A young woman wearing form-fitting robes, her hair braided with pieces of exotic bark and twigs behind her head, sits at a table sipping what looks to be blood from afar, but when you near gives off the aromatic notes of apple, pear, and clove, with the viscosity of a thick oil.
"I am Pehmah. Well met, my friends. It is good to see that we've been selected by our respective gods for a mission. I hope that we will become fast friends. I have lived in Sandpoint for only a few years, but I've made it my life's work to understand the nuances of Gozreh's wishes, as well as remove any affronts to nature's rightful progression that I've found."
Iskra hesitates but briefly at the inn's entrance, and then makes her way to where the other temple members are seated. Elegant, tall, and with hair so dark it holds blue tints, she moves with a natural elegance that draws eyes, though her gaze doesn't deviate from her destination.
Sitting down, she smooths the fabric of her skirt over her thighs and smiles warmly at Pehmah.
"It is good to have you on this journey, Pehmeh. Desna must have some plan for me, for she has seen fit to place me amongst this company. Where are you from originally?"
With raven-black hair pulled back into a tight battle-braid, the big human ranger settles his bulk onto a groaning chair and kicks back to casually put his dusty lizard-skin boots on the table's edge. Dressed in the traditional Shoanti buckskins of his people, he absentmindedly scratches his chest and partially exposes his iridescent "Birthmark" to those nearby. With a broad smile and a wink to the nearby tavern wench, he raises a fresh flagon of cool mead over his head and turns his full attention to the table and all those who are present.
"To my gods-marked brothers and sisters: I, Karmid Groundbreaker, offer a toast to our future endeavors! Old Dead-Eye has made me part of his plans, and you and I shall have much fun discovering them together! Huzzah, and pass that pitcher around again!"
Leaning his head back, he then guzzles the contents of the flagon in his hand with the gusto of a man dying of thirst, but spilling not a drop.
"I am from the far East... was thrown off a ship many years ago as a stowaway, and Gozreh showed me the way to shore. I've been his and her servant ever since."
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First you hear his approach
"Thunk Thunk Skitter Skitter, Thunk Thunk skitter skitter" and it continues until he gets to the door of the inn.
The Inn door is opened surprisingly delicately for all the racket that was going on... A small raptor type dinosaur with feathered arms skitters in ahead of him and then the big bald man Arkon steps into the inn and closes the door quietly.. he is wearing leathers and furs with what appears to be blocks of wood sewn onto leather to form a sort of armour.
"Sorry I'm late, my little friend Orz got stuck down a gopher hole"
At hearing his name Orz raises his head and looks around inquisitively "Chirrup"
Arkon steps over to the table and takes a seat. He waves at the serving girl who nods at his attention and then fetches him a drink, which appears to be apple juice.
Orz settles beside him, occasionally craning his neck up to look over the edge of the table.
"Well well two for Gozreh, seems the rest of you will have your work cut out for you stopping us from stealing all the glory"
Karmid smiles at Arkon and tosses a tidbit of dried rabbit meat from his pouch to Orz.
"Ha! Stop? Steal?"
Thumping himself proudly in the chest directly over his Birthmark he replies smoothly, without a trace of ego in his voice, and as if he were lay-brother Hep in Religious studies class talking to a novice fresh from the farm.
"My ancestors speak to my blood through Erastil himself, therefore I AM glory...and you are forgetting little Orz. Technically that makes three for Gozreh, does it not my friend?"
Laughing at his jest, Karmid pours himself another full flagon, although he does not down it out all at once this time.
The door opens again, and a short, tanned young woman walks through. Her dark hair was long, well-brushed, shiny, and beautiful. She moved with the grace of a dancer.
She was dressed in think boots and a burlap shirt, with leather slacks. A cloth apron was tied around her waist, giving her delicate waify appearance a soft matronly touch.
She was young, pretty, though not overly so, and looks like the product of soft living.
Looking around the room, she spots the group showing off their birthmarks. She nods to herself, and walks over. She has a determined look on her face.
She stops at the end of the table, and eyes the group.
"My name is Xarmas. I hear you all are comparing birthmarks?"
She pulled her soft shirt down over her left shoulder, and turned to show the group the back of her shoulder. There was a birthmark, in the shape of a key, and unlike most birthmarks, was a golden color.
She nodded to Arkon, and spoke in a strange language to him.
Druidic:
She turned back to the group.
"Abadar marked me. Who do you all represent?"
Druidic
She gave him a low bow, and clasped his opened forearm in a gesture of goodwill.
"I know not what the Gods intend with us, but with you at my side, I feel we can accomplish anything." She said the last in the common tongue, obviously intending the rest of the group to understand her.
Through the open door walks a boy.. a man... a young male. You know him as Milton. Dressed in his sky blue flowing shirt and red pantaloons you'd know him anywhere, he's hard to miss in those bright colors.
"It's a warm one out there friends." he says as his voice cracks a little. "I've set one broken arm, closed up four nasty cuts and tended to an uncountable number of scrapes today. I need a drink. Something cool please"
As he reaches for the cup given him you see his birthmark on the palm of his right hand in the shape of Sarenrae's holy symbol. He drinks half the cup and lets out a little burp and chuckles. "Excuse me. That is very good apple juice." he says to the server.
"How have your days gone so far?"
Karmid waves his hand over the assmbled table.
"Juice? Tea? Something else that is not juice or tea? Won't somebody join me for a real drink? We are the chosen of our gods! We are alive, helathy and ready for our future! We should be celebrating!"
Xarmas smiles.
"You think you're the big strong type, eh? I'll match you, drink for drink. How many do I need to catch up to you?"
She moved to sit across from Karmid.
"And what are we drinking?"
Karmid claps a single time loudly and points at the pitcher on the table.
"Ha! I'm two mead's ahead of you and counting. I'm starting to like you even more Chelaxian!"
Xarmas chuckles, and pours herself a glass. She drinks it down immediately, and pours another. She gulps down about half of it.
"I hope you haven't been eating any bread; we wouldn't want you whining when you get beaten by a girl..."
She gives Karmid an aggressive smirk, and proceeds to drink the rest of her second cup.
"Now things get interesting..."
Finishing off his flagon with a smirk, he thumped it on the table, then points casually at Xarmas.
"I'll have you know I've been beaten by plenty of girls before, just not at drinking! Ha!"
Belching loudly, Karmid pours another flagon emptying the pitcher. He motions over to the nearby tavern wench,
and points at the empty pitcher with a sad puppy-dog look on his face.
Nikolai enters the common room with a grand flourish. He is a young man covered in Varisian Tattoos but none more amazing than the birthmark in the shape of a feathered songbird on his face. Adorned in his many scarves, he is laughter and smiles. Nikolai winks at Pehmah before stepping onto a table.
"Friends old and new
A tale I sing just for you
Long have you toiled at the Cathedral door
Thinking and wonder of life and if there is more
The kiss of a God or Goddes you all bare
Some are hidden and some open and others stare
Mine is plain to see on my face too
I wear it proud and wear it true
But Tonight let us sing and dance
For tomorrow we may not get the chance"
Nikolai began a Varisian Scarf dance as he sang. It promised to a long night and the start of a grand adventure.
Xarmas shakes her head.
"Great. A bard."
She sighs deeply.
Refilling Xarmas's flagon, Karmid chastised,"Less testy, more tasty my lady Xarmas! Bring on the music! Nikolai! Do you know the one about the Fisherman, the Mermaid, and the magical dancing lobster named Steve? That one cracks me up all the time!"
Xarmas grumbles into her mead.
Hearing Karmid mention the story of the Fisherman, Mermaid, and lobster...
"I actually believe I've heard that one, my loud friend. The fisherman caught the mermaid on his hook, and she was beautiful, but she felt no love for him, and he held her against her will, doing horrible things to her. She finally escaped from him and the idiot went after her, foolishly swimming down into the deep, and drowned. The crab... whose name translated to "justice" if I remember correctly... ate the man's corpse, relishing its taste. An appropriate end for such a man as he."
"Karmid, not drinking large amounts of alcohol doesn't make one less of a man or woman. Some of use aren't built for that. Everything in moderation, with an occasional overindulgence works best. Don't be surprised is I'm not too sympathetic tomorrow when you are looking for help with the hangover you're courting."
Turning to Pehmah, Karmid raises a single eyebrow.
"A crab named Justice? I could have sworn it was a lobster! Oh well... Still, I'm sure the last thing the Fisherman wanted from the Mermaid was crabs! HA!"
Slapping the table at his own jest again, he turned back to Xarmas and Milton, "Bah! Lighten up you two curmudgeons!"
Karmid casually points at Milton,
"...and I never said drinking one way or another made you any less or more of anything. I merely implied that it 'lubricated' the brain so the 'joy' is easier to find in the enjoyable!"
Karmid finishes his flagon off, and reaches for the pitcher again smiling broadly.
"There is no harm in a stiff drink, until you've imbibed enough to make you uncomfortable to be near, my friend. Take care you do not do so, or I may need to show your drunken self some manners." Despite her serious-sounding words, Pehmah smiles at Karmid, trying to be less abrasive to her new allies.
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Arkon stands with thump of his feet on the floor
"Be that you are also of Gozreh, I shall just advise you that the threat of violence should not be used unless one truly means to utilise it.' his hands curl into a fist crunching his knuckles along the way
"This being a friendly situation with potential allies, is not the time, Karmid may be being brash but he has yet to prove himself irksome. Take this imparted wisdom and in turn be our teacher in the future"
Arkon then sits down pays attention to scratching Orz
"That's the idea! 'Brash' is my middle name today. We are not made of stone my friends...No pun intended Arkon. It is a celebration...a festival! Be Merry, drink if you wish. I assure you I am not one to overdo...Much as the priests of the Drunken god say: I drink just enough to know and remember that I enjoyed myself thoroughly!"
Karmid guffaws loudly and raps the wooden table with his rough knuckles three times, in order to ward off evil spirits and thank Cayden Cailean for his priest's advice.
Xarmas chuckled at the interaction. She'd been taking advantage of the commotion to try and catch up on mead. She'd gotten through another mug.
As she poured herself a drink, she chimed in.
"We are definitely supposed to work together. Normally I hate everyone, but I plan on giving you lot a fair chance. The Lord of Law doesn't make mistakes. So we'll see how this goes. So far you lot aren't too bad.
She took another drink.
"That is the spirit my lovely friend! Let love's seed take root,"Nikolai says smiling warmly at Xarmas.
Karmid shakes his head with false sadness, and obviously straining not to laugh.
"Sorry Nikolai, you have your work cut out for you there as a Shelynite. She's a Chelaxian: They tend to think of growing 'Love' like its a fungal infection."
Karmid hides his chuckle and mischievous smile behind his flagon, as he finishes another drink.
"This shall be interesting indeed. A grand dance played to the song of the gods and goddesses. Who known's where this dance will lead us? Surely we will enjoy this song!" Nikolai grins as he moves among his new companions,"A toast to you all! To Love's eternal dance!"
Nikolai begins to sing a Varisian love song that begins slowly then quickens into a bawdy tale of a love sick barbarian.
His song not as smooth as it might be since he can't help but laugh during the chorus at Karmid's participation.
Xarmas chuckles at Karmid's assessment of her people.
'Well, he's not wrong...' She thought to herself.
She raised her mug, and tried to follow along with the song, somewhat reluctantly.
His song not as smooth as it might be since he can't help but laugh during the chorus at Karmid's participation.
"Hey! Can I help it if the Barmaid doesn't want to dance with me on that table! I've only known her since she was in diapers! Ha!"
"Things are getting too quiet! OK I know what...A Wager! I propose a wager!
Smiling broadly Karmid reaches into a pouch at his belt and rummages for a second, then pulls out a rumpled feather which he attempts to straighten out.
"Let's see...a Duck Feather! Yes, that will do."
Eyeing each of his companions he raises the feather brandishing it as if it was a sword.
I wager a copper to each person here, that I can make this feather float over the center of this table...without magic! Any takers?
Karmid's grin is now one of mischievous glee.
That's one. Any other takers? What are you guys, dragons sitting on your hoards? Come on, its only 1 copper!
Xarmas gives an exasperated look to Karmid.
"Fine, if it will stop your bellowing so we can get back to drinking, then fine."
She pulls out a copper piece, and sets it on the table.
"I am no gambler, but have your fun, my friend."
"Fair enough my Lady Pehmah!
Karmid attempts to point the rather bent feather at the remaining party members.
"Nikky? Milton?"
Milton smiles at Karmid, "I'm not a gambler, but I will pay a copper for the entertainment you will provide." He then laughs and tosses the copper on the table at the feather.
Realizing Nikolai was busy trying to 'impress' upon a barmaid the importance of a Shelynite's 'love,' he continued with his wager...
"Good! Now everybody step back from the table...don't want to disrupt the trick!"
Karmid quickly steps over to the bar and whispers to the barkeep. The portly man chuckles and hands him a simple wooden bowl and a full pitcher.
Carefully moving back to the table, and with the pretend dramatic flair of an entertainer, Karmid places the bowl in the middle of the table and fills it with what looks like water from the pitcher. He then carefully places the feather in the middle of the bowl where it floats easily and spins lazily. Smiling broadly Karmid points at the display.
"Pay Up! Ha!"
Xarmas groans and pushes her coin further onto the table.
She promptly refills her mug again.
"Whatever you think about Chelaxians, they pay their debts!"
Karmid winks broadly at Xarmas conspiratorially.
"Less than a parlor trick, but I expected nothing more from you, my friend." Pehmah says, attempting a friendly jab but likely sounding more hurtful than she meant to.
Bowing dramatically, Karmid obviously pretends to be hurt.
"I apologize if I have offended your fair senses my Lady Pehmah, as always I live and die by my companion's approval. So should I go drown myself in the Turandarok river or climb the 'Old Light' and fall to my death?"
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Karmid looks as if sudden inspiration had taken him.
"You know, I've always wanted to meet the Sandpoint Devil! You should tie me up and leave me in the nearby hinterlands for it to find! Ha!"
"Oh, nothing like that is necessary, Karmid. No harm done. Your antics are entertaining, if mundane."
"Antics! Mundane! Hey now! I...resemble that remark."
Karmid easily sits back down with a simple amused smile and a quick wink at Pehmah, and downs the dregs from his flagon.
So who will be next to entertain us? Nikky has sung his ballads for us, and I provided some slight but humble diversion..."