Ah yes, the Broken Broadsword. Where do we start? Well, the Broken Broadsword has stood at its location for over 100... no, 200?... maybe 300?... Ah, truth be told, no one's really sure how many years. There have been multiple deeds that have surfaced over the years, addressing transfers of ownership. And it has factored in more than a few tails of myth and legend across the northern realms. Rumors make many claims to its origin: a disgraced noble's mansion, an ancient Ulfen longhouse, a waypoint for dwarven traders, the home of an evil cult, or even the front of a thieves guild. But all of that is the drunken ramblings of it's regulars.
What is known is this. The Broken Broadsword is an inn and tavern that sits about three hours' walk east of Restov… or less than two on a swift horse. The building itself has been repaired, rebuilt, added on to, and expanded countless number of times. This lends itself to a confusing, almost maze-like floorplan. The primary building is two tall stories in height, with a wing that stretches to a similar level, but holds three floors within. A substantial cellar stretches beneath, holding food larders, wine and beer vault, and other sundry storage.
In addition to the main structure, a trio of buildings surround the Broadsword. To it's left is a large barn that serves as both the stables and the seat of the ferrier. A small stone structure sits to the barn's right, which serves as a chapel or shrine blessed by no less than six priests. Finally, behind the inn itself is a long, narrow structure that serves as the quarters for all broadsword's personnel, the owner included.
As for the Broadsword's staff, it is a widely varied mix of characters. The proprietor, Finnegan McTavish, is a former sellsword who has spent the last two decades at the helm of the Inn. He hires loners, runaways, the broken, and misbegotten. He likely employs far more staff than he technically needs, but given the number that get involved with the adventurous hijinx that seem to constantly pop up, he is always hiring. Suffice to say more than a few occasions have occurred where two employees suspect each other of being guests engaging in otherwise inappropriate behavior. A good laugh was usually had by all…
But enough about the basics. Where does out story begin...
It is a rainy, cool Wealday, this 15th of Rova. The autumn winds of the north are blowing in strong, carrying a torrent of precipitation, and it won’t be long until the harvest is complete and the people of Brevoy begin to prepare for winter. The afternoon is quiet at The Broken Broadsword - the weather keeping most travelers off the roads, leaving the taproom to be occupied by a few guests who had already been in residence, and several off duty members of the staff. A strong fire burns in the hearth, while Braegan Dour, a dwarven brewer and songsmith, covers duties behind the bar.
As the weather began to cool and the winds began to blow in from the north, Lilianne, or Lily for short, strangely seemed to become more and more lethargic when outdoors and actively avoided the season. When not in the longhouse where her dormitory is, she would rush as quickly as possible to be inside the warmth of the tavern.
Once inside, it was like the bartender would come alive. The warmth of the kitchen, the heat of the fire in the hearth, and the warm drinks meant to cool the bones (not to mention whiskey) would find her revived and her normal cheery self (at least outwardly).
On this Wealday, she is relaxing under a blanket in front of the fire in seeming bliss as her toes seem to dance happily under the blanket. On the chairside table, there is a cup of piping hot cider. There are chairs nearby her that could be occupied, but the youthful, raven-haired, half-elven bartender seems to be in her own world and watching the flames with amusement.
"It is nice when it is quiet like this. It does make me nervous for tonight though. Is it a full moon?" she wonders, knowing how hectic those nights strangely seem to turn into absolute disasters.
”You look awful cozy, Lily,” Raquel says as she saunters up beside the half-elf, holding a glass of whiskey. The human woman is a few years older than her fellow barmaid, with a bit more of an ample frame. Mirth twinkles in her brown eyes. ”Mind if I join you?”
"Hmm?" she inquires as she hears her name. Then the words flood back into her mind. "Oh, of course. I suppose it's foolish of me, knowing this place, but I was trying to relax. Feel free."
Lily gestures to the chair next to her, which currently, her feet block access to by her lazy posture in her chair. With random flying daggers, mischievous spells being cast, and any number of random events to have happened over the last 10 years, she is still currently wearing her armor and some of her gear (the rest being behind the bar). Despite this, she does seem cozy. With lazy effort, she slides her feet back under her chair and out of the way so that Raquel can sit down. Her feet slide back in unison, and the way she shifts them is at first to the left, and then to the right until they are tucked far away and her fellow bartender can sit down. Then slowly she extends in lazy manner again, just slightly readjusted to give Raquel some legroom. Then her eyes travel back to the fire.
"It's the calm before the storm," Raquel says in agreement. "Enjoy it while it lasts, cause I'm sure tonight will be as rowdy as always."
The cleric scoots her chair close to Lily as the half-elf goes through her restless leg ritual. She raises her glass in praise to Cayden Cailean before taking a sip.
Noticing the halfling at the corner table looking at her, she gives him a nod and a salute as well.
Nisli sits at a small table by herself. Her white-blonde hair, skimmed milk complexion, and the hazy gray cloak she hasn't taken off make the edges of her form slightly indistinct in the low light. She could almost be mistaken for a trick of the lighting, or a patch of mist settled in place.
She has a beer with her, but it's barely been touched. Instead she is focused on the small book in front of her, scribbling hurriedly as though she will forget what she wants to write if she's slow to get it down on paper.
Aside from the soft scratching of her writing she makes no other sound, as if she's mistaken the tavern for a library.
All this is typical for Nisli, no mystery about her presence. She passes this way between her home and Restov, or the cluster of buildings that comprise the Broken Broadsword two or three times a week. Restov is her destination usually, but she checks in to see if there are illnesses or injuries to be taken care of at the inn first. Sometimes there is enough to do there to make going further unnecessary.
Predatory eyes watch sidelong as the cleric scoots her chair closer. Such was common among them. Lily would mostly be quiet or outright standoffish to Raquel, but the girl's constant bugging her had let her into Lilianne's inner circle. With a frustrated sigh she submits and leans on the side of the chair closest to her fellow bartender so they can cross arms for more heat if Raquel wishes. To Raquel, she mutters:
"Did you see Nilsi is here, scribbling away?"
She gestures her direction behind them in the chairs. Somehow, even in her laziness, the serpentine half-elf managed to notice her prey. Hazel eyes look over to Boram and she smiles his way.
"I suppose I should see if he needs a refill hmm?" Then, despite her being off the clock and comfy, Boram will find her calling out in a delightfully kind voice to him. She asks, "How are you on your drink? Do you want to order another?"
"Did you see Nilsi is here, scribbling away?"
Raquel nods. "Aye, I see her. I still don't know why she bothers to come to a tavern if she's barely going to drink. But to each their own!"
Nisli hears Lily and Raquel bring her up in low voices. She's hurt, but not surprised when Lily gets her name wrong. Nisli knows she's not memorable, but she's here often enough that she thought the people who worked at the place might remember it right.
She wonders if it annoys Raquel that she comes here.
Is it because I don't order much so she gets less in tips from me? Does she not like the way I look? Does she think I don't like her? Is there some amount I should be drinking here and I don't so I seem odd to everyone else?
Her speculations make Nisli anxious. She doesn't know what exactly Raquel finds distasteful about her, but Nisli has also learned well by now that humans don't tend to say precisely what they mean. Ultimately she's flustered by so many possible reasons for her creating a negative impression and decides it's best to avoid Raquel if she can. She doesn't know how to disarm the woman's disapproval and doesn't want to further offend.
Nisli keeps her head down and remains busy so the women won't realize she's heard them.
The truth about her calling Nisli by a different name is due to the noise the bar normally produces. It's hard to hear a soft-spoken person over the roar of the crowd. Plus, she didn't really care at the time to know her each of the times her name has been given. It being a number of times is the only reason she recalls it.
"Wait no...it's Nisli." she corrects herself. Lily then thinks to herself, "It's hard to keep all of you in order." The thought being mostly predatory, looking at them as her food in a way. The medusa continues, "She's a dear, sweet girl...," she rebukes in a lazy manner. "...and there are as many reasons to come as there are unique people. Nisli is shy, doesn't drink much, but she also doesn't explode into dangerous fights that involve the guards. I've never had a problem with her. Plus she's been a help on more than one occasion. She has nice skin too," the serpent comments. "I've always liked that Sylphine pale blue and how it changes in the wind. I'm jealous!" she grins in a sly way. Raquel would know that Lilianne is telling the truth about mostly everything, but she certainly doesn't get jealous. That is a lie. She'd have to care more. "I like her headscarf too. It is kind of vintage. I'd not look half as good in one, but you know me, I hate wearing anything over my hair."
Her angled locks currently lean with Lilianne along with her head toward Raquel as Lily lazes toward her fellow barkeep's chair. Her hair, following suit, almost extends as if reaching to pick up Raquel's scent as a serpent would. Their upturned curl lends them a cute rigidity, but nothing appears out of normalcy as she leans close for warmth.
Boram's rejection is met with happiness though. It means she doesn't need to get up.
"Staying a while this time?"
The faint song of the wind whipping up outside and flashing rain across the Broadsword's walls can faintly be heard as you're all relaxed away the afternoon and the tap room. After a short time, Braegan makes his way around the room, a pot of stew in one hand and a stack of bowls in the other. The dwarf is nearing a century in age, with a fiery red beard and pale brown, almost gray eyes. He walks with a hint of a limp, which gives his gate a profound presence.
He approaches Nisli first, "Hi lass, would ye be likin' a bit o' sometin' to fill yer wee belly?"
After the Sylvan lady, he turns to the roguish Halfling. "aahh, Boram, good to see ye again, it'd been a while, thought perhaps ye'd lost yet way. Will it be one or two bowls for ye?"
He then stops and tends to a pair of merchants who were stuck at the Broadsword for the day on account of not wanting to push on towards Restov in the inclement weather.
Finally he comes over to Lily and Raquel."ah, look at ye pair, thick as thieves all snuggled by the hearth. Sorry for takin' me time, had to get the payin' customers first, ye know?"
His words are accented by a loud bang as one of the doors from the back area slams open. It gives you all the start, but you chuckle to see Josiah, or "Jo" as most people call him, squeeze through the doorway with an arm full of firewood. Josiah called Finnegan his uncle, the weather there was actually any blood relation was unclear. Still, the last two summers since Jo had arrived had seen him grow from a simple, gangly, awkwardly tall boy into a mountain of a man. He now assisted his uncle with a variety of physical tasks around the tavern, including wrangling the drunk and disorderly at times. Still not 19 years of age, the boy's hands were nearly the size of a bear's paw, and his friendly, jovial disposition was what kept him from being terrifying. He lowers the stack of firewood against the wall by the hearth, taking care to realign a couple pieces that fall off. Then he turns to Lily, Raquel, and Braegan, "Hi guys! How's the stew?" his eyes drift to the pot and the dwarf's hands, and you all think it's likely he could consume its entire contents without a second thought.
"Hey, Jo! Whaddya' know?" Raquel says. "The stew smells great, and I'm sure it will taste great as well. I just hope Braegan made enough for you!" She gives the dwarf a wink.
"Naturally," she answers Braegan concerning the customers coming first, as if she wouldn't have expected anything else. She too gives priority to customers over staff, except perhaps to Raquel at times. For those who have seen the two bartending or serving together, they are flirty together (likely to get better tips) but are not "together" at all; just friends.
Braegan's bowl offered will be taken and set down on her blanket to add to her internal heat. Just barely audible, a sigh of contentment can be heard. There, she will balance the bowl in the nook between her thighs and with one hand, she will place a tiny bit from her spoon's edge onto her thumb's pad and taste it. This, of course, will happen after Braegan is gone. The mage will then quietly cast a spell to add unique flavors to her soup.
"It's not bad. I just want it to taste like this."
After flavoring it just a tiny bit, she will take a spoon happily and bring it to her lips. There she will blow on it until it's a tolerable, but still hot temperature and will happily place it in her mouth--its new temporary home.
Shortly after, with stew in her mouth, she smiles warmly as the halfling comes over. Where once she was lazy and without effort, now she can be described as vibrant for courtesy's sake.
When Jo comes in, she lingers her view on him to see what he's doing as do most in the room. Her intense but beautiful eyes watch him for a different reason. Medusas are beings of lust, and Lily naturally feels it at times (as any magical beast would) for any she could "mate" with, but at the same time, she sees them as food. Somehow, simultaneously, she contests this intense pull by her intelligence and choice. It's a strange feeling--one her mother never explained to her. As Jo comes over, she will offer her bowl up though.
"Here, have a bite of mine. Warm yourself," emphasizing that he not eat all of it. Such is Lilianne's armor that the young man would have quite a view of her womanly features from his height. She doesn't necessarily flirt with him, but her eyes are just naturally seductive. Whether he takes it or not is up to him. Then, a moment later, she shows her true disinterestedness and turns back to the other two, and in particular, Boram, who has answered her.
"I see." she answers. "When you choose a job, do you go by what motivates you, or more on what is available at the time?" she inquires. Lilianne is a curious sort, particularly regarding adventurers or even normal peoples' lives.
"Hear, hear!" Raquel says to Boram. "You are a man after Cayden's own heart, my friend."
Braegan chuckles at Boram, "Ey, ye'd miss me cooking, an' be needin' to get away from some sort o' trouble. Ah, but good to have ye!"
Joe smiles at Raquel as she rhymes with his name, before cocking his head to the side confused, "Umm, I know... that it's raining... outside?" His confusion slips away when Raquel directs his attention back to the pot of stew Braegan is carrying. He starts to open his mouth to speak when Lily offers a bit of hers. He reaches down and picks up the bowl, which looks like a snack in his hands. He lifts it to his lips and slurps some up, his eyes getting a glance down at Lily as he does. He chokes briefly on the soup then blushes and makes brief eye contact before stammering out, "tha..tha...thank you!" as he hands the bowl back to Lily.
He takes the few steps toward the dwarf and in his big joyful voice says, "That's good! Can I get a bowl Mr. Braegan?" Braegan just raises an eyebrow to Lily before passing a bowl to the giant youth, who sits down on a stool that groans precariously at his hefty weight. Finally he fills one for himself and sits down alongside the others by the hearth. "Storm's keepin' it quiet, tink tis okay to 'ave a bite with ye all."
Braegan laughs at Boram's comments. "Ah, yes! A rogue wit a heart, course... ye kind aren't the malicious type, or least, ain't met none. But don't know if ye'll have any luck 'ere. It's been quiet lately... very quiet."
"Yeah, a little too quiet..." Raquel muses, glancing around the taproom.
It was a common occurrence to hear that she should take part in some adventures; to go out and see the world. Usually, Finnegan and some others would be the ones to mirror this statement, and now that business is slow, all the more she expects the comment to come up.
"I'd agree," she comments to Boram. With a chuckle, she shakes her head at the thought of the little man running around stealing things. As the conversation with Jo and Braegan continues, Lily will eat her food, favoring the meat more than anything else and leaving the rest in the bowl--minus the sauce.
"Well...," she asks Boram, "...what does a professional 'righter of wrongs' do when things are quiet? Do you find contentment in the quiet, or do you find some other task befitting your abilities? Such as painting? Calligraphy?"
Braegan enjoys a bit of his stew before chuckling at Raquel's inference. "Ah, R'Quel, always like ye young to be expectin' trouble at every turn. Why canni not simply be a quiet, rainy day? I mean, it's not like trouble 'appens every day 'ere. Boram, aye, he 'as the rioght idea. Sit back an' enjoy a good pipe an' a pint."
Across the tavern from the cluster by the fire, one of the merchants cautiously rises from his table and approaches the pale skinned sylvan woman with her head buried in a book. He is a middle aged man, with thinning gray hair and a paunch suggesting of a bit too much enjoyment of food and libations. His clothing is well made and has an air of affluence, though shows a bit of age as well. "Excuse me miss, sorry to trouble you, but... well... I heard... that maybe you could... well... that perhaps you were a seer or diviner of sorts? If you are... well, would you be able to determine that fate of a colleague of ours? He was supposed to meet us here, last night as it were. Only, he never showed..." He looks as Nisli uncertainly.
"The halfling seems to be avoiding telling me directly what he does, so perhaps he'll talk more about his learning of languages or his pipe. He does seem fond of it" "Gathering information. Interesting." "Sort of like what I'm doing now. Not so different you and I."
She could picture someone just wandering the countryside as the master "blower" of smoke rings and making a living by participating in competitions. This is her job as a bartender, getting people to talk about what they are passionate about, not so much about serving drinks.
Lilianne smiles easily in correction to the earlier mention of his pipe, "I will always consider pipe smoking a hobby though. How could I not? Smoking a pipe any fool can do, but a true practitioner, it seems, can spend a lifetime perfecting the best puff, the perfect blow, and if one chooses to do so, can even spend deep study on the wide myriad of methods used to create smoke rings. All of which would constitute it being a hobby in my book. In fact, I can see it as a better hobby than some, as hobbies in my understanding are done in relaxing time. Some people love to work more, busying themselves about, but smoking...well, I've always considered it to have a relaxing element to it. Would you agree?"
Her eyes train on the old man as he gets up, showing she is attentive to the room still. As he approaches the innocent Nisli, she almost perks up in a defensive way, but then at hearing him just ask for a divination, she settles back to finishing her stew. When done, she leaves the spoon in the gravy and vegetables she left behind.
Braegan leans back as he listens to Lily, hey twinkle of recollection in his eyes. "Now, I remember an odd, older 'uman... Was a wizard or enchanter o' sorts, if'n I r'collect. 'ad long 'air an' a full beard, both grey, an' 'e wore a robe o' a similar 'ue. Bit o' meddlesome wanderer, but the goodly type. An'way, 'e was fascinated with smokin' a pipe, an' I swear, could conjure all sorts o' shapes from the smoke. Boram, 'e 'ad a fondness for ye people an' their leaf, if'n I r'call. What was 'is name... Gordoff? Gardrelf? Gondeld? Ah, no matter. Point is, 'e was a professional pipesmoker if'n ever there been one."
Across the room, the merchant looks at Nisli, awaits Nisli response a bit nervously. As he does, he starts to finger his pouch of coins. "I would, of course, be willing to pay for your skills, lady?"
Raquel clears her throat when Boram asks Lilianne about speaking Elven. "Our dear Lily is fluent in many tongues, but the chief language of concern around these parts is coin. Money talks, they say, and right now, that man is leading the conversation." She gestures across the taproom, where the merchant is propositioning Nisli.
"Ohhh yes! I remember, elderly chap, big gray beard, pointy hat. That must have been what brought the idea to mind," she waves dismissively as she replies to Braegan. "I haven't seen him for ... oh ...six or seven months." "He looked pretty old to be huffing and puffing about the countryside. He's probably dead at his age."
Lilianne's mouth opens and closes as Raquel answers for her. Her big eyes look to the beautiful Raquel almost in thanks very briefly before she nods in agreement. Coin was the only language she needed to know in this place, although the language of seduction could get you more coin at times too.
"With Nisli no less!" she hums happily in a quiet tone so the girl can't hear her. "I've never been good with languages. I suppose it would be nice to know what people are saying...as in here there as many myriads of languages as there are in existence coming through, but in our job, you don't really need to know them. Everyone knows the common words for ale, wine, or harder alcohol. The real trick is getting people to pay," she chuckles and settles into an adorable grin at the halfling as she rests her chin on her palm as she lounges. Her big eyes calmly look over him, not predatory-like, but much as anyone would look at another. She has little interest in the snack.
It's hardly possible for Nisli to not be aware of Braegan approaching her with the stew. He's directly in front of her as he approaches her table and she's looking at him. Still, she seems unprepared when he offers her some from the pot. Her reaction appears to be less one of surprise than stress, as if she doesn't know how to answer the question right away. Her eyes are wide as she looks up into Braegan's. she also furtively slides a sheet of paper with a list of plants on it over her writing in the book.
"Um, h-hello... Y-yes, I would like some please, if you have enough to go around..."
Nisli thanks the dwarf for the filled bowl he gives her. Until he moves on she waits, almost at attention in her chair, as if she's ready and determined to do better if he should say anything more.
After Braegan moves on, she moves the sheet of paper away and goes back to her writing. Every now and then she stops to nibble at the stew, almost as an afterthought.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When the man approaches her to make his request, any observer can see the same tension enter her body when she realizes he is coming specifically to her table rather than walking on by. She looks at the man and smiles, but the smile isn't genuine, more one she's told herself she should wear because that's what people do. Again she slides the sheet of paper over her writing. She neglects to say anything herself until he's made his appeal, which seems to catch her interest and deflate her at the same time.
"I... I'm sorry. Uh, what you heard isn't quite right. Y-you see, I'm not a diviner or seer. I-I've never talked to spirits or read fortunes before... I-I could ask the birds?"
Nisli seems to squirm and shrink a little after saying so, as if embarrassed to offer such a poor substitute. She continues though trying to explain.
"B-birds, um, you see... T-they see quite a lot. More than people realize, b-because they aren't often noticed.. And they travel far..."
"M-maybe I could find one who saw something of the man you're looking for?"
"Mhmm!" she gladly answers the halfling concerning their wizard traveler. She finds it strange none of them can recall his name, particularly when she, Raquel, and Braegan are so keen at recalling names. It is probably a spell to generally forget who he is. "That's just the trouble. Can't seem to recall many immediate details about him. Just that he liked pipe smoking and wandering. I was thinking some magic might be at play," she wriggles her eyebrows up and down in a playful manner.
Her alluring, gilded eyes drift over to the stranger questioning Nisli and then back to halfling.
"It's a free to roam tavern. You are welcome to intervene but I think she's fine for now...if not a bit flabbergasted." From the serpent's cute, relaxed position, she sits up a little. "You're a protective sort. I like that. It's sweet that you care about her, a stranger. Noble. What would you intend to do if you did go over there?" Lilianne's eyes settle once more on the halfling, curious as to whether he would just introduce himself or insert himself on Nisli's behalf.