I'd get fights arranged for you, make sure you get paid fair, stuff like that.
Truth? Ta make money and get myself someplace better to live than a leaky hollow. I ain't gunna cheat you, like I said I am too small and squishy. You'll get paid and can walk out anytime you want.
Horfil, a tall lightly tanned elf with shoulder-length light brown hair wearing a dark green garb suitable for travel and an Elven Curve Blade at his waist, takes a seat at the bar and waits patiently for his drink to be made. He looks around, with his caramel colored eyes, at the patrons of the inn and notices a Catfolk who he believes arrived yesterday.
I wonder what a Catfolk is doing here... I doubt Gutwald would know, I get the feeling that he doesn't care for most people outside of his race. He does make good ale, I'll give him that.
After Gutwald hands Horfil his drink and he pays for it, Horfil attempts to start a conversation with Gutwald.
Gutwald you have been a most gracious innkeeper this past week. I thank you for your hospitality and wish that it continues as such. Would you mind if I ask you a question about the city?
The oracle chuckles and grins widely, tapping the girl on the shoulder. "To the pub? Oh yes! You've spoken my favorite phrase ever! If you need me, I'll be at the Three."
And with that, the young man is out, about, and ready for some food and drink.
Manny grins and nods. Deal! He spits into his palm and shakes on it.
Nah. I run errands and other jobs for various people, pay is low hence I'm in a hovel but it is steady.
Haven't seen any other goblins since they aren't welcome around dwarves, I'm here because I'm desperate for a place to stay. As for your kind? Manny shakes his head. 'fraid not.
Sorval moves up to the board and reads a few of the posts...
EDIT: keeping an ear on the elf's convesation.
After relaxing for a while, and observing the movement, including the unavoidable, massive Minotaur, Zeltor approaches Lorranith - "Good afternoon. Word around town is that you are having problems with flying pests..? I am proficient with the use of bows, so would like to offer my assistance in dealing with it, that is of course if it is wanted" - Zeltor offers a smile behind his cowl.
Surprisingly enough for an history teacher, he also approaches Manny and Ruul - "Well met friends. First I would apologize for having overheard your conversation regarding the ring, as it happened by mere chance..." - he offers his hand in greeting - "My name is Zeltor"
"I teach history classes here in town, but my monastic training involved a fair degree of sparring and wrestling, so I would most likely be interested in partaking of such physical activities - I am thinking this is a friendly endeavor, perhaps with some ludic or entertainment component? In conclusion, would it be acceptable to join you if you plan to address the responsible for their organization?"
Smiling at the question, Zeltor answers - "I'll admit I do not know much about the specific subject of bats, but if they can be hit by an arrow or pummeled by a fist, as they should, then yes, I know about killing bats"
If you want to head to the ring with us, then sure.
Manny looks like a typical goblin; green, ugly and bald. He has on cheap pants and shirt along with a short sword and pack.
Marduzi enters the Three Ears just as Lorranith and Ingrit are being treated to an amenable(ish) conversation between a tiefling, a minotaur, and a goblin.
The smell of gruel lingers in the air as Lorranith clears a few used dishes away.
"Lorranith! The famous gruel again? Mind if I have a bit or did you run out again?" The young aasimar chuckles and grins at the proprietor, knowing a bit of good natured ribbing was in order.
He heads over to the strange group of individuals and smiles. "The name's Marduzi, and I am betting that you all aren't natives."
Horfil, a tall lightly tanned elf with shoulder-length light brown hair wearing a dark green garb suitable for travel and an Elven Curve Blade at his waist, takes a seat at the bar and waits patiently for his drink to be made. He looks around, with his caramel colored eyes, at the patrons of the inn and notices a Catfolk who he believes arrived yesterday.
I wonder what a Catfolk is doing here... I doubt Gutwald would know, I get the feeling that he doesn't care for most people outside of his race. He does make good ale, I'll give him that.
After Gutwald hands Horfil his drink and he pays for it, Horfil attempts to start a conversation with Gutwald.
Gutwald you have been a most gracious innkeeper this past week. I thank you for your hospitality and wish that it continues as such. Would you mind if I ask you a question about the city?
"O' course not." Gutwald says simply, happy enough to have access to the elf's coin. He breathes on it and shines against his shirt before placing it into a til. His beady eyes say that he is please with the result, and he stares Horfil in the eyes with his own beady black ocular organs. "Na' ou' with it."
Where is the theater in the city? I have heard rumors about it not being a good source of entertainment and if this would be true I would like to help them get better.
Horfil takes a gulp of his drink after asking the question.
Sorval encounters a few postings that could be considered community announcements of weddings, births, and funerals (some of which have been there for a while). There is no mention of a dead catfolk, thankfully... but then again, there are little paper stubs from someone removing a great deal of said flyers to put up a few new ones, including one that held a call for fighters to a ring, a standing request for an herb from the mountains, and a reward posting for a missing goat. Aside from this, there is a notice that the theater is looking for performers to aid in a variety show. That particular poster has been drawn on and defaced, however.
After seeing the boards' offers; She moves towards the table nearest the Elf and waits for the conversation to finish... he might want to see that post
Manny tilts his his head up at the weird glowy type person. 'fraid you would be handing over your purse if you actually made a bet. Me and my large friend here have been in the city for a while.
"Living here doesn't make any of us natives. The only natives here are much shorter, hairier and bearded." the aasimar chuckles and grins. "Bets are only good when your opponent doesn't know the stakes."
He extends a hand. "And you all are?..."
Just call me Manny. Manny gives a quick shake of the hand.
Where is the theater in the city? I have heard rumors about it not being a good source of entertainment and if this would be true I would like to help them get better.
Horfil takes a gulp of his drink after asking the question.
If this question had come from anyone who wasn't an elf, you imagine it might have gotten a rise from the people nearby. As it is, Mr. Gutwald merely snorted derisively at the mention of the word "theater".
"The Prancy's "blessed" 'ouse, then? Tha' place is nothing but a laughing stock, Master Elf. Ye'd do well to ri' yerself of those thoughts rightly."
(You get the idea that the "Prancy" is a title, rather than the name of the theater itself.)
After glowering for a second and ascertaining that the elf is set on this course of action, the barkeep gives an exasperated sigh.
"It's on tha eas' end. Is'a brick buildin' with a large southern wing. There's a sign there tha' reads "tha Palace". Ol' Ovril will probly bounce a' tha sound of ya going through the fron' doors like some sor' o' squirrel."
He wipes a little bit of perspiration off his brow with a towel designated for that purpose.
"Loo', I mean this nicely, bu' it's going to take a lo' o' work to make tha' place lively again."
All of the requests have posting names. The herbalist is named Triglette Moafinge (her shop's address is on the bill), and she's looking for for Barberries, which can be found in the foothills and meadows with a DC 10 knowledge nature or survival check.
"Mister Rye, I always make far too much, and you should know that by now. Someone has to feet the wicked beast lurking in the cellar." Lorranith says in all seriousness, another example of awkward, deadpan humor.
A bowl eventually finds its way to Maruduzi and Zeltor.
The ringmaster is one of the richer dwarves in town. He makes his money in Oparra, mostly, and only comes to Maheto a few months out of the year to run his fighting contests.
He lives in a manorhouse on the posh northeastern end of town and keeps random hours (the luxury of wealth).
Ringmasta. Rich ol dwarf with lots of cash coming from Oparra and comes in to town her for a few months to run fighten circles. Hangs out near the north east part of town.
Thank you Gutwald, both for the informaiton and the warning, but have some faith in a prancy elf. Just give me a few days time and I'll make it a "lively" place again.
If Gutwald is even saying bad things about the theater here must be in some sort of sorry condition.
Horfil looks deeply into his mug wondering just how bad can the theater be, and just how much trouble he is getting into.
I wonder if that Catfolk wouldn't mind being my dance partner... I don't know if all of the members of the Theater are Dwarves but if they all are then it will be troubling for me to have to pair up with someone of their height.
"Sounds like a fun time, whatever it is." the young man shrugs and smiles. All while he listens, he'll be quickly swallowing down the gruel. "Such a good way to start the morning."
Manny tosses his sack on as they prepare to leave. Well no time like the present, we'll be sure to be back in time to take care of the bat.
If you want to head to the ring with us, then sure.
Manny looks like a typical goblin; green, ugly and bald. He has on cheap pants and shirt along with a short sword and pack.
"Good - let me know when you are planning to leave and I will accompany you" - the tiefling finishes as he receives the gruel from Lorranith.
"Living here doesn't make any of us natives. The only natives here are much shorter, hairier and bearded." the aasimar chuckles and grins. "Bets are only good when your opponent doesn't know the stakes."
He extends a hand. "And you all are?..."
"Zeltor" - the cowled one answers - "And no, I am not a native, but have been living here for some time now - I teach History"
Manny tosses his sack on as they prepare to leave. Well no time like the present, we'll be sure to be back in time to take care of the bat.
As Manny and Ruul leave, Zeltor follows them in silence.
Marduzi follows them as well, seeming to enjoy the random wandering, if for no other reason than it is wandering with new people.
"I have dealt enough with prejudice to avoid falling into it myself. I have nothing against you, nor a reason to fear you" - Zeltor replies matter of fact, seemingly momentarily distracted as they pass by the bulletin board, but then looking at the minotaur as they continue their trek.
After thinking through what dance routines he will present the theater to try to get it in good standing with the inhabitants of this gruff city he decides to ask the Catfolk if she would like to be his dance partner.
As he is walking to the table he is reminding himself Okay -DON'T- panic, people can be reasonable and if I say the right words she might even accept being my dance partner for teaching the theater. Just compliment her on her grace and ask if she would like any help with anything for compensation to accepting the offer it might just work. Schmooze, but don't schmooze too much I am just trying to get her to dance with me nothing more.
Hello miss I haven't seen many with your particular gracefulness around in a long time and was wondering if I could ask you a question regarding my peculiar situation. See I have heard that the theater here is a horrible place for entertainment and being the person I am I just can't let that stand. I feel like I have to help them to bring a new form of entertainment than just drinking after a shift in the mines. So I was wondering if you would like to be my dance partner, showing the theater dances that are sure to bring the masses in to watch. I'm not sure if the theater is entirely comprised of Dwarves and if it is then I would like to dance with someone a little closer to my height.
Horfil says to Gutwald.
No offense but I don't think I could dance with someone half my size
Zeltor simply nods, and follows along in silence.
Team Alpha---
And just like that, nearly everyone has something to do. Manny leads the way through the city (with the bag restored to his head, I assume) as the rain lets up. A cool wind brings with it the fresh smell of the mountains despite the pollution caused by the mines, smelters, and forges.
Ingrit stays behind at the Three Ears, and no one really follows them out.
The entire walk takes about twenty minutes, and the ramshackle group does attract a little attention. A couple of human laborers stop their loading of a wagon to stare at the small parade with rapt curiosity rather than anything else.
The manorhouse of the ringmaster isn't gated, but there are two imposing and foreign looking statues whose anatomy must be less than figurative. The creatures had enormous noses and manes like lions.
These must be from Tian Xia.
A couple of brutish dogs are tethered to the barred fence that bordered the entrance stoop's four stairs. Their leashes are quite long, and a couple of bowls of water can be seen near some well-manicured bushes.
They immediately stand on edge as soon as the ragtag bunch come into earshot and bark and growl ferociously.
These are well-trained guard hounds who are determined to defend their household.
There's a small woman doing maintenance work behind some brush silently. She's within the leash's range and nothing is going after her.
Manny cringes some. Nasty dogs! bad dogs! Just like horses!
Group Sheeple (there is no beta)----
"Harumph! We're taller than 'alf yer size, ya bleedin'-," Gutwald sputters before greeting another customer who enters, who is, in fact, an old man with a hunched back and a cane who moves to put another notice on the board before limping back to the bar.