Guiscard grabs a plate and sets himself up within listening distance of the somewhat out of place table of Dragonmarked representatives. Pirates, warriors, all expected in such a seemingly lawless burg on the fringes of society. These people though...well, they might know some interesting gossip at least.
Guiscard grabs a plate and sets himself up within listening distance of the somewhat out of place table of Dragonmarked representatives. Pirates, warriors, all expected in such a seemingly lawless burg on the fringes of society. These people though...well, they might know some interesting gossip at least.
Tyrant takes stock of the people in the room. Sizing them up, especially the Dragonborn, and noting their weapons and armor, if any. If they decided to leave their effects in their room, Tyrant would simply deem them fools, not worth battling.
Regardless, there were other ways to win. After looking over the room's residents, Tyrant passed by the delicious smelling hog. Wasn't quite done yet. Almost. He headed towards the human entertainment set up. Some of it was strange and foreign to him. Weird tables covered in colored balls, other tables with spinning wheels and smaller balls, and long lanes meant to smash down columns with heavy balls.
The humans seemed to have an odd fascination with those.
Throwing darts, however, he understood perfectly. A game of skill the Gix back home had picked up in their travels. If there were a free board and darts, Tyrant would not hesitate to step up and practice his aim.
[dice=Darts]1d20+7
The Lhazaar corsair who has identified himself to Tyrant as 'Constant' nods and smiles respectfully as all of the kobold's missiles hit the bull's eye squarely with a satisfying thud.
Giri tries to follow the names as best he can.
"Uh...uh, I'm Giridonyth Sinavaellc. They said I can use D'Tharashk while I'm away from Newthrone if someone asks. I'm here to get blooded! That means I need to kill something really big and really great and everyone will think I'm strong. Because I am! The other Houses don't really like that I'm here, but House Tharashk is funner and let's me do stuff." Giri speaks quickly in between stuffing his face with food.
Guiscard grabs a plate and sets himself up within listening distance of the somewhat out of place table of Dragonmarked representatives. Pirates, warriors, all expected in such a seemingly lawless burg on the fringes of society. These people though...well, they might know some interesting gossip at least.
Guiscard perks his big, droopy ears as he eats.
Giri tries to follow the names as best he can.
"Uh...uh, I'm Giridonyth Sinavaellc. They said I can use D'Tharashk while I'm away from Newthrone if someone asks. I'm here to get blooded! That means I need to kill something really big and really great and everyone will think I'm strong. Because I am! The other Houses don't really like that I'm here, but House Tharashk is funner and let's me do stuff." Giri speaks quickly in between stuffing his face with food.
Tukhach's brow furrows slightly at Giri's explanation, "Hmmm... 'let you use d'Tharashk?' you say -- and 'other Houses', that all sounds quite complicated, and I can see why you weren't attached to our mission, which is a fairly standard House Tharashk concern -- bounty hunting, tracking, etc. I should be glad to know more of your associations, Giri."
Sieghart left Fenrir parked at the stables, having stashed a few of the more valuable items from the saddlebags in his pack, and took a seat the bar in the common room. He looked over at whatever his immediate neighbors were eating and took a whiff of whatever was making in the kitchen.
“I’m starved.” he said, feeling his mood improve already. “I’ve been living on a soldier’s field rations for days, so I’ll eat just about anything freshly-made. Oh, a drink as well, if you could. Whiskey if you have it, but I wouldn’t turn down whatever you have.”
"Constant Reginald Rayburn. Human names are so long," Tyrant claimed. He took his shot, noting with satisfaction their placement on the board. "However, if you wish to compete with me, then I accept."
The oversized kobold plucked the darts out of the board before moving to the side, waving Reginald to the line. It was now that he finally took in his competitor for what he was. Overdressed, with a silly hat. Although, a sailor. Tyrant had not yet been to the sea, and despite having left the warren more than most others he knew he was not well traveled. Books told of a body of water so vast that, if you went far enough, you could lose sight of land and become lost in the featureless waves. Unless you knew what you were doing.
"A sailor," Tyrant repeated. He wasn't usually one for conversation, especially with those perceived as lesser, but the game loosened his tongue some. "Tell me, then. What is the largest thing you and your ship have slain? I read many tales of savage beasts, but they do not compare to hearing first hand accounts."
Guiscard grabs a plate and sets himself up within listening distance of the somewhat out of place table of Dragonmarked representatives. Pirates, warriors, all expected in such a seemingly lawless burg on the fringes of society. These people though...well, they might know some interesting gossip at least.
Guiscard perks his big, droopy ears as he eats.
[dice=Perception]1d20+11
Guiscard manages to intercept some interesting conversation among the serving staff as they set out steaming tranchers of the roast, along with heaps of aromatic potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, and other seared vegetables that have absorbed the flavorful juices of the meat.
Two of the serving bonneted serving girls whisper to each other as they set out food,
"Would you stop it Clarissa, you're so dreadfully naïve -- it's a miracle you haven't already been swindled of every dukat you've earned and left stripped in some dark alley near the Beggar's Web! Honestly, I can't believe you sometimes. There's nothing in that old fort -- the holy knights of the Lions of the Everlasting Sun investigated it thoroughly when the Lantern Bearers first occupied the city, and I'm sure they haven't allowed anyone else to set up shop there in the meantime, and I'm positive that their explorations included the exorcism of any lingering spirits by the preachers of the Auroric Evangelists of the Order of the Sacred Ankh. Honestly, everyone goes mad with fear around the time of the Moonless Night, but nothing ever happens despite the claims of the priests that the demons of the Khyber will arise -- nothing supernatural in any event. Sure, the ruffians and gangs of the city are bolder, but nothing else, and I'm positive it will be just the same this time as the last..."
Her interlocutor, the incredulous serving maid identified as 'Clarissa' cuts off her doubtful fellow,
"No, no, no Eloise, you're very, very wrong. I'm not making it up and for my part I'm shocked your pig headedness hasn't already gotten you into trouble. I've talked with several of the waifs who live around Churigeon Street, and they've all seen strange lights in the gloomhold as well. I don't know how they missed it or why, or what might have happened, but there's something going on there that the Lantern Bearers have not taken care of, and only the foolhardy would think otherwise. They're there all the time, why would they make up something like that when I wasn't offering them any money or other incentive?"
"Constant Reginald Rayburn. Human names are so long," Tyrant claimed. He took his shot, noting with satisfaction their placement on the board. "However, if you wish to compete with me, then I accept."
The oversized kobold plucked the darts out of the board before moving to the side, waving Reginald to the line. It was now that he finally took in his competitor for what he was. Overdressed, with a silly hat. Although, a sailor. Tyrant had not yet been to the sea, and despite having left the warren more than most others he knew he was not well traveled. Books told of a body of water so vast that, if you went far enough, you could lose sight of land and become lost in the featureless waves. Unless you knew what you were doing.
"A sailor," Tyrant repeated. He wasn't usually one for conversation, especially with those perceived as lesser, but the game loosened his tongue some. "Tell me, then. What is the largest thing you and your ship have slain? I read many tales of savage beasts, but they do not compare to hearing first hand accounts."
Reginald cracks a smile as he picks up and aims his own dart,
"Well, Tyrant, the Intrepid once did furious battle in the riotous straights of the Thunder Sea which between Khorvaire and the wilds of Xen'drick. Luckily, with the aid of our resident Sea Mage Asama'el Typhonstorm, we were able to fend off the predations of the creature's grasping tentacles and its sahuagin warriors, both of which doubtless hoped to pull our vessel and crew down into the lightless depths where they dwelt. One of my crew, Jerrod, claims that the beast laid a curse upon our company, and that a number of mishaps over the last few months are the result of the thwarted abominations spellweaving, but the ways of the sea are never without their dangers, and I put little stock in such superstitions."
The corsairs darts also fly sure -- so surely in fact that they first ring and then, finally, split Tyrant's in twain as his heptad of missiles land in the board.
He then turns back to Tyrant,
"And what of you, dragonling, what is the greatest martial challenge which you have faced in your travels?"
Sieghart left Fenrir parked at the stables, having stashed a few of the more valuable items from the saddlebags in his pack, and took a seat the bar in the common room. He looked over at whatever his immediate neighbors were eating and took a whiff of whatever was making in the kitchen.
“I’m starved.” he said, feeling his mood improve already. “I’ve been living on a soldier’s field rations for days, so I’ll eat just about anything freshly-made. Oh, a drink as well, if you could. Whiskey if you have it, but I wouldn’t turn down whatever you have.”
Several serving girls lay out steaming tranchers of meat and roasted vegetables, along with foaming glasses of a chill draft, and simmering boats of spicy gravy. One of them winks coyly at Sieghart as she sets down one tray of food.
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Giri tries to follow the names as best he can."Uh...uh, I'm Giridonyth Sinavaellc. They said I can use D'Tharashk while I'm away from Newthrone if someone asks. I'm here to get blooded! That means I need to kill something really big and really great and everyone will think I'm strong. Because I am! The other Houses don't really like that I'm here, but House Tharashk is funner and let's me do stuff." Giri speaks quickly in between stuffing his face with food.
Tukhach's brow furrows slightly at Giri's explanation, "Hmmm... 'let you use d'Tharashk?' you say -- and 'other Houses', that all sounds quite complicated, and I can see why you weren't attached to our mission, which is a fairly standard House Tharashk concern -- bounty hunting, tracking, etc. I should be glad to know more of your associations, Giri."
"Yeah! You get it. It IS complicated. I don't really understand it much either. They always tell me "Don't listen too much to what they say, listen to what WE say." Then I have to go stay at Lady d'Jorasco's chapel and that's really really boring. But then I get to go to Mister d'Ghallanda's House and I get to tell jokes. Wanna hear a joke?"
Giri gets up on his chair without waiting for a response and starts speaking more loudly for anyone to hear.
"Have you ever heard about the minstrel in the army?" Giri waits a solid beat before continuing.
"He was Lute-tenant!"
Giri tries to follow the names as best he can."Uh...uh, I'm Giridonyth Sinavaellc. They said I can use D'Tharashk while I'm away from Newthrone if someone asks. I'm here to get blooded! That means I need to kill something really big and really great and everyone will think I'm strong. Because I am! The other Houses don't really like that I'm here, but House Tharashk is funner and let's me do stuff." Giri speaks quickly in between stuffing his face with food.
Tukhach's brow furrows slightly at Giri's explanation, "Hmmm... 'let you use d'Tharashk?' you say -- and 'other Houses', that all sounds quite complicated, and I can see why you weren't attached to our mission, which is a fairly standard House Tharashk concern -- bounty hunting, tracking, etc. I should be glad to know more of your associations, Giri."
"Yeah! You get it. It IS complicated. I don't really understand it much either. They always tell me "Don't listen too much to what they say, listen to what WE say. Then I have to go stay at Lady d'Jorasco's chapel and that's really really boring. But then I get to go to Mister d'Ghallanda's House and I get to tell jokes. Wanna hear a joke?"
Giri gets up on his chair without waiting for a response and starts speaking more loudly for anyone to hear.
"Have you ever heard about the minstrel in the army?" Giri waits a solid beat...
The crowd erupts in laugher at the ridiculous joke, even the minstrel Navier, who seems to take the reference to his own profession with good humor.
Giridonyth grins wide at the audience, takes a bow and sits back down to eat more.
Several serving girls lay out steaming tranchers of meat and roasted vegetables, along with foaming glasses of a chill draft, and simmering boats of spicy gravy. One of them winks coyly at Sieghart as she sets down one tray of food.Sieghart left Fenrir parked at the stables, having stashed a few of the more valuable items from the saddlebags in his pack, and took a seat the bar in the common room. He looked over at whatever his immediate neighbors were eating and took a whiff of whatever was making in the kitchen.
“I’m starved.” he said, feeling his mood improve already. “I’ve been living on a soldier’s field rations for days, so I’ll eat just about anything freshly-made. Oh, a drink as well, if you could. Whiskey if you have it, but I wouldn’t turn down whatever you have.”
Sieghart rolled up his sleeves and dug in. While he feasted, he exchanged travel stories with a few other outlanders at the bar, recounting stories of expeditions into the Mournland and narrowly-avoided Valenar warbands, albeit with a few creative embellishments. Everyone has a story, and learning other people's stories was one of the great pleasures of traveling.
"Sieghart Aetheredge." he introduced himself after a particularly-harrowing tale. "Outrider and part-time mechanic. It's a pleasure to meet you all."
Guiscard raises a bushy eyebrow at the overheard conversation.
Ghosts in the old fort nearby? It's not unlikely I suppose, especially if the incompetents that run that pompous church were the ones overseeing the exorcism.
Vinexa caught Sieghart moving towards one of the tables to get food and she followed behind him. She deftly avoided people who didn't notice her, it was a regular occurrence whether she wanted it to be or not, so she had learned to adapt to it. When he reached a table she considered whether to sit with him or not and finally decided she would.
Vinexa hopped over the seat nimbly and landed next to him as she called out to the leaving waitress, "I'll have what he's having!" She looked at those gathered around the table and, having just heard Sieghart's introduction said, "I'm Vinexa, illusionist, dancer, and temptress."
Reginald cracks a smile as he picks up and aims his own dart,
"Well, Tyrant, the Intrepid once did furious battle in the riotous straights of the Thunder Sea which between Khorvaire and the wilds of Xen'drick. Luckily, with the aid of our resident Sea Mage Asama'el Typhonstorm, we were able to fend off the predations of the creature's grasping tentacles and its sahuagin warriors, both of which doubtless hoped to pull our vessel and crew down into the lightless depths where they dwelt. One of my crew, Jerrod, claims that the beast laid a curse upon our company, and that a number of mishaps over the last few months are the result of the thwarted abominations spellweaving, but the ways of the sea are never without their dangers, and I put little stock in such superstitions."
The corsairs darts also fly sure -- so surely in fact that they first ring and then, finally, split Tyrant's in twain as his heptad of missiles land in the board.
He then turns back to Tyrant,
"And what of you, dragonling, what is the greatest martial challenge which you have faced in your travels?"
Tyrant obviously takes offense to being called a Dragonling, but recognized Reginald as a warrior of superior skill. Instead, he puffed up his chest and began his claim. "I once hunted down a Barette single-handedly. It had appeared once before, in my youth, getting too close to our warren. I was not able to slay it then. However, once signs of it began to surface, I took it as a personal challenge."
The Kobold crossed his arms and subconsciously began to claw at the bulette armor he wore, reminiscing. "Tracking a Barette through the mountains was not easy. All I had to track were slightly tilted trees, remains of half eaten monsters, and my own gut instinct. After a week of stubborn tracking, I finally found the beast resting not too far from its last meal. Bigger than two horses, with a battle scarred hide that noted its experience."
Tyrant began grinning as he remembered the fight. "Due to my wariness of the creature, I admit I started the fight in a sore light. They sensed the slightest vibrations in the ground near them, and thus I soared through the air." He spread his wings out. "I got the first strike in, but the fight was not won with that. No, teeth and flashing claws, like a warrior story of old. We traded blows until it felt sufficiently terrified to try to flee."
"I was not in good shape, but I relished it. The moment where I could very well die was right in front of me, and my foe would deprive me of it? No!" Tyrant became very animated. "I had started the fight in a cowardly way, but to flee was worse! I took in that moment, I breathed it in. It fled just as I had when I was a youngling. I chased it down before it could submerge itself in the ground, and I took its life while looking into its eyes. I made sure it knew in its dying moments."
Tyrant thumped his chest and yelled, "I AM TYRANT!" The kobold threw his arms and wings upwards, caring not for any disturbance he was making. "Then I skinned it, boiled the leather, and made my armor. I returned... I was victorious, removing the stain of failure from my youth."
Reginald cracks a smile as he picks up and aims his own dart,
"Well, Tyrant, the Intrepid once did furious battle in the riotous straights of the Thunder Sea which between Khorvaire and the wilds of Xen'drick. Luckily, with the aid of our resident Sea Mage Asama'el Typhonstorm, we were able to fend off the predations of the creature's grasping tentacles and its sahuagin warriors, both of which doubtless hoped to pull our vessel and crew down into the lightless depths where they dwelt. One of my crew, Jerrod, claims that the beast laid a curse upon our company, and that a number of mishaps over the last few months are the result of the thwarted abominations spellweaving, but the ways of the sea are never without their dangers, and I put little stock in such superstitions."
The corsairs darts also fly sure -- so surely in fact that they first ring and then, finally, split Tyrant's in twain as his heptad of missiles land in the board.
He then turns back to Tyrant,
"And what of you, dragonling, what is the greatest martial challenge which you have faced in your travels?"
Tyrant obviously takes offense to being called a Dragonling, but recognized Reginald as a warrior of superior skill. Instead, he puffed up his chest and began his claim. "I once hunted down a Barette single-handedly. It had appeared once before, in my youth, getting too close to our warren. I was not able to slay it then. However, once signs of it began to surface, I took it as a personal challenge."
The Kobold crossed his arms and subconsciously began to claw at the bulette armor he wore, reminiscing. "Tracking a Barette through the mountains was not easy. All I had to track were slightly tilted trees, remains of half eaten monsters, and my own gut instinct. After a week of stubborn tracking, I finally found the beast resting not too far from its last meal. Bigger than two horses,...
The Lhazaaran Corsair's bushy eyebrows arc noticeably as Tyrant recounts his battle with the land shark, "A barette you say? I have had many encounters with their aquatic brethren -- all extremely violent." Constant grunts as he deposits another heptad of darts into the board.
Navier begins to strum methodically on his mandolin as the evening's festivities hit their stride. Slowly, and then more surely, his high pitched voice begins to lilt melodiously over the cacophony of the dinnertime comings and goings. He begins to tell a story of the distant Age of Demons, when the coatl and rakshasas warred ceaselessly for dominion over Eberron.
"Very foul tempered as well as extremely aggressive, yes. I have heard of their sea dwelling family. When I was younger, I scoffed at them being a threat with only their teeth, no claws to speak of. But now I realize that is no disadvantage; I could not fight in the water the same way I can in land or in the sky. It was what they were made for. Regardless, I would not mind the challenge some day."
Tyrant stepped up to the line and threw his darts.
And scowled. He was getting too excited at the thought of battle.
Upon hearing Navier begin his performance, Giridonyth's head slowly turns and locks onto the minstrel as he abruptly leaves the table to go sit near him. Giri listens with rapt attention and begins committing both the melody and story to memory.
This story is pretty good, but it needs more DRAGONS! Everybody loves dragons. Giri bobs back and forth as he listens crosslegged. In a moment of inspiration, he draws his songbook out and scribbles a few things down before putting it back away.
AGE OF DEMONS: ADD DRAGONS
Upon hearing Navier begin his performance, Giridonyth's head slowly turns and locks onto the minstrel as he abruptly leaves the table to go sit near him. Giri listens with rapt attention and begins committing both the melody and story to memory.
This story is pretty good, but it needs more DRAGONS! Everybody loves dragons. Giri bobs back and forth as he listens crosslegged. In a moment of inspiration, he draws his songbook out and scribbles a few things down before putting it back away.
AGE OF DEMONS: ADD DRAGONS
Navier frowns unmistakably at Giridonyth's interruption, but manages to preserve his equilibrium sufficiently so that his evident irritation is unregistered in the troubadour's singing.
Guiscard raises a bushy eyebrow at the overheard conversation.
Ghosts in the old fort nearby? It's not unlikely I suppose, especially if the incompetents that run that pompous church were the ones overseeing the exorcism.
Guiscard overhears a serving boy talking to another maid,
"Be careful with talk like that, or you'll end up branded like that young noble a few years back --- his vaunted pre-Cyran lineage meant nothing to the inquisitors of the Lanterns, and they exiled him all the same. And you're just a scullery maid, Anna, they won't even bother to disinfect the mark, they'll just toss you into the jungle with a ragged wound from the brazier--"
The young man's harangue is cut off,
"Oh shush David, those silly priests won't come bothering any of us little folk who live in the shadow of their precious Holy City -- they don't give a fig for anyone who doesn't share the same zealous faith as their own -- and the champions of the Silver Flame are just the same, only a different color of cloth!"
"Very foul tempered as well as extremely aggressive, yes. I have heard of their sea dwelling family. When I was younger, I scoffed at them being a threat with only their teeth, no claws to speak of. But now I realize that is no disadvantage; I could not fight in the water the same way I can in land or in the sky. It was what they were made for. Regardless, I would not mind the challenge some day."
Tyrant stepped up to the line and threw his darts.
[Dice=Darts]1d20+7
And scowled. He was getting too excited at the thought of battle.
The corsair chuckles at the interruption in Tyrant's luck.
"Well, then, noble warrior, what has brought you to this fair city?"
Vinexa caught Sieghart moving towards one of the tables to get food and she followed behind him. She deftly avoided people who didn't notice her, it was a regular occurrence whether she wanted it to be or not, so she had learned to adapt to it. When he reached a table she considered whether to sit with him or not and finally decided she would.
Vinexa hopped over the seat nimbly and landed next to him as she called out to the leaving waitress, "I'll have what he's having!" She looked at those gathered around the table and, having just heard Sieghart's introduction said, "I'm Vinexa, illusionist, dancer, and temptress."
Vinexa can't help but notice an unmistakable glare of approbation by one of the serving girls at her utterance of the word "temptress". She quickly makes the holy sign of the Order of the Ankh -- the Lantern's cadre of exorcists, and hurries along with her tasks, though apparently deliberately maintaining a distance from Vinexa.
Vinexa ignored the glare of the serving girl for a moment, until she caught the woman making the holy sign of the Order of the Ankh. Most people would be smug, maybe comment on it, and go about their way since most wouldn't think it true. The problem was that Vinexa really was what the serving girl thought she was, more or less anyway, and that could be trouble.
The way the woman kept her distance after that made Vinexa realize she might have made a large mistake with her words, one that might come back to cost her later. She made a mental note of the woman and what she looked like, she'd have to keep an eye on that one and, if she became a threat, possibly deal with her. For now she tried to put the incident out of her mind as she waited on the food to arrive.
Vinexa ignored the glare of the serving girl for a moment, until she caught the woman making the holy sign of the Order of the Ankh. Most people would be smug, maybe comment on it, and go about their way since most wouldn't think it true. The problem was that Vinexa really was what the serving girl thought she was, more or less anyway, and that could be trouble.
The way the woman kept her distance after that made Vinexa realize she might have made a large mistake with her words, one that might come back to cost her later. She made a mental note of the woman and what she looked like, she'd have to keep an eye on that one and, if she became a threat, possibly deal with her. For now she tried to put the incident out of her mind as she waited on the food to arrive.
One of the serving boys and a serving girl lay sumptuous tranchers of roast pork, seared vegetables, and a ladle of tangy gravy before Vinexa. The handsome youth with light brown hair grins at her and winks winsomely as he deposits the food,
"Don't worry about Ivanovna, Mistress, she's always been something of a killjoy, and has only gotten worse since she was accepted as a proselyte of the Lantern Bearers -- but it's all talk and she's really quite harmless. If it gets to out of hand, just let me know and I'll be happy to have a discrete word with the Lady of the House. My name is Garrett."
The corsair chuckles at the interruption in Tyrant's luck.
"Well, then, noble warrior, what has brought you to this fair city?"
Noble warrior. That was more like it. "I came to resupply before returning in my search for the next challenge. I'm out to find the biggest threat I can and eviscerate it, absorbing its essence in the process."
Tyrant tried his hand at darts again.
His excitement calmed, and his hands no longer shook.
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The corsair chuckles at the interruption in Tyrant's luck.
"Well, then, noble warrior, what has brought you to this fair city?"
Noble warrior. That was more like it. "I came to resupply before returning in my search for the next challenge. I'm out to find the biggest threat I can and eviscerate it, absorbing its essence in the process."
Tyrant tried his hand at darts again.
[Dice=Darts]1d20+7
[Dice=... confirm?]1d20+7His excitement calmed, and his hands no longer shook.
The dartboard cracks into two perfectly apportioned Hal especially and tumbles with a loud crash from its perch.
The serving staff turn, one or two with an accompanying gasp, at the disturbance.
The corsair chuckles at the interruption in Tyrant's luck.
"Well, then, noble warrior, what has brought you to this fair city?"
Noble warrior. That was more like it. "I came to resupply before returning in my search for the next challenge. I'm out to find the biggest threat I can and eviscerate it, absorbing its essence in the process."
Tyrant tried his hand at darts again.
[Dice=Darts]1d20+7
[Dice=... confirm?]1d20+7His excitement calmed, and his hands no longer shook.
The dartboard cracks into two perfectly apportioned Hal especially and tumbles with a loud crash from its perch.
The serving staff turn, one or two with an accompanying gasp, at the disturbance.
Reginald tips his tricone as he grins, "Well, I think that's a clear a sign as any that we've had enough of this contest for the evening. Good night to you, master Tyrant. Maybe we shall engage again before the Intrepid departs of the Tashana Tundra in three days time."
The corsair chuckles at the interruption in Tyrant's luck.
"Well, then, noble warrior, what has brought you to this fair city?"
Noble warrior. That was more like it. "I came to resupply before returning in my search for the next challenge. I'm out to find the biggest threat I can and eviscerate it, absorbing its essence in the process."
Tyrant tried his hand at darts again.
[Dice=Darts]1d20+7
[Dice=... confirm?]1d20+7His excitement calmed, and his hands no longer shook.
The dartboard cracks into two perfectly apportioned Hal especially and tumbles with a loud crash from its perch.
The serving staff turn, one or two with an accompanying gasp, at the disturbance.
Once Sieghart, slightly drunk and a bit settled-in from the hearty meal and drink, was certain no one's looking, he picked up both split halves of the dartboard, whistling at how cleanly the board had been cleaved.
"Mr. Tyrant, was it?" he asked the warrior. "I hope it wouldn't hurt your pride if someone fixed this. I just wouldn't want anyone to have to pay for damages."
The corsair chuckles at the interruption in Tyrant's luck.
"Well, then, noble warrior, what has brought you to this fair city?"
Noble warrior. That was more like it. "I came to resupply before returning in my search for the next challenge. I'm out to find the biggest threat I can and eviscerate it, absorbing its essence in the process."
Tyrant tried his hand at darts again.
[Dice=Darts]1d20+7
[Dice=... confirm?]1d20+7His excitement calmed, and his hands no longer shook.
The dartboard cracks into two perfectly apportioned Hal especially and tumbles with a loud crash from its perch.
The serving staff turn, one or two with an accompanying gasp, at the disturbance.
Once Sieghart, slightly drunk and a bit settled-in from the hearty meal and drink, was certain no one's looking, he picked up both split halves of the dartboard, whistling at how cleanly the board had been cleaved.
"Mr. Tyrant, was it?" he asked the warrior. "I hope it wouldn't hurt your pride if someone fixed this. I just wouldn't wanton anyone to have to pay for damages."
"We certainly wouldn't want that!" quips one of the serving girls.
Guiscard is begrudgingly impressed as the muscular dragonborn manages to crack a dartboard in half with a throw.
"Hand it here" he calls out "A little time magic and it will be as good as new. Or at least as it was yesterday."
Guiscard is begrudgingly impressed as the muscular dragonborn manages to crack a dartboard in half with a throw.
"Hand it here" he calls out "A little time magic and it will be as good as new. Or at least as it was yesterday."
Sieghart glanced at the dartboard pieces and hands them over.
"Time magic, huh? This I have got to see." he said without a trace of sarcasm. He stepped back, to avoid getting in Guiscard's way. "Go for it. Can't say I've ever seen the flow of time distort before."
Guiscard snorts.
"Well, don't expect anything too flashy. Most of the impressive part of chronomancy is in the mathematics required to make it work."
With that, he draws a diagram on the table using a bit of the cheap wine from his glass, and begins to wave his hands over the dartboard as it slowly begins to pull itself together.
Giri is distracted by the sound of the dartboard breaking and walks over to watch the magic happen.
"THAT'S math?! Math is boring!"
One of the serving boys and a serving girl lay sumptuous tranchers of roast pork, seared vegetables, and a ladle of tangy gravy before Vinexa. The handsome youth with light brown hair grins at her and winks winsomely as he deposits the food,
"Don't worry about Ivanovna, Mistress, she's always been something of a killjoy, and has only gotten worse since she was accepted as a proselyte of the Lantern Bearers -- but it's all talk and she's really quite harmless. If it gets to out of hand, just let me know and I'll be happy to have a discrete word with the Lady of the House. My name is Garrett."
Vinexa realized she was being ignored by the others at the table and decided it was there loss. Fortunately her food came out about then and she eyed the serving boy and girl in curiosity.
As the young man spoke to her and let her know not to worry about the one serving girl Vinexa nodded along. It was a relief to know she wasn't likely to do anything about what she'd overheard and she made a mental note of his name in case there was trouble later.
"If we shall, we shall, Constant." Tyrant gave a nod of respect to the sailor and let him leave. In his mind, this was a victory. While Reginald had the upper hand in aim, it was he who broke the board.
So when it became aware to him that his success gathered him a crowd, he felt proud."It is a trifling thing. The board can be fixed. However," Tyrant looked at the nearest server and picked the winning dart from the ground where it came to rest. "I am keeping this as a spoil of our battle." Without waiting for a yes or no, Tyrant placed a gold piece in that server's hand. He was a warrior, not a thief.
The kobold then became immediately distracted by the Time Mage. "It is impressive," Tyrant corrected the boy. "This one must had trained a long time in order to learn these sorts of things. That respect has been earned." He hadn't looked away from the Chronomancy to speak to Giri, but now he obviously addressed Guiscard. "I am Tyrant, from the Molto Warren. Tell me, where did you study to learn this power?"
Guiscard drums his fingers on the table. "This little trick? I reverse engineered it from a much larger working the librarians use back in Sharn. It could set anything back to its original state, though is quite limited by the size of the object. They used it to keep even ancient manuscripts in immacculate condition; the kind of scrolls you'd expect to crumble to dust merely from the age. Even HAD they crumbled, this canny bit of chronomancy could wind back the clock and restore them to perfect condition, as if they'd just been scribed."
"It took me years more to master the full ritual, but this lesser working was simple enough to figure out even then. Even a child could pick it up, were they to apply themselves to their studies." he finishes, looking pointedly at Giri.
He starts after a moment, remembering something. "Ah, I must have left my manners on the train. I am Guiscard du Montierre, scholar of Morgrave. A pleasure to meet you...Tyrant." he says, stumbling over the unusual name.
"Sharn over in Breland?" Sieighart asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I spent a bit of time in Sharn myself after the Last War ended. It's quite a trip from Sharn to Q'barra. What brings you to the area?"
Giri blows a raspberry in response to 'studies'. "I'm Giri! Can you throw fireballs and fly like the wizards in the stories?" He turns suddenly to Tyrant.
"I like your scales and wings. How come your name is Tyrant? That's a weird name."
"I've always been drawn to the pure and simple power of lightning, myself, though I am adept at all the elements, as a true graduate of Morgrave should be. Flight..." he coughs "Truth be told I've always been hesitant to learn flight magic. I'm not as...aerodynamic as you humans."
"Sharn over in Breland?" Sieighart asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I spent a bit of time in Sharn myself after the Last War ended. It's quite a trip from Sharn to Q'barra. What brings you to the area?"
"I had heard that the Illumined Scribes kept all manner of rare manuscripts, dredged up from whatever ruins this city was founded on. I hadn't accounted for the local priesthood's...zealotry, which is likely to complicate what should be a simple trip."
"Humans are not aerodynamic, either," Tyrant scoffed, stretching his wings out. "The priest would be more likely to allow you access to their manuscripts should you show them this. Unless you give them mind to think you are a thief."
However, he turned to the little human, staring down at the child. "That is because it is a human word, not a draconic name. I gave up my birth name when I became an Iejirastrix, a blood seer, for my warren. It is meant as a warning to those who try to challenge me. If I am not above them now, then I will not stop until I am."
"I've always been drawn to the pure and simple power of lightning, myself, though I am adept at all the elements, as a true graduate of Morgrave should be. Flight..." he coughs "Truth be told I've always been hesitant to learn flight magic. I'm not as...aerodynamic as you humans."
"Sharn over in Breland?" Sieighart asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I spent a bit of time in Sharn myself after the Last War ended. It's quite a trip from Sharn to Q'barra. What brings you to the area?""I had heard that the Illumined Scribes kept all manner of rare manuscripts, dredged up from whatever ruins this city was founded on. I hadn't accounted for the local priesthood's...zealotry, which is likely to complicate what should be a simple trip."
The Mistress Aria Tannenbaum of Tannenbaum's Chalice grimaces slightly at Guiscard's description of his original mission.
"Oooh, that's really quite unfortunate... not that the Lantern Bearers are eager to trumpet this information about themselves, so it's no fault of yours that you're not aware of this, but the division of the Illuminated Scribes that is in charge of the sorts of materials you'd be interested in looking at is... is really odd, and probably going to be difficult to approach productively outside of a very specific set of circumstances."
"They're known as the Order of the Veil, Mask, or Cloak, and they're easily identified, as they have metal visors which cover their eyes, and are also mute and deaf. They communicate and navigate with powerful psychic abilities, and they're not exactly eager to share whatever knowledge they unearth. They're incredibly invested in uncovering various kinds of illicit or forbidden arcana -- demonic pacts, blood magic, fleshweaving, that sort of thing."
"However, I have come into possession recently of some relevant knowledge regarding the investigations of a small cabal of the Illumined Scribes of the Order of the Veil which may be of interest to you -- it seems that some of them have either uncovered ancient arts relating to a form of tattoo magic, or have developed it themselves. The procedure seems to be that willing or unwilling recipients are covered with tattoos and then dispatched to dangerous locales that might somehow 'trigger' a mystical effect where those tattoos will resolve themselves into powerful, novel spells. I heard a strange, and frankly disturbing story about a cadre of prisoners who were released to conduct what was effectively a suicide mission after they had been covered with these markings by the scribes -- all but one perished in the demon-haunted ruins of Haka'torvhak, and the sole survivor is said to have returned with a very potent new spell written on his skin."
One of the serving boys and a serving girl lay sumptuous tranchers of roast pork, seared vegetables, and a ladle of tangy gravy before Vinexa. The handsome youth with light brown hair grins at her and winks winsomely as he deposits the food,
"Don't worry about Ivanovna, Mistress, she's always been something of a killjoy, and has only gotten worse since she was accepted as a proselyte of the Lantern Bearers -- but it's all talk and she's really quite harmless. If it gets to out of hand, just let me know and I'll be happy to have a discrete word with the Lady of the House. My name is Garrett."
Vinexa realized she was being ignored by the others at the table and decided it was there loss. Fortunately her food came out about then and she eyed the serving boy and girl in curiosity.
As the young man spoke to her and let her know not to worry about the one serving girl Vinexa nodded along. It was a relief to know she wasn't likely to do anything about what she'd overheard and she made a mental note of his name in case there was trouble later.
Vinexa very much enjoyed what she saw, both of Garrett and several other of the serving boys and girls. Vinexa looked at Garrett and said, "Oh, I can think of so many things you can do for me,"[b] she smiled naughtily at him and then practically purred out, [b]"or to me for that matter." Vinexa looked to her food and then back to Garrett before adding, "You should come join me on your break Garrett, or when you are done for the day, whichever comes first."
Vinexa very much enjoyed what she saw, both of Garrett and several other of the serving boys and girls. Vinexa looked at Garrett and said, "Oh, I can think of so many things you can do for me,"[b] she smiled naughtily at him and then practically purred out, [b]"or to me for that matter." Vinexa looked to her food and then back to Garrett before adding, "You should come join me on your break Garrett, or when you are done for the day, whichever comes first."
Garrett cracks a devilishly handsome grin whose intensity strains his cheeks. His ridiculous, garrishly colorful outfit - apparently a kind of Aundarian kitsch which characterizes the decorative aesthetic of this establishment - does nothing to obscure his physical beauty. The youth leans in close to Vinexa and whispers several naughty thoughts almost inaudibly into her ear. He then smiles again and beams at a visibly shocked Ivanova as he returns to his duties. Vinexa will see the young man again.
"I've always been drawn to the pure and simple power of lightning, myself, though I am adept at all the elements, as a true graduate of Morgrave should be. Flight..." he coughs "Truth be told I've always been hesitant to learn flight magic. I'm not as...aerodynamic as you humans."
"I bet you could do it if you flap your arms real hard like wings. Maybe you could learn magic to grow wings since wings make flying really easy."
However, he turned to the little human, staring down at the child. "That is because it is a human word, not a draconic name. I gave up my birth name when I became an Iejirastrix, a blood seer, for my warren. It is meant as a warning to those who try to challenge me. If I am not above them now, then I will not stop until I am."
"You gave up your name? How come? Is it a secret name? Can you get it back later? I can keep a secret. I know LOTS of a secrets. I'll trade you a funny secret if you tell me your secret name."