Tadloton Merc Guild (Inactive)

Game Master Shadowtail24

Hurin’s voice doesn’t quite interrupt the babble in the tavern as much as slam it to the ground and press his heavy boots against its throat. “Glifedore, yer here.” Whispers of the name do eventually interrupt the silence, only to be interrupted by Hurin again. “There are some… people… here to see you.”

Glifdore nods and looks around. Something flashes behind his eyes, maybe nervousness or uneasiness *, as he notes all the people in the room. “Oy, you lot, whos here for the Merc Guild” A few hands go up, mostly tentatively.

“What, you’re running this thing?” The question came from a young half-elf near the back of the tavern. He taps the young lady on his lap and she shifts over to another seat at the table.

Glifdore sighs. “Yes Payk, didn’ ya read the sign?”

“Some of it”

Glifdore reaches into this pocket and pulls out a piece of paper**. He jabs a stubby finger to a point near the bottom. “It says me name right her’.”

Payk makes a show of standing up slowly, brushing off his trouser legs, and sauntering over towards Glifdore. He pulls out a monocle, holds it up to his eye, and glances where Glifdore is pointing. “You still have “e” at the end of your name? I got rid of mine years ago.” A look of fury crosses the dwarf’s face, but Payk speaks again to quell it. “Okay, I’m in.” He takes a step towards back to his seat. “But I want to be promoted to Captain. ”

Glifdore frowns, “Ther’ don’t be no ranks in the –” he cuts off as Payk starts to turn on his feet towards the door. “Sure, yer now Acting-Captain Payk.” The half-elf takes a step towards the door. “Er, rather, Captain Payk. Now go back to yer seat so I can examine the rest o’ this lot.”

Payk whirls, causing Glifdore to flinch. The half-elf salutes and roars, “Sir, yes Sir!”, before striding, and grinning, back to his seat.

Glifdore shakes his head, though he is sure to finish before the half-elf is seated. “Alden, are ye here? I know you can write. ”

An elf that had been sitting at the bar scrambles to his feet. “Here... Sir.”

Surprise fills Glifdore’s face. “Yer a blo-, I mean an elf?” He mutters something under his breath in dwarven ***.

The elf pails, which is impressive for an elf given their already light complexion. “I am an elf. Surely I must have mentioned that in my letters. ”

“ Looks like I’m not the only one that only skims over pieces of paper” The lady beside the Payk giggles.

Glifdore frowns, his concentration elsewhere. “I don’t think yer did.” He notices the elf’s nervous look. “Nothin’ fer it now, get ‘ver her’, I need yer to keep records.” The elf steps over to Glifdore’s side, pulling out parchment, ink and a quill. He sets himself up on the table next to Glifdore, his quill hovering expectantly. “Put down Payk as a Captain, and yerself as a… Private. ” Glifdore looks around. “ Put down Tarquin Jeryl as a private too, he’s at the temple tonight but told me he were in. Now, who else, and what do ya do.”

---

*

“Dante” The billowing voice comes from a man leaning against a side of the tavern. The sound hangs in the tavern, deep in its tone and haunting in its timbres. The voice matches the man, who even leaning against a wall is towering. His ornate black full-plate is lined with yellow trim. Horns adorn the helmet that covered his face, with only a slit for the man to see through. As ornate as the armor was, it was also equally used. A matching shield, with a dragon in yellow relief, hung from the back of a chair next to the man. The lady next to Payk giggles again at a not-so-hushed comment*.

Alden diligently scribbles down Dante - Private on the sheet. Glifdore is more curious, “And what do you do Dante?” In response the man clicks open the latch on a longsword sheath resting on his hip. Glifdore swallows. “Right. Er, good, now then, who else. Quickly now.”

Ezra notices names being called and smiles, quickly casting enhanced diplomacy on himself while the 'Dante' fellow was speaking with Glifdore. Once Glifdore calls for someone else, he quickly stands up, lifting himself with his walking stick, and hobbles over. "It is a pleasure to be here," Ezra says with a smile. "My name is Ezra Thorne, and I am here not as a potential mercenary, but as an emissary on behalf of an organization known as the Aspis Consortium." Ezra quickly flashes his bronze badge, and continues. "I have been sent to help your guild grow to greatness and stay strong and stable; an alliance of sorts. I have also been sent to convince the mayor of this fine town of the importance of having your guild here, and perhaps even having the mayor publicly support your organization. Ezra offers out a hand to shake. "Perhaps you would be so kind in to allow me to make the offer of this alliance... or at the very least, think about my proposal. I would be happy to stay here in town while you consider it." He switches to Infernal, and bows flamboyantly, hiding a grimace as the pain in his leg started up again.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (6) + 16 = 22

ALSO, once K'leck is finished speaking, he gives a quick thumbs up to the highlander. He sincerely wished the man well.

1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8 SM on Gil
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 Percep on paper
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6 percep on whisper

Yorrick rises and speaks softly, but confidently.

Yorrick. I am a Bard of some skill. I can entertain the men, and I have the ability to improve the efficiency of other magic users in my unit, not to mention a bit of a knack for counter spells and a knack for getting myself out of trouble. Of course he does not mention that to have a knack for getting out of trouble he has to also have a knack for getting into it...

My friends here in the bar have already heard several of my tales and I hope to compose our own adventures and glories to spread the glory of the guild.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20 Diplo

He bows and retakes his seat.

Ezra going to PM you so we can try to avoid overlapping our skills and abilities too much. perhaps I will focus on Bluff and not on Diplo with you onboard and perhaps I change to sing, not Oratory...

At Glifdore's call, K'leck arm eagerly goes up. Unfortunately, it happens to be the arm attached to the hand holding his mug of ale. Some of it splashes out, missing him but earning a glare from the barkeep. A glare that completely escapes his attention as he focuses on the man talking.

Sense Motive: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16
Perception (Paper): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
Perception (Whisper): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

When it's his turn to introduce himself, he stands up, towering above most others (who are admittedly mostly sitting, but still) at somewhere around 6'6". His coppery hair hangs loosely to his shoulders, and he's isn't often seen without at least a slight smile on his lips. Despite his large size, the muscles straining against his tan skin, and the obviously well used weapons on his back, there's no trace of malice or aggression in any of his behavior. Just confidence.

"I am K'leckemaki Mauna'kiola'ho'okuku'meakua of Shriikirri-Quah." He pauses a moment, waiting long enough for the scribe to give him a wide-eyed, 'how in tarnation do you spell that?' look before continuing with a broad grin. "But is too difficult to say for airsick lowlanders. K'leck is simple enough, I think." He finishes off his now mostly empty mug before placing it down on the counter.

"I pick up angry men to make them harmless until they cool down. If they don't cool down, I throw them in water. If this no work, I poke them with sharp end of konoki until they behave." He indicates a couple of spears and shortspears strapped on his back. "Also have some skill in wilderness."

Finished speaking, he sits down once again, beaming brightly at both Ezra and Yorrick.

SM Glifedore: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
perceive paper: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
perceive dwarf: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
stealth: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24
stealth: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

Gotin slips to the back of the room before discreetly circumnavigating the the tavern until he's standing just behind Glifedore and in a voice which is perfectly casual, but at volume just below shouting he says,
Gotin is my name, but you may call me Banana for any who didn't notice before he pronounces this BAH-nuh-NAH and I'm happy to do whatever you like, especially if it involves drink, dice, or surreptitiously observing someone before bleeding them out! Or if you prefer I'm an adroit scout and adequate tracker! he smiles pleasantly

SM Glifedore: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
perception paper: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
perception dwarf: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

A young man with shoulder length black hair, clad in wilderness gear and leathers stands up raising his hand slightly. He speaks clearly if not enthusiastically. I am Flynn Miller from Galt. I and my companion panther Shadow can offer services of tracking, a sturdy bow and claw, or if need be, my sword arm.

He quickly sits down and pulls his ale closer clearly uncomfortable in such a large crowds.

One post ezra, waiting for everyone and for the kickoff tomorrow to put Glifdore's response.

One post ezra, waiting for everyone and for the kickoff tomorrow to put Glifdore's response.

Ah, my mistake.

An over-sized dwarf with well-kept, jet black hair and beard hops off one of the tavern's bar stools, landing surely on his feet. Though the stink of alcohol pours off him, he doesn't appear inebriated at all, his amber eyes still razor sharp as they look to Glifdore. Wearing a simple(but strangely baggy on his large frame) outfit of orange, red and black, with weapons and a holy symbol of Torag tucked into his belt, the dwarf taps a booted foot on the ground.

"'ey call me Khron Stonearm," he begins, his rough voice easily heard over the din of other hopefuls to the guild. He crosses his arms and continues, "I'm a soldier-priest o' lord Torag, hammer o' th' Fa'er o' Creation 'imself. W'at me fist cannae fix, me magics can." As almost an afterthought, relaxes his posture and begins to gesture with one hand, an orb of water materializing before his open palm. With a flick, it splashes on the ground in front of him. "Ya need muscle, I'm yer man," he finishes, nodding.

Glifdore looks carefully at Ezra, carefully and blankly. “Asspiss Conshorshum? Well, er, that’s good I guess.” To alden, “Put ‘em down as a specialist. We can talk ‘bout the poilitcal later.”
-
Glifdore nods to Yorrick, relief plain on his face. “Private fer him.”
As K’leck is talking, Glifdore nudges Alden. “No boi, don’t write the whol’ thin’ down, didn’ ya hear him, koleck is fine.” On the paper, Alden writes K’Leckamaki – Private”
-
“Buhnuna can be a scout then, gud to have diff’rent ranks in this here guild.”
-
Gilfdore shakes his head at Alden writing Flynn Miller – Private and Shadow – Panther but deigns to speak.
-
Glifdore smiles at Khron, “Gud haven’ anuter dwarf her’, well met. He can be a private ”

(1/3)

At Khron’s introduction, Payk jumps up. “Arr ya kiddn’ me?” His dwarf impression isn’t that great. “This guy’s allowed in the guild? He can’t even speak taldan (common)”. Glifdore nods and Payk fumes, then looks around. “[b]Is there no other wonderful adventurer that wants to join this guild, no noble hero to save the town?” When no one responds he smiles. “Well then, sinc this lot can’t do it, I’ll be the hero.” He starts striding for the door. “Let me know when we have some work to do, I have places to be.”

Payk opens the door violently, only to close it just as quickly, and scramble down to a sitting position with his back against the door *. You may not have been able to catch the (see spoiler), but you certainly heard the scream, and Payk did too. His demeanor changed, but it didn’t seem like any new emotion entered his face. Instead, it seemed like what was previously there had been washed away.

(2/3)

Init: Payk, Flynn, Banana, Dante, K'Leck, Khron, Ezra,Zombies, Alden, Glifdore, Yorrick

Zombie Map

Everyone that acts ahead of the zombies can post, so in this case everyone that is bold. I will reconcile the issues after the fact. Remember, for many of you this is your first combat, so RP accordingly.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

K'leck laughs. "Many drunk people in streets. Who knew this was such a part-" He's cut off by a scream. Frowning, the large man rises and heads outside. "What is screaming? Is drunk people getting into fight?" Unaware of any real danger and most definitely unaware that these are undead, his weapons remain sheathed. After all, what kind of a brute would go armed to a bar fight? Everyone knew real gentlemen stuck to their fists.

Double move action. Woo for armor slowin' ya down.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 perception

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 13

Noticing the people on the street, I'm assuming with K'leck mentioning it before him, Ezra would know about them Ezra moves to the door and strained his eyes to see what they looked like.

Religion: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Ezra recognizes these thing from the holy texts he has read as undead and he will fumble backwards, almost tripping ove his bum leg and stutter out. "Those things aren't drunk. They are... undead monsters." At this point in time, he will stand still, frozen and fear, and feel a slight tingling sensation in his arms, where burns covered his skin. "Damn it, Asmodeus was giving me a sign." He looks around and then speaks up. "I've never encountered them outside of stories... I think the warriors are best to handle this, not a cripple like myself."

I will update my map position when I get to a computer.

You recognize them as undead

perc: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16
sauntering over to Payk and the door
@Payk so, are you always so ineffectually dramatic or do you actually serve some purpose here?... and what's wrong with you?! and what's wrong with them?!! indicating the people outside and what the

Free of the tavern, but trapped by the horde, Payk hesitates, his short sword darting forward continuously but his legs failing to follow. Instead he takes a small step back, and quietly soothes the trembling woman.

"Do not worry, miss, the Tadloton Merc Guild was formed just this very evening for events such as this. We will protect you, or my name isn't Captain Payk/"

Dante has no such reservations, though the zombies probably wish he would. He surges by the elf and lady, his long sword gripped in two hands.

Attack: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
damage: 1d10 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Dante's sword rips through the zombies gut, spilling gore onto the cobblestones and his armor. The zombie gives a futile swipe back and collapses to the ground.

okay bit confused as to how this works, I'm assuming each square=5'x5' is that correct?

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Khron starts at the mention of undead, but he doesn't look afraid. Rather, a nervous grin spreads on his face. "'ell, 'is ain't quite 'at I 'ad in moind when I came 'ere," he says, cracking his knuckles, "but I s'pose i's a start!" He lumbers over to stand near the door of the inn, before dropping into a fighting stance. "Let 'em come!" he shouts, though there is a very obvious twinge of worry in his rough voice. "Sure 'ope 'ose lessons 'bout fightin' the livin' dead pay off..." the dwarf thinks to himself, but he tries not to let his worry show. Not after all that bragging he did.

Double move, then using entering Pummeling Style stance as a swift action.

okay bit confused as to how this works, I'm assuming each square=5'x5' is that correct?

squares are five foot spaces. You can also use the ruler tool in the too left to measure distances more accurately.

good that means both my position and readied action are correct, and if my action is triggered he'll be attacking w/the rapier

Flynn moves to have a clearer view of the door and draws his bow, knocking an arrow. I have no experience fighting these vile creatures. Hopefully, they will fall to my arrows.

I definitely left my panther outside of town. Once outside the building, I will whistle for him.

The smile leaves K'leck's face as his expression darkens. "Undead? That is sign of bad wailua. We must put them to rest and discover was has angered the spirits."

Noticing the lady in the street, he calls out to her, waving to indicate she should seek out the relative safety of the tavern.

The zombies advance toward the lady and towards the tavern. They are too busy staying upright to attach though.

Glifdore reacts before Alden can, running through the players crowding at the door and then pulling the earth breaker off his back. The distance is too great though, and he has to pull up as a zombie prepares to attack.

"oi, lads, now then we's got some killing ta do. Buck up and tear the undead rot out of ther' guts."

Alden only moves because he sees Glifdore. He shakily makes his way to the street, emboldened by the Glifdore's chant. He approaches a zombies, ornate daggers flashing in the torch light in both hands. The wall that hits him isn't what he was expecting, but if forces him to a knee nonetheless. uughhh, the smell. He stays on his knee, retching though his efforts afford him nothing.

I have added a sscreenshot of the map for mobile users. The zombies have taken their turn, so everyone is up again. Yorrick in reality first but post when you have the chance and I will reconcile. Some of you are even close enough to get in on the fighting this turn... if you dare.

K'leck snarls in frustration as the lady stands there. "Airsick lowlander! Do you have death wish?" He looks back and forth between her and the zombies, trying to decide if he should kill the nearest zombie or make sure none of the zombies can reach the obviously terrified, unarmed woman. Bah, she is probably not a wrestler. I should make sure she is safe.

He dashes to defend the woman from the undead hoard, drawing his spear as he goes.

Yet another double move action.

You can try a diplomacy check on that if you have diplomacy K'leck.

Payk hesitates in front of the lady but as others come running he mumbles about time and cooly steps up to a zombie, slashing in stride.

attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Payk might have focused a little too much on the look of the thing, instead of the accuracy of the attack, and even the zombie is able to avoid the attack.

Dante curses at Payk, or at least what seems like a curse in the muffled helmet. No games, just fight.

He follows his own advice, strafing left to stab at a zombie watching Payk, and then pulling stab into a backhanded swing.

The first zombie falls, but the second is able to turn just enough to not catch a slash across the front.

Sure, why not.

Eyes still focused on the approaching zombies, K'leck tries to make his voice calm and reassuring. "You will be safe in the tavern. I will cover your retreat."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

K'leck snarls in frustration as the lady stands there. "Airsick lowlander! Do you have death wish?" He looks back and forth between her and the zombies, trying to decide if he should kill the nearest zombie or make sure none of the zombies can reach the obviously terrified, unarmed woman. Bah, she is probably not a wrestler. I should make sure she is safe.

He dashes to defend the woman from the undead hoard, drawing his spear as he goes.

Yet another double move action.

Seeing the woman on the street, obviously as frozen with fear as he was a second ago, and steps out onto the street, the reeking stench of the undead hitting him, and almost making him vomit. Continuing to limp over, he covered his mouth in his silk robes and waves the woman over to him. "Please m'lady, there is no time, you must come inside!" He just manages to get the words out, almost choking when the putrid air touches his tongue.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20

Even as he is shouting and looking to the undead, Ezra feels the tingling in his arms turn into a burning sensation and even though his attention is focused elsewhere, he could swear that underneath his clothing, his skin, which should be blackened from the burns, is glowing orange and red. 'Dear Asmodeus... what is this?'

I prepare to cast burning hands if another zombie comes into range. If this occurs, I will post again, explaining exactly what happens from Ezra's point of view.

realizing the battle isn't coming to him, he rushes out to meet it, ignoring his blades and unslinging his bow. knowing he'll likely only get off one shot before joining the melee he nocks, draws and fires his arrow at the closest zombie not engaged with his new allies, hoping against hope that he looks as good doing it as he thinks he does.

ranged attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
!!!
confirmation, please!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
:(
and is gratified with the knowledge that he almost does

noncritical damage, darnit!: 1d6 ⇒ 6

steps out the door and draws weapon (move + BAB=/>1) fires at target (standard)

Khron steps out of the door and moves out into the street. Once he gets a look at all of the shambling undead, he seems to go a bit pale. "I ain't loike 'is one bit!" he shouts, before grasping his holy symbol in his left hand. "Выполняется помочь нам ..." he mutters while gripping the silver hammer. A faint sheen glows around the dwarf's body, and his skin seems to regain its normal tan coloring. As he relaxes back into his stance, determination shines in his eyes, even if he still looks rather shaken by the troops of zombies. "I ain't afraid o' ya rottin' monsters! Come!" he challenges, fists balled and ready to strike.

Khron leaves the tavern and moves into the street (move action) and then casts Divine Favor on himself (standard action; +2 to hit and damage for 10 rounds). 1/2 1st level spells remain today.

Yorrick double moves outside

Once he gets outside and sees the shambling bodies

Fear not! I will confuse one presently!

unless someone tells him that won't work

Seeing the door closest blocked and crowded with other recruits, Flynn doubles moves towards the far door, bow still in hand.

Dang, still no action for the hunter. Didn't want to take the chance of firing into melee.

Banana is the first of huge newcomers to launch an attack, and his arrows flight is true, stashing itself deep into a zombies' leg. The zombie keeps moving, but it's a start.

Even with K'leck and Ezra urging her on, the lady is still paralyzed with fear, unmoving but for a steady shake.

The undead army takes the offensive, with attacks on glifdore, Payk and Dante. The uncoordinated zombies are no match for the lithe Payk, Armored Dante and brutish Glifdore. The two attacking Payk and Dante are so surprised by the pair avoiding their attacks that they lose their balance and falling over.

The other zombies shuffle forward.

the party is up once again. I will update the map and post it tonight. It does not look like any of the party members will be standing next to zombies.

on mobile

Yorrick begins to sing and hum and he devolves into a jazzy riff. He casts confusion which doesn't work of course but now he knows

Spellsong: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 and SR if needed: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Perc/SM must beat spell song roll or spell casting is not noticed.

He draws his sword and whip

magic doesn't work!

Ezra sighs in exasperation and stumbles even further outside, now seeing the horrid mass of zombies attacking his new allies. Turning to the woman (who is now right next to him) he offers out one arm and pleads, "Please come with me. We must get you to safety!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30

As the zombies get closer, the searing pain in Ezra's arms continue to grow until it is almost unbearable.

If once you move the zombies, two or more are in a spot where they can be effected by my burning hands, then the spell will go off, and I will describe what happens IN character. If only one zombie is in range then it will not go off. So all in all, I moved, and readied a standard just in case those conditions are met.

Flynn steps out the door, and fires an arrow at the nearest zombie.

To hit: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

Dmg: 1d8 ⇒ 2

Well, unless the zombies run away, I think I should be able to hit one this turn by moving and attacking. Or worse case throwing the spear.

K'leck grunts, eyes focused on the undead. "Listen to Ezra. Go with him. I shall bring death to the zombies!" He pauses, seemingly uncertain of his language. "Again."

Diplomacy (aid): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13 Success, so Ezra's diplomacy becomes a 32

He moves and then jabs at the nearest undead.

To Hit: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13 This changes to a +3 if I'm throwing the weapon
Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

pffft! I may as well have shot a tree for all that! he exclaims as he drops his bow free and, deciding a bit of hack-n'-slash might be more effective than fencing, pulls a short but wicked kukri from his belt as he maneuvers himself to the opposite side of the thing facing Glifdore move and gives him a credulous wink before attempting to carve into the loose, decaying flesh.

attk: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 5 + 2 = 18

dam: 1d3 ⇒ 2

Payk doesn't take kindly to being attack, and replies whit his short sword. Payk's flourishing attack hits, taking off the zombies hand.
attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
damage: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Dante grunts, but doesn't chide Payk a second time, he's too focused on his own defense. Dante's focused attacks bring down two more zombies, creating bulwark of undead bodies around himself.

K'leck 5ft steps and attacks the zombie next to Payk.

To Hit: 13, Damage: 9

After hours, days, and maybe even weeks of travel, the weary applicants to the Tadloton Merc Guild stream into the Morning Ale, described by locals as the tavern with the exact middle reputation in the town. The barkeeper Hurin stands tall on his stool behind the bar and by the time you reach the tavern you've been warned several times to not let him trap you. Nobody says with what, they just chuckle when you ask.

The appointed time for applicants to meet Glifdore is still hours away, and Hurin and other town folk seem pretty certain that they have no idea where the dwarf is. And so, with no other knowledge of the town, you decide to relax, and remove the journey's weariness. Glifdore's letters promised shelter so you decide to wait on that, rather than spend even more money for the Tavern's nightly services.

You do not need to post in your alias if you do not wish to, just post and note your character's name at the top. I'll moderate as I have time but for the most part this is about interaction with each other.

Ezra hobbled over to a stool setting his bag and walking stick down by his side, and began to observe the other applicants with a wary eye. This was not his first visit to Andoran, but as a Chelaxian, he was always nervous when around these people. Opening his journal, he scribbled down a few notes about what he observed about the town thus far, his silk gloves chaffing against his burned hands. Fidgeting at the pain, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, green looking leaf, and quickly put it in his mouth, swallowing it with a grimace. It wasn't the best tasting thing in the world, but it helped the pain for a while.

Ordering a drink, Ezra continued writing notes, staying noticeably away from the other people. Once the bartender returned, he took a quick sip, and opened his book of letters to started studying up on the town. If he was going to convince the mayor of the benefits of doing business with the Aspis Consortium, he had to freshen up a bit on the people in this area.

my Bard...tentatively named Yorric, no alias yet.

Ezra likely is pulled from his notes by a burst of laughter from a table in the corner where a bit of dicing is happening.

...and that is when I launched into a vibrant description of the HUGE mistake that this oversized brute had made when selecting his wardrobe before going on "highwaymanning." Then I gently suggested that perhaps if his partner truly had his back he would have let him know that no on dresses like that anymore. I swear you could see the hamter trying to turn the wheel in his head then he suddenly turned and slammed the club into his partners head, and that is how I made my escape! The laughter explodes again.

The speaker is a well dressed human, with a whip at his side, and a goblet of wine in his hand.

my Bard...tentatively named Yorric, no alias yet.

Ezra likely is pulled from his notes by a burst of laughter from a table in the corner where a bit of dicing is happening.

...and that is when I launched into a vibrant description of the HUGE mistake that this oversized brute had made when selecting his wardrobe before going on "highwaymanning." Then I gently suggested that perhaps if his partner truly had his back he would have let him know that no on dresses like that anymore. I swear you could see the hamter trying to turn the wheel in his head then he suddenly turned and slammed the club into his partners head, and that is how I made my escape! The laughter explodes again.

The speaker is a well dressed human, with a whip at his side, and a goblet of wine in his hand.

Ezra indeed looks up, startled by the sudden burst of noise. He looked at the man who seemed to be telling the story, to his notes, and then back to the man with a sigh. He supposed that if he was going to be in this town, he ought to get to know the potential applicants to the guild as well. If any were accepted, he would have to get to know them anyway: the Consortium also wanted Ezra to convince the guild to join up with the larger organization.

Grabbing his walking stick, he lifted himself up, careful not to put any pressure on his broken leg. The injury was unusual; the attack happened months ago and not even the best priests and clerics could seem to heal him. Slowly making his way to the storyteller, Ezra bowed. "That sounds like a fantastic story! Truly, the guild would be pleased to have someone with a silver tongue like your own."

Bard Again

Well, perhaps I have a knack for story telling, but some stories write themselves, this happened to be one of them.

He slides out a chair with his foot for the broken man.

So what's your story? I am guessing that leg hides a good story, that is unless you were that brutes partner... He says with a smile, but perhaps he is not completely joking.

Bard Again

Well, perhaps I have a knack for story telling, but some stories write themselves, this happened to be one of them.

He slides out a chair with his foot for the broken man.

So what's your story? I am guessing that leg hides a good story, that is unless you were that brutes partner... He says with a smile, but perhaps he is not completely joking.

Ezra nods gratefully and takes a seat. "To be honest you are the first person to ask me about it directly. Most people feel pity rather than curiosity. He shakes his head. "Curiosity I can deal with, but pity tends to annoy me. I may be a cripple, but people don't have to constantly treat me like one."

He takes another leaf out and quickly eats it. "I was attacked by some thugs back home in Cheliax. I don't know who did it or why... Hell, I can't even remember much about the night itself. I came home after a long day at work, and they were already there, about seven altogether. They had knocked out and tied up my slaves, and..." Ezra's voice trailed off. "And well, they left me with the leg, and these." He removes his silk gloves to reveal that the skin on his hands and arms are terribly burned and shriveled. "Thankfully they didn't take my tongue as well. Speaking and diplomacy is all I'm good for, so without that, I'm nothing."

K'leck the Barbarian

K'leckemaki grins broadly as he enters the tavern, surveying its other occupants with interest. He stands well over 6 feet tall, tan skin stretched tightly over his well-muscled frame. His coppery hair hangs free, coming down to his shoulders. He comes in just in time to hear the tail end of some story.

He strides over to the group of talking people, waving over a barmaid to bring them drinks as he does so. "Must not have been very good bandits. Otherwise no need to do this thing." He indicates the wounds.

He pulls over a chair and sits down. When his drink arrives he takes a large gulp, almost finishing the entire thing. "Ahhh. But where manners? You can call me K'leck. I am from nearby mountain tribe, come to see what you lowlanders have to offer." He grins as he gives the bard a hearty slap on the back.

K'leck the Barbarian

K'leckemaki grins broadly as he enters the tavern, surveying its other occupants with interest. He stands well over 6 feet tall, tan skin stretched tightly over his well-muscled frame. His coppery hair hangs free, coming down to his shoulders. He comes in just in time to hear the tail end of some story.

He strides over to the group of talking people, waving over a barmaid to bring them drinks as he does so. "Must not have been very good bandits. Otherwise no need to do this thing." He indicates the wounds.

He pulls over a chair and sits down. When his drink arrives he takes a large gulp, almost finishing the entire thing. "Ahhh. But where manners? You can call me K'leck. I am from nearby mountain tribe, come to see what you lowlanders have to offer." He grins as he gives the bard a hearty slap on the back.

Ezra quickly pulls on his gloves and nods. Hello K'leck." He looked at the brick of the man the man who sat next to him and gulped. "Asmodeus help me you are a big man. Certainly makes me glad that I'm just a diplomat, and don't have to get into an altercation with warriors like yourselves." Ezra chuckles nervously. "If this guild runs into any trouble, I'll be sure to hide behind you. Mercenary types are great stalwart defenders." Noticing a spider in his drink, Ezra quickly cast prestidigitation as to scoop it out.

You know there is this thing called magic that could have healed you...you aren't a slaver are you? He says, immediately wrinkling his nose at the idea.

Couldn't say there is much to offer, but there might be some work here. If that means anything.

You know there is this thing called magic that could have healed you...you aren't a slaver are you? He says, immediately wrinkling his nose at the idea.

Couldn't say there is much to offer, but there might be some work here. If that means anything.

Ezra turns to the bard, shaking his head. "If only magic could heal me. The best Clerics in all of Cheliax couldn't heal these wounds. I spent thousands of gold trying to get myself fixed... which left me mostly bankrupt." He raises an eyebrow at the 'slaver' comment. "I own two slaves. I inherited both of them from my father and I treat them as well as my own family. If you were visit Cheliax, you'd learn that the Hell Knights themselves do not enjoy overly cruel slavers. The slaves may be property, but they are people too. The Order of the Chain take to punishing those who waste or exploit a slave's life as well as returning slaves to their owners... the Chain works both ways. But that's not important. I left mine back in Cheliax, and they have my home to themselves, free to do whatever they'd like."

So you would have no issue if I were to own you? I mean as long as I fed you and clothes you and gave you a nice pillow?

well this is what I get for taking that drawback

So you would have no issue if I were to own you? I mean as long as I fed you and clothes you and gave you a nice pillow?

well this is what I get for taking that drawback

Ezra nods. "If that were the position the Lord Asmodeus were to put me in, I would gladly serve out my life as a slave."

I took the burned drawback. Meaning any time I cast burning hands, it kicks in. Along with the burned curse, it's really just an incentive to use only my enchantment spells.

K'leck grins at Ezra's comment about his size. "I eat well. Grow big and strong." He finishes his drink, waving for another. "You should get refund. If leg is not healed, then Clerics not do their job, yes?"

K'leck grins at the bard. "Throw in beer that is not this watery stuff, and I would be tempted to be your slave." He pauses. "But first must see what new knowledge I can bring back to village."

So you are a slaver only because your God wills it?

At K'Leck

That is why I stick to wine my friend, also ladies are much more likely to join you in a wine than a beer, at least the kind of ladies that you want to spend time with. As to his leg, there are many possibilities in the world of Magic and Gods.

K'leck grins at Ezra's comment about his size. "I eat well. Grow big and strong." He finishes his drink, waving for another. "You should get refund. If leg is not healed, then Clerics not do their job, yes?"

K'leck grins at the bard. "Throw in beer that is not this watery stuff, and I would be tempted to be your slave." He pauses. "But first must see what new knowledge I can bring back to village."

"I own slaves because I inherited them... and yes, because Asomdeus willed it. My service to him, is the only reason I am alive after all."

Ezra turns to K'leck. "What sort of knowledge are you seeking? I do not know much abut worldly matters, but I AM a polygot. I can help you learn different languages if you wish. Or perhaps a bit about conversation? Diplomacy? Lying?"

So you are a slaver only because your God wills it?

At K'Leck

That is why I stick to wine my friend, also ladies are much more likely to join you in a wine than a beer, at least the kind of ladies that you want to spend time with. As to his leg, there are many possibilities in the world of Magic and Gods.

"But please, tell me more about yourself. A man such as yourself should have plenty of interesting stories to tell!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (18) + 14 = 32 Ezra tries to shift the focus off his slaves... he is a Chelaxian in Andoran after all.

So it appears my disagreement is not with you then. he says still frowning at the slaving idea. He does interestingly enough look a bit pale but he seems to be able to fight it down.

Can't argue now. If I have to work with him I can take it up later. I need this job.

Diplomacy, Lying, sounds like storytelling to me. Come K'Leck tell us a story.

He drains his goblet and refills his wine, trying to dull his senses before the headache comes on in full

K'leck gives the bard a hopeful look. "Wine is stronger type of beer?" He waves for a wine to try.

Does he like it? 1 = Yes, 2 = No: 1d2 ⇒ 1

He nods his head. "Is not bad, this thing. At least is less like water." He continues to thoughtfully sip at the strange, fruity beverage.

"Village elders were not clear on what they wanted me to bring back. Perhaps the tactics of lowlander combat, I think. Diplomacy and lying are not for fourth son."

He also turns to the bard. "But yes. He is here because of bankruptcy, but why are you here?"

Shall we say not everyone likes my stories? he says with a wry grin.

He tops off K'lecks wine from the bottle.

Shall we say not everyone likes my stories? he says with a wry grin.

He tops off K'lecks wine from the bottle.

"You are a bard aren't you? Ezra took a sip of his own drink, quickly forgetting the notes he should have been studying so that he could get to know these people. "Everyone loves a bard's stories!

From the back of the tavern, a loud coughing fit erupts. Lumbering from that same direction comes what appears to be an black-haired, oversized dwarf. Wearing simple, baggy clothing, a necklace of over-sized prayer beads, and a holy symbol of Torag hanging from his belt, the gruff-looking dwarf coughs into one of his hands, apparently trying to loosen some flem from the back of his throat. "A'right ye lot. 'ich one'a yas is makin' all 'is fuss?" the dwarf asks loudly, a sour look on his face. "Woke me up from me nap, ya did!"

With a lead-footed gait, he approaches the bar and slaps down a coin. "Gimme a drink, barkeep. A stron' 'un," Khron demands, settling himself on a stool.

Agon finally arrives... dirty, tired, and irritated. He jumps down from his horse and begins to take in the sights and sounds of the area. He thinks to himself as he looks for a place to stable his long haired companion, Emalee.

The place smells of weary adventurers and weakness. This will be fun.

Once he secures a spot for Emalee he heads back to the Tavern, the Morning Ale, to wet his mouth before a hearty meal.

Agon enters in full gear with great helm under his left arm. His black and white tabard worn and dirty is draped loosely over his scale mail. A heavy wooden shield strapped to his back covers his light crossbow and a sheathed longsword can be seen at his left side.

He stops a few paces within the tavern and begins staring about the room.

"So this is what I must contend with for a spot in the guild. Abadar has blessed me."

He then begins to laugh out loudly as he walks to the bar for a drink. Placing his helmet down he says,

"Bartender give me a hearty shot of your best spirit."

From the back of the tavern, a loud coughing fit erupts. Lumbering from that same direction comes what appears to be an black-haired, oversized dwarf. Wearing simple, baggy clothing, a necklace of over-sized prayer beads, and a holy symbol of Torag hanging from his belt, the gruff-looking dwarf coughs into one of his hands, apparently trying to loosen some flem from the back of his throat. "A'right ye lot. 'ich one'a yas is makin' all 'is fuss?" the dwarf asks loudly, a sour look on his face. "Woke me up from me nap, ya did!"

With a lead-footed gait, he approaches the bar and slaps down a coin. "Gimme a drink, barkeep. A stron' 'un," Khron demands, settling himself on a stool.

Ezra excused himself from the table, and slowly made his way to the man. "Perhaps, my good sir, you don't need another drink at the moment. Perhaps some bread, or something less... alcoholic."

diplomacy: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (17) + 14 = 31 Ezra doesn't want to see this man hurt himself... or others.

Send the dwarf an ale on me.

"You are a bard aren't you? Ezra took a sip of his own drink, quickly forgetting the notes he should have been studying so that he could get to know these people. "Everyone loves a bard's stories!

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21 Oratory

He settles his nerves and hops up on a chair and launches into a tale of what lead to his being pursued by the Bandits. It is a tale involving too much time with the ladies and gambling, though interestingly he seems to manage to get out of trouble each time with a few words and again. All in all the tale is filled with humor and the prose is quite good.

far better than mine

Khron Stonearm wrote:

From the back of the tavern, a loud coughing fit erupts. Lumbering from that same direction comes what appears to be an black-haired, oversized dwarf. Wearing simple, baggy clothing, a necklace of over-sized prayer beads, and a holy symbol of Torag hanging from his belt, the gruff-looking dwarf coughs into one of his hands, apparently trying to loosen some flem from the back of his throat. "A'right ye lot. 'ich one'a yas is makin' all 'is fuss?" the dwarf asks loudly, a sour look on his face. "Woke me up from me nap, ya did!"

With a lead-footed gait, he approaches the bar and slaps down a coin. "Gimme a drink, barkeep. A stron' 'un," Khron demands, settling himself on a stool.

Ezra excused himself from the table, and slowly made his way to the man. "Perhaps, my good sir, you don't need another drink at the moment. Perhaps some bread, or something less... alcoholic."

Ezra doesn't want to see this man hurt himself... or others.

Khron glares at the man for a moment, but then turns back to the barkeeper. "Ain't nothin' ya need t' worry yer head 'bout, fella. Could drink th' 'ole bar an' it woul'n't do nothin' t' me," the dwarf says, a wry smirk on his face. "Yer welcome t' join me i' ya loike. Ain' a dwarf aloive who'd turn down a good drinkin' partner," he states matter-of-factly. He turns slightly and gives Ezra a once-over from the corner of his eye. "Not 'at it looks loike you'd last fir long, but 'at ain't important."

Ezra Thorne wrote:

Khron Stonearm wrote:

From the back of the tavern, a loud coughing fit erupts. Lumbering from that same direction comes what appears to be an black-haired, oversized dwarf. Wearing simple, baggy clothing, a necklace of over-sized prayer beads, and a holy symbol of Torag hanging from his belt, the gruff-looking dwarf coughs into one of his hands, apparently trying to loosen some flem from the back of his throat. "A'right ye lot. 'ich one'a yas is makin' all 'is fuss?" the dwarf asks loudly, a sour look on his face. "Woke me up from me nap, ya did!"

With a lead-footed gait, he approaches the bar and slaps down a coin. "Gimme a drink, barkeep. A stron' 'un," Khron demands, settling himself on a stool.

Ezra excused himself from the table, and slowly made his way to the man. "Perhaps, my good sir, you don't need another drink at the moment. Perhaps some bread, or something less... alcoholic."

Ezra doesn't want to see this man hurt himself... or others.

Khron glares at the man for a moment, but then turns back to the barkeeper. "Ain't nothin' ya need t' worry yer head 'bout, fella. Could drink th' 'ole bar an' it woul'n't do nothin' t' me," the dwarf says, a wry smirk on his face. "Yer welcome t' join me i' ya loike. Ain' a dwarf aloive who'd turn down a good drinkin' partner," he states matter-of-factly. He turns slightly and gives Ezra a once-over from the corner of his eye. "Not 'at it looks loike you'd last fir long, but 'at ain't important."

Ezra looked at the man's swift movements and relaxed. So perhaps he wasn't completely intoxicated. He finished his own drink, and then cast create water to fill his glass to the brim. "I certainly could not keep up with you in terms of alcohol... but perhaps you wouldn't mind me having a bit of water? I need to stay sober for when I meet the mayor of this here fine town. Perhaps later, I can join you, but for now I think I'll stick to this."

"Suit yerself," the dwarf says as the bartender sets down a frothy mug of potent-smelling alcohol before him. "Aye, 'at's what I'm talkin' 'bout. Cheers!" Khron calls before he begins to practically pour the booze down his throat. Finishing the mug in record time, he wipes his mouth on one of his sleeves. Slamming the mug back down on the counter, he grins widely. Pulling another coin from his coin pouch, he sets it on the counter and says, "Perfect. Ano'her!"

As he waits for his second mug, he shoots Ezra another short look. "Don' jus' stan' 'ere, lad. Si'down."

Receiving his drink Agon heads over to the tables where he hears the others talking about drinking.

" Well well. How could I ever resist a night of drinking with a dwarf. Little man let me sit my big tail right here with ya.

Agon looks for a spot to sit his helmet, rest his tall back and over 200 pound bottom before dropping down and turning back to the bartender.

"Barkeep I hope you will keep those drinks a coming, me and my new friends have a bit of drinking to take care before our big day."

Agon grabs his wineskin and pours a bit of water into his hands one after the other. He then begins to pour it lightly over his short red hair and recently shaven face. Now a bit wet Agon again looks around the table before pulling his tabard up to dry his face.

"Hello new friends, I am Agon Kilmeade and whom might you all be?"

"Suit yerself," the dwarf says as the bartender sets down a frothy mug of potent-smelling alcohol before him. "Aye, 'at's what I'm talkin' 'bout. Cheers!" Khron calls before he begins to practically pour the booze down his throat. Finishing the mug in record time, he wipes his mouth on one of his sleeves. Slamming the mug back down on the counter, he grins widely. Pulling another coin from his coin pouch, he sets it on the counter and says, "Perfect. Ano'her!"

As he waits for his second mug, he shoots Ezra another short look. "Don' jus' stan' 'ere, lad. Si'down."

Ezra gulped nervously and sat down next to the dwarf, desperately wanting to eat another leaf to ease the pain. "Why thank you sir."Ezra rubbed his knee and drank some more of his water, pulling out his notes again, hopefully able to read them before moving on from this place. He suddenly realized how out of place he looked; Chelaxian man in fancy clothing and jewelry, who is reading notes, sitting in the middle of a bar full of warriors who were trained to kill people. It was insanity. Looking back up at the dwarf, Ezra feigned a smile. "So uh... what brings you here?"

Receiving his drink Agon heads over to the tables where he hears the others talking about drinking.

" Well well. How could I ever resist a night of drinking with a dwarf. Little man let me sit my big tail right here with ya.

Agon looks for a spot to sit his helmet, rest his tall back and over 200 pound bottom before dropping down and turning back to the bartender.

"Barkeep I hope you will keep those drinks a coming, me and my new friends have a bit of drinking to take care before our big day."

Agon grabs his wineskin and pours a bit of water into his hands one after the other. He then begins to pour it lightly over his short red hair and recently shaven face. Now a bit wet Agon again looks around the table before pulling his tabard up to dry his face.

"Hello new friends, I am Agon Kilmeade and whom might you all be?"

Ezra shrinks back from the man and nods. "Hello Mr. Kilmeade. I am Ezra, a diplomat, and this is..." he trailed off, not sure of the dwarf's name.

ahhh. At last, I must say the past few weeks have been quite.. Exciting, and yet exhausting. That on festival of desna in particular.. Well let's get some needed rest. I have a long road ahead of me..

ahead of us again that strange voice appears again, almost as if in the back of his head. Though he was slighty accustomed to hearing it every so often and referred to it as his sixth sense he felt there was more..

ah well then. Let's take a look at the competition.

A man in a dark blue hued cloak and chain enters. A jet black scimitar at his hip.
He notices the large man right away and smiles.

hmmm @
He mutters under his breath and flicks his wrist and suddenly 3 orbs of ghostly light are hovering around the large mans head. Then after that with another murmer cause it to seem as if the bard is chuckling.

if you wish there is a will save for the ghost sound. DC 14

"Stonearm." the dwarf says simply. He repeats his once-over, this time on the fully-armored man. "If ya want t' drink wit' me, yer gonna 'ave t' ready yerself. Ain't a dwarf un'er th' mountain 'at's outdrunk me, yet. Ain't 'bout t' let some tallfolk be th' foirst." He grins roguishly, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath.

It looks to me like there are 2 large men in the area: me/K'leck the barbarian and Agon. It's not really clear which one the globes are aimed at. I'm going to assume Agon as the one who more recently posted.

When the bard finishes his story, K'leck laughs. "Ha! Be careful silver tongue does not get you into more trouble than it can get you out of. Next story is on me, eh?" He takes another sip of his drink. Then hearing him laugh. "Ahh, but what is funny, new friend?" He chuckles when he sees the floating orbs. "I see we have new drinking buddies. That one seems to have annoyed little sprite creatures. Let us go introduce ourselves, yes?"

He walks over to the new group. "Greetings fellow adventurers. I am K'leck. Let us all drink together before we must compete for guild position. Tell me, have you tried this wine stuff? Is quite good and stronger than watery swell they call beer. My bardic friend here just introduced me to it."

He smiles and hops down and follows the gigantic man.

Now these are delightful he says looking at the lights, then he grabs his head as the headache returns

I just can't believe he is a slaver...keep it together, I just got here...no fighting.

He reaches for his goblet and some more wine, then makes his way over to Varian with his bottle.

Care for some? He offers some wine.

Khron looks to both the newcomer with stranger orbs floating around him and the tall, tanned human before returning to his drink. "Th' more th' merrier 'ey say. T'morrow we may 'ave t' go up against each otha, but t'night, we drink!" he shouts, lifting his mug and draining it in much the same manner as the one before it. "Aaaaaah. Ain't nothin' betta 'an a good drink afta wakin' up," the Toragian finishes with relish, before belching loudly.

He smiles and hops down and follows the gigantic man.

Now these are delightful he says looking at the lights, then he grabs his head as the headache returns

I just can't believe he is a slaver...keep it together, I just got here...no fighting.

He reaches for his goblet and some more wine, then makes his way over to Varian with his bottle.

Care for some? He offers some wine.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

I think soon enough, Khron might have to make some fort saves in order to stop himself from getting drunk

Ezra then turns to the bard and starts talking to him, and just generally doing his best to make their relationship more amiable, casting Enhanced Diplomacy right beforehand as to make himself seem more appealing. "I know we got off on a bad foot...

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (15) + 16 = 31

The Bard returns the favor and hangs some lights over Varian's head.

sorry, would have put it over the one that had been talking to the bard haha. Posted from my phone... Just wanted to join the fun and couldn't wait till I got home lol but nevermind that. We will just roll with it.

Varian will look the the bard and let out a heart felt laugh.
Aye indeed. My road has been long, and good drinks scarce, though good company seems to have a way of finding me at the least.

he takes a glass and will sip on it.

So, I assume you and most of the others here have come to try your hands at this new guild? I must say it is quite interesting to me, I believe it is a great way for any would be adventurer or tomb delver to start out, lest they jump to deep before hand. Haha,

his face darkens for a split second
or perhaps a good way to keep them from becoming overconfident as well. Or lax in their arts.

He will turn to Ezra

yes indeed, I was taught sense I was very young, I am of a bit strange upbringing, you see I grew up in a human settlement, So I was forced to mature faster than most of my race, my father believed strict training would help in that regard, and it did... for some things.

he then will notice just what Erza is and laughs.

I must say, I have not met many of your kind in my short life, but rare is it when where they go, amusement is soon to follow. Well, That, or they were trying to kill me for some reason, In either case my friend, I am Varian, Varian Seldlon. The pleasure is mine.

he regards the bard again.

in both cases.

also here is a decently accurate picture of his appearance, minus the earrings and the tatoo under his eye. [/url=http://api.ning.com/files/UwT*xl7Wg-1l96WdokgQw*ZGEv24DtTvmUJhv7k0M4xcI*TawGMwFeS5m1dU-fWnBwuz7indrxr1Y5Y-YSYPHiTRoutQNW3S/elvenMALE02.jpg] appearance[/url]

here is the blade. Its actually shaped almost just as I pictured it, its just jet black with a chain trailing down from the end of the hilt with a symbol attached to the end. though there is no sheath for the blade as varian carries it merely hung from his belt. black blade

heretofore unseen, a halfling emerges from some dark corner of the tavern. His clothes are well tailored though inostentatious featuring mostly grays and dark, muted greens, his rolling gait exuding confidence, conquest and grace. He leads behind him a young human woman, a local by the look of her, buxom and brunette, her hand on his shoulder, his hand over hers. They both sport sheens of sweat, as though from recent strenuous activity. He bears a wide boyish grin as he scans the room; she, meanwhile has eyes only for him, though her expression is disguised by the fact that she holds a strawberry in her mouth.
Look at growing crowd, my dove, it seems I can no longer horde you all to myself he sighs and whispersit pains me so, but you may have to get back to work before your father notices you've been missing. He gestures that she should lean down and pulls the strawberry from her mouth as she does, replacing it with a discrete kiss, before biting into the berry himself and sending her off with lite smack to her backside.
now, what have we here he scans the room again

to the dwarf, Stonearm, is it? well I'll wager my hill for your mountain that I can drink you under both

to Ezra My countryman!!! he grasps the sitting oracle by the shoulders and kisses both his cheeks, Varisian style, I never thought to hear another Chelish accent so far inside Andor! how goes it with you and what news of our most benevolent Queen Abrogail?

to the bard and you sir, you seem to have strong opinions of our culture of slavery, well I agree it's a poor thing for one person to own another and too often a slave is little more than chattel, but my counrtyman is right to say that Chelaxian slave laws are well regulated. There are even provisions whereby a slave can earn his freedom, like I have. You must learn to see all sides before passing judgement, just as I must learn not to make assumptions or to intrude on other peoples' conversations...

generally, Gotin Immel is my name he sings: say it loud and it's almost like prayiiiiing; say it soft, it's like... he pauses a moment to consider, it occurs to me that no one ever says my name softly, isn't that right, my dove? to which the bar maid from earlier blushes beat red as she brings out more pitchers of ale and in any event, you're welcome to call me Banana,he pronounces this BAH-nuh-NAH, as did my fair Queen of Cheliax, and I welcome you all to this strange and handsome little hamlet to which I've only just arrived myself

He will turn to Ezra

yes indeed, I was taught sense I was very young, I am of a bit strange upbringing, you see I grew up in a human settlement, So I was forced to mature faster than most of my race, my father believed strict training would help in that regard, and it did... for some things.

he then will notice just what Erza is and laugh.

I must say, I have not met many of your kind in my short life, but rare is it when where they go, amusement is soon to follow. Well, That, or they were trying to kill me for some reason, In either case my friend, I am Varian, Varian Seldlon. The pleasure is mine.

he regards the bard again.

in both cases.

Ezra frowned looking honestly confused. "You haven't met many humans in your life? Well that's odd, I thought you said you lived in a human establishment."

Oops. I should probably have mentioned the fact that Ezra here doesn't know he's a Tiefling. He looks mostly human, with the only thing giving him away is the faint smell of brimstone... which he doesn't notice since he's always around it. His features will become MUCH more prominent as soon as level 2 comes.

sorry, would have put it over the one that had been talking to the bard haha. Posted from my phone... Just wanted to join the fun and couldn't wait till I got home lol but nevermind that. We will just roll with it.

Quite understandable. :-)

Pleased to have found more drinking buddies, K'leck clinks mugs with all of them. "Yes! Let us all drink to celebrate our meeting! And then tomorrow we will drink to celebrate those that have gotten in and to drown the miseries of those that have not!"

Seeing that his taller, or rather less-short, companions seem to be going through their alcohol slowly, he asks, "Why is it little people" here he indicates the dwarf and the halfing "Drink more than big people here? This is not the normal way of things. Is madness!"

At the halfling's sudden arrival and declaration, Khron's grin turns almost feral. "Ain't nobody who's tried could e'er pull it off. Come, lad. Yer 'bout to get e'en shorter 'en yer pass'd out col' on th' floor," the dwarf crows, slamming a whole gold piece on the counter. "Keep 'em comin', barkeep. Ain't nobody 'as challenged a Stonearm an' walked 'way a winna." Though he doesn't appear angry, there is a definite edge to his words, one that inebriation does not give.

to Ezra My countryman!!! he grasps the sitting oracle by the shoulders and kisses both his cheeks, Varisian style, I never thought to hear another Chelish accent so far inside Andor! how goes it with you and what news of our most benevolent Queen Abrogail?

Ezra smiles at the halfling, embracing him out of happiness. "Another Chelish citizen! This is a happy day indeed! I never thought I'd see a sl-" Ezra bit his tongue before he could let out the derogatory term 'slip' "A fellow countryman. News of the Queen is as fair as always, may Asmodeus guide her hand."

no one should be born a slave. Just because they can earn freedom doesn't mean they will. What if you had had a less "chivalrous" master?. He puts a particular emphasis on chivalrous

no one should be born a slave. Just because they can earn freedom doesn't mean they will. What if you had had a less "chivalrous" master?. He puts a particular emphasis on chivalrous

Ezra cocked his head. "Why then the Hell Knights would have surely punished that master. With Asmodeus' inquisitors about, there is no escaping the infernal law of Cheliax."

Khron pointedly ignores the argument over slaves and Chelaxians, his focus on as drunk as dwarvenly possible.

'Foolish tallfolk. Ain't no point in arguin' o'er 'at nonsense 'en 'ere's perfectly good drink t' be 'ad," he thinks to himself, amber eyes shining as the barkeep begins to set multiple full mugs down in front of him. The dwarf gives Banana a challenging stare, his posture full of pride and arrogance.

right because the Hellknights are a perfect organization that is above reproach.

shut up!

but you clearly will not be swayed. I must get more wine.

sickened for an hour

At the halfling's sudden arrival and declaration, Khron's grin turns almost feral. "Ain't nobody who's tried could e'er pull it off. Come, lad. Yer 'bout to get e'en shorter 'en yer pass'd out col' on th' floor," the dwarf crows, slamming a whole gold piece on the counter. "Keep 'em comin', barkeep. Ain't nobody 'as challenged a Stonearm an' walked 'way a winna." Though he doesn't appear angry, there is a definite edge to his words, one that inebriation does not give.

HAR! no Stonearm's ever been challenged by a Banana before, and keep your coin for now freind... he makes eye contact with the young barmaid he maid his entrance with none of this swill for my burly friend and I, deary Dove, bring up that barrel of Varisian brandy we nearly overturned earlier for our little match, whichever of us wakes up with the worst headache will happily pay for it, though likely with sticky coin

right because the Hellknights are a perfect organization that is above reproach.

shut up!

but you clearly will not be swayed. I must get more wine.

sickened for an hour

wine nothing you'll share our brandy and adjudicate the match, the first toast shall be to freedom and loudmouths