Toilday, 24th of Desnus, 4711 AR
The seaside town of Sandpoint is a quiet and peaceful place to live, situated amidst the rolling green hills and rushing riverways of Varisia's southwest. It's a town known not only for its high-quality theatre and its marvellous glassblowing factory, but for being the launching point of many an illustrious adventuring career.
Indeed, in the past few years bands of heroes from all across the Inner Sea Region have gotten their start here--some preferring to address local concerns, others leaving the small town behind for more exciting pastures, and some even managing to get tangled up in world-shaking events. For now, it appears that Sandpoint is entering a period of rest...
...but such tranquility is destined to never last long.
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The Rusty Dragon tavern is one of the first rest stops would-be adventurers, merchants and other itinerant wanderers see when they reach Sandpoint by its southernmost road. It's known by locals for its spicy and exotic foods, and it's especially famous (or, as some wags would say, notorious) for being adventurer-friendly.
So when the doors open and a blonde elvaan woman strides in with an adorably fuzzy brown-furred palico at her heels, nobody gives it too much thought until she walks up to the tavern's job board with a missive in hand.
Sona sits outside the tavern (as she stinks too badly to be inside the tavern). She is off, away from the doorway and currently has a small purse out for those who feel the want to donate. She is tired. Pooped out from performing for the morning hours to those few who wandered by. The few copper she made was not even enough to get her food from an establishment for the evening, but perhaps there would be some scraps that evening. If not, the potatoes and flour she paid for last night should provide some nurishment.
As she sat there, far from offending any entering the tavern, she saw the blonde woman make her way inside. In the woman's hands clearly was a missive for the job board. After so many months sitting there, she knew the look. It was tricky to get a peek. Most jobs she was not qualified for.
Occasionally, there was some horrific job that someone wanted someone disposable to do...that was what she was known for, and why she smelled like offal and who knows what else. That evening she would have to bathe as best she could in the pits and pools that have collected rainwater. By doing so, she could only hope to remove enough stink from her to wander inside and look, but for now, she sits outside and relaxes from her tiredness. Those inside, if they may see a job she is particularly qualified for, may very well like her enough to mention it, since most know she isn't allowed to go inside smelling as she does.
It isn't that she can't get clean, but rather that she can't get clean enough, and she also has nowhere to stay that would keep her that way. She has been desperately trying to save enough to buy or find the services of a spellcaster to teach her a cleaning spell, but most don't want anything to do with her and run away when they see her approaching. Such is her life.
Sandru... The work is fair, I want to know when this caravan will actually go somewhere! I can stay in this town forever with these... pasty dirt farmers.
Tarka is a bit of a feisty Ronso; some might say brash. Many of his kind tend to be more soft-spoken, and certainly more humble. Tarka received the privilege of studying at the academy for Blue Mages, and so he's instilled with some level of entitlement, or great expectation (as he would call it).
Sandru is used to Tarka's restlessness and he merely smiles back, and shrugs. He knows the pay will keep Tarka on board for some time. He goes back to servicing his caravan wagon. Once Tarka feels he's not being listened to enough, he heads to the Rusty Dragon. He keeps thinking he should try harder to make friends with Humes, but most of the ones in this town are rather boring. Nothing like the exciting Shoanti or interesting Varisian nomads he's previously met.
He spies the new notice on the job board and this provides the welcome distraction he needs to avoid working on that hume-friend-making goal...
You see a non-typically colored Ronso standing proudly at the job board, pouring over a new notice. He has golden white fur over tan, almost yellow skin. His bright red eyes and white horn certainly stand out too.
Running along behind his friend Shalelu, it seemed like years since Tribim had been in Sandpoint. It actually may well have been. He wasn't good with time. He had bolted out the northern city gates being chased by the watch. Then gotten himself hopelessly lost. Fortunately, Shalelu had found him. When they arrived in town this morning, he had been a little nervous passing the watchmen at the same gate he had fled out so long ago. But either they didn't recognize him, or it didn't matter. They just nodded politely as Shalelu walked through, completely ignoring him. Of course, his appearance had changed greatly, He had grown and filled out. He no longer wore the black pants, shirt and cap of a 'cat-burglar' but was dressed in colorful varisian clothing and the fine studded leather armor Shalelu had taken from a goblin she killed. She said it had probably belonged to a rich halfling adventurer and that he should wear it. She even had shown him how to clean and upkeep it. Shalelu had been so good to him.
As they passed the square and moved up Market Street, Tribim ran ahead a little, he knew they were headed to the 'Rusty Dragon' it was owned by Shalelu's best friend and was known as a place adventurer were welcome. As he approached, he saw a smallish girl, at least small compared to Shalelu, but huge compared to Tribim. He wrinkled his nose, even from this distance his sensitive olfactory senses were screaming at him. He saw that she had a small purse out for donations. Tribim didn't have much money, but he was rich in friends. As he approached on all fours, he reached into his bandolier with his tail and pulled his purse out. Dropping it into his front claws as he sat up, he smiled and greeted the girl his whiskers twitching. "Meeooww." sorting half his coppers out of his bag he dropped the three small coins in the girl's bag. Greeting the girl in common, "Meow's is Tribim. a purrrleasure to Meeuutt you."
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Seeing Shalelu walk past to the door of the 'Dragon' Tribim nods his head, "Meust go with meuwster, Puuurrrrchance we will meowwwt again." Turning he runs on all fours slipping between Shalelu's legs bolting into the dragon. Once inside he pauses admiring the establishments, the wooden tables and chairs, the long polished bar, the stage with several music instruments. But along the far wall, heaven. A large stone fireplace with a small fire burning. Ignoring Shalelu as she hung the missive he ran to the fire place purring. Stopping at the stone wall he dropped his oversized rucksack and happily clawed the stones cleaning and sharpening his claws. Once satisfied he flopped in front of the fire taking off his leather cap and smoked goggles and began licking his paw, then brushing his ears.
Vinexa walked down the street towards The Rusty Dragon and was feeling pretty good. Back years ago Shayliss was secretly considered to be a bit of a harlot in her efforts to get someone to sleep with her. After her sister's death the young woman had straightened up, much to Vinexa's annoyance, leaving Vinexa to soon take over the title of town strumpet. Even worse Vinexa had been interest in Shayliss for sometime but now the woman was too focused on other things and it was all she could do to get her to even pay attention to her.
Fortunately for Vinexa she had succeeded and gotten a kiss from her, that she ate some of the woman's vitality in the process. Vinexa had a problem that made her reputation both deserved and a tragedy of circumstances. Vinexa's soul wasn't quite right, it couldn't replenish itself properly and needed to take from others to keep itself stable. That this caused short lived damage to others was a problem but it would restore itself the next morning and she went to great pains to keep it a secret from the citizens since they would inevitably turn against her and drive her out.
Because of hr recent feeding Vinexa was feeling good as she flounced down the street in her short black dress that left lots of leg bear and showed a little of her cleavage in the front. The furry ears on top of her head flicked around as she walked listening to what was going on around her and her nose occasionally wrinkled at one strong smell or another. Her tail, the fur matching her hair starting brown and turning to blonde at the tips, swished behind her in counterpoint to her stride and occasionally raised the hem of her skirt enough to see her cheeks peeking out.
When she reached The Rusty Dragon her nose wrinkled again at the smell of the down on her luck mage nearby and Vinexa thought of stopping for a moment. This would be someone no one would miss and she could feed to her heart's content on her but she shook her head and shoved the thought away. That would be wrong and would lead to something very dark. Instead Vinexa tossed Sona a couple of coins and entered the Rusty Dragon.
Vigny sits at a table in the Rusty Dragon, absently shuffling a deck of cards. She's turned sideways to the table, back against the wall and legs stretched out on the bench. A plate with a few crumbs remaining on it sits on the table, along with a pewter tankard still half full of ale.
Since the place is mostly empty at that early hour, Vigny notices the elven woman and palico come in; but when she sees the woman is only there to post a notice she goes back to playing with the deck of cards. Vigny will check to see what it says sooner or later, no hurry.
A few minutes after the woman has gone on her way, Vigny sighs with boredom and rousts herself from the bench to go read it. She's been in Sandpoint just bumming around for a few weeks while she waits for Sandru Vhisky's caravan to pass through, and she's running out of things to occupy her time.
Vigny has already explored all the drinking establishments in town, along with other points of potential interest, met and sort of befriended a few people, and found the best place for keeping an ear to the ground regarding Sandru. It so happens the place is the Rusty Dragon. Vigny has learned he and Ameiko are old friends, so she expects he'll stop in when he arrives.
Humes are usually what Sona sees pass her by. This day, however, the inn is abuzz with many interesting races. Perhaps not uncommon, but certainly not humes. However, this particular Ronso was the strangest she's seen, so as he approached, the door, she would give him a pleasant, close-mouthed smile to show she's kind and just casually looking his way. He heads inside and she returns to her own thoughts.
When the palico and companion come down the street, she breaks a wider smile, as she loves cats and always has. Palicos were a bit more difficult to work around with their various personalities but she still loved their similarities to kitties. Even more of a surprise is when it approaches her. She places a hand very gracefully over her mouth and bows. She, clearly, is not like other humes from this region. Her epicanthic eyes tell a tale that she is from a far off land.
With hand over her mouth, she speaks in a husky and refined voice:
"My greetings to you, Tribim" Her voice has a subtle exotic accent, but is very well-spoken common despite this. "You are very gracious. Thank you for your kindness."
She tilts her head to him, still hiding behind her hand and asks, "Forgive me, you are a palico. I've never seen a palico wear armor before. Are you an adventurer or a guard?"
He can easily smell that her breath is a bit overwhelming and she's trying to be courteous to a creature with scent. It doesn't particularly help, but the consideration is there. It also seems to be a trained motion, as if she is demure and trained in courtly behaviors.
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When the Palico turns inside with its master, she will nod kindly with a bow once more.
"Until then, good sir."
When he heads inside, she sighs with relief at the increase in her funds. It is then that she sees a very beautiful Mithra coming down the street. She is slightly familiar to her, at least to where she may have heard her name before. While Sona's eyes on Tribim may have been saying "cute!" now her eyes are those of envy, saying "I wish I had legs like those".
Subconsciously, the magi runs a hand up her leg that is hidden by her splotched outfit. Where once there were beautiful, silken legs devoid of hair, now she has unshaven, rough, and dry legs. It almost makes her want to cry, but out of sheer willpower, she forces a closed-mouth smile toward Vinexa. From the woman's nose wrinkling, Sona can tell she is sitting too close to the door, but before she can move, coins come flying her way. She deftly catches them as one would catch a spinning, flying fan.
"Thank you, Miss Vinexa," she announces. The woman, after all, was known by some on the street and elsewhere for being kind. The woman likely had not taken notice of her, but Sona clearly has noticed such a pretty lady; perhaps not her salacious desire to feed, but by reputation enough to match the face to a name.
Tarka sees the small cat enter the room and squints in confusion. He notices it wearing studded leather and the picture just doesn't add up for him.
Where is the rest of its body?! How does it best its foes?
He then notices a less-small but still-smaller person standing next to him reading the same notice he'd just persued. He tries to dial back the usual snarl that comes with his toothy underbite as he greets her.
You also look for something new and interesting to do?
Twitching his whiskers in a smile Tribim stood a little taller as the dirty girl spoke in an unusual accent. Shaking his head "Phhhhorgivemeow not meow needed. Meow is Purrralico. Meow armor gift from meowster. Phhhhamous Hunter." His smile widens as his tail twitches, "Meow learning hunting phhhhrom Meowster."
As he runs off to follow Shalelu he turns and waives to the odd girl.
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Sitting in front of the fire licking his paw, Tribim notices the people in the room. Most of them looked like the folks who belonged in Sandpoint, he even thought he recognized a few of them. He paused licking himself when he noticed the tall Ronso standing proudly at the board. Curious, Tribim had never seen a Ronso before, this one had golden fur and red eyes. He smelled of wood and leather, the smells of the varisian wagons. But there was something underneath. It seemed like a mixture of creatures, it was terribly odd. Tribims curiosity was aroused. He noticed the Ronso look at him and made a mental note to speak with the traveler once he was done enjoying his bath.
As he started to lick his rear paw, he watched as a tall blond Ulfen warrior stood up to go look at Shalelu' missive. She smelled of steel, leather and oil. There was something else under it all, was that incense? Incense or no, He decided she looked like an adventurer, or at least someone who lived by their sword. He watched as the golden Ronso spoke to the blonde women.
The folks in the 'Rusty Dragon' were even more interesting than he expected, he occasionally looked up to the door to see who arrived next.
Vinexa spotted a number of familiar faces as she entered the inn. There were even a few new ones, particularly a rather hulking Ronso and a tiny cat person. She also noted how they, and a few others, were gathered around the job board she decided to go look at it too.
The mithra approached the board and occasionally brushed against one person or another to steal a little of their essence when she could get away with it. Vinexa managed to get in close enough to look at the board and listen to what the newcomers were saying.
The blonde elvaan doesn't take much notice of the other patrons, instead looking for a free tack on the crowded job board. She manages to find one before too long, and sticks the missive to the board.
TO ALL CITIZENS OF AND VISITORS TO SANDPOINT
A scant two weeks ago, we've received reports of increased goblin activity on the trade roads to the south of town. This activity is reported to consist of multiple attacks on merchant caravans, each with some sort of explosive ordinance. As multiple injuries have been reported, but so far no fatalities, it can be inferred that these goblins, likely of the Licktoad tribe of Brinestump Marsh, have gotten ahold of a cache of fireworks and are using them to harass travellers to and from Sandpoint.
Effective the 24th of Desnus, 4711 AR, I am reinstating the old bounty on goblin ears in an attempt to curtail these attacks on our people and our economy. The bounty will be paid for each goblin ear brought to the Office of the Sheriff of Sandpoint, with a sizeable monetary bonus for the head of the goblin chieftain, Gutwad of the Licktoad tribe.
Interested parties should inquire at City Hall for more information. BE WARNED: these goblins are not to be underestimated. They know the territory of Brinestump Marsh better than you think.
Sheriff Belor Hemlock
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The caravan master gives you a grin and scratches the top of his head, turning his messy brown hairdo into even more of a bird's nest. "Well, if you're itching that badly for something to do, there's bound to be someone around here looking for help. Have you--"
When you get up and go to check the job board, he trails off. "Alright, cool. You noticed it, good."
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As the palico and Shalelu head inside, you hear another voice behind you.
"Sona? My goodness, Sona, are you alright?" The elderly voice of Koya Mvashti says. The aged priestess is tilting her head at you, the scarf on her head fluttering as a stray breeze comes by.
Tarka snarls, and with a serious tone bellows
Goblins?! Didn't this happen before? Why has this town not warred against them to eliminate the pestilence once and for all. However, this is more interesting than caravan guard duty.
He winces and glances at the caravan master as he says the last part. Recovering quickly he continues.
I will obtain the head of Gutwad! Who will join me?
He turns and scans those gathered at the board, looking pointedly at Vigny.
Sona just sighs as everyone goes inside. She is just about to settle back when she hears footsteps cautiously moving toward her. It is at that point in time she hears a familiar voice. She finds herself fighting to catch her breath as it is the voice of Koya. Clearly by her words, Sona must look and smell awful. It must be a stark contrast to her normal appearance.
"What do I even say?" Shyly, she looks down, averting her eyes from the priestess. Once again, she covers her mouth with a hand.
"I didn't want to say anything or burden anyone."
With her father gone and her family's wealth spent, where else could she go?
"They have been kind to me here...mostly. And, I've been able to work for some...money." she explains in a descending tone, showing that what she made in money was very little. In fact, she's made more begging in the last few minutes than in the past few days of trying to look for work or by entertaining with spells. A shout rises up from within the tavern behind her--someone vowing something to Gutwad--which causes her to pause and turn to look that way before slowly rising to her feet before the priestess. She still does not connect to her with her eyes. As she stands, her own hair finds itself weighed down with sweat and dirt far more than the breeze would find in its strength to move it.
Koya moves to help you to your feet. "And you didn't ask them to let you use a washtub all this time?"
She shakes her head and attempts to avoid the aid to stand. "No please, I'm unclean. Don't touch me. You will dirty your clothes." She shies away a couple of steps.
To show her elder respect, she still answers her question:
"I've tried to stay clean. I even had soap for a while. It was stolen from me while I slept. My iron pot as well." She pulls at her filthy hair. "I haven't had much shelter out here and it rained. Everything was muddy. I have washed since, but not everything comes out without soap."
Sona is trying to avoid the subject of the fact she can't degrade her honor to ask for help, so she desperately tries to change the subject, even connecting to her respected elder's eyes briefly.
"What are you doing here?"
Sitting on the small rug in front of the fireplace, as he cleaned his toenails with his teeth Tribim watched the Ronso and hume at the announcement board. Master Shalelu had told him the idea of the missive. That she would go to the sheriff and ask him to write it up. Knowing they might go their separate ways, Tribim had gushed over her, telling her how much he appreciated her taking him under her wing. Wanting to help, he asked if she thought it would be ok for him to go with the hunters, maybe act as guide or porter. He remembered she smiled at him and told him he was a hunter too, not just a porter, and that it was a wonderful Idea. So here he sat, cleaning his paws, waiting for the right moment to introduce himself.
Hearing the Ronso announce that he would 'obtain the head of Gutwad,' Tribim looking at his sharp paws. It was true, Ronso would probably cut off Gutwads head. Smiling, but only because Tribim had no blade to do so. Getting up from his small rug Tribim stood on all fours, stretching, arching his back low, reaching out with his right paw, turning his head he held the stretch for several seconds. Feeling clean and relaxed he stood, picking up his oversized pack, he walked over to the Mithra, Ronso and Hume. "Meow, Meuw Tribim, Meuwster Purrrmitted Meuw to Purrrrsue licktoad, meow, tribe." Licking his paw, he wiped his right eyebrow. "Meuw know woods, meuw, will guide new meuwsters."
Looking up, from the armored woman to the golden Ronso to the lovely brown eared golden eyed Mithra. He began to purr, smiling, his tail twitching; he resisted the urge to rub his back on one of there legs. "Purrrchance when Meuwsters leaving?"
Vigny reads through the posted notice before answering the apparently excitable Ronso.
"I have some time to kill I suppose. This looks like a good way to do it."
She stretches herself out slowly, ending by bending backwards to unkink her spine, arms stretched out behind herself and hands clasped together as she rolls her shoulders.
"Been sitting on my ass around here spending all my money for quite a while. Time for a changeup."
Yes! Idle minds and muscles make you into a pudding! I am Tarka Ronso. Pleased to meet you. What is your name and how do you claim goblin heads?
He smiles forcefully, showing off his large fangs as an unconscious side-effect.
He then notices that the small cat has approached. His confused expression from earlier returns.
Ha! Little feline you do not need my permission to do anything, but I think we would be happy to have you along. What does such a small being do against goblins? Scratch and hiss? Ha! As to when we leave... we leave when all who wish to go have said so!
His belly laughs betray how bad he lets his breath get (at least to non-Ronso).
Vinexa, after reading the flier and hearing these others speak said, "Hm, this job sounds interesting. I really should get out more and it would be a good chance to test what I can do." Vinexa watched almost hungrily as Vigny stretched before her eyes shifted to the big ronso Tarka and looked him over with interest as well. There was also the little palico Tibrim who came over to them and asked to go along.
"Since it looks like we all might be going I should introduce myself too," Vinexa said, "I am Vinexa," she said, her right hand coming to rest against her chest before she curtsied and practically purred, "at your service." She knelt down to the floor from her curtsy and reached out a hand towards Tibrim's ears, stopping and looking at him questioningly to see if she could scratch them.
The first part of Tarka's question is easy.
"I'm Vigny Olafursdottir, recently down here from Riddleport."
The second part is a real head scratcher for Vigny.
Is he asking for advice? Or maybe personal preference?
"Uh, well I guess I would kill the goblin first... Then cut its head off? That would make them lighter than they would be with the body still attached..."
"But we only need ears, which is much more convenient for carrying about, so I don't think I would bother with the head at all. I don't really care for goblin heads personally."
Seeing the confused look on the odiferous Ronso's face, Tribim looks up, listening to the speak. The Ronso, named Tarka, was right, Tribim did not need to ask permission. But he did feel it was the polite thing to do. As he was about to explain his amazing hunting skills, the young Mithra began to introduce herself. Vinexa, she smelled wonderful, so many layers. As she kneeled beside him and reached to scratch his ear, he leaned in and closed his eyes. All thought of smells, and goblins and beheadings were forgotten as she began to scratch behind his ears. "Pppppprrrrrrrrrrrrrr Purring loudly, he turned his head, ever so slightly, and moved close so she could scratch behind the other ear.
Aha, aha! But it is the sword you would use, I see! That is what I really asked! the ronso bellows.
He then turns to Vinexa. And what would you do to the goblins? Distract them with dancing so that Vigny and I can sneak up behind them? I'm not sure they will like your nice smells though! Goblins are very different!
Tarka's energy never seems to run out.
Vinexa smiled and reached over to scratch Tibrim's other ear with one hand and looked up at Tarka as she held the other up before her and said, "I am a cat," she made a claw like gesture as she said, "and I have claws."
Vigny replies to the Ronso's clarification with a tittery laugh. It's her patented 'I'm so dumb' laugh she's perfected while essentially growing up waiting tables and serving bar in Riddleport's Ale-Church. It's good for greasing the wheels of awkward interactions where you can't figure out what to say. Intoxicated people can say some really weird, incomprehensible shit you just have to roll with sometimes.
"Oh, right my sword. Yeah, I prefer my sword. I knew that. Duh."
She laughs the laugh again; it's almost a reflexive gesture for her.
Koya sighs. "Goodness me... I swear, there's just no semblance of decency in some people anymore."
"Now you hold still, young lady." The aged priestess plucks a bit of mana from the aether and, with a gesture and prayer, casts a spell upon you. The filth encrusting your clothes and face begins to flake and crumble off and your hair begins to straighten out. Soon, you're no longer an utterly disheveled mess, but you're somewhat presentable, if drab.
"There ya go."
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Once introductions have been made, the newly-assembled party marches off towards Sandpoint's City Hall. On the way there, they pass by a group of young men, each toting sturdy lengths of wood and grumbling.
"Where does that a*@#@*! Sheriff get off on telling us what we are and aren't suited for?!" One of them grouses.
"I know, right?! 'Inexperienced', my ass! They're GOBLINS! What's there to worry about?" Another replies.
"Fine--if he doesn't want the goblin problem solved, he can choke on it. C'mon, let's go to the Feedbag."
The interior of City Hall is about as official as one can expect from a small town like Sandpoint--it's tidy and orderly, if rather dry. The armoured Sheriff stands in the front hall, looking at a painting of a pristine snowy mountainside. Clad in well-polished half-plate and sporting a clean-shaven head that proudly reflects the morning sun, the dark-skinned Sheriff cuts an authoritative figure even when he doesn't try to.
As the group approaches, he turns his head. The frown on his face smooths out into a professional, pursed-lip look. "It's about time some folks came around who look like they're actually suited for the job."
"Pleasure to meet you all." He extends a mailed hand for a handshake. "For those of you who don't know, I'm Sheriff Hemlock."
As they enter the sheriff's office Tarka continues his jovial mood and toothy grins.
Ooooh? What's makes us look suited? I mean, a mighty Ronso, obvoiusly! And this lady with the sharp sword!
He gestures vaguely at Vigny.
But what about these other dainty things? The cat with no meat on it? The obviously attractive lady? Their talents are subtle, no? But perhaps you can see into their minds to determine their talents? That sounds useful!
The Ronso lets a belly laugh escape his bulky frame.
Vinexa went with those she met to see the sheriff about the posted job request. As they did Vinexa heard what Koya said to Sona and felt a wash of guilt. She should have tried to do more to help her, Koya and her own family had taught her better, Vinexa looked at the woman and said, "You look like you could use some money and we're off to see the Sheriff about a goblin hunt. Why don't you come with us?"
As they made their way towards where the Sheriff could be found Vinexa walked along she gave flirting looks and gestures to those she passed who caught her fancy. Once they reached the Sheriff Vinexa gave him a coquettish smile and said, "You called Sheriff Hemlock? Have you finally decidded to succumb to my whiles?" The suggestion was heavy in her words but how serious Vinexa was is anyone's guess.
Sona can physically feel the sickness, the filth, and the crusted toil of living on the street melt off of her. Tears seem to form at the corner of her eyes and hold there, threatening to fall. It would have been so easy for someone to care enough to show her this spell in the past, and with her arcane potential, she could have learned it. It just took someone to care long enough.
This time, and perhaps by the grace of the priestess, she can learn what the spell is and how it is constructed. It doesn't stop her from expressing her utter joy.
"Thank you!" she expresses with utter devotion, bowing the floor in kowtow in honor. "May the gods guide your steps forever, priestess."
As she rises, feeling far cleaner and just womanly than before, she folds her arms in front of her waist, one over the other, and more calmly bows. She now patiently waits for the woman to answer her question as to why she is there?
Leaning into Vinexa as she scratches his ear, Tribim gives a loud "Meow" in agreement with his fellow feline as she speaks to Tarka, declaring herself a cat with claws. Somewhat lost in the ecstasy of having his ears scratched, he half-heartedly lifts his paw, revealing claws as well.
Still happily purring from the ear scratching, Tribim realized the larger folk were leaving. Quickly running after them, he squirts out the door just before it closes. Sprinting after the others, he pauses long enough to waive at Sona, then follows the others past the loud obnoxious young men.
As they enter the sheriffs office, Tribim doffs his leather cap and smoked goggles, bowing politely, and introduces himself. "Meow meuw Tribim, appppprrrrrrrrrentice Meuwster Shalelu." He glanced up at Tarka, looking from the golden Ronso to the sheriff. Reaching into his bandolier he pulled out a lock pick. "Meow Meuw, ppprrrrrrrsuade goblin traps for meuwsters."
Koya gives you a warm smile as you express your deepest gratitude. "Oh, my dear, you don't need to thank me. I was hoping I'd find you again before too long."
"Since you're--" The old priestess starts before noticing the voluptuous mithra approaching. "--oh, Vinexa! Didn't notice you there."
After Vinexa makes her offer, Koya smiles at you. "Well, you don't get an offer like that every day. If you really wish to thank me, why not see where this job offer goes?"
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"You called Sheriff Hemlock? Have you finally decidded to succumb to my wiles?"
Sheriff Hemlock gives Vinexa a curt smile. "Clearly. But, alas, I'm still on duty." He replies with a dose of good-natured sarcasm.
"Ooooh? What's makes us look suited? I mean, a mighty Ronso, obvoiusly! And this lady with the sharp sword!"
"Well, those things, certainly. It also helps that you're not a bunch of hot-headed youths who have no idea what a goblin is really capable of." The sheriff tilts his head at the burly Ronso.
"Meow Meuw, ppprrrrrrrsuade goblin traps for meuwsters."
The dark-skinned sheriff's head tilts down at the little palico. "Oh--you're Shalelu's student, are you not? Yes, if you're going along with them I'd count that as an endorsement of your character."
"Now, as to the business of goblin hunting..." Hemlock's tone turns business-like. "...the goblins that've been making trouble along the southern roads are based out of Brinestump Marsh. If you intend to take up this bounty, I'd advise you to be prepared for swamp travel--take measures to protect against insects and all that."
"Also, it would be in your best interest to seek out the marsh's warden--Walthus Proudfur." He slides a hand into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a map of the marshlands to the south. "He's an odd one, but that moogle knows the swamp better than just about anyone."
"You'll be paid 200 gil for each pair of goblin ears, with a bonus of 5,000 gil for the head of Chieftain Gutwad."
Sona did not perceive at first that Vinexa was talking toward her. Part of her disconnect is that common was not her first language but something she was raised with. The other reason is, why would anyone talk to her? Now that she is clean, her perceptions need to change.
"I...I am proficient with magic. Of course I'll come! Umm...Let me collect my things."
The limber youth bends down to where a panel of the raised foundation of the tavern had been broken off at one point and lazily put back. After removing the panel, it shows she has hidden something inside. She pulls from it a small sack. It is clear that it is dirty but that doesn't seem to deter her now.
"Again, thank you priestess."
She bows and heads off with Vinexa. It is almost endearing how happy the young girl is. A melody is in her voice as she moves down the street. Despite being clean, she still desperately needs work. Her hair is cut oddly, her clothing is worn down, she could use better shoes, and even the sack is starting to wear thin.
"My name is Sona," she at long last greets Vinexa.
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As they made their way to the sheriff, she mostly follows along in silence except for the random outburst of joy at the prospect of earning some real coin.
It has been a few days since she has felt the wood of a solid floor beneath her feet, and entering into the office, she'd only been there as a vagrant at one point. Now, she was a worthy adventurer. As they approach the sheriff, she holds up a hand and casts a torchlight spell into it and then mostly closes it. The effect is to have light leaking out, resembling the power she must truthfully have. It is to display to the sheriff that she is capable.
"Greetings!" she shakes his hand in warm salutation. Her eyes travel to the Ronso and she shrinks back to hide from being "noticed" and described by him.
"Where is the Marsh Warden at, sir? And if I may ask, what do you know of the Chieftan Gutwad?"
Sheriff Hemlock turns to Sona, his eyes hardening. "Chieftain Gutwad is the goblin in charge of leading the Licktoad tribe of goblins--he's the one whom the goblins of Brinestump Marsh answer to. As of late, the Licktoads have gotten their hands on a cache of what I can only assume are fireworks--and he's bound to have masterminded their theft."
"He's a girthy one, but he's been chieftain of the Licktoads for a long time now, so he's not to be underestimated. Walthus Proudfur should know more." He points to a path on the northeasternmost edge of the marshlands map. "There's an old trail here that should lead to the moogle's home. He doesn't often get visitors, so don't be surprised if his... well, his welcome is out of practice."
He rolls up the map and holds it out for someone to take.
"Now as for Chieftan Gutwad and the goblins, you've offered a reward for their body parts, what about alive?" She gestures vaguely with an elegant hand, "And do you have some sacks available for these body parts that we may bring with us?"
Sona will allow someone more important than her to take the map, and in fact, at this point, the maiden will step back from speaking. To those who had seen her before, there is far more life in her, but still, she must clearly think of herself as beneath everyone there in importance by how she is acting.
"As to sacks, I believe I do have a few. Wait here for a bit." With that, the Sheriff turns on his heel and heads down one of City Hall's corridors. He returns a minute later with a pair of large sacks in his hands.
"These should be sufficient to bring back any ears you claim, and the head of Gutwad besides."
Tarka shrugs at the sheriff's assertion that no goblins would come with them alive.
You never know! Maybe they fit in sacks!
He then considers the subtle warning about meeting the marsh moogle.
Can someone send this Mr. Proudfur a message of our coming, with our descriptions, so that he might practice his welcome?
Vinexa listened to the Sheriff explain the task and their contact in the marsh. It seemed straight forward enough and she knew she might be able to charm one or two of the goblins into surrendering and coming with them peacefully. "Or maybe they can just be charmed into coming with us. Violence isn't always the answer after all."
"Well, I'll see what I can do." Sheriff Hemlock shrugs. "He's not a bad fellow once you get to know him."
"Or maybe they can just be charmed into coming with us. Violence isn't always the answer after all."
"Well, if anyone can talk a goblin into coming quietly, I'm sure it's you Vinexa." The sheriff gives the mithra a half-smile.
The meeting with Sheriff Hemlock leaves Vigny with some mixed feelings. Money: Good! The job: fairly straightforward! A swamp: Gross! Described as competent: Nice! Apparently not considered dainty: Sad! (Vigny isn't particularly dainty.)
I mean does this mean he thinks I'm 'big-boned' or what?
It rattles her a little, and she surreptitiously pinches her side near her waist to see how much of herself she can catch between her fingers. She frowns slightly, not sure whether or not it's overly much.
She'll have to do a 'naked in front of the mirror' session soon to see where she's at.
Bummer.
As the big folk ask Hemock there questions, Tribim notices Sona step back from the map. That made a lot of sense to him. Why should she carry the map when they have a professional porter? Accepting the map from the sheriff, he took a quick look at it nodding, then rolled it back up and carried it with his tail. He felt that he was reasonably familiar with the southern road and the location of the swamp, but the map would be a good thing to keep for the big folk to look at.
As he sheriff left Tribim took off his pack, setting it on the ground waiting for the sherrif to returns. Walking up to the sheriff he accepts the bags and places them in his pack. While reshouldering his pack he's surprised the questions turn to capturing goblins. He had spent several years porting for Shelalu, the famous goblin hunter. He'd never heard of a goblin surrendering to Hume justice. Shaking his head at the Idea. Due to his affiliation with Shalelu, Tribim considered himself an expert on goblins. Voicing his opinion "Meuwsters, Goblins, sing, meow, goblins eat, meow, Goblins fight, meow, Goblins run, Meow meuw, never see goblins surrender."
Seeing that the others were ready to leave, Tribim could hardly contain his excitement. He was so happy to be with a group of adventurers saving Sandpoint. He watched the Hume named Vigny, she must be excited too, since she was pinching herself to see if it was real. Smiling, he swished his tail about, map and all. running a little ahead he turned and asked. "Meow, meuw, Meuwsters Purrrrsue goblins meow now, Or purrrrrchase more supplies meow, before Meuwsters Purrrrseed out of town?"
She thinks back to her youth, how her mother and father would walk through the streets as royalty, looking down on not only people from this region of the world, but especially people with a reputation like Vinexa. They would not even speak to her if she came up to them. How this situation has humbled her. If it were not improper, she'd give the girl a hug for her compliment. As it is, all she can do is nod in thanks to her compliment. If only she had a warm set of clothes, something new, she may feel normal again, but that does not stop the delight in her heart and on her face from the fact she now has learned this wonderful spell. Never again will she have to sit in filth.
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"Truth be told, I was more speaking for the purposes of a public execution of the Chieftan to ease the minds of the city rather than keeping them alive..." she thinks to herself, being perpendicular in thinking to save the lives of the goblins. They were harming people. Willingly, and having fun doing it. That spoke enough to their character.
Sona is quietly glad when the sheriff brings back the sacks, showing that she had done something already for the party. While Tribim takes most of them, she will acquire one of them for herself. If nothing else out of this venture, she has that.
When they are ready to depart, she bows kindly to the sheriff and then follows the group out toward Mr. Proudfur's domicile. When Tribim asks what they want to do, she will move closer to him. He may not recognize her so readily as her smell is gone, but he may recognize her clothing. She has been cleaned magically.
"I will go wherever you all wish to go to." "I have very little money for purchasing anything anyway."
With that, Sheriff Hemlock nods once.
"I trust you'll prepare for this venture accordingly. Good day." With that, he turns and walks off down a corridor (presumably) back to his office.
Bowing again to the sheriff as their dismissed, Tribim exits Sandpoint's City Hall with the tall folk. Placing his cap and goggles on his head, he gestures down mainstreet. "Meow street goes to Meowket square. Meow if meuwster are prrrrrrrrepared to meow, Meowsters Fffffffolow east on Meowket street to bridge and moew lost meow road."
As Sona speaks up about going whereever, Tribim nods his head in agreement. "Meow meuw ready to find Prrrrrroudfur's Place." trying to remember if he'd ever been near the moogles home in the marshland.
Sona will travel with the palico, and as she goes, she will ask of him (still with a hand over her mouth), "Are you a palico that enjoys being pet? If you ever feel the desire, I enjoy giving pets. And if your feet ever get tired, I'd be willing to carry you. I'm sure it might get quite muddy ahead of us." "I hope that is not rude." She keeps her eyes out as she goes, looking for this person's home, as well as landmarks that would help them find their way.
A Ronso is always prepared! We can leave at any time to find this Proudfur's swamp hut! Tarka belows as they exit the sheriff's office.
He stops off to tell Sandru he has better things to do for a short while.
Pausing, Tribim turned and looked at Sona, nodding happily. He always appreciated having his ears scratched, but it was rare for someone ask. He liked the sensation of not being taken for granted. "Meow meuw Meuwster Sona, Meow like pets." Lifting a front paw. "Meuw's paws never get tired." He twitches a whisker, and gestures back towards Sona's small body. "Meow, besides, meuw almost as big as Meuwster." Giving a polite nod, he drops back onto all fours and runs ahead slightly, still grasping the map in his tail.
Stopping at the 'Rusty Dragon' s Tarko can in form his employer, Tribim waits until the Ronso returns. Gesturing east down Market street towards the gate, "Meuwsters follow meuw through gate and over bridge."
Sandru is still seated at the Rusty Dragon's bar when you return to him, rambling on in conversation to a seemingly-disinterested Shalelu. He looks up briefly when you approach and inform him of what you'll be doing.
"Hey, good to hear it. Give 'em a few good stabs from me, will ya?" He smiles and gives you a thumbs-up.
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The trek out of town goes quite smoothly, with a pleasant sea breeze at the party's backs as they make their way along the Lost Coast Road to the south. After rounding a bend in the road, Tribim takes the lead and starts leading the group across the rolling hills of the southwestern Varisian countryside, leaving the road behind.
The wisdom of the little palico's decision proves well-founded--the multiple old foot trails he finds allows the group to make good time in reaching Brinestump Marsh, and the fishing trail that's said to lead to Walthus Proudfur's home.
It sounds like fireworks.
Yes yes Sandru. I shall return after the fun is had for more menial work. Also...
He gestures vaguely towards Shalelu while still talking to the caravan master.
The lovely lady seems disinterested. You should try a knock knock joke, or perhaps an impression!
Satisfied and certain that he's helped Sandru he trudged out of the Rusty Dragon, the sound of his heavy Ronso steps following him.
He rejoins the group to head out...