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Variel shakes his head with a smile at Litsy, While you may be right I dare not think what bad habits you will pick up there. You already swear as bad as any street urchin. I can't imagine what you will be like after learning a few choice phrases from sailors. No self-respecting boy will ever want to be with you as you will swear worse than he will. He reaches out to ruffle her hair knowing full well that she will likely duck out of the way.
And yes I will be bringing some coin with me to purchase some ales. I don't think I have been to that establishment, and it is only fitting that I at least try one of theirs. I will even buy you something if you behave. Of course Variel's eyes are twinkling as he says this. There is no way she will behave nor does he expect her to.
Litsy has certainly proven herself and I would certainly want her watching my back if I found myself in a dark alley.
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You are right Beorn and she knows that you are right as well. That is why it makes it even easier to give her a hard time about this. She knows she is going but I just like the face she makes at me when I say things like this. I know that I am not her father and can't forbid her from doing what she wants. Yet I do want to remind her that others are looking out for her.
" No self-respecting boy will ever want to be with you as you will swear worse than he will."
"Then at least I'm doing something right," Litsy retorts, ducking and failing to avoid Variel's affectionate ruffling of her hair. "Also, ew."
"We'll see if you have so much fun pulling my leg if I'm not here to watch your back next time. I've stopped blokes from shivving you between the ribs so many times, I'm starting to think you're baiting them on purpose, you prat."
"I'd have more chances of getting my bloody throat cut just walking down the street anyway..."
To Tiny: "Well if you want your throat cut there is no need to trouble the streetwalkers."
Pollux tries to fashion a garrote from Castor's lead. Fingers now thoroughly tangled in the red string. The stranger holds their tied hands up and tries to figure a way to finger freedom.
A violent sneeze wracks our hero. Their hands fly apart in a flash of red, a few small white objects thud into the street.
...
Pollux holds a stained and faded yellow handkerchief to their nose. The unbroken red lead calmly connecting Castor to Pollux's pocket. Stooping down Pollux gathers the scattered pieces of white-ish chalk. "Hmm, might need these later..."
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Variel pauses as Pollux’s performance produces a painful pity of perfunctory applause for passing people. Perhaps a pad of prestidigitations would prove more promising. A pale pink palette applied to the chalk would probably provoke a plethora of pleasing and more pronounced provocations from the public.
Oh! The humanity!
Oh the elvenity! ...Sylvanity? ...?
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As the group gathers for what is hopefully a fairly lively and fun evening at the docks there's an air of joviality rarely seen since a certain dwarf decided to take his chance on a hopeful assassination attempt.
The group enters around 5pm, the other two seeing them stick out fairly clearly against the mostly human crowd. The crowd itself starts to pick up in liveliness as well with one patron screaming about a spilled drink and a hard slap and thud indicating a brief and violent confrontation to the laughter of another table.
Shaking his head Ron takes his tongs and fishes out the last few oysters and potatoes from the pot before turning to Sasha, "Need to get some fresh oysters for the pot. Should be back in a few."
Disappearing into the back kitchen Sasha is left alone to deal with a bar growing increasingly unruly while the group settles in.
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Scuttling in to sit at the the table with the worst feng suhi in the place, the stranger surveils the crowd.
if so:
After a half hour or so nursing a half pint Pollux sets up the game board and places a simple paper sign reading "Beat the rat win a gold. One try one silver."
if not:
After a half hour of nursing the half pint Pollux orders another and observes the inevitable degeneration of events.
Beorn enters and eyes the rowdy crowd. Seems people have started drinking earlier than usual. Perhaps a few soothing songs can ease the savage hearts
Beorn humms some and gets a drink to ese his throat as he begins singing a rather somber song
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Variel comes in after the others by just a minute or so. That way they could split up and each go their own way without it looking too obvious. The first thing he noticed was the smell of the place. It smelled like old sweat, spilled ale, and sawdust on the ground...just the way he liked it. sailors knew of the good places to hang out where the ale was flowing and the company lively. Moving up to the bar Variel orders a pint of whatever the barmaid suggests along with some food to go along with it. Whatever you got is fine by me as long as it is filling.
perception
Once the ale is delivered Variel flips a tip (1sp)to the brown-haired barmaid figuring if anyone would know about this place it would be her or the owner, Thanks, first time myself to this bar, anyone I need to stay clear of?
She thinks for a moment. "Lars Naiall," she says decisively. "Bad news, no question. But I don't know if he even comes to this bar; I've only been working here for …" she looks out the window, judges the light. "Two hours, give or take. But if I see him, I'll let you know." She goes to collect their orders.
Seeing seedier and seedier morons walking in the door, one right after the other, Merelda finds it harder and harder to keep the sneer off her face.
But she MUST maintain her decorum. She couldn't afford to get pulled in my the local lawmen. Things were also getting livelier and the barman, a loser twice over again by leaving the barmaid alone, was nowhere to be seen.
Finally a group of stragglers come in, a few at a time, but their glances to each other occasionally left her the impression they knew each other. One really odd-looking human was buddies with a rat of some sort, and the smaller one was sizing up coin purses left and right, but leaving them alone. The worst was that bellowing-beast of a bard...if you could call him that after he nearly butchered his tune. Cute beard though! She always had a thing for tall men with full beards. Her only exception was for dwarves. Dwarven beards were too stiff and bristly to be any fun really. She used to have a torture wand equipped with a dwarves' beard just for those who employed her, and that she didn't really like too much. Most of them were dwarves for some reason...
She sighed. People watching, especially humans, was so boring sometimes...she just wishing something would just HAPPEN suddenly. A good bar fight or...goddess forbid...a full-on orgy break out! Oh well, only the goddess knows she gave up such things to 'find higher meaning' or some such.
She sips at her nasty ale again, frowns and suddenly decides to heckle the semi-cute bard.
"OH GREAT BEARDED ONE:YOU ARE REALLY BRINGING MY BUZZ DOWN! HOW ABOUT YOU FLAP THOSE FAT LIPS TO ONLY TORTURE THE THRUNE FAMILY WITH THAT DIRGE! GIVE US A RANDY TUNE TO LAUGH AND DANCE TO FOR THE GODS SAKE! THIS TOWN IS SOMBER ENOUGH ALREADY!"
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Annoyed at the loud heckler interrupting the quiet contemplation Pollux stares at the foolish elf over the rim of their glass and whispers "Hold your breath, make a wish, count to three..."
Feelings of futility and self doubt sweep over the heckler. There is no difference if the floor is covered in writhing bodies, rotting corpses or pensioners silently sipping tea. The floor doesn't care, the world doesn't care, nothing matters at all....
"Yuck," is the first thing that comes out of Litsy's mouth when she walks in the inn. "It stinks."
It's not exactly as if she was accustomed to fragrant perfumes, but even homeless urchins allergic to clear water and soap didn't smell as bad as dozens of sweaty, drunk men all crammed up in one room.
She scrunches her nose, covers the lower half of her face, and tries her best not to walk out immediately. There's no need to give Variel even more reasons to stay home and never accompany the group anywhere than he has already.
She even nudges Variel to point out at the barmaid. "See? I'm not the only kid they've let in tonight."
It's hard to focus on her surroundings as attentively as she usually does in a confined space filled with way too many bodies for her liking. She relieves her feeling by looking for lost coins, or purses. Sadly, there's about as much chance to find a couple of orphaned belongings as there is to find an urch in Archgate Market.
She frowns and narrows her eyes at the elven woman who just yelled at Beorn to change his tune. "YOU WANT A RANDY SONG, YOU GO TO A BROTHEL, NAN!"
Feeling a strange pall come over her suddenly, Merelda looks around for why…
She doesn’t see the source for the strange magic, but she does recognize the power behind it! Witchcraft! The cute bard seems to have a fan among the patrons…
. "YOU WANT A RANDY SONG, YOU GO TO A BROTHEL, NAN!" [dice=Intimidation]1d20+8
Turning suddenly at the high pitched voice, Merelda looks very surprised at the shouting youth! She shakes her head and points in the youth’s direction.
“You’re a GIRL! Honestly I missed that entirely. You really got me there…”
Still trying to fight off the effects of the Evil Eye, Merelda’s head felt like it was full of bees, and her normally strained vocal filter broke its dam.
”Anybody else think the ale here tastes like basilisk spit fermented with black dragon fecal matter…? WHAT?”
Beorn is taken aback by the loud protest of the elf and Litsy's equally loud defense. This was a problem, he had come to stop any trouble not to start any. Perhaps a different route.
Please no quarreling! It seems I did assume that such a tune would be appropriate instead of something else and I did sing uninvited. Please let me introduce myself! I am Beorn and am indeed a bard. Perhaps I can sing a more jaunty tune for people?
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Variel gave a small smile as he watched Litsy's face as they entered the bar. Sure, she was a tough kid out on the streets, but this was a whole other world in here. He was wondering how she would react when she let out her exclamation at the smell. Giving her a few wordsof caution Variel whispered to her before leaving to the bar. Not exactly how you want to announce yourself when walking into a new place. You're likely to get thrown out the second the owner hears something like that. Now close your mouth and stop staring at everything.
know local
Variel runs the name in his mind as he repeats it to the young lady behind the bar. Lars Naiall...yeah I think I know who you are talking about. Late twenties, little shorter than me with a slight belly and hair so short it looks like he is bald. Always hanging around with a few others guys even though the guys are never the same. Yeah, I know him. Variel looks out the window as the bar maid does wondering what she is looking at. When she turns back with the announcement of 2 hours Variel almost chokes on the ale. That is not what I was expecting. I figured that you... at that point Variel's attention was broken by Litsy's antics. Talking to himself but loud enough for those immediately around him to hear, Blast it all to hell, what is she doing? First time in a bar and she has to make a scene. Well, no time like the present to learn what happens once you join in a disruption in a bar. any takers on how long it will take till she is thrown out? I put a silver on it being less than 5 minutes at this rate.
While Variel will watch out for Litsy and makes sure that she does not get into real trouble he is fine with her learning some life lessons.
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Sniggering, Merelda stands and confronts the bard overtly.
"You 'am indeed a bard' Beard-Boy, but 'you am indeed' singing like you are gargling acid and razor blades! Try something FUN or go home...and tell your witch-friend she should keep her hexes to herself and go eat some children somewhere else...although there is a little girl here somewhere."
She then sits down a bit awkwardly, and swigs the last of her ale. She then proceeds to spit it out all over the floor in disgust and starts rubbing her temples against the bees that have now turned into giant wasps the size of small dragons. She curses loudly and slams her fist into her table, scattering the remains of her dinner.
"Stupid witchcraft!"
Beorn wags a finger around the bat. Please no hexing, cursing or enchanting until past eight bells! He then hums some and wets his whistle. I shall try to keep the sharp objects out of my voice. Let me regale you with a tune of a fellow with an unwanted name.
How do you do
With the drama of the half orc of the opera continues Beorn switches from the somber tune to a much more lively and catchy tune reminiscent of old grudges and past regrets. Before long he's joined by several patrons who make up for in volume what they lack in talent. Off beat and wildly off tune they are a sharp contrast to the practiced honeyed throat of Beorns mighty baritone (or is he a bass?).
Sasha finds herself flooded with new orders as Ron has yet to emerge from the kitchen for nearly an hour. The tips have been great but any semblance of control is nearly gone.
Pollux sets himself up in a corner where he finds a Skirmish board waiting. A much simpler game to imperial conquest meant for two players with only a quarter of the types of pieces meant to be played in twenty minute intervals rather than the long drawn out versions of the full game.
Litsy is quietly observing things when she looks away and her srink spills in her lap. Behind her she hears a man roar. "Watch where you sit kid!"
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perception
VAriel continues to observe the bar and notices that the owner has not returned to help his newest barmaid. Such a response is completely unacceptable to him and he vows not to return any time soon if that is the expectations here. Knowing he is not going to have the opportunity anytime soon to talk to the barmaid or even possibly catch her name Variel turns in time to see Litsy spill her drink. Oh this is going to get interesting. Variel thinks as he gets up to better close the distance in case she needs some back up.
Sasha moves to Merelda's table to clean up the spilled food. "If the ale's not for you I can look for some wine; I can't speak for that either but it will taste different," she says.
It's clear the bar is growing more tense — though it seems more the usual sort of bar arguments rather than politics, which if nothing else is a change of pace. Still, it's getting a bit much for one person. She pushes her way through back through crowd to the edge of the back kitchen and shouts for Ron. "We could use hands more than oysters here!"
Her head now clear, Merelda ignores the hard stare of the human with her own sneer that could fracture mirrors. However, she also sees the plight of the barmaid very clearly now. Merelda still needed a connection to the locals, and she wasn't getting anywhere fast. Getting up, she straightens her armor and follows her back to the bar.
"You seem too busy! I won't worry about the drink now. I will give you a hand keeping this place from blowing up around you, in exchange you talk to me later and tell me the local stories. Agreed?"
Without waiting for her to reply, she takes her cloak off revealing her leather and spiked metal armor completely, tossing it into a semi-clean corner behind the bar. She then grabs a dish-rag from the behind the counter and throws it over her shoulder casually...and then plastering a red-lipped smile on, playing a part she feels she can easily fake.
"Who's next sailors? What did YOU want pretty boy? A drink or...something better?"
Beorn is pleased with the response and ponders the next song. The voice in his head makes him pause though and his eyes dart around the room.
Not spotting anything, he slips over to Variel. Just a moment my friends! I must get a little refreshment!
Variel, it seems that there might be something afoot. I heard a voice in my head suggesting a rather violent song. With this crowd, it might incite a brawl.
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Variel shakes his head at what Beorn whispered to him. Raising his pint up to hide his lips he whispers back,That is bad news twice over. The last thing we need is a riot to start in here and hearing strange voices is never a good sign either. At least your heckler is done. Refrain from inciting the crowd while keep singing. If you hear the voice again signal me by placing both hands over your heart and I will circle the room for any one suspicous.
Turning to the new barmain, former heckler, Variel orders another beer I will take the drink and that is good enough for me. At this point nothing is better than a cold one in hand and a refill on the way. He then takes his observations around the room keeping one eye on Beorn for any signal. Hopefully Litsy doesn't cause a problem at the moment as he doesn't have enough eyes to keep everyone safe.
perception
know arcane for telepathy or message type spells and telltales
Litsy stares down at her soaked lap.
Then, without a word, she gets up.
And walks straight to Pollux.
"Hey, Pollux," she says, very calmly and, for once, without a hint of aggressivity. "Can you let me borrow Castor for a while? I think there's an ankle he'd like to bite."
Merelda: Pollux considers extending the Hex besetting the elf. Considers blending and layering her misery like an old man in a third floor studio teaching the world about light using rock dust and linseed oil.
But there is coin to be ripped from the mouth of the working man so Pollux watches the game board and the Hex passes into memory.
Pollux studies both the real and the unreal game in progress. After a moment Castor carefully makes a move that strengthens his position in both games.
[dice=Perception]1d20+6
Litsy stares down at her soaked lap.
Then, without a word, she gets up.
And walks straight to Pollux.
"Hey, Pollux," she says, very calmly and, for once, without a hint of aggressivity. "Can you let me borrow Castor for a while? I think there's an ankle he'd like to bite."
Listy sees Castor standing on a table deeply engrossed in a game of Skirmish. Pollux appears to be bored. The stranger is nursing a pint and only occasionally glancing at the board.
The rat seems to be luring his opponent into a trap but the move they just made was more defensive than it needed to be.
Pollux replies. "Castor is a bit busy at the moment." Move finished Castor begins to eat a tiny probably sausage. Pollux continues, "Perhaps I could be of use? I have recently acquired a taste for the odd ankle. Please point out the particular pedal that has earned your ire."
Beorn nods A good song of fellowship!
Beorn strides back to his place and swishes some ale in his mouth before starting to sing a song of bonds and friendship
Beorn nods A good song of fellowship!
Beorn strides back to his place and swishes some ale in his mouth before starting to sing a song of bonds and friendship
"A RAT! How busy can he be?" Litsy throws her hands up in exasperation. "You know what - fine.". She points at the man who was sitting behind her. "That guy."
Sasha stares at Merelda for a moment, a bit flummoxed by her audacity. She'd never let this sort of this fly in her bar … but then, this isn't her bar.
And with Ron still gone to who-knows-where and a packed house that's dangerously close to getting more angry than drunk, gods knew she should use the help.
"Done!" she shouts. "Just do drinks, though. Apparently we're out of oysters."
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There are certain inevitabilities that come with any profession. If you're a guard, someone will try to stab you at some point in your career, if you're a rat catcher you'll very likely get a nasty infection from a bad bite, if you're a barmaid someone at some point is going to grab your ass.
And so it is that as Merelda leans in just a bit to hear Variel's order she feels the all too distinctive sting and pinch of a rough hand taking liberties. As it withdraws there's an uproarious laughter from the table behind her as a gruff voice comments, "Good to see Ron's finally bringing in the finer maids into his business!"
Castor wins this game and the next one relatively quickly getting Pollux money for his drinks. The next patron has a strange smile on his face as he sits down and it's hard to tell whether or not they're drunk or under the influence of more interesting substances. Pollux in the meantime continues to mentally torture the man who yelled at Tiny, who eventually excuses himself and stumbles out into the street tears streaking down his face from some unknown torment.
Beorn is caught off guard by a sweet smell and a brief gust of wind behind him. Checking behind him he catches nothing amiss but the people sat around the table next to him get strange looks on their faces and crooked smiles as they sway in their chairs.
Variel ponders his magical background but can't think of any solid way to catch someone in the act of using telepathy or some similar form of magical communication without them showing clear signs of magical spell casting.
It's nearly an hour before last call and the bar's owner has yet to reappear from his trip into the back kitchen storage.
As this fact hits her a very different kind of song starts to rise from a corner of the room that quickly starts to catch with the rest as Beorn finishes his own song. It's the Kintargan's city anthem, a very catchy patriotic song with the usual national anthem type lyrics promising death to enemies and talking about how grand everything is. It's rare to hear this song outside of demonstrations or city sponsored events, rarer still since Barzillai came to power.
Litsy does her best not to cackle in glee when her sworn enemy leaves the inn sniffling and choking on his own snort. She doesn't do a great job at it, and her chuckles can only be described by local witnesses as evil.
In fact, she's so lost in her glee that she can barely focus on anything else.
After that event, Litsy disappears in the crowd. Her small frame and nondescript clothes make her really hard to find. Only when the customers start breaking into song can she suddenly be heard, bellowing out the lyrics with little talent but definite gusto, in between two peals of laughter at her own ineptitude.
She's got a tankard in her hand that she definitely never ordered before, and it's odds-on that whatever's inside not milk.
Pollux grows bored with fleecing rubes for pocket money and with a growing desire to rip open living creatures and lick their still living organs goes in search of the oft mentioned oysters.
"Here you go." Pollux flips the new rube a shield (silver piece). "Castor will take that off you if you are still here when we get back. Need to go kill some things now."
Castor mimes tipping an invisible hat, leaps off the table and scampers after the yellow wanderer.
Pollux wanders kitchen ward trying to dodge the barlady's eye as they slip into the back.
Beorn is overtaken by the horrible singing voice and is aware of nothing else.
He does know EXACTLY what is being sung and is rather curious about the singer. He ambles over to the source to see who is singing.
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perception
Variel sees the man get a full feel of the impromptu barmaid's rear. Even though he previously didn't care for the woman harassing Beorn, Variel cared less for the man's behavior. Taking a final swig from his mug VAriel speaks to the man. Maybe there would be more or stay longer if people like you weren't harassing them physically. I understand this is the only way you can know what that feels like... Variel trails off letting the man finish the thought for him.
At this point Variel is momentarily distracted by a familiar voice in the bar. Looking towards the sound Variel shakes his head in dismay as he sees Litsy singing aloud with the song. He couldn't let her out of his sight for 1 minute. First it was harassing a customer, then spilling a drink, and now singing it up with strangers. This was not going to end well.
Sasha scowls at the oaf's comments to Merelda, but isn't quite sure which of them she's worried about. The woman clearly had a temper, and had spoken of her mother as a devotee of Calistria — Sasha had heard some toe-curling tales about them.
Then she spies another customer interfering — things could go wrong three or four ways at this point. And where was Ron?
She steps into the back room and shouts for him. "Ron! If you're going to have me actually run the place you should know I've hired somebody already."
Spinning around slowly after handing the short girl a rather large tankard with a wink, and with her serving tray now tucked under her arm, Merelda smiles wickedly at the men laughing with a single eyebrow arched in feigned surprise...
Then she stops for a second once she notices the mustached Chelaxian who was staring at her earlier now whispering to the rude man for a moment. She then sees him wanders off distracted.
She sneers harshly for a moment at the absence of real men in the bar, and then announces sarcastically loud to the crowd...
"Oh WOW. How manly of you! Assaulting a harmless barmaid's buttocks like a slab of meat... that brings out the giggles in all of us! Doesn't it? AND...I know all us girls love it when deck hands and dock workers, get their dirty-grubby paws all over our nice dresses and private parts..."
At this point she giggles girlishly and bats her long eyelashes. She then saunters over to the man who grabbed her, and leans over to expose a bit more of her decolletage clearly to him as well.
Then her voice drops an octave, and she looks quite serious while staring into his eyes with a promise of pain to come...and from only inches away.
"The only problem with all of that nonsense, is that I'm NOT harmless, nor am I a slab of MEAT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND OF WHAT I SPEAK? My mother, the Saint she was, used to tell me: Lust without consent is just pure cruelty with masturbation involved, or a CRIME in any civilized society that is punishable by a SLOW DEATH. Which one is it for YOU today...I wonder?"
She then stands up, and spins gracefully a few feet away, her blonde ponytail flying around her head casually.
Merelda's eyes widen as she tries to catch as many eyes as possible in the room, then looks back to her 'tormentor' and states clearly:
"Here end-ith 'THE LESSON'."
She then continues off to serve drinks and keep the crowd semi-happy with crap-tastic tasting drinks.
The first thing Sasha sees as she looks into the back kitchen is Ron face first on the floor with his hand gripped around the hatch in the floor presumably leading to aforementioned fresh oysters.
It seems to Merelda that the actual source of entertainment seems to matter little to these men as much as the presence of the entertainment itself. There is not a lick of shame in the faces of any of the men she's addressing, but as she turns to her would-be assaulter a sudden look of dread overtakes him as if he awoke a sleeping tiger. The rest of the bar that witnesses this laughs just as uproariously if not more so at his transgressions proving that the crowd is both fickle and easily amused. The man ignore Variel's comparatively modest insults and jabs to focus on the clearly very dangerous elf before him. Simply swallowing and nodding his eyes art about looking for any means of escape.