking they are a nice people.
"I ain't like most Duergar. I was shown a dif'rent path." He shrugged. "Actually...come t'think of it, I ain't that nice either. I'm grumpy an' mean, but right now I been drinkin' so must be the alcohol makin' me seem nicer'n I am." Even as he glowers at each of them in turn, it doesn't seem that it holds real anger or malice, and that sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than the others.
"As fer why I be here. Well, a friend o'mine was killed by the Ironfang Legion not too long ago. So I owe 'em a lotta hammer smashes." He shrugs. "The people here don't seem t'deserve gettin' killed by a buncha hobgobs either."
He takes another drink of his ale. "This brew could be stronger."
The Ironfang Legion? the kobold questioned seriously, looking at the grey dwarf, I've heard of them-nasty hobgoblins. Think any race weaker than them are meant for slaves.
I have heard of them as well, Yewleaf says grimacing under his mask at their mention. I have been defending some of the villages from members of that wretched group, no one deserves to be enslaved and it certainly won't happen here with me alive to do something about it. The steely tone behind the words are unmistakable as they cut through the air.
Ooooh! says Charzark, realisation dawning in his face Duergar be like kobolds and goblins and... he stops a second to look at Yewleaf ...talking trees! And you be like us! You no meanie, meanies are meanier when they drink, you nice! he pauses at the mention of hobgoblins Oh no, no, no, no, hobbogobbos be bad business, they slaverers and nasty busterds. If you fight hobbogobbos you no just nice, you hero! Jarvak could sing big heroic song about you!
At the mention of weak ale Charzark attempts to drop some bug juice into Morgryn's mug.
Well glad to see that even goblins don't like hobgoblins, the kobold said, looking at Charzark, But me, a hero? Not in the slightest-I had no clue about hobgoblins being from the Irongfang Legion, I just killed the few I've encountered simply due to hating them.
Aubrin has finished her dragon story and continued to several more as dusk approaches.
“So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a
bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it
and say, ‘All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!’” The
room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story
and takes another draught from her tankard. “But it’s fine now.
All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to
have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees.”
Crowd members share their own boasts and jokes, but
eventually someone tops off Aubrin’s tankard and pushes her
back into the center of the room.
“All right, all right! Don’t shove,” she slurs a bit. “Okay,
Cayden strike me down if this isn’t true—“
The front door explodes into flinders. A cry of agony pierces
the chaos. Aubrin lies on the floor, gasping and clutching at the
blood gushing from a wound in her chest. A ballista bolt still
quivers in the wall behind her.
Two hobgoblins in military dress stand beyond the shattered
door, blades drawn. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning
homes, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of hobgoblin soldiers
march the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now
replaced by the panicked screams of the frightened and dying.
Behind them, above the flames and humble rooftops, rises a
tower of black stone.
Aubrin looks around, dazed.
Kwiazy dances around the hobgoblin on the right, setting up for flank with anyone wants to move in on the big hulking green longshanks. "Yewleaf.. or anyone... Let's get this guy flanked and both attack at the same time!" He readies to attack when someone is flanking with him.
"Aubrin! How dare you strike down a bard, you ugly brute whose mother was a boar?" Jarvak yells. He draws his bow, puts an arrow to the string and fires at one of the hobgoblins.
Under a table Jynnjun casts a spell in frantic silence and pulls out her curved blade. With no one to see, she vanishes.
Charzark looks around for an escape as he runs towards Aubrin to try to stop the bleeding No, no, no. Me HATES hobbogobbos
Yewleaf moves to engage the hobgoblin on the right setting up a flank on him, Let us cut this Hobgoblin deep Yewleaf says.
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Yewleaf and Kwiazy surround one hobgoblin, both slashing at him. He's badly hurt. Charzak helps Aubrin, who is no longer bleeding out. He doesn't notice any way out but the front door where the hobgoblins are. Jarvak shoots an arrow at the other hobgoblin, but the arrow strikes the door frame and sticks there instead.
Aubrin
Morgryn
Yewleaf
Jarvak
Kwiazy
Xakroo
Jynnjun
Charzak
hobbogobbos (first -13 HP)