|
"Well played Doc," Sasha slurs as she hefts up her new mug that she accepts from the barmaid. Sasha's lithe physiology is obviously not well-suited to the consumption of any amount of alcohol, but that doesn't seem to stop her.
Suddenly the inebriated half-elf clambers atop a table, and bursts out into song, the drink sloshing over the rim of her mug as she waves it about.
"The Black Lady smiles as we scour the isles,
Hoist the jolly roger high,
We will never die,
We'll carve our names on the sea,
fickle and ever-changing she be,
With sabers in our hands and a ship's deck 'neath our feet,
A pirate's life is right up our street,
For plunder and glory, we fight with glee,
to earn a place 'mong the legends of the sea!"
"Why would that man want his enemies on a roasting pit? He has mentioned it before. Is it some barbaric desecration practice?" Nissa queries confusedly.
Sunny coughs at Nissa's question and does her best not to make eye contact with Mr Grungy Person,
"Um....I be thinkin' his kin be more in't 'Greet an' eat' type o' folks..." She mumbles in reply. (¬_¬)
Though she is quick to join in the other Elf lass' jaunty tune, tapping her feet, clapping her hands and bouncing along in time as best she can. (^_^)
Her worldview expanding slightly, Nissa's lips curl with disgust. "Unclean! Accursed! His future journeys on the Great Wheel will not be kind. There are 10,000 hells, and, it is said that the Sons of Ravana enjoy such feasts."
Nissa had never before put much stock in the ritual purity of her people, she had wanted to consort with peasants and adventurers after all. Perhaps the priests knew more than I gave them credit.
Sunny bounces, obviously startled by Nissa's loudness. She pushes the pair of them a little further away from Mr Grungy person,
"Here! No need ta' go pokin' i'm!" She warns Nissa, "An' callin' on'a Gods wi' all sorts be not tha' nicest way o' doin' business in'a place ye've only jus' come across." Sunny furtively glances about to see who and how the various people around them are reacting.
"It were why I wus hopin' tha' drinkin' game would be gettin ta' goin'. A chance fer things ta' take said feller off ta' snugly byes fer a time." She shrugs and smiles,
"Still, things roll where they will. All we's gots ta' do is tumble along with 'em, hey?" (^_^)
"Here? Whut ye talkin' about wheels fer? You gots a wagon or somat about?"
Nissa gives Sunny a sideways look unsure if the elven woman was teasing her. "Do your people not know of the Great Wheel? It is the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Our actions throughout our lives accumulate. Each new life is burdened or blessed by the actions we have taken before in previous lives. If one keeps their dharma, one suffers less in the afterlife and will be reborn to a better station. If one practices adharma, then one receives greater punishments and is reborn into worse and worse stations. In this way, over the course of thousands of lives a peasant could rise and be reincarnated as a god, or a maharajah could fall and be born a bug or worse."
The Vudrani woman stops and waves a hand in a dismissive fashion. "Or at least that is what the priests teach, and they say so many things."
Sunny does listen intently...though her feet absently tapping along to the music gives an indication as to the Elven lass' general state of mind. After a short while of contemplation, and further sips of her rum, Sunny tilts her head.
"So....your peoples is born. An' tha' way they live they's life be all recorded by....um... all'a tha' Gods. But...peoples, they can be bad...or they can be good when they lives. Then they come ta' theys time an' pass on. 'Cept they dun't pass on...They come back....and if'n they did gooder....or theys did badder they's given more blessin's or more cursin's...." Sunny works her way through the words and the ideas behind them slowly, sipping again at her tankard of rum.
"So...where does people start from, then? Whut you be sayin'...they seem ta' all-a-ways have been. No...um...spirit whut's bin breathed in't them by tha' Goddess or nuffin'. Then, when they's endin'....they only go to tha' Goddess when they's bin rilly, rilly, rilly good." Sunny blinks " 'Cept, they's bin so good ta' go to tha' Goddess...they become like as tha' Goddess....." Sunny frowns.
'Here...that dun't seem right. If'n every one were all-a-ways gooder.......Then all ye'd have'd be lots o' Gods an' Goddess about an' no peoples abouts any where...." Sunny frowns, knowing she's missed something about Nissa's faith. Even as her feet tap away to the music, her finger taps her lips in thought.
"My Kin...we's perhaps do be thinkin' somat different about tha' way o' such things....." Sunny says eventually, though she's still trying to work through Nissa's faith.
Nissa purses her kips thoughtfully. "I have made no great study of these things. It is not my dharma. But, I believe that the priests teach that the gods and goddesses are bound to the Great Wheel just as we are. There lives are longer and their deeds more glorious but they too live, die, and are reborn. It is not the gods who create the Great Wheel, but the Great Wheel that creates the gods. It is the way of things."
She smiles at Sunny's talk many gods and goddesses. "My people worship a thousand thousand gods, but even that number shows that it is easier to fall than it is to rise. Duty and perfection are more difficult than wickedness. But I try not to worry about such things. I honor Suyuddha as befits my station and pray that one day even Lihka will tell of my exploits."
Nissa taps her temple and the hilt of her sword. "These are my dharma. Let the merchants sell. Let the priests teach. Let the peasants labor. I dance the dance of blades."
Again Nissa appears to be both wistful and uncomfortable. "I try not to think of such things too deeply."
Sunny smiles and gives Nissa a hug, "Aye. I kind'a know how ye feel. Me kin? They dun't often has tha' time fer big blades. Spears an' nets an' stuffs be all'a ways more pra-tick-all..... But m'self? I all'a ways done felt drawn ta' tha' that blade. Has been in'a clan fer absolutely ages." Sunny pauses in thought, even as her eyes drift to the long, slender, curved weapon firmly secured to her pack.
"Though, truth be told. It were maybe jus' somat a relative rilly, rilly liked once upon some time ago an' brought home ta' tha' lodge, ye ken?" She grins.
"Still, I be right happy ta' be able ta' wing it. It jus' feels right, y'know?" Sunny suddenly bounces again, turning to face Nissa and smiling brightly.
"Here! Come tha' morrow? We's got's ta' show each other how we's do it, hey?" Sunny asks enthusiastically, eagerness to see something new things and learn writ plain upon her features. (^_^)
The Vudrani swordswoman smiles widely. "I would love to show you my skills. We should know what the other is capable of before we loot any ruins together."
Having grown bored of his drink, now that they all taste like water, Bramzit worms his way over to where the two Magi are exchanging tales. ”If ye’d like, I can observe and judge while you two test who can handle a sword better?” he says with a sincere smile. ”I’m not deft at their use myself, but I have keen eyes and can see when one has struck true.”
|
Malak enjoys the toast and respect shared by the big man. He knocks down another ale. Hmmm...how many was that?..... Ale....rum.....ah hell with it.. Malak is feeling relaxed and loose, a little slow too. He's drank enough you put a grown man in a ditch. "Say, docco. Man yous age ought to have sum sea stories? Ammiright? Or maybe the small loud fella? Or his fiery missy?"
Nissa favors Brazmit with a petite smile. "If Sunny is agreeable."
Sunny nods and smiles at Bamzit's comments.
"Oh, I dun't mean like any challenge or nuffin'. Jus', y'know, go through the motions o' fightin'." She thanks and clarifies to her companions.
Nissa laughs. "Of course, the motions only! I did not bring a training weapon, and have no desire to actually hurt Sunny."
Sunny nods, hugging Nissa, though she smiles to Brazmit.
"So, whut sort o' thing does ye self swing about?" She asks the Halfling fellow. (^_^)
A small gnome scrambles inside the tavern looking for a table with an open seat. "Boy I hope they don't notice that their favorite brothel is using new sailcloth dresses. They might figure out what I did."
After looking around David wanders up to the rowdiest table he can find and says,"Hi! Sticking his hand out and smiling ear to ear.
Bramzit shrugs over Suny's question, revelaing two empty hands. "I don't swing anything really. I have a knife, but I use it mostly for eating with. I use my crossbow or my lightning to fight for me. You sword swinger types can deal with most of the up close and personal fighting, I prefer to stop my foes before they ever get to me. Safer for my health."
Bramzit then turns to the newly arrived Gnome. "I believe she meant me Master Gnome. While I dress to impress, and that makes most people think I am one of your esteemed race, I assure you, I'm am one of the fabulous Brightonspinner clan of Halflings making their names across Golarion." he says with a flourish.
Sunny nods at Brazmit's words,
"Ah...so you be like a...um...ranged person, then." She asks slowly...then blinks and looks at her tankard even as she takes a slightly tighter grip upon Nissa to help steady herself,
"Here...this be some good rum..." She mutters to herself, though out loud and sounding a little muzzy.
David Nods "Sorry about that then. Pleasure to meet you my names David. I'm good at stabbing things, fixing things and breaking things!"
Bramzit smiles as he twists the empty vial in his hand. "Yep, a ranged person. Comes with being a Halfling." Tossing the vial up in the air toward the empty corner, he flicks his wrist, unleashing a bolt of lighting that shatters the vial into fine shards. Then, using some prestidigitation, removes the shards from existence so there is no risk to others.
At the flash of light an clap of sound Sunny 'Eeeks' and bounces into Nissa's arms as she's startled in surprise.
"Oooops..." She says as she looks at the mess her tankard of now splashed and spilled rum has made to both women's clothes....
"Sorry abouts....that..." She says, slowly beginning to step away Then she looks at her tankard,
"Awe...tha' rum be gone..." She says sadly as she realizes she's spilled all of her drink.
David wiggles his fingers and both Nessa and Sunny's clothes are cleaned instantly. "No worries problem half solved! Now we need more Rum!"
Sunny bounces with glee, joy and enthusiasm. Punching a fist into the air.
"More RUM!" As she hugs Nissa fiercely. (^_^)
Just by looking at the Formidably Maid, Bucket knew instantly what kind of place it would be. Not the kind of place you go into without a good group of friends. But he was short on friends lately. Splitting the jaw of popular First Mate Mr. Swintle with a well placed hay-maker cost him his job and most likely his reputation. "I don't even know why I did it." Bucket though to himself while reviewing the steps in this part of his life that lead him to this rock bottom place. "He just kept laughing at me when the gib knocked me to the deck. He wouldn't stop." Just thinking about it made him angry again. But Bucket had enough of that. His rage cost him a job and now he can't seem to find a berth on any ship. He was a marked man and he knew it.
If he could just control his rage. Some salty dog he once cared about suggested that he throw his coins and prayers to Besmara. That maybe she could help him focus his rage. Although a skeptic and atheist maybe it was something to look into. He didn't like relying on anyone but himself, however, it was time to do something. He heard there was a cleric of Besmara taking rum at this rot-gut of a tavern tonight. Maybe he would go in and seek knowledge, or maybe he would just do what he normally does and fight for some coin. Besmara knows he could damn well use some. Rum ain't free.
Bucket took in a deep breath, gritted his teeth and pushed on through the door of the Formidably Maid. The place was crowded. Bucket noted the patrons. Mostly human, a few elves, a half elf or two, even a dwarf. "A half orc? I would hate to bunk under that son of an oaf on a ship. Maybe I can fight him tonight and make a few coins" Bucket though to himself. "Or loose a few coins I don't even have." He thought better of it. "What the hell is a Kuru doing here? Or maybe I should stay away from the special tonight. It's probably not chicken." he thought. "Damn Cannibals. It's a wonder they haven't eaten themselves out of existence yet."
Bucket walked up to the bar. It's as good a place to start as any in his search for a cleric. He had just enough coin for a dram of rum. Maybe Besmara herself will saunter up beside me and give a kiss to stop all rages. He wondered if that last thought bordered on blasphemy.
Sunny notes the new comer to the tavern. With Nissa in tow, she skips over to the bar. There she plonks her tankard on the board tops.
"M' friend an' me will have s'more rum, if'n ye please!" She declares loudly and with a grin, though some what breezily to the Bar-keep, before she twists and leans (Possibly with a little more of a slump) against the counter top and looks at this latest arrival.
"Hey-YA there." (^_^) She smiles, "M' name be 'Sunny' in'a speakin' of tha' peoples an' this be Nissa. How finds th'a day fer ye selfs?" She asks.
|
|
Malak leans back and keeps an eye on the comings and goings around him. He distrusts the gnome immediately, they always were can tricky lot to be around. Then he watches a fresh face glance at him on the way to the bar. "That one looks gruff, but fresh altogether. Probably never had a true whipping and things he's the top sea-dog. Malak reaches around and pulls his great falchion out of the floorboard, leaving the boarding pike embedded and upright. He lays the blade across his lap and reaches into his bag pulling out a smooth round stone. He begins sliding the stone along the edge of the falchion to hone it's sharpness. This process has always aided Malak in focusing and calming his inner self. He breathes deep and slowly, listening intently to any stories the others around him might have.
"Are there more games Others play? This one has wrestled arms, and heard of Under the Table drinking. Is there more?"
"Come on Storm! Take him up on the challenge of th'a drinkin'!" Sunny calls to her Dwarven friend, hoisting her fresh tankard of rum as she does so for emphasis. (^_~)
A newcomer walks into the tavern, a cloak pulled tight around his body. The parts of him that you can see, though, are certainly likely to draw attention. His body isn't visible beneath his cloak, and he wears a dark brown, wide-brimmed hat pulled down over his brown eyes. Every visible part of his body, though minimal, is covered in a fine layer of red-brown fur and The end of a tail protrudes from beneath the hem of his cloak, twitching back and forth slowly. His feet are bare, revealing long, well-articulated digits more akin to hands than they are to feet. His face has a decidedly simian quality to it.
His immediate demeanor is mixed, his body language seeming to indicate hesitance and unsurety, while the way his head moves here and there, the way his eyes dart to and fro, seem to be indicative of a deep curiosity. He returns the nod of the Mwangi bartender, then finds a free corner close to some talking patrons
Unlike most newcomers to the Formidably Maid, or at least he assumes unlike them, his interest doesn't seem to be in the bar or the dancer but rather simply taking it in, listening to the noise of the crowd and the stories told by each patron.
Nissa leans in and whispers in her increasingly inebriated friend's ear, "Ask the dwarf how one quaffs, I do not want to do it the wrong way."
Sunny giggles quietly as Nissa tickles her ear, she looks at her friend,
"Whut be 'Quaffin'? Sounds like a feather or somat....Is it a birdy?" She asks muzzily.
"Here, why should ye care whether ye do somat tha' right way or that wrong way...?" Then Sunny frowns,
"Nah, that in't right. There be some things ye rilly only want ta' do tha' right way....like which fish not ta' poke an' stuffs...." She continues to frown and puzzle through Nissa's comments.
"Asides, he be tha' first Dwarfs I ever met! Whut if quaffin' be somat rilly personal like....an' sayin' it wrong be right nasty...?" Sunny takes a fresh sip of rum, her cheeks slightly flushed. Speaking into her tankard,
"I jus' met tha' Dwarfs. I dun't be wantin' ta' upset 'im...." And Sunny actually looks at Storm-beard,
Nissa returns the whisper, "Val Son-Suweil's text Stone and Axe says that dwarven females have a short, downy under beard. From this I conclude that Stormbeard is a male or at least a eunuch. And quaffing isn't dirty; it is the culturally appropriate way for dwarves to drink ale."
Sunny frowns, "Rilly?! There be more'n one way ta' drink somat...? She asks sounding confused again.
"Geeze, peoples sure make all'a things comp-lee-catered...." And she sighs and shakes her head. Then a comment Nissa has made registers.
(O_o)
She stumbles away from Nissa a little,. "You has books on Dwarfs nethers!"
(O_O)
:-p
Nissa does not see what the problem is blithely stating, "My parents' library has an exhaustive selection of texts on the cultural and physiological nature of most humanoid races. Did you know that gnomes have a special gland that produces color variations or that halfings possess a vestigial, secondary stomach and renal system to more efficiently process waste?"
Sunny stares at Nissa for a moment longer...then blinks....
"Ahhhmmmm..." She tilts her head, "I think I un'erstand some of all that..." She mutters, then bounces forwards again.
"Oooo!" Sunny 'squees', "Whut's it say about Elfs!" She asks excitedly. (^_^)
The crowded tavern is filled with interesting characters, some who have been verbose, others who have kept to themselves, and there have been few constants, save for the knave at the bar who has been talking to the bartender the entire time, the redhead at the fire, and the bard, who seems to have stopped her performance and fallen asleep by the table she had been performing on.
The Mwangwi bartender belts out, "Alright you lot, Formidably Maid is shutting down for the night. Finish your last drink and head out. As always, we will be here tomorrow afternoon to allow you drink to my pockets are full, but until then...get out." There is something about him that makes it a command, less than a request, even though he seems very amiable with his direct approach.
Each time he sees someone finish off their drink, his eyes turn to them and he nods to the door until only a dozen or so patrons sit in the bar.
'Doc's valet seems to have passed out on his trunk and the poor Doctor isn't likely to get his chest moving alone. The bartender nods, "I'll make sure your stuff is fine and I'll send him your way when he sobers up." Doc obviously doesn't care for this, but with little other option, he stands up, only to feel a rush of blood and then he sees nothing but black.
With his fall, several of the remaining patrons stand-up quickly...the quickest movement they have made in a several minutes, only to have the same thing happen to each of them. Nissa, Malak, Aramis, Ossok, and Diabolito all crumble and the bearded man stands with a wry smile.
"Thank you, again," he says with a big laugh and tosses a small bag of gold onto the counter. "See you next trip. Unless this lot works out well," and with that the rest of the 'patrons' stand up and begin to gather the group and head to The Wormwood, even going so far as to get someone to bring the valet and the chest that he had helped to carry.
Thanks for the acceptance, GM! I'm looking forward to playing with you all. :)
*Waves*
B'bye. ;_;
Ooooh boy. Aramis sure likes to run her mouth, doesn't she?
Also, with regards to her dialogue, I imagine her in my head with an Irish accent (because reasons), and I'm still trying to find the right balance of how strongly to transcribe it. There's a fine line between "recognizable" and "offensive"...
I understand exactly what you mean.
For my own part, I'm trying to portray Nissa as entitled, strong, and more than a little confused without making her come across as a raging b****. I tell myself that this worry is the "difficulty" of writing a "willful" woman. (Note air quotes.) However, if her inner monologues get to be too much, let me know. There is a fine line between "character" and "caricature" . . .
I can see our characters either getting along famously, or constantly being at each other's throats. And for what it's worth, I'm enjoying the inner monologues.