"Do you expect him back soon, or should we look for him at the tavern?"
"Might as well go to the tavern, directly, no? The bartender said we might find some extra work there anyway. Two stones with one bird, as they say."
Bob shrugs noncommittally, but motions Atar to lead on.
Bar hoping it is then
She shrugs and looks back at the carving of his name before back to you. “You’re best chance is there, he spends most nights there pretty late.”
Assuming you all head to the Thirsty Ogre you make your way across town seeing the more organized and slightly newer buildings to older buildings that seem more run down and chaotically built. You see a block over between the buildings a large bramble with homes rising up. You come upon the Thirsty Ogre to a two story building with several broken windows, the ones that are left are clouded with dirt and grime. The paint is faded and cracked. You can hear a fiddle playing a quick exciting tune from inside and a shouting and singing. As you open the door you see the place is filled much more than the Greenforest Inn. The Clinetelle seems much more grizzled. A fight is happening with a circle around it at a far corner, a old looking dwarf on a table shouting. The bar has several people at it and a large female half Orc with a missing eye. She looks on at the fight but continues to work.
"Hello there, my good lady! A pint for each of us, except my green fellow, I think." Atar thanks the half-orc, then takes a seat next to the dwarf.
"Oh, that's a good one, eh? Almost cracked the guy's ribs!" After a few more remarks and as the fight reaches its conclusion, he continues. "Are you the Gorum priest we have heard about?"
Trakas eagerly awaits his pint.
Her raspy voice responds, “Ah o’ course my fiendish friend. Give ma a second. I’m not as sort as used to be.” and she hobbles about behind the bar, filling up a set of glasses for you all except Brightberry.
You watch the fight and it’s a rather brutal affair with A half Orc and a human beating the snot out of each other. The dwarf smiles and responds da in kind to your comments though obviously invested in the fight. “Haven’t seen a good bloody brawl like this in ages! I love it!” at your question he grabs his large tankers and smiles a few teeth missing. “Oh whatcha heard? That I’m the one of Gorum’s chosen? That I once cleaved the heads off three bandits with one swing. Or that I wrestled an ogre into submission?” the bluster is obvious from anyone listening as a few patrons snicker at his boasts but he pays them no mind.
Sipping his ale, and trying to find a way to not feel so exposed while standing at the bar, Bob nods.
"I pinned a goblin to a wall with an arrow directly through its eye. Stupid thing took an hour to realize it was dead. Entertaining, in a way, until it came back as a zombie.
I had stopped listening to the thing's incessant chatter, so it got the drop on me and took a bite. That's when I realized we might need some healing supplies.
We were hoping you might have a wand for barter."
Trakas takes a deep drink form his beverage and smiles.
Boasting is usually filled with lies.
“Aye now that’s funny. I have some gear if you want it. What have you got for trade?”
He turns to you missing the knockout blow of the fight which causes him to turn away for a moment and grumble before looking back.
Immana's full attention is on the fight, barely even registering the words being said next to her. She winces as the combatants take turns beating each other to a pulp. Such uncivilized behavior...well, I guess not everybody spent years learning to fight gracefully in a random forest clearing...
Bob looks around at the various patrons skeptically. We're going to do this HERE? Maybe he is trying to start a fight flashing valuables about in the middle of this establishment. We should have just found an Arodenite, or even an Abadarian. These priests of Gorum are just insane.
Opening his pack just enough to show the armor, Bob continues with the exchange.
"We have this suit of magical chainmail. We need a curative wand."
Trakas pays very little attention to the fight but as the talk moves to exchanging coins, his focus slowly roams the area.
I have passed out in places like...but it is still a tavern and I do not wish to start a fight inside.
The old dwarf nods looking at it. “It looks good, maybe I’ll have that lass start practicing in it. She need to feel the weight of our lord in iron to really call her self one of the faithful. Gimme a minute to lad I’m sure I have one.
He fishes in his clothes and armor before pulling out from a compartment in the armor a thin rod of metal etched with runes and on the end of it a small split in the to 3 with in between them a marble that’s swirls with a red color. He hands it over, while now you can see the others in the tavern are crowding around one of the fighters on the ground, while coin is passed between the group over bets soon he’s picked up from the floor his face marred with cuts and bruises, the half orc that won goes to the bar and is treated to a free drink from the older female half orc.
Trakas you look and see a couple people eyeing you but the temperament in the room is one of barely contained chaos. Most people seem content to drink and bluster, others look to fight. A few look like the type to try something as you leave but it’s hard to telling anyone is planning anything at the moment due to the bustle of the tavern.
Brightberry will move forward to accept the wand. He will then cast detect magic, looking it over to attempt to discern it's identity.
"Well. It's magical."
He then looks to Trakas, to see if he wants to try to identify it. After all, this is not a gift horse, we are paying for it.
"Thank you... Father?", Bob turns the last into a question, not sure of the proper form of address.
"We will be in town for a while, if the church has need of swords for hire."
"Indeed, and we have very nice swords. Very pointy. Thanks for everything and praised be Gorum!" Atar says as he tries to lead the group outside the tavern before they are caught up in the next brawl of the night.
Bob allows himself to be ushered along, with only minor protests. "Atar! This establishment is our best lead at getting more work. We should at least look for job postings, or ask the bartender."
Trakas follows along, once outside he stops and looks back at the door that they just came out of.
I think it is best we removed ourselves from this area. That transaction drew unwanted attention and I am not sure that someone will try and take advantage of that knowledge. Best be moving along regardless.
Bob eyes the bar a bit nervously and pulls his hood up. "Yes, you are right. We can always come back when the crowd has forgotten about us.
Our next lead was talking to merchants. There was also mention of an order of mages. Collecting components can be dangerous work as well, and it might be good to have a good relationship with these mages for when we have more coin to spend."
Brightberry perks up at the mention of spell components. "Spell components are found in the wilderness under the open sun. our vote."
Brightberry and Redleaf's hands shoot up.
"Or in deep caverns, usually by harvesting the liver of some violent monstrosity that can turn you to stone with a look.
Who can tell which collection they are more likely to outsource?"
“Well of course it’s magical ya walking bush. It’ll heal yer wounds when ya use it. And call me Brother Andrast, as all of us are brothers in arms!” he gives you the wand and looks to the other patrons for agreement and only one acknowledges him to his annoyance.
He takes the chainmail on his shoulder and returns to drinking tossing a few coins to the bartender and starts talking about the glories of battle, and how he once wrestled a wyvern drunk on elven absinthe. You walk out and a few eyes follow but that’s it. You’re in the street eagerly planning your next move.
"Goldenfire Order" Brightberry says to himself.
"Maybe we should try to tower. See if those mages need anything. If we can pick up a couple more nice items, maybe we can finish out that underground thing." He looks up to the others faces to see what they think.
"Right you are, Brightberry, let's go. We can always refuse the commission if they want us to bring them the sore tooth of a woolly rhinoceros."
Bob looks around town for a structure that looks like a mage tower. These things usually stick out, especially in a town like this.
Failing that, he will start asking for directions.
No problem with hearing them out. We should get back to what we are here to at some point.
Trakas keeps his looking around them for trouble.
"Sounds good to me, but perhaps it's best to check in the morning? These wizard types can get a bit…fireball-y when you disturb them at the wrong time."
"Well, what if they like to sleep in? Might as well go and check now. And if they start fireballing...we run, I guess." Immana shrugs and cracks a lopsided smile.
Brightberry looks over his left shoulder at the open road leading out of town. Perhaps it is time for him to branch off on his own. Time seems to have showed down to a crawl while with these fine folks in this quirky town. He is not accumulating the wealth needed to fulfill his goals here. Taking his share and rooting around somewhere else maybe in his, and Redleaf's, better interest.
You look and see near the keep in town a old tower easily once proud and sturdy now lies rather worn and with signs of weather’s effects marring the stone. It seems to be just away from the keep to be separate but still atop the hill in the center of town. You all make your way there and see a large wooden reinforced door at the bottom of the tower. A few windows in are above you by maybe 10 feet.
Brighberry looks at the tower skeptically. "Crumbly. Wizards should be able to keep it up better with magic. Maybe they can't afford our help. We are already here. Let's ask anyway. Redleaf, make like a shrub and watch the front." With that, Brightberry makes for the front door and waits on someone bigger to open it.
Sounds like a plan...
Atar waits for Redleaf to turn into a shrub and then taps it lightly on where he thinks the familiar's head is supposed to be. He then takes some dust off his clothes and knocks on the door. "Hello, good evening, is anyone in need of…adventuring…services? A monster who needs killing, a dungeon which needs delving?"