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A small gnome walks into the lodge. "I don't know why they won't let my wolf in. He's house trained, and has better manners that some people." She notices Elris, and waves as she heads his way. Climbing slowly onto the seat next to him she asks, "Can you believe they wouldn't let Wolfie in. He's practically a full fledged Pathfinder. Let me buy you a drink and we'll toast the memory of Teena."
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A tall man of Taldan descent walks over to the bar and slaps a few gold coins on the bar. Your coin is no good here...I'm buying...it's the least I can do...
After getting a few stiff drinks, he hands one to Feybella. To Teena! May her name never be forgotten! and he downs the drink in one go. I just wish I could have done something to help her....blast it!
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Nodding solemnly, Elris raises his glass, "To those who make the world a better place, and damn those who snuff their light! Teena's memory shall be everlasting with the society!" Finishing his toast, the elf downs the liquor in one fell motion before slamming the glass onto the counter. "I think the barkeep might be a bit jealous of Wolfie. You have a mighty fine companion. As for you Mykel, it isn't your fault. That lass was quite fetching, until we found out she was crazy."
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"I believe that I'll be in Razmiran within a fortnight if we don't hear word from some diplomats in the area. Crazy cultists thinking that Razmir is the one true man god," Elris chuckles a bit. "I do believe that I have a friend who is willing to do some jobs, though he may be a bit gruff. Then again, most ulfens are, especially those from Trunau."
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Fey takes a small shot glass, and slams it back drinking quickly, and then onto the bar. "To Teena. I still think we should have burned down that farm in her honor." She grabs another drink. "Nothing upcoming at the moment. I'm going to take a break before I head back out. I have several friends who are currently on missions. Trying to keep up with them keeps me busy."
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A tall slender figure enters. His faded clothes and worn gear hint at a long journey just finished. Though he seems experienced, his face with slightly elven features is not familiar but its weathered look is similar to most other adventurers in this place.
"Need a new task. I am here because someone said you can find tips on missions?" Seeing no one really answering his not so direct question, "I guess I will wait at this table?" Again making a statement as a question and pausing for an answer that will never come.
He flops down in a chair and starts reading a letter.
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A scrawny man shuffles his way into the lodge and has a seat by himself. His eyes shift across the room looking for a waitress. "What's it take to get a drink in this place? That bar just for show or you all allergic to gold in here?" He then proceeds to tap his fingers on the wooden table top in annoyance.
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"He just walked in and now is snapping that he hasn't been immediately served," One slightly shorter Nagaji says to another in Nagaji. Asuran nodded, his Taldane not quite up to the task of translating everyone of these Pathfinders at once.
"Honored brother, it is well and good that you have received a field commission in these hallowed halls, but I too itch for adventure and competition like yourself. Any assistance you can exert on your fellow comrades-in-arms in getting myself a field commission would be a great honor upon myself and our tribe." Again, in Nagaji.
A wisp of smoke and fire filters in through the keyhole of the front door once more. It dances through the air, finally finding a spot in the middle of the room and begins to circle, clearing enough room out of the crowded hall for a fiery humanoid shape to form. With a thunderous voice, the shape calls out over the din. "I need some pathfinders for a trip to the far north, but this is not for the faint of heart, nor for the fleet of foot. This will be a long mission, starting in the Land of the Linhorn Kings. If you are willing and steadfast, please follow me." As the reverberations of the creatures voice fades out over the room, it returns to a wispy cloud of smoke and fire and returns from whence it came.
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The long-absent ranger who enters the lodge looks no less dour than he did before. He seems to be adjusting to the mantle of Venture-Captain as well as could be expected.
"All right, the Technic League isn't happy that our agents located a book called A Thread of Silver. It contains details on a bunch of closely guarded sites throughout Numeria. Obviously the Society would like to hang on to it. I need some agents to make sure that we do."
"The book was with our agents in Nantambe, in the Mwangi expanse. You leave on the morrow."
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A shady character slinks into the lodge and sits down at the bar. After a while, he whispers to the Pathfinder next to him.
"Psst! Hey you! You wouldn't know someone with a rather flexible moral compass, would you? I've got quite the job lined up for someone like that...
The shady character assesses the assembled scoundrels.
"Yes... You will do nicely. You will receive your instructions when the time is right."
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A perky young halfling with a thin mustache and goatee bounces into the room. "Allo! Allo!" he cries out in a thick Galtan accent. "I am the one who once made the cheese but now I look to make adventure and excitement!" He goes over to the bar and orders a glass of red wine the size of his head. "Please to call me if you need the sneaky, sneaky stab from behind or the tricky stopping the trap go boom!"
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A dark haired elf enters with a crisp green collared shirt and brown vest. He finds a table quietly and sits down and adds a few finishing touches to a long document, The Sinomakti Expedition to the Pillars of the Sun. He rolls it up, seals it, then searches for a mailbag to deliver articles of submission to the Pathfinder Chronicles. "Promise kept," he whispers to himself.
He then takes a look around the occupants, looking for anyone who may be in need of his services. "Is anyone in need of an archer and scholar? I've just returned from a wonderful Osirian expedition and am happy to fill your ears with stories of the wonders I have experienced."
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The world famous bard greats the young halfling and the enthusiastic elf.
Welcome my good men; I am The Magnificent Paicho of Quain; I'm sure you have heard of me, no?
Well keep your eyes open as you enjoy your large glass of Chelish Red and finish your paperwork. The venture captains send folks in from time to time to look for able bodied adventurers, like yourselves! I'm sure you'll be off cooperating, exploring, and reporting before long.
The tengu does a little twirl.
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An old gnome with striking red hair overhears the conversation. He grabs his back as he heads towards the group conversing. The gnome is clearly exaggerating his pain. "Oh, they'll need adventures, but we've had a recent surge in demand and a lot of the adventurer demand has quite adequately been met by the supply, if you get what I mean. Adventurer economics and all that. I assure you it will come back around."
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"I look forward very much to the adventuring and the fighting with the swords!" says young Guillaume excitedly, spilling some wine as his arms wave about. "Since the crafting of the cheese which is very good has been declared to be not of the revolution in poor Galt, life it has been very hard for the family Petitefromage!"
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Celegon smiles broadly at the offer to hear his stories and he quickly pulls out two of his latest journals, "I've recently run across the most extravagant tea ceremony which was guarded by a giant sand creature as well as an underground temple guarded by giant serpents!" He quickly goes through explaining some of the sketches from his journal hoping that his stories would help him gain even further opportunities to see more wondrous locales.
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Walking in the tavern, with a slight bounce in his steps, arrives a sylph dressed in ornate clothes. Looking about, those closest towards the entrance could hear him sigh a breath of relief just before he touches his shoulder. Clothes changing to more tightly fitting, yet flexible material, the man strides towards the bar. "Well, that wedding was tense! The Blackros family does know how to throw a party though. Barkeep, could I have some Linnorm Mead?"
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"BROTHER! You missed the wedding! I had a great time, and so did my tree. I did not expect the family to be willing to have such a ruckus after my own ceremony. I was pleasantly surprised." Brock wanders in after the bard, dressed in a bizarre mix of hunting gear clearly meant to make him look more proper and noble. It's a bizarre hodge podge to say the least.
"Someone get the bard a drink, he's a hero... bah, I'll do it myself. Bartender, get him something to make his toes curl."
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"Brock! It seems that Misha was quite the hero as well! Why, if it weren't for its help, I wouldn't have enjoyed the morning brunch before we had to leave. That Irssisen liquor mixed with orange juice made the boat trip quite interesting, and the dock hands quite delectable to watch. Although, I can see where the Blackros women get their looks after meeting the matron of the house....." Auriea starts to ramble on as he talks about all the fashions and the proposition to travel to Tian Xia for studies on different dances.
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The friendly little gnome dashes into the Flaxseed again.
"Pathfinders.. honestly, some of them couldn't find they way to the jakes if there was a tap attached to an ale leg in the way."
She looks around, and checks her list. "Anyone seen Mavin Krane, Zootloot, Walt or Dwozer Zaden in here recently? They are needed down at the harbour now!"
She then glances around, checking under everyone's hats.
"A couple of other names I have on my list, but I've never heard of them. Probably some type of non de plume, or other fancy Taldane title. Anyway, you see Ilmakis or kuey round, you send them down too, okay?"
She twiddles her fingers an a large map appears on the notice board, showing them exactly where to go
Then with a bow and "Shelyn bless you all" she vanishes in a puff of smoke. The effect would be pretty impressive if it wasn't followed a moment later with a loud sneeze and low mutterings about cheap dust of vanishing.
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*pop*
"--TWO teams! Hee hee, what fun! Whichever boat gets to Riddleport wins a special treat! Boom's signature grin threatens to pop out of her face.
"FIRST BOAT! Brak Thunderstriker! Hingle McCringle! Werner! Garickl! ! Tirael Morganfrei! Quick as you can to dock slip number forty-three!"
"SECOND BOAT! To report to dock slip number seventeen! Dwozer Zaden! Jarsk! Hadanka! Ribli! ! And finally--"
*pop*
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A deathly pale half-elf, head completely hairless, emerges from the shadows, gliding towards the Tiefling. His black robes are embroidered with spiked chains rendered in silver thread, matching the weapon by his side that jingles softly as he moves as well as the chain around his neck, barbs digging into pale skin.
"Scholars of an ancient empire in a den of iniquity? I do love it so when scholarship overlaps with...pleasure", drawing the last word out as he smiles, revealing teeth filed to sharp points.
"Besides, a trip up north would do me good after so long in Garund. The hot sun is not kind to my skin."
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A travel-weary human walks through the door, the stench of past battles still clinging to his clothes and breastplate. He takes a stool at the bar. He leans his greatsword on the counter, the scabbard scored and scratched a dozen times over.
"Thank the Inheritor I made it," he says aloud. "It was getting quiet in my area, with no great evils to purge, so I followed Her signs here." He motions a prayer with his hands. "May she guide me always, and on to my next quest."
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"Grah! Damnable sabbatical 'as me runnin' errands an' postin' notices an'..." A grumbling, swearing dwarf with a gray streak in his chestnut hair pushes his way through the door. "Attention, you lot! I'm 'ere t'tell yeh tha' there's a new group o' Pathfinders bein' Confirmated soon! If'n that sounds like yeh, g'wan an' meet Kreighton Shaine at the Pig's Paunch! Danged messenger boy, I oughta shove me pistol up Shaine's..."" The grumpy dwarf disappears out the door again, muttering to himself.
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"Graxzos! Will you look at this! Just look at it!" The woman shoves a piece of paper in the dwarf's face. "They want me-ME to take some damn fool test to get into their little adventurers club! The nerve! The sheer cheek of it! I'll talk to Drandle Dreng! I'll talk to Ambrus Valsin! I'd complain to that fool Zey if he hadn't gotten himself killed! It's an outrage!"
*Snicker*
"Wha' th--Thaia! Yeh are on this list! Tha's criminal! This lady's one o'th'sharpest sharpshooters I know! I'm gon' bust tha' elf's chops if I find 'im!" the dwarf growls, looking indignant.
"Also on the list are: Gunter Buxtehude, Francis Keep, Bennybeck, Lunk, an'...this jus' says '' Huh. Weird. Well, regardless, yer all s'posed t'meet Shaine at the Pig's Paunch. He's got th'details of yer Confirmationing."
"An' I hear fer the rest of this lot there might be some good news too..."
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A female Halfling jumps down from her large wolf, ties it up outside and strolls into the lodge, humming a Yuletide tune.
She stops her song, and scans those gathered for seasoned Pathfinders available for a critical mission.
She calls out in a commanding yet melodious voice:
"Greetings one and all! I am seeking a team of seasoned veterans travel to the gladiator city of Tymon at Smine’s Weaponworks,
where they will receive further instructions from the renouned Venture-Captain Holgarin Smineon."
She posts a sign-up roster on the usual wall and gives a wink to Trotter Flaxseed if he is visible.
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A tired warrior clad in muddy black full plate spots the rust-colored wolf’s tail caress the doorframe as his mistress exits the room.
Her fervor restored as she spots the posted message, the female dumps her great-helm to the floor, before charging VC Flaxseed’s Recruitment Board.
Slamming to a halt with the two hands held before her cushioning the Lodge wall’s sudden impact, she eagerly reads Dora’s message, before slumping to her knees in defeat. She pulls a piece of the infamous Sky Key from a belt pouch and holds it aloft in both hands.
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The halfling climbs down from her bar stool at the sight of the woman.
Listen Adele? Or was it Eddy....Eadie right? I seem to remember you from another mission not too long ago.
I am not sure where you found that obviously imitation of a relic, but you cannot take this so hard.
She walks over with a comforting smile.
In the meanwhile, I am sure Venture-Captain Holgarin Smineon would be honored to sell or craft
one of his specialty blades just for a swordswoman
of your skills.
You may have seen them around here in the Lodge.
Those 'Smine' blades were all the rage a few years back.
They are truly marvelously made and timeless piece to add to any collection.
Why, I have even seen a retired paladin walking around with one in here not too long ago.
And who knows, another mission may develop while you wait.
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“Smines? Oh yes, I’ve heard of them.”
Eadie regains her feet with a bovine GRUNT before turning the ‘false’ Sky Key over and over in her hands, eyeing it suspiciously.
Eventually she looks up and smiles at the friendly halfling. “My roomie, a cleric of Calistria earned a dagger of cold-forged iron from the good Venture Captain. A blade she is convinced contains some eldritch power of persuasion.”
“Can you believe she tried to trick me into making her bed for her just by waving that ‘scary’ dagger under my nose?”
The warrior shakes her head. “Uh, uh. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to fool Eadie Navhelan, let me tell you!”
“Indeed, it wasn’t until she told me that making a friend’s bed every morning prevents midnight attacks by boogeymen that I agreed to do it.”
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A female Halfling jumps down from her large wolf, ties it up outside and strolls into the lodge, humming a Yuletide tune.
She stops her song, and scans those gathered for seasoned Pathfinders available for a critical mission.
She calls out in a commanding yet melodious voice:
"Greetings one and all! I am seeking a team of seasoned veterans travel to the gladiator city of Tymon at Smine’s Weaponworks,
where they will receive further instructions from the renouned Venture-Captain Holgarin Smineon."She posts a sign-up roster on the usual wall and gives a wink to Trotter Flaxseed if he is visible.
The Taldan shakes his head as his swirls his wine glass. Dora. How "nice" to see you. Proof once again that Flaxseed will let anyone in here.
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EADIEEEEeeeeeeeeee!!!!" A little purple haired gnome in sun-bright mithril chain shirt launches herself at Eadie from a chair and hugs her tight. "Oh, little sis, it's SOooooo good to see you. I've missed you so much! What have you been up to? I've been SO busy while you've been off... I chased a weird Aspis just called 322 and almost caught her... If it hadn't been for those pesky Aspis kids... we woulda had her.. and I went in the Hao Jin tapestry again, and we saved Aram Zey... though," her voice goes low and slower.. "I heard the Consortium caught up to him after that and killed him... it's SO sad, I liked him a lot.... And I made a deal with a genie and I think I came out ahead... it was easier than I thought it was! I think so anyway. Oh, and I got this shiny new belt! Isn't it pretty? How come you're not talking, Eadie? I've never seen you at a loss for words before, sis." She pauses to take a breath and hug Eadie again, looking like she might start up with more chattering any second...
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"Looks like ya got yerself a gaggle o' admirers there Tigerlily" comments a rather plain-looking woman from her seat as she busies herself with oiling a starmetal forged firearm. "An' Ah told ya that the venture-captain weren't gonna give you back the real thin'. Old man Kreighton's been droolin' 'bout it ever since we got back, and Master Westyr's hadta hide it from him" she adds, rolling her eyes.
