Brave souls, hear me well. I am Elminster of Shadowdale and I tell you now that these Forgotten Realms have changed indeed. The very heart of Toril has been ripped asunder and even those most powerful among us were unable to stop the tide. And now like all wounds the world heals, but it cannot do it alone, and I fear that my ilk and I are no longer able to take up the cause.
Eleven Years ago the Spellplague was released upon the world. Blue fire swept over the land and nothing was left unchanged. Magic went awry as the very weave itself collapsed and the face of Toril was changed. Entire countries dissapeared, islands floating in the sky and the walls between this plane and the next wore ever thinner. In these years chaos reigned and even the best among us, either from the Spellplague or the darkness that followed it, fell. Now the Realms are in dire need of Heroes to answer their call, a call that I and my Ilk can no long answer...
Hear me well, Brave Adventurers, for I am Elminster, Sage of Shadowdale and I say that this calling falls to you, that these Forgotten Realms are yours now, to explore and protect as best you are able, May all the Gods be with you.
You have come to Shadowdale to honor the dead. Ten years ago, the Zhentarim, using the chaos of the Spellplague as a distraction, launched their first all out assault on the Dalelands in a decade. They were met and bested by a small group of Adventures led by none other than Elminster Aumar. The forces of good won that day, but at a heavy cost. Many good men and women died. Among them was Elminster himself, who was washed away in a gout of blue spellfire.
Ten years have passed and today the people of the Dales and travelers from all of Faerun gathered to pay their respects. The ceremony was a small one led by Azalar Falconhand, Lord of Shadowdale, and in the end these heroes were commemorated with a single monument, a pillar in the center of town with the name of every man woman and child who died that day inscribed upon it, and at its base, a single blue flame that will burn eternally.
By now most of the travelers have left, but you remain. Caught in an unexpected storm, the lightning and driving rain have driven you to seek shelter in The Old Skull Inn, Shadowdale's most prominent and well known inn.
The Old Skull Tavern and Inn is a rustic three story building built of dark stone and wood. Walking past an old and sturdy Message post and through the front door, one is greeted by a large taproom. If one has one's back to the front door, the bar stands to the left of them along the front wall. Behind it is a bulky Man dressed in a simple white shirt and leather apron. His grey hair is balding and his lip is hidden behind a large and bristly mustache. that does nothing to hide any expression he may have. He has a cleft in his large chin that seems perpetually covered with whiskers. this is Gareth, owner of the Inn.
The rest of the rooms consists of a number tables scattered around the room, and one raised dias in the top left corner of the taproom, with a long and slightly more ornate table on it that currently has no occupants. The dias is surrounded by waist high bannisters. Two doors are on the northern wall, one that leads back to the rooms that are for rent, and another that leads to a pantry.
A single waitress makes her away around the taproom, checking on the few customers as she gets to them, the rain has made for a slow night.
Welcome to the Old Skull Inn.
Glorgrim sits alone at a well-worn table, nursing a drink. The red-haired dwarf fingered his braided beard as mused over the events of this day of remembrance. With all the peoples who had come, the day had been interesting enough, though not as fruitful for trading ore as Glorgrim had hoped. He had found himself under dressed for the event, since most travelers had brought out their finest, and Glorgrim wore only simple traveler's clothes. Even the silk red rope worn around his left wrist drew little attention this day.
The ceremony drove home how short-lived and fragile these humans were, to feel the need to devote a day to remembering heroes only one year gone. Elminister's call to explore and protect the Realms rang home in Glorgrim's heart, though he doubted any of his clan would understand.
Dressed in colors of dark blues and greens, young Arikor had been present at the ceremony. Having been here for the past years, he had attended many ceremonies as the one today, though none nearly as honorable. He still recalled when the Old Sage passed; that was a day to remember.
He was seated warmly in the corner table, where only two other seats had presence. Of course, no warmth would embrace them immediately - but that was how he liked it. A elf of grace, his tunic was a dark blue, worn over a dark blue undershirt - layered for comfort. His pants were a darker green, to further match and contrast - but they contrasted more towards the scabbard on his left hip. Yes, that one had a bit of a gem to it, and was safely snug to that hip. He patted it gently, as if whispering to it - fond, perhaps more, who knew?
He ran his hand back through his silvery locks, and pushed the lengthy hair behind his shoulders, even though it did not run much farther. His eyes were as the sea, a soft blue - and still, they held much emotion this day. Youthful Arikor even began to sing gently unto himself, as if reciting some older song, melancholy in nature, and did not care if others heard - though he seemed to sing to hear himself sing.
"When evening in the Dale was grey
his footsteps on the Realm were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey long without a word.
"From far-east Amn to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill,
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.
"With dwarf and gnome, elves and men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.
"A deadly sword, a healing hand,
a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary pilgrim on the road.
He stood with many, to defend
and Zhent and shadow were both defied;
his spirit was broken in the end,
in Shadowdale his wisdom died."
His tone becomes remarkably sadder as the song goes on, but he closes his eyes, and allows himself to remain further silent.
Weapons onhand are the moonblade, and all my spells are spontaneous - 2 1st level spells remaining. Cantrips, however - infinite.
Danate was wet... wet like a rat. The young man was sitting next to fire, warming up and getting his soaked clothes dry. Carefully he picks up from his backpack old book, which seems to fall apart from the years.
Removing the hood: short black hair, all spiky and pointing everywhere. Beginning of a short beard all over his face, symmetric with almost perfection. Hands are little bit rough and burned from sun. Frame is not big or look so strong, but is unclear to say what could be this man´s actual living.
Calling the waitress and asking for food and some bread, Danate falls to half-asleep position from the journey. Ah, that rain has completly soaked me up. Thanks to gods that my spellbook is not ruined and nodding in front of the warm fire.
Looking little bit around from his corner eyes, while waiting for the food, Danate sights. Not knowing anything about this place or people, but still continuing his journey - it was the desire to at least pay his respect to his grandfather and to find out, what did life have to offer to him. After eating and warming, I think I will see, if anyone can tell me about this place and bringing his hands together and closer to fire, while rubbing them together. Green eyes shining along the sparkling fire
.Ruhk sits alone at a table close to a window in the shadows, on occasion a strike of lighting outside will illuminate his scowling features, his clean shaved face and head, and at these times one finger will trace the outlining of the long scar on his right cheek, running from just below the nose all the way back to his ear in an almost straight line.
Earlier during the day when more people frequented the old skull in most of them avoided the huge man whose face seemed to suggest he was suffering from a permanent toothache or something worse.
Finally he makes a grab for the stein on his table, long forgotten, the ale now flat and finish it in one huge gulp.He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before quietly signaling the waitress for another one.
As he waits for his ale, Ruhks eyes sweep over the other gathered strangers in the common room; he had noticed one or two of them before, during the ceremony. As if to reassure himself he then looked over to the weapon stand where his battleaxe rested... Just in case he told himself.
Knowledge local
The monument stood tall in the centre of the town and at the end of the ceremony, Oz found his parents name inscriptions, running his fingers across their names, he said a small prayer and made a promise to them...
Oz sits at the bar looking deeply into his ale. It had been a long day full of good memories and a few of regret. He couldn't help but think how his life would have been different his parents had still been alive. His emotions were still a mess when heard a faint singing in the background, he could not help but shed a tear at the words.
Gareth had looked after Oz more than he needed to, he was a good friend and Oz would find a way to thank him someday.
Description: Average in appearance he sits at the bar hunched over some ale he is wearing some stained leather armour and a reasonably well made outfit of black with red trim. His black hair is in a neat ponytail draped down his back.
Singing now coming from the corner, Danate try to see the owner of this female voice. Upon noticing the character in the corner, Danate turns his head back to fire, while taking a glance around the tavern to see, who else is sitting during this damn storm inside inn. Uff... hopefully nothing will happen today. Huoh, I wonder if I can find a spot or at some point a chance to try if I have talent to use magic... as Danate looks with sad expression at spellbook next to him and hat next to it is for some odd reason dry
visible: Quarterstaff, Old book (spellbook), hat (arcane bond item), Backpack, Pouch x2 (one normal & spell component pouch)
unvisible: Dagger (inside the travelers outfit)
Level 0 DC 14
Flare: Daze: Detect Poison:
Level 1 DC 15
Color Spray: Enlarge Person: Shield:
Arcane Bond: Hat
Obscuring Mist: Fog surrounds you.
I blame the career option of being Wizard... and that voice... and darkness...
Ruhk suddenly spots something of interest, the man sitting next to the fire had a book at his table, it looked like an old book, and old books usually means old knowledge...for a brief moment Ruhks face twisted into something almost like a smile...almost.
The ale he had ordered now forgotten he rose to his feet slowly, sweeping his fine fur cloak aside as to reveal his unarmed status he strode over to the fire.
Looking down at Danate (though he does not yet know his name) he speaks with a slow and somewhat raspy voice, the scar on his cheek now clearly outlined by the fire.
Excuse me, that book of yours...what's it about?
In his own thinking and delusion, Danata keep listening to song until it ends. Realising something, he thinks to himself and realises "she" was actually "he" Oh ho-.... thanks god, would have been embarassing to assume something like that. Need to pay more attention around me.
Closing eyes for a moment, Danate hears a raspy voice next to him. Looking up, Danate sees a man with clean shaved face and head, and a long scar on his right cheek, running from just below the nose to ear. What did this man ask? and hopping back to his senses, when realised about the question about book.
Aah... this one you mean? It is... a memento from my grandfather. It contains theories, formulas and stories with some explanations. Why do you ask? as he gets suspicious. Danate had traveled for long time alone and couple time he had to run away from some small monsters. What hope he could have alone with no sure way to help himself. Now strange man approached him and asked about book, which happened to his most precious belongings together with his hat. The hat is odd... just started to be little bit odd time to time but I guess I can give it away if I have to... the book, no no no
Theories…formulas...what are they theories about? Suddenly Ruhk realizes he might seem a little threatening and do his best to relax, wiping the scowl of his face and visibly relaxing his body, unclenching his fists and keeping them open.
Forgive me, my name is Ruhk and I hail from…Here the scowl returns and he shakes his head…never mind, that is not important. I came here looking for something, information…I seek book learning, secrets of the arcane…
Looking at the man and seeing him trying to be less threatening, Danate looks around I guess I'm safe here... other people are also here and then back to man
It contains explanations about magic, arcana, religion. How they work and how they affect. It talks about ways to recognize and distinct all of them from each another. Planes outside of this world. It has also some small minor maps with explanation of some magical places, which I haven´t yet been able to read. It is my grandfather´s old book, which he apparently gave me when I was child.
Pausing for a moment and continuing again Something about dungeons, traps and dangers they hold. Another is to how to appraise correctly items, jewels and so on. stopping again until continuing with little bit more confidence in his voice Most interesting part though is the way he describe spells and how are they being performed. Some of his favorite spells seems quite interesting. Apparently he was quite famous, since he used to live for a long time in Halruaa: the nation famous for its magic and god-like powers
Thinking now and remembering something I am sorry, but where was my manners. My name is Danate. Born in Vaasa
At the mention of spells, Ruhks eyes open and suddenly seem to reflect the light of the fire with something burning deep inside them. He nods enthusiastically before speaking again, his raspy voice now almost quavering with excitement.
Spells you say? So he was a magic user then? A...wizard? Does that mean you are one as well? The words tumble out as his excitement grows, and after his barrage of questions dies down he looks more like a puppy waging its tail...albeit a very large and dangerous looking puppy.
Without waiting for an invitation he sits down at the table opposite Danate, shrugging of his heavy fur cloak so it drapes down over the back of his chair, his arms now bare, muscles bulging and covered with many small scars, some fresh and some old and white.
I don't know much about Vaasa, but it's a pleasure to meet you Danate, maybe the most pleasurable thing that has happened to me for over a year He holds out one huge callused hand.
This ceremony has drawn a lot of people it seems, take that dwarf over there...you might find it hard to believe, but he is the first dwarf I've seen this close...and elf too...there were no elf’s where I come from. He frowns again, despite having asked several questions he seem reluctant to give Danate a chance to answer them right away, maybe because he fears a negative response.
Feeling strange and little bit confused, Danate listens Ruhk talking. While Danate thinks how to answer, Ruhk just sit down at the table and offer his hand. Giving not the time to answer back, Danate shakes hand with Ruhk
Finally getting time to answer, Danate watches little bit at the big warrior Yes... it contains some of his spells, which are from utility to defense to offense. They have different kind of mechanics and explanation how to use them and when. To your question about he and me being wizard, yes. I understood that he was close friend with Elminster and not so far behind in powers regarding him. I guess my grandfather was no pushover with that then.
Stopping and looking at the book, memories appearing again to his mind Me? Yes. I came here to respect his death and at least visit grave or momument build for him and others. I have memorized all the spells now from this book... ah, it´s just first spellbook he ever had. That´s why so old. I haven´t yet seen any other spells or magic in here, but it seems like it has some hidden bits left, which are not yet revealed
Looking back to Ruhk and to his eyes Can you tell me about this place? I have no idea and just arrived here
Well, I don't know that much, this is Shadowdale, ruled by Azalar Falconhand, son of the knights of Myth Drannor named Florin and Dove Falconhand, what else would you like to know? Say...that elf over there was singing right? Singers often hear things, you know, when they entertain others they hear gossip...if the elf is an entertained maybe you could learn something by askin'?
After that he suddenly seems to realize something, and he fixes Danate with a curious look. So you ARE a wizard? How does one become a wizard? Through becoming an apprentice right? How does one secure that? Is there some secret handshake? Some quest you need to take, maybe a lot of money? As another barrage of question is launched he grips the tabletop so hard his knuckles start to whiten.
Realising that Ruhk has some kind of... affection towards magic or rather craving to learn. Looking at him while and noticing his hands gribbing the table Yes, I am wizard. Becoming one... there exists many ways. First, usually there is a test if you are able to use magic. This is related to become apprentice, which is easiest way to qualify as wizard. That is easy way to learn new spells. Another one is harder: to learn everything by yourself. This requires then talent, quite considerably one, since you have to be careful with magic
Danate tap his fingers against table, while trying to find a way to proceed Secret handshake, quest are not required to be wizard. Money can make it, but won´t secure that you actually learn something. It is still admitted that all races have tendency to learn magic, but it is hard to awake it. Someone has to teach or advice in this. In my case, I self studied. Mostly because in my veins is blood from my grandfather. Danate continues, but trying to think what he tells, since he is having odd feeling about this. Nodding to his first talking, Danate is trying to change topic But I guess you are right. I should maybe ask the elf. He might know something. Between, to tell the truth, I though first she was female, but well, little bit tired after traveling, so mistakes happen.
Trying to find a way, how to keep things simple, Danate realises something: However, there is one requirement to be wizard. It is not so rare though, but most wizards prefer this way: The language of magic is always in draconic. All the spells, incantations, circles are spelled in draconic. Mostly because to keep it out from the normal people as also not so many can speak it
For a moment Ruhk simply stares at Danate, eyes a goggle before throwing back his head and letting loose a great belly laugh while slapping his palm against the table with enough force to make the content on it jump.
By Tempos hairy armpits! That's the funniest thing I've heard in half a lifetime! visibly relaxed by the unexpected confession he leans in closer and whispers conspiratorially You might not want to let HIM know that however eh?
Leaning on the table, all previous intensity and tension lost now Rukh taps a finger against his his chin in thought.Draconic...at last I have a goal then...
He then turns and looks at Arikor.
Excuse me elf, my friend here has some questions for you, d'ya mind joining us and see if you got any answers for him? Next round is on me...
A small, stout woman entered the inn a few hours ago, attempting to escape the coming storm. She was dressed in a plain travel clothes; a long, flowing and black tunic over pants and boots. Her black hair was pulled back in braids behind her head. But that wasn't the most curious thing about her. An intricate wooden mask rested upon her face, carefully carved and subtly decorated with dyes. Shaking the water from her hair, she removed the face piece, before moving to a place near the fire to dry off. At her feet scurried a small arctic fox.
She has been there ever since, eating and drinking a mug of hot tea.
Every now and then, her lips move slightly, as if murmuring to no one in particular in some small bouts of conversation in a foreign tongue. Those gathering around Danate's tome may notice her grey eyes wander towards it on occasion.
0-Daze, Detect Magic, Light
1st-Mage Armor, Ray of Enfeeblement
He stood with many, to defend
and Zhent and shadow were both defied;
his spirit was broken in the end,
in Shadowdale his wisdom died."
Glorgrim considers the conversations beginning to pick up here and there throughout the inn. Another time, he would have been interested in the book or at least in the parts that didn't deal with magic, but right now the elf was of more interest to him. His clan were not known for eloquent speech, but that did not mean they didn't appreciate it when appropriate.
Making another decision that would have had his elders shaking their beards at him, Glorgrim quietly picked up his mug and walked over to the elf's table. He stood silently a moment, respecting the mood and then sat down.
"It isn't true, you know." Glorgrim said softly, "That bit about his wisdom dieing. His wisdom will only be dead when none heed it. And though I did not know the man, I very much misdoubt whether his spirit was broken even at the end."
With much a melancholy smile on his face, he looks to the kind dwarf who so kindly sat down to join him. He leaned back in the slightest of ways, and could only close his eyes to smile.
"It means not what you say, sir dwarf. It is simply another way of saying his words will not echo in these halls again - for he has moved on to join his belov'd goddess. I agree, though - his wise words will echo for an eternity."
"Now, if we might be mannered folk, like I know we are, and introduce ourselves - the name is Arikor, and I hail from the far reaches of Evermeet. And you are?"
He actually stands from his seat, and gives a polite bow - every movement was full of some serene grace, as if he was completely content with his situation.
Also, he has a shortbow and daggers, and some arrows, but those are ... at home.
"Glorgrim of Aeft Stronghold in Daggervale, at your service!" replied the dwarf with a stronger voice, standing to return with his own bow, then resuming his seat.
"Did you know him well, Elminister, that is?" he inquired, returning to his previous softer tone of voice.
With a softer expression, and more sadness in his eyes, he nods firmly, though his smile quickly returns.
"I did know him for a time, and he gave me a bit of advice on certain aspects of my abilities, as well as my manners. As a result, I am better off for knowing him, and having learned what little I have from him. I owe it to my parents for choosing the Dales for our new home, and I have yet to regret it."
He seats himself after the dwarf has bowed, and gives a great smile as his mood returns.
"Well, Glorgrim, what do you make of this storm? It does seem rather peculiar, now that I think about it. I can only think of the poor people still stranded out there, forced to endure it without shelter. And what of the folk still in here? It does seem like an odd crowd, if you follow my meaning."
Glorgrim considered the storm, the shifting patterns of rain hitting roof and ground, the added difficulty that rain added to traveling and trading and answered the elf.
"Wet."
The dwarf sat silently for a few moments, then realizing that this elf probably hoped for a longer answer added,
"Very wet."
More moments passed, and the dwarf sensed that the elf still was not satisfied and drudged up a bit of solid stone-folk perspective.
"Storms seldom bother folk in the mountain homes. I likely would not choose to weather the storm, but like your folk outside, would endure it as long as necessary. The strength of the dales is not such as to be washed away by a little water."
Glorgrim paused to survey the room before answering Arikor's second question.
1d20+3
As Oz sat there listening, catch snippets of of conversation about magic, he heard peope introducing themselves. Apart from Arikor the Elf, he did not recognise any of the other voices.
Deciding he had seen the bottom of his tankard for to long he spun around on his stool to check out the new faces. Some of these people looked like that had travel some distance to be here today, he couldn't quiet work out where they had come from however.
He sat there watching a rather muscular chap and a gentleman with a very well groomed beard talking about an old tatty book and magic.
Then it struck him, leaping off the stool he started patting himself down rather thoroughly, the panicked look on his face did disappear until he thrust his hand into his leather armour and pulled out an equally old and tatty book! "HA! FOUND YOU!"
Realising that he had just been shouting he quickly sat back down on the stool hoping no one noticed.
He gave a laugh at the dwarven responses, simple yet effective, and nodded firmly. He stood up, and stretched out, before wrapping the blue cloak he'd had on the back of the seat around his shoulders.
"What say you, then, that we stand outside in the rain for a few minutes, to be as your kin, and endure it for at least a small time? Maybe then I can understand more."
He'd give a joyful wink, and ensured it was aimed at both the dwarf, and Oz. He'd known that man for quite some time, since they both lived here, and actually moved over to him.
"Come, friend! We journey just outside the door to stand in the rain for a time! We shall be like my new friend, Glorgrim, and endure it as he would! Let us away!"
And just like that, he'd flip a coin back onto his table, and walk outside to stand in the rain - just outside the door, though.
After a few moments of no response from the elf Ruhk shook his head and turned back to Danate. Sorry friend, seems the elf and the dwarf is having their own conversation. At that he scratched his chin again. Never seen neither elf nor dwarf before, and here are a pair of them, in a conversation like it's nothing strange at all...guess I'll have to get used to things like that.
Giving Danate a few moments to respond to that he instead took a look at the remainder of the occupants of the common room. There was a woman in a mask, then there was the elf and dwarf of course, and a rather nondescript fellow. Ironicly, just as his gaze passed over the last guy he suddenly jumped to his feet, pulling out an old book and shouting loudly about having found someone or something...probably the book.
Loud fellow isn't he? Ruhk said with complete sincerity despite his earlier outburst.
Huh, going outside? Even my people have more sense than that in weather like this, why my own father... here he stopped and his face clouded with rage for a moment, making his scar seem angry and red in the firelight.
"Oh, by the by - I would be glad to answer your questions, but not before I endure the storm for but a few minutes! You're welcome to join us, you know!"
And with that, he then left the tavern to stand in the rain, cloak around his shoulders.
Looking around and noticing also the dwarf and elf talking together happily, Danate didn´t comment much. It was expected to be normal and he had read something about each race.
The ignoring of Ruhk was not so major for Danate. He didn´t know these people so well and... was little bit suspicious of everyone. You never live long life if you don´t watch around you.
The moment Ruhk mention the odd fellow, Danate pay attention to his book. Wizard? Or scholar? Who knows... but odd for sure I have to agree.. coo-coo Danate things but keeps it on his own mind.
Shrugging near the fire and noticing now first time the woman with a mask close him with some animal, Danate don´t know what to think Oh god... this place sure is full of weirdos... and this expression and opinion just grows bigger, when he hears the elf asking to join outside to rain... What in the name of... argh, are they crazy? I am not going back to there. I am enough wet like this and keeping his polite voice, Danate answers while looking at the elf No, no. Go ahead. I am already wet enough from today. Would be my pleasure, if you could join later us and as he stop Ah, why it had to be at this time and in this place
Ruhks eyes narrows suspiciously for a moment, wondering if the elf is taking the frack out of him or not, but then he shrugs and decides that maybe it's some sort of elf custom.
Oh sure, I'll join you... He then turns back to Danate. I'm going to see what the fuzz is all about. Don't worry, I'll bring him back so you can get your answers, have another ale to warm yourself up in the meantime, you look soaked!
He then grabs his fur coat and puts it back on before marching over to the door, pulling it open and steps out into the rain, waiting for the elf and Dwarf to join him. If the elf is having me on, I'll punch him in the nose for this! He thinks to himself as the rain and wind hits his face.
Without hesitating Oz tucks his book into his armour again, dons his cloak and lifts the hood. Smiling as walks out the door after Arikor.
Once he is getting thoroughly soaked, he turns to Arikor "So why are doing this again? I mean getting wet."
With the storm raging around them, lightning crackling across the sky and thunder booming the background Oz looks up and admires the beauty and power of the storm and he let the rain wash away his sadness.
"You know, nevermind"closes eyes.
Glorgrim hid a small smile beneath his beard. No wonder his kin thought the elven folk flighty. Still, Courtesy is a treasure which costs nothing, he thought, and no flowery-speaking elf was going to out-endure a dwarf.
Though lacking Arikor's grace, Glorgrim stood from his chair and strode outside with a light step. Not bothering even to raise his hood over his head, he saw a stack of firewood not far outside. Remembering the example of his Ilmatian teachers, he quickly fingered the silk red rope around his wrist and unhurridly strode out into the rain to bring a large stack of firewood into the inn.
After bringing his haul back into the inn and stacking it neatly in the appropriate place, Glorgrim tilted his head back at the elf, hoping the object lesson would be plain. Enduring discomfort is of little profit by itself; but enduring discomfort for the sake of another can profit many.
Shaking the water from her hair, she removed the face piece, before moving to a place near the fire to dry off.
Ruhk looks at the others who also go outside, when Ozwald speaks he looks over at him, not having realized he was also here.
Ah, never mind? Pity, I was kind of hoping for an answer myself!
Observing how Glorgrim carried firewood inside he considered that perhaps this was a dwarven thing, just like standing in the rain seemed to be an elven thing. I've done one, might as well do the other. Going over to the firewood he piles up as much wood as his might arms can carry and begins to struggle with his load on his way back indoors.
Just wanted to point out she hasn't been in a mask since she stepped inside.
With a smile, he understood entirely what the dwarf was attempting to do. In fact, he'd lift up his hands, and acted as if stringing a harp - and sang melodious chords in some form of language which was foreign even to him, and would lift up what firewood he could, one by one, and had them march into the inn behind Glorgrim with a smile still on him.
"Perhaps this way, we can all help, hm?"
He nodded to Oz and the other, taller man, and gave a grand bow to the man who had hailed him earlier - how rude of him to have not introduced himself!
"I am known as Arikor in these parts, and you are?" he asked, standing back up with his hood up to keep his hair from being soaked too well.
As Ruhk was carrying his load towards the door he suddenly became aware of someone speaking to him. Huh? Oh yeah, Arikor is it? My name is Ruhk...just Ruhk
Having stopped he suddenly noticed the seemingly marching wooden logs and flinched, which was not the best idea considering...dropping several of his own wodden logs on his feet made him cry out and drop the rest, barley managing to jump back in time.
For a moment his face clouds in rage and he clenches his fists, then he relaxes and lets out another booming laugh into the night.
Bwahahaha! What a strange place where logs march on their own, do we also have fires that light themselves, steins that fill themselves, and pigs capable of putting themselves on the spit?
After that outburst he picks up the firewood anew and walks indoors.
Izmel watches the small display of magic and smirks slightly, thinking to herself at how self-serving the people before her are with their displays of the Art. But they have done good things.
"Thank you," she states to Ruhk and Glorgrim, "I am fearing we will be needingk more vood before the night has passed." Her accent is thick, hinting that the common tongue is not her primary language. It has tones of Eastern tongues to it.
"You're welcome, lass." replied Glorgrim to Imzel, inclining his head slightly.
"Good lad." Glorgrim commended Ruhk, as the dwarf watched the tall man bring in his own load of firewood.
Glorgrim had tensed initially at the elf's display of arcane prowess for such a trivial thing. But then he realized that he was reacting almost the same as he imagined his elders. That stopped him short and forced him to reconsider things. Perhaps, as he had been intent on making a point, the elf had been making a point of his own.
Who was to say which way was better? Both of them had endured the wet and cold, and both brought in firewood for others. Glorgrim couldn't logically blame the elf for not being a dwarf, nor thinking like one.
"Not the way I'd have done it, but you got the job done," conceded Glorgrim to Arikor. Then the dwarf pondered his empty mug and the events of the night so far.
Gareth the innkeep lets out a hearty laugh, at the sopping wet adventurers, the magically dancing firewood, and the look of Ruhk's face. He walks over and claps both Ruhk and Oz on the shoulder. "Ha! well thank ye Lads, seems I don't have to make a trek outside in this rain then!" He grabs two of the larger tables and pulls them together, close to the fire, making enough room for everyone to sit together, he then turns to Waitress, "Alice M'Dear, Be kind to this old man and go see if yer Mum's got any o' that lamb stew left over, seems we owe our guests a bit o' courtesy."
Alice smiles, and it's a beautiful sight. The girl must be just bordering on her nineteenth name day and has a figure that seems to curve in all the right places to be alluring without indecent. Her chestnut brown hair falls in loose waves that are pulled back in a loose ponytail. She's dressed in a simple ankle length skirt light blue blouse and her apron. She's the kind of girl who doesn't try to be beautiful, she just is.
she gives Gareth an affectionate squeeze on his arm, "It'd be my pleasure, Old Man." and turns towards the kitchen.
Smiling after her, Gareth turns back to the gathered crew, "Anyone care for another ale, on the house?"
As Gareth turns back towards the bar to get more drinks, the bell above the door outside gives a small chime, and two new figures enter the taproom. Both of them wear dull grey travelling cloaks, underneath the cloak of the first figure, a man, you catch a glimpse of sturdy chainmail. He pulls back the hood of his cloak to reveal a truly handsome face, with smooth features and short chestnut brown hair. You catch a look at a bastard sword sheathed at his side.
The second figure is obviously a woman, much more slender of frame then Alice. She pulls back the hood of her cloak, her face is teardrop shaped and her blonde hair is pulled back and braided behind her hair. She has no weapons that you can see, but wears a satchel at her side and her hands are covered in fine silk gloves.
The attractive young man is the first to speak, he smiles at Gareth while he shrugs off the wet cloak, "I swear old Friend, its like the gods themselves had too much to drink this eve."
Before Gareth can reply, the woman speaks up, addressing her companion, "We have a long road Valen, perhaps we should merely continue on."
"Nonsense, The man, aparently named Valen, replies, "The weather is attrocious and Gareth is a friend, we can spare a night for his hospitality."
Perception
Danate is watching, while others are moving and helping around. Crazy bunch of people... standing there and smiling. and the moment the logs are starting to move inside the inn and dancing in air, it grabs Danate´s attention Magic? Hmm...
Would it be rude to ask or mention, if they got any stars in the sky... shrugging to himself and focusing to farm up, Danate just notice the man and woman coming inside, but leave them to be like that.
The woman next to him begun suddenly to speak and the accent was thick. Uff... Rhasmeran? Quite heavy accent from East, little bit influenced, I guess, by somethinge else
Danate had not so much impression to talk with others... they didn´t yet earn so much of his trust... hell, he didn´t even know anyone of them, but that one brute just came and started ask question... but it was nice to be able to talk. Sighing to himself, Danate watches at fire and is finally feeling warm.
Oz smiles at the foreign lady in the corner, dumps the two logs he carried and sits down at the space Gareth made, when a ale is suggested he merely smiles, at the mention of Alice he starts to sit up straight, as she wonders of the wistful look in his eye is plain to see.
Oz turns a watches the new comers for a second.
Oz leans over and whispers into Arikor's ear "Who are they?"
They know Gareth so they can't be of the bad sort.
Ruhk looks clearly uncomfortable and a little queasy when several people speak to him more or less at once, but he manages to give a feeble smile and a nod towards both Imzel and Glorgrim.
He does perk up however when he hears Gareth speak.
Ah, by Tempos axe, I've never passed on free ale yet!
He eagerly takes a place back by the fire, opposite Danate again.Well, we are back, the gods did not wash us away, but not for lack of trying don't you know Danate! I guess you can ask the Elf your questions now, his name is Arikor by the way.
Here he turns around and gestures to Arikor. And this is my friend Danate
Perception
At first he does not even notice the newcomers until they speak, turning around he gives them a cursory glance, but because of his upbringing soon dismisses them as uninteresting. A pretty boy dandy and a soft southern woman He thinks to himself.
Hearing Ruhk voice and looking behind, he notices that several other people had come and joined the table. Dwarf and elf was there along the man, who had acted strangely Gathering of... weirdos argh. What I am then? Odd, little bit, but what to do... too late [i]thinking to himself Danate look at the surrounding people
Greetings. As Ruhk already said, my name is Danate. Coming from the north-eastern lands, Vaasa. I am curious about this place and would like to know more, if you could explain to me? [i]Well, won´t hurt at least to talk and know some stuff
With a gentle smile on his face, and much attention given unto him as he returned from the rain, he set his wet cloak back where it had been - on the back of a chair, where it could dry. Maybe then, we could answer so many questions!
"Well, Gareth, I could go for a glass of wine over ale, if you'll spare me. I'm not fond of those rough tastes - I prefer something rather silky on my tongue." That was followed by a full wink, for he was a flavorful as any could have been on such an eve.
Then, he still had the business with Ruhk. "Well met, Danate! How is Vaasa this year? I never hear anything ever leave, only journies to! Hopefully it's being settled firmly, yes? If you truly need to know more about Shadowdale, simply ask Gareth here for his take!"
Once Oz whispers right to his ear, all he can do is grin. "Well, from what I can take, the man is named Valen. I could be wrong though - you'd better ask them yourself!" he teases, only to actually seat himself now, directly across from Gareth. It seemed he had much attention this evening, even for one as he.
Perhaps, it was fate? Perhaps the stars had aligned them to interact with him tonight? He had no way of knowing - but what he did know, was whatever this led to, it would surely not be just another evening in the Old Skull!
"Ask them myself?" Oz gets a nervous look on his face "No... I think I'll erm eerrr just wait to find out"
"that woman looks a little scary"
"Nyet. I do not care for it, but your offer, it is appreciated."Izmel replies to the barkeep. She otherwise leaves the men to their conversation, sipping her tea. As the two figures enter, her gaze rests on them briefly. The fox perks up as as well.
"My friends, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine," Gareth declared as he brought another two chairs over to the table and then went to bringing over the mugs of ale for those who accepted his offer, "This is uh..Valen, a swordsman from Cormyr," he turns back to the newcomers, "That's Ozwald, and Arikor is the elf and ummm, well I don't rightly know the rest o' their names."
With a laugh at his old friend, Valen bowed to the group, not so much as to be grandiose, but enough to show respect. Also, assuming she lets him, he takes Izmel's hand and places a small kiss on it, before standing and smiling. "Well it is a pleasure to meet all of you, he motions back towards his companion, who seems to have softened since she first entered and now has a small but easy smile, "My companion here is Sera, a mage of some small success."
Sera nods her head towards these new people, "Pleased to meet you"
At this point, Alice returns with a large tray carrying bowls filled to the brim with a hearty lamb stew, filled with potatoes, carrots, dumplings and a hint of onion, and begins placing it on the table.
The witch dips her head in respect to the swordsman and mage, "Izmel Stayanoga of Urlin." She responds, introducing herself formally to the others.