The moose nods drunkenly to the halfling.
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The Ulfen looks puzzled by the fact that a Varisian man could so easily by him aside... at least until he spies his favorite halfling cleric. "Lucky! I thought I would find you here. That's Gunari over there... he also worships your god!"
Thorval looks to see that Gunari has already surrounded himself with a dozen of his newest friends. He then walks over to Lucky and asks. "Where so you want me to put the keg?" he asks, indicating the beer barrel carried on his shoulder, the stamp of Cayden's tankard on the top.
When Lucky indicates where, he sets it down, pulls over a pair of stools, and bellows out, "So who wants to arm wrestle?"
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"So, there I was, minding my own business. " describes the. Szcarni priest, "When a magistrate comes over and asks me about the new helmet I was wearing. Says it belongs to some lordling or something. I tell him, 'Honestly Officer, I don't know what you are taking about. I swear that it fell of the back of a cart! I tried to return it, but the cart was moving too fast!"
He downs his ale, and quickly orders a round for the bar. "So, did I ever tell you about the time I jumped down into the hood of a slaver's ship and had to fight a trollhound from my back?"
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"So, there I was, minding my own business. " describes the. Szcarni priest, "When a magistrate comes over and asks me about the. New helmet I was wearing. Says it belongs to some lordlong or something. I tell him, 'Honestly Officer, I don't know what you are taking about. I swear that it fell of the back of a cart! I tried to return it, but the cart was moving too fast!"
"" Pietro slaps Gunari on the back hard enough to dislodge food from his trachea. "And here I thought this place was a DIVE!"
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Thorval grins as he says, "You look a little scrawny, there, but as Kurgess says, never turn down a challenge. " He slams his elbow onto the top of the keg, holding his hand out for the elven woman.
"Well I noticed you had your grapple defenses lowered." Rilia says taking a seat across from Thorval. "Best two out of three falls?"
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"Well I noticed you had your grapple defenses lowered." Rilia says taking a seat across from Thorval. "Best two out of three falls?"
Looking at the rather frail looking elf, Thorval wonders if she is out of her mind. He takes her hand into his massive grip. 'Her arms are so tiny, how can she ever expect to win?'
"Lucky! Count to three for us!" He looks very seriously at the elven woman, "We go on three. That's the number that comes after two."
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Thorval' confused look clears, as he winks at the elf. He holds their arms straight up, and while doing so, asks, "Wanna pour me one, there, Lucky? I have an arm free, you know. "
He turns back to the elf with no signs of strain on his voice or face, "Keep trying. You are showing a good effort. Kurgess appreciates a good effort. Did I ever tell you that I was taught fey soellcasting by a tiny squirrel girl?"
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A tall somber looking half-elf enters the place and observes the activities.
"By the Keeper of the First Vault! This is a Pathfinder Lodge...not some seedy bar to sloshing drinks and catering to any unprincipled sod from the street. Please people respect the dignity of this place! ."
He proceeds upstairs to the rooms reserved for venture-captains.
The moose staggers past, and into the wrong privy, draped in the tavern's Crystalhue lights.
**
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The Taldane man appears out of nowhere, despite having been knocked out by another agent moments earlier.
"Well, it seems that my time here is coming to a close. However, I would like to point you to this wonderful parchment marked by the sign of the man with the shark."
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A tall, feathered being walks into the lodge with an unnerving doll of a human child held in its arms, her small body is decorated in a frilly dress, and her face is partially covered by a wide-brimmed, fancifully adorned hat. The creature's face is hidden behind a mask which covers its head entirely, the helm appearing to be clean white marble fashioned in the image of an Ox Skull. Its empty eye sockets scan across the bars inhabitants, robes covering the rest of its body as it steps heavily into across the floor, cradling its toy with care.
On closer inspection, it appears not to be a doll at all, but rather a halfling girl standing perfectly still in the creature's arms.
"Greetings. A water, please."
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The door opens, and a figure in a charcoal black eastern outfit steps in.
It carries a small bag its chest, where a pet animal seems to stick its head from, before hiding out of anxiety of the crowd.
The figure's eyes narrow, scanning the patrons present, until its gaze stops at the curiosity with the doll.
.....
<......>
.....
A soft female voice enters your mind.
You are a peculiar one, aren't you. A clever disguise, and your companion is quite something too, i had not yet seen its kind beyond pictures.
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A shiver goes down Lord Braggett's spine as the masked being enters the lodge. But being the brave and curious soul that he is, the young knight approaches the feathery figure and asks "Is... Is that creepy doll haunted, Sir? I ask, not for myself you understand, I am not the least scared by your little toy!" Even as he says this, he takes a few steps back after glancing at the doll "B... But I must ask for the peace of mind of our fellow agents... If it is cursed, or possessed by some demon, shouldn't you deposit it in the dark archives before coming her for a drink?" The tall dark figure doesn't seem to unnerve him half so much as the toy girl with the frilly dress
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The Psychopomp looks down at the gnome, its expression hidden behind the skull. "My master is not haunted. She is gifted."
As if in demonstration, it lowers a clawed hand and carefully takes her small fingers in his own, pointing them at the glass of water he ordered. As if by magic, the glass slowly floats over into his hand.
"You see? She's very helpful." He points her hand again, this time directing it at Fizzlebotham.
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"Aagh!" The gnome yelps and stumbles backwards, eyes wide "I... I... I just realised that I lost my Kibble, I mean, I wolfed my lost!" He looks around frantically "Kibble! Kibble, where are you boy? I.. I should look for him. He gets so scared all on his own..." His voice grows ever more high pitched with every word. He spares one last glance at the doll before making a speedy exit "Good day, Sir!" He yells as he hastily runs towards the door, right past a confused looking wolf.
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It seems the valiant Bardess returns to the lodge, quite proud of her successes in her latest adventure. The now Purple clad woman with bangles and various other bits and bobs, bounces towards the counter. "I'd Like to get everyone here a round on me!"
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It has taken this long for the otherwise exuberant tengu in the corner to work up the courage to sing his song.
Well, not sing exactly. It sounds more like he is rapping on a door or table. He dances along kind of awkwardly, though acrobatically as he raps out his song.
”Yo, Venture Captain, let’s kick it!
Slice, slice, maybe, slice, slice, maybe
Alright explore, cooperate and report
Kahwen’s back with my brand new retort
Lemure grabbed a hold of me tightly
Fell with the chandelier, landed not lightly
Was it ever stopped? Yo, you know.
Extinguish the torches, my Wayfinder’ll glow
To the extreme fought a museum full of vandals
Fought downstairs and whacked a banner with a handle
Fight, orc’s wardrums went boom
Numbing our brains like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly, even without melody
Anything less than the best was a felony
Love it leave it, caravan made way
We hit the bull’s eye Pathfinders don’t play
If there is a problem, yo, we solve it
Check out the brief, how my party resolved it.
Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen, Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen,
Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen, Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen,
I’m the member of the party who’s jumping
When the battle begins, my legs are pumping
Quick to take point, to take point, no fakin’
Cutting enemies like a pound of bacon
Flanking them, they ain’t quick and nimble
I go crazy if I see a symbol
I don’t wear a hat fight at a souped up tempo
I’m on a roll but I don’t go solo
Rollin’ with Malvic my bro
With my cloak’s hood down so my feathers can blow
The girlies on standby, waving just to say, “Hi!”
Did you stop? No, I just strode by
Kept on pursuing to the next stop
I busted a left and I’m heading to the next roc
That roc was dead, Yo
So I continued to A1A Flaxseed Avenue!
Girls were hot wearing chainmail bikinis
Oread lovers whose grandpas were genies
Jealous ‘cause I’m out getting paid
Redalia with Blarg and Kahwen with a blade
Ready for the chumps on the wall
The chumps acting ill because they’re so full of Bless All
Incantations rang out like a bell
I grabbed my sword, all I heard was spells
Falling on the cobblestones real fast
Jumped off a building, glided to the pass
Carriage to wagon, the avenue’s packed
I’m trying to get away before the werejackals jack
Town Watch on the scene, you know what I mean
They passed me up, confronted all the Pit Fiends.
If there is a problem, yo, we solve it
Check out the brief, how my party resolved it.
Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen, Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen,
Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen, Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen,
Take heed, ‘cause I’m a martial poet
Absalom’s on the scene just in case you didn’t know it
My town that Pathfinder’s are based around
Enough to shake and kick holes in the ground.
‘Cause my sword’s like a manticore’s quill
Fierce blade made out of heat and steel
Sharpened and forged it’s a hell of a concept
I maybe hyper but you want to step with it
When I stealth I fade, slice like a ninja,
Cut like a razor blade so fast, other agents say, “Damn.”
If my cuts were a drug, I’d sell them by the gram
Keep my composure when it’s time to get loose
Magnetized by my sword when I kick my juice
If there is a problem, yo, we solve it
Check out the brief, how my party resolved it.
Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen, Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen,
Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen, Slice, slice maybe, Kahwen,
Yo, man, let’s get out of here! Word to your Captain!
Slice, slice maybe, Too bold, Slice, slice maybe, Too bold, Too bold
Slice, slice maybe, Too bold, Slice, slice maybe, Too bold, Too bold”
A little dinosaur sneaks up on Kahwen and jumps on him playfully.
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"Oof!Kahwen says as he is knocked to the floor.
Far from upset he seems thrilled as he sees the culprit. He scratches the little dino under the chin.
"Friend Blarg! I was just talking...singing about you," he says as he nimbly gets to his feet.
"Want something to eat or drink?" he says, resting a friendly hand on Blarg and heading for the bar.
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The elf looks up from his research tomes with an exasperated sigh when Kahwen starts his display.
"Oh, this will not do at all." he mutters getting ready to interject but as he draws close he hears his name and freezes.
Oh Nethys! How did I get dragged into this.
After he finishes and the embarrassment is washed out by the surprise of the dinosaur he walks over to group.
"This is not a skill I knew you had, friend Kahwen!" he says with a furrowed brow but it doesn't last long as the Tengus sincerity is hard to stay slighted by. Plus his interest was piqued by the odd creature causing a larger stir than the Tengu.
The little dino makes sounds that are a bit like a purr as Kahwen scratches under his chin. He then happily follows, looking forward to a treat.
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"Oh, Friend Malvic! You heard my song. I hope you do not mind," a clearly abashed Kahwen says.
"It is not much of a skill, I fear. I won't be quitting my day job and becoming a bard."
"And look, here is Friend Blarg! I'm sure Friend Redelia is around here, too. It's like we're on that comet all over again! Only no one is trying to kill us...probably."
He eyes the strange masked figure and its doll warily.
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With all eyes on the doll and its creature, the girl in its arms suddenly springs to life, jumping down from the Psychopomp's hands and onto the hardwood floor. With a giggle she speaks.
"That's enough Rögna. I think we're scaring our new friends, we don't have to play pretend anymore. Go on, introduce us and I'll get some tea started!
With a nod, the masked being begins shaking the hands and introducing himself to some of the Pathfinders in the lodge. ""I am called Rögna. This is my master, Izabelle."
It's clear that despite the beast's good intentions, he lacks proper social skills. While he shakes the hand of their new allies, Izabelle begins preparing tea.
"I'm really sorry we scared Mr. Fuzzybottom, I hope that we can still be friends!" As she finishes the tea she offers it to whomever seems ready to take it.
"See?"
"Would you care to tell me of your adventures?"
