Cyna takes a few coins from her pocket and hands it to the attendant. "Here for your temple. Thank you."
The attendant bows gratefully, taking the gold coins.
Skaar manages to gather the will to ask one question before excusing himself from the uncomfortable surroundings.
"How many like 'dem come in here everyday? Where are their parents?"
"Even more so, have a lot of children gone missing recently?" Aurelea asks, her mind clearly processing something.
I hope not. Drago thought to himself.
The attendant casts his eyes to the ground. "We are lucky if we see even one person from beyond the wall anymore. The first few days we had many escaping from the Eyes of Shiva. Now, we are fortunate to receive news from the outside. If you found these girls in the city, their parents are likely dead. Thankfully, we are safer here in the foreign quarter, though fighting from the harbor sometimes spills over. I haven't heard anything about people going missing from the quarter. Though strange rumors have been circulating."
"What rumors?"
"Thanks."
Skaar grunted at he looked to the exit.
"Let's go."
Once outside.
"Drago, you seem to haf a way wit' people. 'tink you can find the Forgotten Star for us?"
"That Kabir has allied with some pirates from the west. There must be some truth to that if Captain Arjis is desperately trying to secure the harbor," the attendant says, his voice riddled with anxiety. "The Eyes have significant numbers as is. If he were to gain reinforcements..."
Walking past the attendant on his way out the temple, Harakhty caught ear of this "rumor." It sounded true to him, but there was a reason this Arjis had not captured the harbor yet. Relying on pirates as soldiers may have an unknown effect on the combat though - not familiar with either role, the variable created further entropy in the situation for him.
"The market district, hmm?" Not knowing where exactly it was, the Vanara assumed it was the place with the most traffic - that was the sign of the same district in his new home, after all. "It's probably one of the busier areas." This would mean dealing with lots of people though. Harakhty hated big crowds. The sooner they were done with this, the better.
The Doctor murmurs to himself.
Cyna watches as the children are taken away she silently preys for the future of the surviving girl. She's distracted by thoughts of the things she has seen since arriving here but she manages to pry her attention back to the attendant and his subtle request.
"With conflict on the open sea leaving this land won't be easy, but one thing at a time we need to find these clerics." she spares a glance to the Dr. before excusing herself and allowing Drago and Harakthy to ask their questions.
As you depart from the temple , you emerge back onto the streets. Following the guards directions, you come to a small wooden structure sitting on the corner of a street. You notice a weather-beaten sign swaying slightly in the breeze. Upon it is some strange writing (भूल गया सितारा) and a faded star. A few scruffy folk emerge from the simple door of the structure.
"Anyone know how to read whatever the hell that is?" Aurelea mutters.
Harakhty shook his head. "Their tongue is foreign to me. But I know a star when I see one." The mention of the shape reminded him of Maviv and his tribe; for a moment, the simian felt a pang of sadness. He pressed into the establishment.
Taking stock of his surroundings, Harakhty paid particular note to the more intoxicated denizens. They'll be the easiest to talk up. He stood tall, not his general posture and did his best to keep his tail's gait to a minimum as he slowly walked inward, taking in the smells, sights, and sounds.
"Stay close. 'Dis place is supposed to be safer but there's no tellin' who in here is working for da Eyes."
Skaar took one more look around the street before pushing the door open and motioning for the group to follow.
Walking into the tavern, you see about five patrons, the barkeep and a barmaid. Much like the exterior of the building, the inhabitants also look worn by time. The smell of stale ale permeates in the room along with the pungent smoke emerging from a vase-like apparatus that two of the patrons seem to be inhaling from. The barkeep raises his head to appraise all of you.
With a grunt, he gestures to the room. The barmaid, a friendly old woman, smiles to you as she wipes off a table. Two of the other patrons sit at the bar, silent as they nurse their drinks. The last patron sits in a darkened corner, his eyes sharp and glinting as he looks over the group.
Skaar takes a seat at one of the largest empty table he can find and motions for the barmaid to come over. He looks over his party, visibly counting their number, and then holds up his hands showing how many drinks to bring.
"Drago, think you can find out if the one in the corner knows anything?"
The barmaid brings six drinks, the bitter scent taking over the table.
Savage sniffs the drink. "This is practically water! Do you have anything stronger, woman? I'm a Dr. godsdammit!"
Skaar chuckled at the doctor's outburst and eagerly drank the contents of his mug down.
"Cheap swill is better than no swill at all, doc."
The big Orc flashed the middle-aged barmaid a tusked grin as he handed over a handful of coins.
The barmaid pockets the coins Skaar hands her, goes off and returns with a black bottle and places it in front of Stephen. "A man came a day ago, described you and told me to give you this."
"He must have said 'Handsome doctor,' I am hoping. Did he tell you his name, madam barkeep?" Savage inspects the bottle.
"No, he didn't give his name. Had a wild look about him," she replies as Stephen appraises the bottle. It's heavy, but doesn't sound like there is liquid within.
Cyna quietly stares at her drink debating on whether or not to indulge for a few brief moments before downing the thing in one go.
She was never one for drinking but today had been one of those days. Despite the taste and her now burning throat Cyna places several coins on the table, a silent request for more alcohol. She glances around the establishment and quickly checks the other patrons making sure none of them were eyeing her group or reaching for weapons, you could never tell in these kind of places who you could trust and who would rob you blind.
Cyna sees no one doing anything other than indulging in their private vices. The barmaid acquiesces to the tiefling's silent demand and brings her another drink.
Skaar leaned in when the barmaid returned with another round. The big Orc spoke in a husky growl and produced a platinum piece in his hand.
"Tell me, who in 'dis place would know what goes on in 'dis quarter?"
"That crazy bastard that almost killed us is sending a message, he knows where we'll be heading and he can get where we need to be before we can."
Aurelea downs her drink in one shot and puts dowen a few coins for the follow up. Her eyes flash with anger and frustration.
"I hate feeling like a piece in a game that somebody else is making the rules for."
Harakhty sipped his own beverage, not too pleased with the lack of possibilities in the room. Not a good watering hole? Or just no herd to lap it up?.. Perhaps things were so bad in this place people couldn't even afford the basic pleasures.
None of the natives seemed approachable, so the Vanara struck up a conversation with his own party. "What do you think Rando means to do with himself after this is finished?" Harakhty was concerned about their captain's well-being given the recent events. His perseverance was commendable. "I think he'll try to find his brother again." As far as he knew, that was all Saltspray had left other than his crew, diminished as it was.
Taking the platinum piece with a wide smile on her face, the barmaid makes a silent nod towards the corner where the man watching you sits. "Old Jahawra should be able to tell you much. He's here everyday."
Cyna looks toward Aurelea the corner of her lips lifting slightly. As someone who actively warships a deity Cyna found it almost humorous to refer to her life as a pawn in someone elses game. That humor was quickly squashed by the thought of "that" man and so Cyna takes another drink letting this one last a little while longer no use getting drunk when there was work to be done.
Responding to Harakthy's question Cyna replies "I don't think he has decided just yet, he's still dealing with this latest tragedy .... I only hope he copes better than last time."
Palming a silver piece from his satchel, Harakhty took his drink and stood up. Here daily? There must be something good for him here. Perhaps a nexus of stories, or perhaps a meeting place for those he told the tales, Harakhty couldn't say - yet.
Approaching the solitary man's area, the Vanara held his voice until he was rather close. "Old Jahawra, word has it?" Pending the man's failure to repel the newcomer, Harakhty took a seat next to him, sliding the silver piece midway between them towards the edge of the table towards in room's interior.
"I hear you're a collector of stories; so am I, though my collection is likely smaller than yours." Holding the man's gaze - something Harakhty was now accustomed to from his tribe, but acclimated to due his line of work - he continued. "My name is Harakhty, and my companions at the table over there," he gestured with a slight jerk of his head "Are clearly not from this land. Perhaps there are some stories we could both add to our collections with our varied histories." He took a long sip of his drink. "There is a tale I know about some missing priests, hunted in their own land. Do you know of it?"
Drago just sits there nursing his drinks in silence. Mulling over the recent events, he thinks to himself, I need something more substantial than this. He downs his current drink in one go.
Old Jahawra's gaze drifts from the group to the vanara. "Keep your coin, Harakhty. I don't sell my stories."
He lifts a gnarled hand and drags it through his tangled beard. "I do answer questions, however. My gain is watching others profit from my knowledge. Do you understand that? Perhaps not. When you have spent half of your life swinging a blade under the hot sun for life, for money or for pleasure; there's a sweetness to watching others take up your causes."
He takes a drink from the mug near him. "If you are looking for the priests of Amanurata, you will need to go to the palace. Kabir is using them as a bargaining tool for this newcomer pirate. Apparently, slaves are still worth much in this day and age."
Skaar sipped his next drink rather slowly after the Vanara left to chat with a potential source of information. The big Orc wrapped one tree-trunk sized arm around the back of his chair and leaned back, watching for anyone appearing overly interested in the party's presence.
Relieved to hear something useful, Harakhty continued his words. "I would not insult you by thinking your stories could be bought with a silver; I meant to buy you a drink." Though his tone may have been apologetic, his face was not. "What might your causes be? We could be on the same branch."
The slave story did not add up to Harakhty. "Surely priests do not make for the best slaves; they are stronger of mind than they are of body. Maybe this Kabir has some other reason to get rid of them?"
Harakhty was sure the palace was not hard to miss, but he was, being an outsider, unfamiliar with it. Not wanting to appear completely green, however, he kept his mouth closer in that regard for now. Deciding to change paths a little bit, he went for a more personal touch. "Do you miss your days as a swordsman?"
"My causes? Hm, I suppose my causes would be those of life and liberty. Of course, being of the caste I am, those are far off dreams. Yet, Kabir's presence changes that. Now, we deal with a tyranny of a different sort. But that is life, is it not? To bear the burdens placed on you by your "betters"," Jahawra says. "As for your offer, a coin is a coin and a drink is a drink. Bring me what you intend to, so I don't suffer from confusion. I get addle-brained in my old age."
The old man raises his mug to the barmaid who refills it promptly. "Kabir cannot kill the priests. He will make martyrs of them if he does so. The temples take no action because Amanurata's religion isn't well-liked in Deshur. Vishkanya aren't well-liked either. But if he went and killed the priests, then that would give the temples enough cause to go after him. Stupid politics, I say.
Slaves are slaves. If you break one, you can retrain it to do what you wish. Apparently, this pirate has need of them. Perhaps for manual labor, perhaps for something else. That I do not know. He must be a servant of someone else because his tongue was loose but his meaningful words few.
As for your last question, no. I don't miss it. Carrying my sword was a necessity, not a pleasure. Anyone who carries a sword out of sense of duty misses the wisdom of the sword."
Old Jahawra drifts off for a moment, lost in thought. "Anything else, Harakhty?"
Aurelea took another sip of her second drink as she took in the bar. Seeing Skaar looking around she addressed the massive warrior.
"So..done worrying about if I can handle myself in a fight?"
Skaar stopped his vigil long enough to answer Aurelea with a bass chuckle.
"Yah, you handle yerself just fine - you fight like a f@#+ing wildcat", he explained. "Haven't seen a woman wield a sword like that in a long time... You sure you don't have any Orc in you?"
The hulking greenskin paused to take another draw from his mug.
"Cuz we could fix that tonight."
Discussing Aurelea's fighting style snapped Drago from his revelry. "Speaking of the way you fight, I have never seen someone fight with sword and spell before. Where did you learn that?" The Damphir took another swig of 'ale'.
Harakhty understood his need for transparency. "As we follow the same branch of the tree, what I intend to bring you is freedom - for the priests and for you. We were tasked to this place as aliens, but after seeing the state some of your children are left in ... I would find it difficult to leave this place under such influence, even without a mission." The wickedness apparent in the nation was startling. He stood. "Thank you for your guidance. We will head to the palace. If there is anything else you can tell us which could help, please - let us know." Harakhty left the coin on the table for the elder and returned to the party's table, taking his seat once more.
Taking a sip from his drink, he needed a minute to process the information. The palace is surely guarded well, and this martyr angle is interesting... It seemed his temporary silence was for the best anyway; Drago and Skaar were looking at Aurelea, and Harakhty did not mean to disrupt whatever they'd been discussing.
Aurelea added a chuckle of her own, shaking her head in mirth.
"Are you kidding me? I'd have to be crazy to let that thing near me. I like my pelvis attached to my spine big boy." she laughs with a meaningful glance down.
"Besides, I prefer women." she says with a grin.
And I was gone for but a minute...
At least they were enjoying themselves. That was a tall order in this bleak state.
"Besides, I prefer women." she says with a grin.
Skaar looked from Aurelea to Cyna back to Aurelea and then raised a bushy eyebrow.
"Well that's somethin' else we have in common", the big Orc shot back with a playful growl. "Let me know if ya change yer mind. I'm sure the three of us can work somethin' out."
Skaar turned his head to catch a glance of Harakhty.
"I wonder if the 'Lil 'Nara learned anything useful?"
Stephen opens the bottle and sniffs deeply.