'Returning the dead's possessions to their family, a kindness, not profitable, but a kindess.' smirking to himself he nods. "Very kind of you to consider dem." Smiling, 'As we take advantage of a temple that's not our faith.' but saying nothing.
He notices her studying his tattoo. Smiling, he stands up, lifting his arms and spins around So she can see the design of the creature snaking from his left breast over his shoulder, across his shoulder blades, under his right arm, across his upper abdomen around to his back right hip. "It is der sjó úlfur er, how you say, seavolf, my peoples totem." He slips back into the water. "It is good luck, und a totem against der poisons und magics of der monsters my people hunt."
As he settles back into the water he asks, "So after ve return de dress to de family, vat vill you be doing next?"
Nempura makes an interested "hmm" sound as she evaluates his tattoo. Her piercing eyes study the form and shape of it as he spins, yet she doesn't seem willing to explain her own. "Well, hopefully, our group will be protected should we face anything like that because of your totem."
"I think some errands. A stop at the market maybe, and then to the Orc's Head Tavern. You are welcome to stick with me or meet me there."
Too self-absorbed and happy to be showing off his own tattoos, to even think about inquiring about hers, Ivar chuckles at her observation. "Probably not, I vare it proudly, but der beasts poison's still cause manifestations ven I am berserkur."
'Shopping and drinking.' Realizing by Nempura's answer that he had fashioned his question well, he tries again. "I am happy to escort you vit vat you are doing. But vat I meant vas do you intend to still vork for Vilutar Pakkanen, der woman who hired der coward Untamo?"
A small group of acolytes, male and female, enter the room carrying a try of small mugs. They quietly walk from healing pool to healing pool handing each person a mug. Making their way to each of you; “Please, take and drink. The pools heal from the outside in, this heals from the inside out. It is a seaweed elixir made from the waters of the svart.” you are each handed a small mug of dark-green liquid before the acolyte moves on. If you sniff the liquid within, it is almost odorless.
The cool dark-green liquid has a gritty mouthfeel and an earthy taste.
A short time later, the original acolyte that brought you down to the healing pools returns; “Your friends are in our care, they will need to stay for some time. I have made Anafa Wildthorn aware of your presence and story, she is ready to receive you once you are finished in the pools. Also, Armas is currently out. His daughter is in their chambers with a few of the other sisters. We could take you to see her, unless you’d prefer to wait.” Unashamed, her eyes take in the lot of you. They linger as she filly takes in every detail of your tattoos. “But your decision on that can wait. Just let one of the acolytes know when you are finished and ready to visit Anafa
Ewan is a short earshot away from the going and can fully take in everything that is being said. He, too, is offered the same small mug of seaweed elixir.
She is unsure because she is deep in thought, but as she paces the room in the Orc’s Head Tavern Arren might wonder if she has worn a grove in the floor from her pacing. Realizing that there might be more that she could be doing with her time she dresses herself and opens her room door.
Her room is the farthest room west on the ground floor of the Orc’s Head Tavern. Even though it is a double-bedded room, she currently is not sharing it with anyone. With the door swinging open the sounds pouring up from the common room below are filled with joy, merriment, and people dancing to the familiar folk tunes that are being played. Looking down, it does appear that the common room is lively and pleasant, currently. Orc’s Head is known for a brawl to break out from time to time.
But, she has study on her mind.
Passing out the only entrance to the Orc’s Head Tavern you see a man passing you by to enter. Curiously, he had a little bird flying along with him.
Ordering your food and drink from the bar, you see a middle-aged bear of a man. You can tell that this man was once a great warrior, but too much ale and mutton has caught up to him.[b] “That’ll be four silver!” he says as he pours you a large stein of ale.
After finding the right group that is sharing stories, you quickly belly up to the table with them. Rumors are quickly flying across the table. Some could be real, others fake. How many of them have become tall tales that have been brought to life by an ale infused ‘one upping’ competition.
A pretty young barmaid comes up behind one of the men and says; “Now listen, Isto, don’t you go spreading rumors that send these guys chasing something that isn’t true.” she gives everyone a smile; “I’m Aila, who needs a refill?” she gives everyone a playful smile as she counts who all motioned for a refill. With a quick raise of an eyebrow and a wink; “I’ll be right back with those.”
As she walks away Isto speaks up watching her go; “If I were a younger man I’d take her home, make her my wife, and bear me a dozen strapping young lads and girls just as beautiful as she.”
The guys at the table burst into laugher and ribbing Isto to keep dreaming and that he isn’t lucky enough.
Reddening, Isto pulls out an aged small leather tapestry depecting a dragon looming over its hoard as a thief hides behind a rock. “Let’s see how your luck really is. Dragon and the Thief anyone?” pulling out a silver penny, he places it on the number 7 square; “If you want in, put your penny on the seven. And we will roll these.” He pulls out two cream colored d6 with black pips on each side.
A few of the men lean back in their chair marking them as ones who aren’t playing. Two from the table place a silver penny on the 7, and one more from outside of the table replaces one of the men who leaned back. Isto looks to you; “What say you? Does the gods luck favor you?”
Ewan moved towards the other side of his pool to be as close as possible to the pool the three newcomers slid into. As he did so, he heard the woman with the white tattoos speak up in his direction. As he looked up, he met her piercing gaze for a moment and was temporarily stunned like a deer caught in the light of a hooded lantern.
A small smile is all he could muster as his ears were turning red. He quickly sat down again, with his back turned towards the group.
O man. She might think I was staring. But I wasn't. How is she supposed to know that? Well you were staring at her when she disrobed.... The suddenly realization of his own words stopped his mind dead in its tracks. He blinked a few times.
Calm down or you won't be able to talk to any of them easily. Breathe... In... and Out..... In..... and Out....
If any of the three would pay attention, they could hear Ewan breathing rapidly as Nempura looked at him, eventually calming down after a few moments. Ewan still has his eyes closed as he tries to slowly regain his composure.
He listens intently top his own heart and breathing, before paying attention to the words uttered behind him.
Orc's Head Tavern? Pakkanen? Under employ? Good to know. If I could strike up a conversation at the Tavern, perhaps I could persuade them to Let me join. I've never been away while not on a Vessel.
As the mugs filled with the Elixir are handed out, he nods in thanks as he accepts it and mouths a silent 'Thank you' to the acolyte who handed him the drink. Some of them would know Ewan from earlier visits, but this young male acolyte was new to him.
This time, she sees the beet-red face of Ewan as he turns. He is met with eyes that look away from him, but she knows a youthful look of embarrassment when she sees one. Now facing Ivar, she's sure Ewan is viewing her more openly, or at least with more frequency given her voice is projected away from him.
"Oh..." she comments, understanding Ivar's meaning now. "I'm not sure. She's a sketchy one but pays well. I can't decide if she's a person I'm willing to work for or not. I do think that she was honest as far as paying us for the job we were hired for, and she didn't double-cross me. That's enough for me right now. If it turns out she's not trustworthy, I probably will look elsewhere, to be honest. I don't like working for unethical people, and that's hard to find in this city."
She will lightly swim back and forth in the small pool and will wipe her skin clean with her hands of the saltwater and rain that had pelted it for so long before.
When the Acolyte comes in, Nempura nods to her in agreement. She doesn't care that the woman views her, but retracts her hands under the water, thus making it harder to see her tattoos. When she offers the drink, Nempura sneers at it just based on the description and drinks it quickly.
"This is going to be nasty..."
There is some lip-smacking from her and a shaking of the head as she hands the mug back. Clearly, it was not to her approval as the liquid got down to the gritty parts. After it had been some time and the acolyte tells her that the woman has been informed, she contemplates leaving.
"I think I'm done soaking."
She will pull herself from the water unashamedly and will stand tall. The long-legged beauty looks around for some towels, but if they are not available, she will move to the bench. There she will take a seat to air dry with a leg crossed and her arms loosely crossed, half hiding her bosom. If there are towels, she will wrap herself for the sake of Ewan. After she is done drying, she will cast a spell of prestidigitation to clean her clothing and then will equip everything once more. She will now tie her hair up in a way that it can dry and not explode on her. This evening she will have to do some serious hair care.
Ordering your food and drink from the bar, you see a middle-aged bear of a man. You can tell that this man was once a great warrior, but too much ale and mutton has caught up to him. “That’ll be four silver!” he says as he pours you a large stein of ale.
After finding the right group that is sharing stories, you quickly belly up to the table with them. Rumors are quickly flying across the table. Some could be real, others fake. How many of them have become tall tales that have been brought to life by an ale infused ‘one upping’ competition.
A pretty young barmaid comes up behind one of the men and says; “Now listen, Isto, don’t you go spreading rumors that send these guys chasing something that isn’t true.” she gives everyone a smile; “I’m Aila, who needs a refill?” she gives everyone a playful smile as she counts who all motioned for a refill. With a quick raise of an eyebrow and a wink; “I’ll be right back with those.”
As she walks away Isto speaks up watching her go; “If I were a younger man I’d take her home, make her my wife, and bear me a dozen strapping young lads and girls just as beautiful as she.”
The guys at the table burst into laugher and ribbing Isto to keep dreaming and that he isn’t lucky enough.
Reddening, Isto pulls out an aged small leather tapestry depecting a dragon looming over its hoard as a thief hides behind a rock. “Let’s see how your luck really is. Dragon and the Thief anyone?” pulling out a silver penny, he places it on the number 7 square; “If you want in, put your penny on the seven. And we will roll these.” He pulls out two cream colored d6 with black pips on each side.
A few of the men lean back in their chair marking them as ones who aren’t playing. Two from the table place a silver penny on the 7, and one more from outside of the table replaces one of the men who leaned back. Isto looks to you; “What say you? Does the gods luck favor you?”
Ewan doesn't return looking at the group, even if he now has an inkling that Nempura expects him to look more often. It was something in the way she saw through him.
Before the group of three get out of their pool, he makes sure he's out already himself, drawing himself up slowly from the water. Before he steps out, a simple arcane word is spoken and a hand is pointing to one of the large towels. "Venh-hac."
The magical energy takes a hold of the towel and a faint outline of blue-green energy makes it float towards Ewan's hand. He dries his head and hair, then wraps the towel along his waistline before stepping out completely.
He takes care not to look back at the two humans and the dwarf in the pool beside him as he akes his way to his own peg with clothing, armour and backpack with writing utensils.
Phew... ok that was more difficult than I imagined. Almost messed that spell up. Determination is key. That's what Lyria told me. Even if I bungled it up now, there's a second chance at the Orc's Head. At least then I would be able to find the courage to actually speak.
He pulls on his undergarments, then his leather tunic and then, after rummaging around in his pack, he pulls out a light, but polished piece of chainmail that will cover his upper body and arms. Fastening the rapier in it's thin leather scabbard to his belt, he immediately feels a little bit more comfortable.
As a last touch he puts on his black leather boots, that have long since faded to a more matted grey and dark brown through the salt sea spray and the weather on board the different ships he has sailed on.
I should really get some new ones made. The leather soles are in need of replacing again.
He picks up the rest of his backpack and packs the remaining books and writing supplies into it, then makes his way towards the exit of the pools and the Fane itself. As he passes the group, he gives a quick nod to Ivar and Helgar, taking due care to not look Nempura in the eye again.
As he leaves the room, he greets a few of the acolytes again that he has seen before with a slight whisper.
"Th-Thank you a-a-again. It's a-a-always n-nice to relax here. The e-e-elix-ir always does w-w-wonders to soothe my mi-mind."
"You're always welcome here. Will you be leaving shore again soon Ewan?" One of the female acolytes responds to him.
"N-not s-sure yet, M-Ma-Marron. Maybe the sea w-w-will not c-call to me r-right now. B-but I wi-will r-ret-urn e-eve-even... in due t-time."
With that he leaves via the same steps upward to ground level.
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Helgar sat quietly in the pool. Without a word she took the drink and downed it. For all the world it felt like she wasn’t there. Even the arrival of the two men: the obvious warrior and the red-faced lad, didn’t stir her. She was too lost in her own thoughts. Questioning why Aris and Arn had been injured and not her. Questioning why she fell back when they held the rear. Questioning why she was not strong enough to help them. All of these questions and more raced laps in her head, again and again, until she felt numb and tired. Moving forward felt like just as much work as lying down and not moving, so one foot kept following the next. Luckily Nempura was taking charge with her usual flair, for Helgar was in no state to do so. When the others made to leave she did as well.
Where Nempura was beautiful by human standards. Helgar was short, broad of shoulders and with muscular arms. Her physique came from a lifetime of working in the forge, beating away at stubborn metal until either it gave way or she did. Mechanically she went about drying herself. Memories of the undead at sea made her shudder, as they came unbidden into her mind. Usually she would have been just as embarrassed as Ewan. Now? She just didn’t care. Before long as was back in her scale Mail armor, with her wooden shield slung over her back and silver hammer hanging at her waist.
Merion antes up, reaching in Lady Pakkanen’s pouch for a silver piece and tossing it onto the seven. We will find out, then, will we?
As the game proceeds, Merion considers the others at the table. Having paid for his meal with a gold crown, he has sixteen silver pieces to wager with, and intends to play idly until he has to make change--then he will re-evaluate, only wishing to disclose his possession of a single other gold coin at best. He mainly listens, hoping for more rumors to cross-reference with those he heard at his first table, and when he’s identified a talker he will ply them with subtle suggestions to keep going. In particular, he is curious about odder-than-usual denizens of the Orc’s Head, including that pale wizardess, and the whereabouts of the dusky bard, the rumors of whose demise he knows to be greatly exaggerated. He also inquires with affected credulity about any rumors of lucrative or dangerous voyages, seeking to learn what is known and what is wrongly believed about the prior and future endeavors of the group he’s intending to join. Any mention of a child, or sea-ghouls, or that strange garment, and I’d best mark the one telling of it. He’ll slip in the occasional reference to such things, as well as the rumored bodies in the Svart, but only obliquely and to spark conversation. If questioned on his own profession, he’ll be a student, with an extra-curricular interest in the occult and arcane--one who would, had he the talent, study with the Sagacious Masters, but is restricted by circumstance to lore alone.
Meanwhile, having seen the pale wizardess slip out, his bird continues to surreptitiously follow her. Find out where she is headed, he had told it, and return. He would know empathically when it had done so, and find a time at that point to excuse himself from the game and go outside to hear its tale.
Relaxing as Nempura explains the relationship with Pakkanen, he mentally nods, chuckling, "Yes, I agree, vorking vit unethical people makes getting paid difficult at times."
Seeing the Acolytes enter the room, Ivar casually dunks his head again, wiping the water from his face as they approach. Raising an eyebrow as they offer the mug full of green seaweed elixir. 'Seaweed? Not like I've not eaten seaweed before.' accepting the offered mug, 'I'm here, may as well do the full treatment.' Knowing the earthy taste of seaweed, Ivar lifts the cup "þakkir" taking a breath he swallows it in one gulp. Smacking his lips he hands the mug back to the last of the acolytes. 'Mmmm gritty like dirt.' As the acolytes leave he lowers his mouth into the water, sucking the warm water in, then spitting it out to rinse his mouth out of the taste.
'Ah here comes our guide, I wonder if that means it's time to leave.' As the earlier acolyte returns to speak with them, Ivar notes her curiosity returning her gaze. 'So we are to meet with Anafa Wildthorn?' Ivar pauses trying to remember if he had heard the name prior, not really paying much more attention to the Acolyte.
'Time to leave.' Hearing Nempura's announcement, Ivar nods, knowing he has much more gear to put back on, he quickly lifts himself from the water and heads to his gear. Grabbing one of the towels from the racks he quickly dries off and begins putting his gear back on. As they dress he asks, "So are ve speaking to dis Anafa Wildthorn?"
"Yes, briefly. You don't have to come inside. I'll spare you the emotional exchange that is likely to happen," she replies, looking almost as if she half doesn't wish to experience it herself.
When Nempura notices Ewan leaving, she thinks to herself, "This one is a spellcaster...," and if not for the awkward scenario, she would probably have asked him more questions about his magic in true bard fashion. In truth, she couldn't wait to get to the bank and marketplace and each thing they had to do was causing her to delay. It was even more important to her than her meeting with Anafa.
Nempura now moves over once her gear is on to Helgar and will subconsciously reach for the dwarf's hair to help dry it. "Are you alright? You've hardly said a word since we've got on the ship." "Not that you talked much before that...but I understand...that was terrifying for me too..."
Part of her hopes that in typical Aris fashion, Helgar just grunts and shrugs out an answer rather than explain why she's been silent. Something about rethinking about these recent events fills Nempura with dread. However, when everyone is ready, she will bow in thanks to the half-naked, hovering man for his devotion and then will move to follow the acolyte to the room
You make your usual way through the crowds of people as you head to the Fane. Though you are greeted as you enter by an acolyte, you lead yourself to the healing pools since you know the way.
Once you arrive in the chamber you see that the pools are spotted with only a few people. You make your way to a pool that is off to the side by itself. You know that the people who bathe here, for the most part, are too concerned with the healing waters and the relaxation it brings that their eyes only take you in when you enter the room. Closing their eyes and once again laying their head back.
As you start to soak in the almost hot waters, you feel the aches and pains melt way. Knots in your muscles that you did not know you have release and you are relaxed.
The sound of boots on stone draws your attention as a man with a rapier enters the chamber and moves towards a bench. He disrobes and quickly enters one of the pools.
Sometime passes, you are unaware of exactly how much time because you have been taking sometime treating yourself, and a large party enters the chambers. Two dwarfs, one male and one female, are lead by an acolyte. Following closely behind them is another female dwarf, and a male and female human. The three of them are placed in a grouping of pools near one another. The acolyte leads the first two dwarfs away.
Oddly enough. The man who came in earlier moves pools and gets closer to where the party of three got into their pools.
As you get out of the pools, and it is obvious that you are not looking to go back in, a white robed acolyte meets you with a towel opened wide. Gesturing for you to turn your back to him, he helps you wrap the large towel around yourself. He leaves you to dry. This towel is fluffier and softer than any towel you have felt, unless you have been to a house of high nobility.
There is an acolyte that greets you as you move to exit “To where shall I be your guide.” The acolytes will guide you to wherever you want to go, but you are by no means a prisoner and they let you leave as you see fit.
Anafa Wildthorn is a female half-elf druid that is drawn to the Hard Bay’s dangerous waters and the beast that populate its depths. For those who know her, she has been charting the waters below the bay.
Your mind stuck on the possible second chance of a meeting at the Orc’s Head Tavern, you forget that the steps are slippery, and you quickly take hold of the railing built into the wall. As you make your way through the main hall of the Fane, you see a half elf woman standing at the top of the stairs. She doesn’t pay any mind to you, or anyone else, as you pass by.
You are led by an acolyte up the stairs to the main floor when you see a half elf woman who quickly moves to the group as soon as she sees the three of you. Bowing, the acolyte speaks as she stayed bowed over; “Sister Anafa, these are some of the adventurers that returned with the stories of the lacedons.”
With a touch of the acolyte’s shoulder; “You are free to go sister. I will see our guest out.” As the acolyte leaves the half-elf woman motions for the group to follow; “Come.”
The party is led towards the entry of the Fane; “From the story your dwarven companions spoke of, I would love to spend time learning more from each of you. But, I know you have recently docked and must be tired and want to rest. I have explored and guarded the waters of Hard Bay for years. Guiding its inhabitants away from our shores, and helping those who sail its waters when they find trouble.” Making your way to the entry of the Fane; “In all my years I have never seen or heard of lacedons or any of their undead kin in the Hard Bay’s waters.”
Pausing to look over the three of you; “You have no need to trust me, but when you find yourself in need of an ally. Seek me out.” Holding out a hand towards the open door; “Go and rest, I will send word when you dwarven friends have recovered.” She gives the group of you a nod and turns and walks away.
There are 5 of you playing, and 5 silver pennies stacked on the number 7 spot. Isto hands the dice to the person to his left. They roll them, 7. They put another silver penny on the number 7 spot. The next one goes, 7 again. Another silver penny on 7. You take the dice and roll them, a 9. You look, no coin in on the number 9 spot so you place one there. You pass the dice to your left. They roll an 6 and place a coin there.
Isto picks up the dice; “I feel like the dragon’s hoard will be mine!” He rolls the dice. An 8 shows, and Isto places a silver penny on the 8 as he passes the dice. The first person rolls again, a 6. With a smile they pick up the penny that is on the number 6. The second rolls, another 6. They place the penny on that spot.
Your roll again. You look and see that there are currently 10 silver pennies on the paper. Rolling a 12 would get you all of them. Rolling a 2, the theif would get you 5 pennies. You roll the two dice, it’s a 9. You look and there is your silver penny and you take it.
Passing the dice to your left. They roll them, a 12! There is a shout of joy as the man picks up all the pennies that is accompanied by grunts and laughter as envelopes the group.
This draws the attention of the other patrons. And those who weren’t playing make way for others wanting to join.
Rounds come and go, along with mugs of ale.
You are having a good time, and you might not of been planning on it but you are finding yourself buzzed and quickly finding yourself almost drunk. But the fortunes have favored you. Over the night you have won, with the mix of gold, silver, and copper, 7 gold worth of coins.
You also find out that there as been no mention of a child, sea-ghouls, or strange garment. But, you do hear talks of this being a new spot for people to come and get hired out by captains to go on adventures. Many of those who you shared dice and ale with are here for that very reason.
The conversations also go a little dark as you people mention not to go to the shambles or wrecks at night or the Watch will be fishing you out of the Svart. Nothing good happens during the day there, and it only gets worse at sundown.
At some point through the night, you do discover from your thrush that the pale wizardess went to the Fane of the Waves Eternal.
Going back in you find your spot taken but eventually make your way back into the game.
You draw near to the door of the Orc’s Head Tavern and you can hear whatever is happening within, before you even touch the handle.
Opening the door there is a roar of laughter and merriment. Loud conversations that are being yelled over the skillfully played musicians. You enter in and looking down into the common room from this balcony you see that it is packed. People are lining the bar to get food and drink. Tables are pack with people laughing and talking. One table has a large crowd around it. They seem to be rolling dice and placing silver pennies on a map.
As you make your way down you a bumped into as people are going both up and down the stairs. On closer inspection, you also see the faces of people who are completely drunk as they have enjoyed the evening too much.
Already deep in thought about how he would approach the group inside the Tavern, Ewan makes his way up the slippery steps upward again. He moves too quickly and eagerly, he almost slides down again as his right foot gives way on a step near the top of the stairs.
He barely holds on and with a sudden shocked look on his face looks up, right at the impressive figure above him.
He doesn't recognise the elven looking woman as he moves further up the stairs. He gives her a wry smile as he passes her.
"E-ex-excuse me ma'-a-am priestess. Al-most lost my f-foo-footing. My h-head s-see-ms to be some-wh-where else."
He makes a quick bow and continues on towards the Tavern, unless she continues the sudden conversation.
'Emotional exchange?' Nodding he understood the difficulty of the conversation, he expressed, [b]"Vit your permission, I vould still like to accompany you. I vould here der details, und it vould save you de trouble of retelling der tale later."{/b]
While the acolyte moves towards him with the towel, Ivar notices that Nempura moves towards Helgar, speaking soft enough he did not want to intrude. So once he was done dressing he moved towards the doorway and waited for the two ladies.
Following the acolyte, Nempura and Helgar towards the exit, Ivar raises an eyebrow as Arren Velmas herself leads them out. 'Well that's not at all what I expected.' Surprised by her understanding nature, Ivar looks to his two companions but says nothing.
Arriving before the main group, Arren slides into a pool, muttering a spell under her breath to cause the sound of a bucket clanging across the room to draw attention away from herself as she does so(Ghost Sound). Almost immediately her physical ailments leave her, but the sense of dread, and the terrible coldness did not. It was her third soak, and there were no obvious improvements. Still, she took comfort in the relaxation of her muscles; the dead had no need for such pleasantries.
--
The man who moved pools caught her attention. Was he merely a voyeur, or did he know the loud group in the corner? He certainly didn't seem to be speaking with them. When he casts a spell to float the towel over to him, Arren knew she was correct to be intrigued. Although she was no wizard herself, they often had information that might prove useful. Besides, she had seen his face turn red in embarrassment. He deserved a break. Slipping on her sleeves of many garments, she emerges from the pool in her usual attire, muttering another cantrip to dry herself, hurrying to catch up to the young man, just in time to see him nearly fall down the stairs.
The half elf walking down the stairs holds no special significance to her, as she continues after the man. But how to introduce herself? Most people reacted poorly to finding a sickly pale woman who blinked far too infrequently breathing down their neck, and reacted even worse if they thought she was following them. Perhaps a small bit of deception. Nothing too problematic but... As she moves past him on the stairs, she turns a corner, and begins rummaging in her spell component pouch, waiting for Ewan to turn the corner. When he does so, she steps out in front of him, as if absentmindedly not looking where she is going, and falls, spilling the contents of the pouch on the ground. Perhaps not her finest performance, but what was done was done. Hopefully he was an amiable sort, and would be willing to strike up a conversation.
Assuming no one stops her, she will be taking the soft, fluffy towel with her and will hang it over the back of her pack to dry. If the attendants wish to take it back, they can.
"To Anafa," she orders the acolyte.
With them heading up and Ivar willing to stay with her and Helgar, she grins. "A glutton for punishment, it seems."
They are left with Anafa and she bows her head in respect.
"Your name is well known in the region for being a valiant defender of the Hard Bay's dangerous waters. The Lacedons were not all we saw. A Brykolakas was the cause of them. That, however, is not why I've called you either." She pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. "My companions and I were aboard the Sea Sprite wreck and found..." she pauses and retrieves the outfit, boots, and book of Seratian origin. "...I'd assume these were Elsa's?" She holds them out sympathetically to the woman, there to support her if needed at the sight of such a traumatic fear becoming realized in the materials before her eyes. She was certainly dead.
Outside, Merion gives his thrush a crust of bread to pick at, and asks it to keep watch outside and alert him should any of those he is seeking return.
Inside, with such good luck gaming, Merion eventually excuses himself from playing, not wanting to draw attention to himself and figuring that the hour draws late. He orders more food, and secures himself a room for the night, in an attempt to sober up a bit before the next part of his mission becomes necessary. After a while he will have found a place listening to whatever entertainment has arrived this evening.
Ewan moves a bit more slowly up now, after almost sliding down the stairs again. He never even noticed the woman passing him on the stairs as he focused too much on where he was placing his feet.
When the stairs eventually make a curve around the corner, he almost trips over Arren who seems to be picking up her things that have fallen out of her bag.
"Ooohh. S-sorry." He says as he darts around her due to his momentum propelling him forward. He quickly kneels down to offer a hand in picking the things up.
"Al-al-allow me to h-help you." As he helps pick up the contents of the bag he notices the different ingredients for spells, pieces of plants, coal, chalk, bits and pieces of animals, wool, soap. He looks up at the sallow woman with the dark hair before him and immediately recognizes her for a mage.
"You're a m-ma-mage right? A stu-dent of t-the Sa-saga-cious A-ca-demy perhaps?"
As Ewan looks into Arren's eyes, he's struck with a combination of curiosity and puzzlement.
Those eyes...it almost seems like they're drawing me in... as if there's so much more to look for inside...
For a moment, Ewan tilts his head slightly to the left and doesn't realise he has stopped helping pick up the components and there might be an uncomfortable silence.
He quickly picks up the last remaining items and puts them in the bag.
"I-I-I'm so-sorry. Th-That was r-rude of me. M-My n-name is Ew-Ewan." Ewan extends his right hand to Arren.
When Nempura came to check on her, Helgar offered a weak smile and responded "It's just that being in a bard's story isn't exactly as glorious as hearing it sung in a tavern."
----
As they moved on, and made the report, she could not stop herself from muttering a conclusion to Nempura's description. [i]"...and found..."
"We found death."
"A mage," she agrees, although she doesn't offer any more information than that. Eager to change the conversational topic, she notices that the young man has met her eyes, and is staring, with the strangest expression on his face.
Not the common response, curiouser and curiouser she notes. And not a bad looking young man either.
Unused to attention that isn't either pitying or negative, she allows the silence to play out, before coming to her senses around the same time as Ewan.
Arren takes Ewan's extended hand in her own, and shakes it; as she does so her sleeve moves to reveal a tattoo of a geometric pattern that learned individuals would recognize as a necromantic sigil, designed to redirect energy within outwards. She quickly covers her arm back up, with a shake of the wrist.
"My name is Arren, and there was no need to apologize. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance in fact. Allow me a rudeness of my own, I saw you cast a cantrip down in the pools; you must be a particularly accomplished mage to cast spells even with your impediment!" There is no trace of mockery in her voice, she seems to genuinely believe what she is saying.
Ewan wasn't paying any particular attention to the young woman her arms, but as they shook hands he caught a glimpse of a peculiar tattoo on her underarm.
Wait, what's that? It almost looks like a necromancy rune. It has something to do with heat if I recall correctly. Transferring heat perhaps?
A quick look of surprise comes across his face as the sigil is revealed, but as Arren quickly covers it up again, he decides to let the topic go for now. It must be a sore point to ask about if she covers it up.
"Ch-Cha-Cha... Pl-pleased to meet y-you Ar-ren. Ah, w-wo-would that I-I w-was as ac-acc-accom... good of a mage as y-you th-think me t-to be. My im-imp-... con-di-tion has lim-ited my st-studies. I am n-not a mage, but I k-know all the b-ba-sics. Ru-runelore, sp-spellcr-craft and th-the-theory. Ap-applying it is very dif-fi-cult."
Arren easily notices that speaking long sentences can be quite a chore for Ewan.
"W-why have you come to t-the Fane?" he asks as he indicates with his hand 'Ladies first' and to walk and talk.
Stopping with Nempura and Helgar as they speak with the high-priestess, Ivar nods in agreement with Nempura, 'Her name is well known.' Raising an eyebrow when he hears there was also a Brykolaka. He lowers his head as Nempura returned clothing. 'It's the right thing do I guess, but I probably would have...' Turning as he hears Helgar almost whisper "We found death.' 'That's right, the two most injured were Dwarves, that must have hit her hard.'
As his thought wandered, Ivar noticed the two folks ahead picking up what appeared to be small items from a pouch. As his companions finished speaking with the Priestess and they continued exiting. Ivar stopped near the two speaking together. He points at the tall pale attractive woman and the plain looking swordsman, 'Ah the one with the fancy little blade.' asking. "Veren't de in der pools as vell?" He had heard that some used the baths to meet potential love interests. Curious about the pale woman he decides to interrupt.
Smiling, he casually approach the two, totally interrupting their conversation. "Tell me strangers, do you come to der vaters often or vas dis your first time?" He looks from one to the other. "Did you come together, or just happen to meet at der bath?"
Arren begins walking alongside Ewan. "Still, to be able to cast at all is a feat that many wizards might say is impossible. I'd say that you have quite a talent for it. My familiar helps me with some of those basics that you mentioned."
At the question about why she came to the Fane, she turns away briefly. "I have... a malady of the flesh and spirit. I had hoped to find respite here. Unfortunately while the waters are very pleasant, they do not have the curative properties I seek, and I must turn my attentions elsewhere." She pauses for a second, unsure of why she had just told Ewan all of this. It wasn't like her to do that, even without offering the specifics of her condition. So lost in the conversation was she, that she failed to notice the large Nord approaching, and jumps a little bit at the sound of his voice.
Arren looks at Ewan; neither are the most comfortable talking to strangers, but she's willing to step up and speak if she gets the impression that Ewan would prefer her to do so.
The party is led towards the entry of the Fane; ... Making your way to the entry of the Fane...
... Holding out a hand towards the open door... She gives the group of you a nod and turns and walks away.
Pausing near the doorway, Ivar can't help but eavesdrop on the two's conversation. A malady of the flesh and spirit? Curious, she looks fine to me.' Mentally shrugging he pauses, looking toward his own companions, then back at the odd pair.
When Arren compliments Ewan on his magical ability, he blushes slightly. "Th-thank you. At least it is s-some-thing I got fr-from my studies."
He listens intently as Arren describes her reason for visiting the Fane, nods as she explains, but raises an eyebrow.
"St-strange I would not th-think that y-you are s-sick. Per-haps n-not ma-ny hours in the s-sun. Me, I-I've just f-fin-fini... com-ple-ted a s-sea voyage. Th-the Fane helps me re-lax."
Then as Ivar barges into the conversation, Ewan obviously is flustered as he did not hear them coming or intended for that group to hear him talk just yet.
Oh man.. That did not go as I had planned. Many people in the past have already assumed that I was dead weight because of my speech. Maybe it's not a lost cause yet.
Arren welcomes the interruption, stopping this line of conversation. The man's accent was strange, but she could manage. "No, we happened to meet here. I've been before, although this may be one of my last times here, depending on if I can find work or not."
As Nempura speaks of Anafa’s renoun, she waves it aside; “It is my duty, but I do feel slightly guilty. I have the freedom to roam the depths of the Hard Bay.” Though when the group brings up the presence of a Brykolakas concern quickly flashes across her face as she fails to hide her concern. “That is, interesting.” she pauses, “I will need to explore around those waters and see what I can discover. Either way, I am very curious why they attacked the Sea Sprite. What is it that Vilutar had on that ship?” That last question was almost more of a thought that was vocalized.
Turning to Helgar, she places a reassuring hand on her shoulder; “I want you to know, your dwarven companions will be well. They need to rest and regain their strength.” removing her hand; “We will make sure word is sent to you when they are healthy again.”
As Nempura brings out Elsa’s belongings, a smile of fond remembrance lingers on Anafa’s face. Taking the belongings; “She was a friend. I helped her, and the ships she guided, from below. I will make sure her husband receives her belongings.” she holds up the cuff of the sleeve and smells it.
Pausing to look over the three of you; “You have no need to trust me, but when you find yourself in need of an ally. Seek me out.” Holding out a hand towards the open door; “Go and rest, I will send word when you dwarven friends have recovered.” She gives the group of you a nod and turns and walks away.
As you look about, there are still many people wondering about talking or studying on private benches in nooks. No one you see is familiar, but then again the only person who stood out was the drunken man who was grumbling curses against Serat. And he himself is gone.
You draw near to the door of the Orc’s Head Tavern and you can hear whatever is happening within, before you even touch the handle.
Opening the door there is a roar of laughter and merriment. Loud conversations that are being yelled over the skillfully played musicians. You enter in and looking down into the common room from this balcony you see that it is packed. People are lining the bar to get food and drink. Tables are pack with people laughing and talking. One table has a large crowd around it. They seem to be rolling dice and placing silver pennies on a map.
As you make your way down you a bumped into as people are going both up and down the stairs. On closer inspection, you also see the faces of people who are completely drunk as they have enjoyed the evening too much.
“We are starting to get full on our rooms,” the barmaid responds to Merion; “We do have a two bed room for 10 silver pennies, or if you don’t mind the snoring we have beds in the common room for 2 silver pennies. Let me get your food” a few moments pass and she returns with a bowl of stew and an end piece of bread; “Looks like we are starting to run out.” Looking at the stew, it looks more of a bowl of broth than actual stew.
You start to see a few of the patrons are starting to get a little rowdy and the conversation is on the verge of an argument.
In natural bardic fashion, wishing to spread information to get information, she openly shares what was on the ship.
"There was an artifact of Braal, an ephod. If you wish, come by the Orc's Head Tavern this evening and I will be telling the tale, assuming the barkeep is not booked."
Given the gesture to leave, Nempura takes the opportunity and turns to see that Ivar has abandoned them, to a degree. She will give a little whistle to catch his attention that they are heading out.
As indicated, Nempura will make stops at the bank and the market before heading back to the Orc's Head Tavern. There, she will pick up some supplies to replace those she lost. She also will pick up some fresh food and the like.
-----------------------------------------
As the sun begins to dip down, Nempura will conclude her business and finish depositing what money of hers is left in the bank. She then will head to the tavern.
"It sure is noisy. That's good! That means more money for me."
As she enters, she throws up her hands in a cheer, almost as if to say, "I'm here!". Entertainment arriving always is a celebrated event in taverns. While, no doubt, there are musicians, she is a bard and was well-received last time.
First, she heads to the bartender to secure a room for the night as well as establishing permission to perform. If it is Einar behind the bar, she will give him a big grin as if to say she's flush with money, all because of him. Also, to communicate that, yes, they lived.
"Do you have boiling water? I wish to drink some tea and honey before I tell this tale."
Honey soothes the throat and makes for better performances.
I’ll stay in the common room, Merion says. Easier to come and go, and observe those who do. He also takes the thin stew and crust, and settles down to eat it.
He is sipping the broth, feeling his sobriety slowly return, and watching the increasingly rowdy patrons, when he feels a pulse of excitement through his empathic connection to the bird outside. One of those he is waiting for has returned! Without getting up, Merion turns to keep an eye on the doorway, and is soon rewarded by the sight of Nempura entering the tavern. He marks the crowd’s reaction, and waits to see who else is with her before doing anything else.
Given the gesture to leave, Nempura takes the opportunity and turns to see that Ivar has abandoned them, to a degree. She will give a little whistle to catch his attention that they are heading out.
As his companions finished speaking with the Priestess and they continued exiting. Ivar stopped near the two speaking together. He points at the tall pale attractive woman and the plain looking swordsman, 'Ah the one with the fancy little blade.' asking. "Veren't de in der pools as vell?"...
'Looking for work?' Raising an eyebrow, "Curious, my companions vill be looking for adventurous types to fill der rolls of der vounded comrades. Ve vill be at der Orc's Head Tavern dis evening, vere Nempura vill be performing. You should join us der." Hearing Nempura whistle, he nods politely and heads back towards his two companions. Telling them, "Curious, the attractive pale voman is looking for vork. I told her to find us at der tavern later."
Amiably following Nempura around the city as she shops, Ivar keeps an eye out for pickpockets and thieves. Occasionally taking point, using his mass to push his way through a crowd. As dusk settles over the town and they finish at the store and bank, Ivar nods in agreement with Nempura's observation, "It sounds like der are many who have drunk der fill." He smiles, "But a drunk spends his silver more villingly, yah."
Following in the wake of Nempura's entrance, Ivar pauses as his eyes adjust to the cloudy room. 'She is very popular, but that is no suprise.' Watching the crowd as they watch her enter, Ivar gives a small smile. When they finally push their way through the crowd and near the bar, he waits until Nempura orders. Holding up a finger, "Some stew, a small loaf of der bread und mead for me, Ven der night is over I vill sleep in der common room."
Ewan makes his way together with Arren to the Orc's Head Tavern, all the while there he doesn't mean to pry into her past further, as he got the impression some things were better left unmentioned unless she brought it up.
As the two enter the Orc's Head Tavern, Ewan takes up the surroundings and grins to himself. Almost feels like coming home to my fellow shipmates. It was like this, often enough, especially when we had something to celebrate.
As he makes his way over to the bar itself, he greets Einar with a simple hand gesture and quickly scribbles a note, better then to stutter and shout over the noise in the tavern itself.
On the little note it reads: Two ales please, also two chunks of bread and some stew for me and my friend. I would like to get a bed in the common room. She will order her own bed or room.
Arren is somewhat surprised at the coincidence of everyone heading to the place where she already has a room. Still, it is hard to complain. It has been a long time since she had company. Ewan may not have been the magical lead that she was looking for, but he certainly was good company. Tonight, she decided, could be a night of socialization and respite, instead of work and study. So she accepts the offer of ale, and spends her time chatting with Ewan, waiting for Ivar and the others to arrive. Perhaps the two of them could find work together.
You can find all Divine Level-1 Wands and Potions at the Fane of the Waves Eternal. Just let me know what you are going to buy and you can go ahead and buy them.
While visiting the Low Market you find a wide range of people interested in what you are selling. The item that draws the most interest is the book of exotic animal art. You come across a woman dressed in colorful robes offering you 37 gold for the book. You find a vendor that sells gems and jewels that offers you 4 gold for the turquoise lizard. The white silk scarf receives a offer of 7 gold. The tomb of epics fetches a value of 5 gold. After you give the description of what could be found on the Sea Sprite you get many odd glances. You do find a person who is willing to give you 3 silver pieces for the keys.
For those who have spent any time in Languard, you know that the Low Market that is near the Orc’s Head Tavern where you will find venders with the amount of coin that your items could possibly fetch.
You are unable to find a Handy Haversack in the Low Market.
The barmaid smiles at Merion as she take silver pennies for the meal, ale, and room. While you are enjoying your meal you find an interesting group of adventurers make their way down the stairs. 5 of them in total. Two match the description you were looking for, but they have three others. A tall muscular northern man armed with a vicious looking bardiche, a scholarly looking human male equipped with a rapier, and a tall sallow woman who could possibly be attractive but there is something that isn’t quite right about her.
Nempura makes her way through the crowd, but is quickly noticed and the people begin cheering for her to take the stage. Making her way to the bar, she is greeting with a big smile on Elnar’s face. “Boiling water?” He moves to look behind the swinging doors and gives Nempura a ‘one second’ motion. Coming back out he has a smaller mug with a spoon; “Sorry for the ale mug, we don’t do teas here…” Off to the side you see a table continue to get rowdier and Elnar gives them a stern look; “I do like a good brawl, but it is too early for that. Better get up there and earn us some coin.”
The group of you all see a packed common room. Drinking, dicing, and dancing. You also see a middle-aged man with greying long brown hair moving through the crowd. Table to table he is quietly talking to a patron, lifting his cloak to the side to reveal something, then turned away by the person he is talking with. Then, defeated, moves on to another table.
As Ewan passes his note to the the barmaid she loves between Ewan and Arren and smiles; "Hey hun! I'm Aila and I will be here all night. Two ales and meals coming right up." Turning behind her she pours two frothy mugs of ale and places them in front of the two of you. Disappearing behind a set of double doors, she returns producing two bowls with a hunk of bread in it.; "7 pennies please." she waits to collect the seven pieces of silver. Once collected she moves on to help out other patrons.
The musicians on the stage wrap up one song, and the lead performer stands up with a lute and, plucking a few strings, begins to share a tale of a love found and had.
With the offers being a bit low, Nempura considers going to different markets to trade. She is more interested in selling them at top price than at a quick sell. The silk scarf does make her ponder though. While she makes no sales today, she doesn't close off negotiations and suggests she might return if she considers selling them.
-------------------------------
Nempura shrugs once getting the ale mug in response with a playful grin. It doesn't take her but a few moments to turn the water to tea from her leaves and apply the honey. After a good stir, she takes a long sip and lets it coat her throat. Her eyes move to the people getting rowdy. She can handle that.
"Don't want broken furniture with so many people in here, hmm? Fine."
She will wait for the tale of love to finish and then will hop up on stage.
"Love is great and love is grand, but you came for adventure! Do you want tales of horror? Tales of battle? Of Flame and death? Fear and dread? Mystery?" she pauses for suspense. Then in a quieter voice, "Do you want to know what oddities lurk outside of these safe walls and the valiant efforts put on by those here brave enough to venture out into the blue yonder?! Then you better shutup and listen!" She points intently at those who are bickering. Her voice rises in strength over the crowd. "Listen carefully to my song. Let it fill you with wonder, because this is no made-up bardic song. It happened just this week and is as true as the blood in your bones."
Nempura will show her proficiency here. Before, when speaking to the Lady or the Captain, she told a tale by word. At some point along the way from the events of the Sea Sprite to now, she has crafted, not just a tale, but a haunting song of storms, rain, death, fire, and heroics that all happened aboard the Sea Sprite. The group's valiant behavior is, of course, embellished a bit, but the song puts to reference every sense of hopelessness before bringing it around to the epic snatching victory from the clutches of death. Then, at the end, the distant ship that had abandoned them, swings in, firing its mighty ballistae of purity into the foes of darkness. The tale ends with an air of mystery concerning what will happen next. Who can say? But the end of the song is filled with an encouraging verse to not lose hope . At the end of the song, Nempura bows before the crowd and then will sing a more upbeat tune in celebration. A drinking song to lift them out of their gloom and heavy thoughts in an effort to suggest to them subliminally, "if we all could die like this, why are we not drinking?"
Afterward, she will collect her coins and cheerily accept whatever comes her way.
Merion takes note of the new entrants, intrigued that the wizardess he previously noted has acquired a martial-looking male companion, and that they both seem to be in the company of those he was sent to meet, along with yet another, even more martial man. Further evidence they’re interesting, and perhaps have other factions doing what I’m doing. Lady Pakkanen didn’t mention the two men either, seems there’s a rotating cast.
He listens to Nempura’s song with interest, now understanding the other patrons’ interest in her as well as the gaps in what he was told at the office. I see why they need my help, though this is substantially more dangerous than it seemed. He fingers the money Lady Pakkanen gave him, and thinks of what Fruen would think of all this. Substantially more rewarding, for all concerned, as well.
Watching the bard, the warrior, and the dwarf, he waits for enough of the group to come together again to make sense to introduce himself. In the meantime, he puts himself in a position on the aisle, where the man showing under his cloak could readily pass, and quietly attempts to appear receptive.
Chuckling at Nempura's comment about 'not wanting any broken furniture.' Ivar looks around the crowd while Nempura makes her tea. He notices the Pale woman and the small man with the rapier, apparently already enjoying the stew. Turning and watching as his companion moves toward the stage he smiles, 'She certainly knows how to work a crowd.'
While she is waiting to take the stage Ivar, moves to the end of the bar and drops his bardiche and pack there, waiving at Einar, "I'll vill fetch dat later, no need to have it accidently fall on somevone." Dropping five pennies on the bar, he tucks the small loaf of bread under his left arm, picking up the bowl of watery stew in that hand, and his stein of mead in the other, he walks over to the table where the pale woman and plain man are sitting.
Setting the stein on the table, "I am Ivar, ve were not properly introduced at der temple." He gently takes the loaf of crusty bread out from under his arm and sets the bowl down. "On der stage is Nempura, she vill tell der tale of der Sea Sprite." Holding the bread he points it towards Helgar. "Der dwarf is vone of her original companions, Helgar. You saw us ven ve vere dropping der others at der temple for healing."
Pulling out the nearest chair, he sits down and breaks the bread in half, holding one half close, he offers the other half to the pale woman first then the smallish swordsman. "I am glad dat you vere able to make it here. I've a feeling ve vill need more people for vat Lady Pakkanen vill probably have in mind." Taking a bite of the first half of bread, he stuffs the bite into his cheak, speaking around the bite. "So tell me a little about yourselves."
Ewan quietly takes in the atmosphere of the bar, conversing about little bits and things with Arren on a softer tone of voice, before Nempura takes the stage.
When Aila returns with the bread, ale and the stew, Ewan gives her a big smile and lays down 8 silver pennies for her, motioning it's 7 for the meal, and 1 extra for herself.
AS Nempura performs her rendition of the Macabre Menace of the Sea Sprite, Ewan listens intently and asks Arren. "I-I've never heard about s-s-such cr-creatures. P-P-Pirates? Yes. Tales of s-s-sea m-mon-sters? De-defi-, of c-course. Th-there w-was mention of s-spe-specific magic in old b-b-books though."
As Ivar joins the two at their table, Ewan nods quickly to him in a greeting and makes a gesture for him to sit down.
Displaying the plates with the contents or finished contents of their own meal on it still, Ewan indicates that they've already eaten.
Ewan's mind races as he tries to decide what the best way of communication would be. Writing isn't particularly fast, but talking is also quite slow and troublesome.
He decides to write a note for Ivar to read the following quick summary.
I'm a purser by trade. Travelling on ships, keeping their inventory, books and the amount of room still available in the cargo. Several voyages under my belt. Know to wield a blade. he taps a hand on his leather scabbard on his side.
He then extends his hand in greeting as he says.
"I-I'm Ewan. Pl-pleased to meet you I-I-Ivar."
Helgar nodded her head in thanks for her companions being cared for. That was of grave concern to her, both for religious reasons and out of personal guilt. With them being nursed back to health, she was willing to do just about any job, so long as it did not offend her sense of morals.
"Ivar. Ewan. It will be an honor." She said, abit more gravely than she intended. The previous horror had marked her. Some of her prior naivety, and some of her insecurities, had been left behind on that ship. Which was not to say that she was without either. Just that she no longer felt like the same dwarf who so blithely sailed into the darkness. "I am a priestess of the Forge Father. So I am also a smith. Me miracles are nay the most impressive, but they be there. I can bless the weapons of me companions. Given that ye-" She looked at Ivar. "-look like ye know how to wield a blade, I am sure that we will get along just fine. Aye?"
"A troubling tale to be sure... I wonder what it could mean." Arren seems lost in thought. "I'd certainly like to hear more about what caused this incident, and help get to the bottom of it."
"It is nice to put a name to the face Ivar! My name is Arren; a caster, looking for knowledge, work, and companionship, in roughly that order." She doesn't elaborate further on the nature of her magic at this time. "This is my familiar, Hope." She puts her left hand in her right briefly, and produces a small scorpion, who waves a claw in a friendly manner. Those who watch carefully might notice that the scorpion tattooed on her left hand seems to be missing. "Beyond that there is not much to tell. I am a leather-worker of some minor skill, although I have not had a chance to practice my craft often as of late." Arren looks quite sad for a second, before changing to a smile. Despite the stretched, pale skin, and the strange pallid eyes, it was a kind smile.
"And what of you Ivar? Who might you be?"
Raising an eyebrow, Ivar watches as Ewan writes a note and hands it to him. Accepting the note from the smaller man, he looks at it while sipping his mead. When Ewan reaches his hand out, Ivar sets the stein down, wiping his hand on his pantleg and reaches out shaking the man's Hand. "Ewan." He held the mans hand for the briefest of seconds, feeling the sword callouses, he nods towards the mans hand. "Good der fancy blade is not just for show."
Turning as Helgar begins to speak, Ivar smiles, 'Just like a dwarf, stoic until the mead flows.' Nodding, 'Ah a Forge-mistress, how very impressive.' His smile widens at the compliment, "Blade, spear or bow, My Papa taught me how to fight und sail, Tavar "Der Lame" taught me how to make vwar."
He reaches across the table as the pale woman introduces herself. Taking her hand gently "Der pleasure is mine Arren." He watches as the small poisoner appears in her hand. 'Good a witch, and one who's familiar with poison. Better on our side than against us.'. Cocking his head curiously when she adds she 'works in leather' 'She actually looks like it saddens her NOT to be able to craft leather. Why would you make purses when you can use magic? That would be like missing fishing when you could go a-viking.'
Sipping his mead, as Arren asks 'Who he might be.' He smiles, wiping the froth from his mustache, "Who might I be?" He Pauses for effect. "I might be der king of der vworld... eventually." He gives a wide smile. "But presently I am a named man looking for adventure." Shrugging, "Previously I vas a vwarrior sailing vit Tavar "Der Lame" on de ship der Linnorms Claw." He reaches up and touches the scar that runs from his forehead to his chin. "It vas he who made me vone of his 'named men' after a fierce battle." Pausing, wondering how much more to share. "Und afore dat I vas a boy growing up in Skaalhaft, who had no desire to follow der boring life of der whaler."
The Orc’s Head Tavern cheers as Nempura takes the stage. For those who were here when Nempura performed the last time, it is clear that word has made its way around the Low City about the skill of a bard that has taken up residence at the Orc’s Head Tavern. And from the looks that some of the patrons are giving Nempura, it doesn’t hurt that she is pleasant on the eyes.
With the claim from Nempura of “this is no made-up bardic song. It happened just this week and is as true as the blood in your bones.” silence rolls through the common room. She begins weaving the tale of what happened on the Sea Sprite, commanding their attention even more.
There are a few moments that specifically stand out through the telling of the tale. Finding the room with the silver pennies wedged under the door, opening the door and finding a man hanging from the rafters and body wrapped in a sail that was twitching then the explosion of rats swarming from the sail. You can several of the patrons squirming and kicking off rats that aren’t there climbing up their own legs as was told in the tale.
Suspense as you found the room full of bodies with two survivors turning to fear with the undead Brykolakas raising the dead into Lacedons, and the battle that followed. And finally, the thrill of combat being told. Keeping the Lacedons at bay as you seal yourselves in a saferoom, climbing the outside of the ship in the storm, and even an eruption of applause as Nempura tells of how she cut down the rope ladder and jumps onto a mast and even landing with grace on the deck. All ending with the climax of a storm of splinters as ballista bolts find their home in the hull of the Sea Sprite. Sinking it as it begins to be engulfed in flames.
Nempura moves from the Epic of the Sea Sprite into a drinking song, and the patrons take to the floor dancing as barmaids deliver fresh mugs of ale and collect their coins. The musicians join in as the songs don’t always have the same lyrics, but the melodies are often familiar among bards and gleemen alike. But, as time goes on, the crowd still enjoys the music and dancing, but many go back to their dicing or talking loudly as they were before.
Merion has tried to position himself in a way that would attract the middle-aged man to make his way towards him. And it is successful. As he makes his way you realize that this greying man is also showing signs of heavy wrinkling on his eyes and brow. Almost timidly, he begins speaking with a shaky whisper. From time to time the man looks around scanning the room.
“Beg pardon sir. You seem to be a man who is skilled with a blade. I used to be an adventurer, but age and past injuries have caught up to me. I am seeking to return to my home village of Dulwich, buy a farm and retire in more of a peaceful life. But I need funds to do this and need to part with something that has brought me luck.”
Keeping it hidden, the man reveals a finely crafted dagger. He proves his own skill with a blade as he quickly whips it about and shows how balanced the dagger is. This finely crafted dagger is actually a silver bladed dagger that seems to be of ancient design.
He holds it out in the palm of his hand and you see a finely etched serpent’s head decorates the dagger’s blade. The serphent’s tongue reaches the dagger’s blade tip, while the tail coils to form the pommel. “I have had this blade for a very longtime and am willing to let it go for 400 gold crowns, but it also comes with the tale of where it was discovered. Where there is more treasures to be discovered…”
The evening continues to roll on seemingly uneventful. That is until from the balcony above a man begins shouting down to those below; “Wicked men and women! Turn from the desires of the flesh and the materials of Ashlar! You drink your coin away turning your mind into a grey ooze, thoughtless with only the desire to consume.” This man is wearing a white cowl and tabard that has an emblazing symbol of the rising sun. Known to be linked to the deity Darlen, the Shining Light.
He paces around the balcony so all can see him below; “You leave your wives and children at home without coin as you roll away every bit and penny you own. You straddle another man’s lap and take him within you, as your husband is resting his worried head. Blocking out how you have received the coin you bring home.” He makes his way down the stairs, and as he does you can see that he has a longsword at his hip and is wearing chainmail under the tabard.
“Who yearns for more than filling their gullet with this swill,” smacking half filled mug of ale from the hand of a near by patron “and getting fat? Your weak will can be turned to iron if you so choose. Join me and the Justicar will purify you, the Noble One will raise your class standing, Darlen is calling you!” He begins fighting through the tavern searching out anyone who accepts Darlen’s call, all the way receiving nasty curses and threats, and being pushed. Yet all the while he doesn’t go for his sword.
Merion apologizes to the man, looking around the tavern's common room. It is a beautiful blade, and surely comes with a magnificent tale, but you're speaking to the wrong man, and are probably in the wrong tavern, if you want someone with 400 gold crowns to burn.
Once the man has moved on, Merion quietly gets to his feet, and after blending into the crowd approaches the four at their table. I could not help overhearing you say a certain name, he says to Ivar. To all four, I am her clerk. You all, then, were among the crew of the ship you mentioned as well? If so, well met, as she sent me here to locate you. He makes a reassuring gesture. No danger or urgency, she merely wished me to make arrangements to accompany you. I hope I may be of...assistance.
There is nothing sinister in his comment, but although Merion is armed Ivar would be fairly certain he could tie Merion in a good sailor's knot without much trouble. Ewan, similarly, would mark the quality of Merion's weapon but also that Merion is in no way a fighting man.
Merion stands not more than 5'7" or 5'8", and is slender. He wears a doublet and half-cloak of decent but not extravagant quality, and has a hat with a riband that has seen better days. Everything about him is clean but plain.
His stance is the awkward one of a civilian trying not to cause a tripping hazard with his sword. Although he superficially resembles a less physically fit Ewan there are tells of martial skill that simply are not there. In addition to the rapier, he has concealed in his vest a baton that may be a wand of some sort.
In a city the size of Ashlar there are hundreds and more of this kind--civilian folk who wear sidearms and have trained somewhat in their use because the Watch has limited reach and it would be foolish not to, but who are hardly to be relied upon to strike a strong blow. Students and clerks who keep the machinery of government and enterprise operating smoothly, with skills learned at a desk rather than a plow, forge, or ship.
But there is a spark about him, a restless energy that suggests that he is not to be overlooked, no matter how one's eye wants to do so.
Nempura laughs and enjoys the frivolity as the crowd greets her after the songs. Surely, there are many drinks being offered as well as kisses on the cheek from older men (or younger trying to sneak in) as well as laps offered. Nempura doesn't linger though and flirts through the crowd to talk with those few old-timers she has met in there before, as well as her own group. All the way, she reaffirms how true it was.
As the evening settles into idleness, she would move to rejoin Helgar and Ivar, noticing now they are with Ewan and another woman she has not met. She approaches the table, plucky and quite cheery. It's hard to tell if this is from the various samplings of mugs on the way over, from a puff on an old man's pipe (probably a drug but not knowing it), or if it was just the fulfillment of her hedonistic tendencies. Whatever it is, she is almost predatory in her smile.
"Hello, my friends."
She approaches as Merion had finished introducing himself. Somehow, in her mind, this communicates that he is a friend and so as she's done to pretty much everyone else for the past while, she slings her arm around him and hangs off of him (unless he stops her for whatever reason).
As the Great Darlen's call goes out, she shudders at the suddenness and violence in the man's words. No doubt there were scoundrels there this evening. She probably got groped or kissed by a few of them on the way over through the crowd, but there were normal folks too. People enjoying a night out after a long hard day of work. This was where people would come to share news and struggle. This is where they would ask for help. This "cleric" paints a dirty picture of them all. For this reason, she is in a normal disposition to dislike this crusher of spirits.
As he comes down the stairs speaking, she unslings her arm from Marion and tightens her lips in a sneer. She then replies, "Shad-ap, you self-righteous pomp. You're probably the worst one here. Acting all high and mighty...n'stuff..." She doesn't seem mad at the man but more accurately is trying to educate him (or perhaps "lecture" him with a wagging finger is more accurate in her current state). "You could have come in here all nice and stuff and I'm sure I would have helped ya. Now I just wanna sock yer face. I won't...because I'm classy." She then drunkenly flourishes a hand in a half curtsey and then will continue, saying, "What do you want anyway?"
As Ivar explains more about himself, Ewan looks at his boistering form.
Skaalhaft eh? No surprise there, explains his mannerisms and speech. Been a long time already since I was there.
When helgar moves to their table and introduces herself, Ewan extends a hand to her as well. "I-I'm Ewan." He slides over the paper towards her, so she can read it.
Ewan looks to Merion with a question mark written all over his face as he approaches the table as well.
There's a lot of interest in this group I'll say. A special mission by Lady Pakkanen and now even one of her associates sent to help them. The pay should be good and the experience great, but still. It feels like he was sent to watch them, as a spy of sorts.
"I th-think you're m-mis-taken s-sir. My-myself and Ar-ren here w-were not on s-said sh-ship. We've just m-met."
Oh well the cat's out of the bag now already. No need to actually hide my 'impediment' anymore.
Ewan gives a glance to the man who is making all the ruckus about repenting for your sins and looking for trouble inside the tavern. Ewan does not start a fight, but knows that this could get out of hand, nobody likes someone who tells others what they should do.