As usual, Bard’s Gate Market District is busy with the coming and going of merchants and the bustle of vendors selling their wares. Streets are full at all hours of the day and night, and the houses are new and well maintained, except maybe closer to the Canal District… Though many of the shops close their doors at night, the taverns and alehouses stay open quite late. The district is then lit by lamplights evenly spaced along the spacious streets, which are able to accommodate carts flowing in both directions. The main streets are set with stones, though the lesser streets and alleys are packed dirt.
Here one can deal in and find almost anything - bakeries, produce and livestock, butchers, fish mongers, sellers of salted meats, stables, sellers of beasts of burden or small, nondescript taverns, alehouses and inns. There are very few buildings that are only residences, as those that do live here do so above their shops.
The quarter is heavily patrolled, both by the District’s well-trained watch and by the Lyreguard as they come and go to the Keep from the West Gate. In addition, there is no lack of mercenaries and sell-swords accompanying merchants or seeking employment.
The Triangle, so called for being the conjunction of three of the busiest streets in this city quarter, is completely packed. Surrounded on all sides by curiosity shops, mostly dealing in low-priced knickknacks and trinkets for visitors and tourists, stalls with good luck charms, whistles, miniature lead and tin soldiers stand side by side with vendors selling bottles of beer and meats of uncertain origin cooked on sharpened skewers. But one of the main attractions of The Triangle, is the Adventure Board!
While many prefer to announce their job offers on ‘The Lyre Valley Beholder’, which has a definitely more official tone to it, the Adventure Board has become something of a well known attraction in the Market District - not only to those seeking real employment, but also as the reported starting point of many epic tales, and perhaps as many tragic ones. The large, sturdy wooden board mixes real and fake job announcements in a hodgepodge of scribbled papers, painted wanted signs and well printed contracts. Parents pick up their children for a better look at this or that advert, or even at the occasional crude drawing of the dangers to face or hunt - a one eyed nasty orc, a gigantic skeletal bird, a monstrous dog faced creature, and even a magnificent Red Dragon!
The quests and missions range from common, such as escorting a caravan, to the amazing, like hunting the aforementioned dragon. For some reason, one of the adds in particular caught your eye - penned with impeccable handwriting, it seems to strike a chord between something real and perhaps…. An adventure?
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Adventurers needed!
Seeking the aid of able-bodied entrepreneurs! Wilderness expedition in the Stoneheart Valley, and exploration of a Wizard’s tower just a few days from Bard’s Gate. Excitement, life experiences, and strong friendship bonds guaranteed, as well as equal shares of all gold or valuables recovered!
Looking for the opportunity of a lifetime?! Come and present yourself at The Starving Stirge Inn on Sistersdag, 18th of Mithrond, and we will make things happen!
, Wizard, Scholar, and Soon-to-be your fellow Travelling Companion.
Making his weekly trip to the Triangle, Jalros makes his way to the Adventure Board as he usually does. Hopefully there's something interesting. I could use some extra coin. The fairly built, longish brow hair, square-jawed human looks upon the new posts. "Let's see. Caravan? Boring. Bodyguard? Already do that. Dragon? What am I, an idiot?" he asks himself, sporting nary an expression. Scrolling down a few others, an eyebrow - bearing an angled peak - rises in curiosity at one near the bottom. "Gubble? Well that's got me curious... curious to know who would be named 'Gubble'," he states flatly. "Okay, Mr. Gubble, you've caught my attention. Starving Stirge, 18th of Mithrond, I'll be there. This better be good." Looking around a moment as he straightens his tunic, Jalros narrows his eyes as if looking for something before leaving.
Elgrin wipes his eyes as he leaves the Church of the Divine Right. Sir Gerald was put peacefully to rest as he well deserved, within the grounds of the Church.
Now it's time to be of use. Nothing good comes from idle hands and although Elgrin would prefer to have a higher purpose or a mission that Thry/Mitra would approve of, at this point base realities need to be accounted for and with his purse being dangerously light, any employment would do for now. Off to see the Adventure Board
Setting off through the streets, old familiar smells permeate the air. The details of the city are in constant flux but the overall feel of it remains the same Wasn't really expecting this to change. It does look smaller though.
Amazing how different the same sights can seem. Memories of places remembered by a tiny street urchin are quite different when viewed again as a large man.
"Adventurers needed, Wizards Tower" Sounds much better than caravan duty! Ok... see you then Mr. Gubble
Having some time before the meeting, Elgrin sets off to reacquaint himself with the city.
With the rest of the day off, Jalros makes his way to the nearest tavern within the Triangle and heads up to the bar. Sitting down, he gives a double tap on the bar. "Ale, bartender." The brawler, always seemingly sporting a serious look, can't help but scan the place merely out of habit as he waits for his drink.
As soon as his drink arrives, "Thanks," he tosses the coin the bartender's way. Taking a drink, he draws a sleeve across his mouth to wipe off a bit of foam. "Hey, bartender, you ever heard of someone named 'Gubble'? Some type of wizard/scholar apparently. Ring a bell?" he asks, taking a leisurely sip.
Whistling is a habit the halfling known as Gubble has when he is rather excited, which he is, very much so. He's practically SWIMMING in excitement.
Gubble pauses mentally and decides to never use that phrase again, "swimming in excitement"
Today is the day.
Short, but tall for a halfling, shaggy light brown hair, glasses perched on a bulbous nose, a wiry bright smile, and black robes (cause black robes on a wizard is the best, though he would never admit that out loud, because trying to be cool was not cool).
These are the things that go on in Gubble's brain, which he doesn't express since doing so would make people think he is a ball of ignorable fluff, which he is not.
He is just excited.
With a deep breath he stops his whistling and calms himself. His pitch is in order, his plan is in place, and all he needs is... to wait, since he is really early.
Turning around, Gubble the wizard goes to the nearest tea shop, maybe with a savory onion roll or bagel with fish.
As soon as his drink arrives, "Thanks," he tosses the coin the bartender's way. Taking a drink, he draws a sleeve across his mouth to wipe off a bit of foam. "Hey, bartender, you ever heard of someone named 'Gubble'? Some type of wizard/scholar apparently. Ring a bell?" he asks, taking a leisurely sip.
"Tis a large city Mister" - the bartender replies in a dull monotone as he cleans, or pretends to clean, some plates and dishes - "Would this Gubble fella be a local?"
"Tis a large city Mister" - the bartender replies in a dull monotone as he cleans, or pretends to clean, some plates and dishes - "Would this Gubble fella be a local?"
Taking another relaxed drink, "Don't know. I'd figure he'd have to be with his post on the Adventure Board. Not to many outsiders would know about the Board, I would think. And the way I see it, he either stays at the Starving Stirge Inn or lives near there. That's where we're suppose to meet him and it really wouldn't make a lot of sense to set up a meeting in a place you're too far from," he presumes, looking off a moment in thought.
Tipping his hat and flashing a smile, Hamish steps aside to let the cute ginger haired seamstress step past. Her arms weighed down with several wrapped fabrics recently purchased from one of the nearby vendors, she returns his smile with one of her own.
"Come on, we've no time for that." Maggie's voice pierces his ear while her hand pushes him lightly in the direction of Robard's booth and his iron cookware. The move let's the redhead slip away and out of sight into the churning sea that is the Triangle. "I've got to get a new skillet. Everything burns and sticks in mother's. Then I've got to be off to an Orphan's meeting."
"Sure, it's the skillet's fault you've more of a knack for making charcoal than sweet bread." Hamish says with a smile and already ducking away from the sisterly swing that barely misses as it ruffles the hairs at the end of his beard.
"You eat my cookin' well enough Hamish Macrae. Most of the time as if it were Ogmah's blessed table itself."
"Haha! Indeed, sister of mine. You've the finest biscuits and gravy in the whole city." His hands up to offer a quick truce, the same way he'd done since they were kids arguing on the docks while father supervised the some crew loading or unloading one of the big merchant riverships that ply up and down the Amrin everyday.
Maggie's cheeks puff in a quick snort of disbelief, but she's already turning back to the task at hand.
"See that you remember that lest you'd rather eat Mick's greasy gristle stuffed sausage rolls for supper the next fortnight. You spend enough time drinking his River Bottom Dark." She adds with another snort as her lips grimace in disgust at the thought of the stout, dark, ale that most discerning tastes would use to grease their wagons rather than drink. Brewed by the old Arkanji, Micanos MacFionn, owner of a dockside dive known to most folks as The Twisted Eel. Or his second home, as Hamish referred to it, especially since he'd mustered out of the River Watch and was stuck in the city most every night and day.
"The grease helps the beer go down." Hamish adds eliciting another snort followed by a short laugh from his sister as they stepped into Robard's.
Seeing the crowd gathered around the Adventurer's Board, Hamish rattles the few remaining coins in his own dwindling purse. A few Harps and Wheels was all, last he counted. His search for Amelia was getting nowhere, and despite all accounts to the contrary, it took gold not Mick's beer to grease the wheels of information. Plus, he really did need to get Maggie and his mother out of that drafty old hovel on Badolato Street. Especially since the guild seems uninterested in helping.
"You know I've no eye for crockery sis." He says. "I'm going to go take a look and see what kind of work might be available."
Mock shock floods into his sister's bright blue eyes, a trait both Macrae children inherited from their disappeared father. This time her hand flutters away fake vapors.
"Hamish Macrae! Did Oghma just break a harp string? The fires of the Abyss suddenly turn to spring rain? Are you looking for an honest day's labor?"
"Well, I've got to pay for all those fine sausage rolls somehow. I'll be back in a few." He says chuckling as he weaves his way through the crowd toward the Adventurer's Board.
"See you are Hamish! I don't want to have to carry all this back home by myself."
He waves his feathered hat in answer and continues on to the big board while Maggie simply shakes her head and begins the long process of picking the proper set of pans and the subsequent haggling over price.
Reading the various announcements and calls for adventure, Hamish passes most of them up with hardly a glance. Free the Fallen Temples! No. Delve the Seckrets of Rappan Athuk. Tykee's Grace, No! Explore the Mysteries of the Far East! No."
His eyes alight upon the listing from one Gubble, Wizard. Close to home, equal shares. That sounds like it might just do the trick. He notes the address of the Starving Stirge and then hurries off to catch up with Maggie because he really did prefer her cooking to Mick's, he had to admit, rather greasy sausage rolls.
Having finished delivering the package of herbs to the shop in the Grand Plaza for her mother, Naomi turned down Market way. Thistle, trotting beside her gave a light woof, knowing that this was not the shortest way home. Smiling, Naomi patted the wolf, "Relax girl, well get home in time for supper. Besides mom said we should be more adventurous, not just following Valda about." Having plenty of time, for the side trip, she moved towards 'the Triangle' and the 'Adventure Board' The board had history for Naomi, she remembered the first time her dad had brought her down to look at it, how he took time lifting up her and her sister, showing them all the advertisements. Telling about how his first 'Jobs' had been posted here. Even now, when they're in town together, heading to a gig, he'd still stop and reminisce.
Heading towards the board she wondered if some day she'd read a job and head on an adventure. It wasn't the first time. But now, she felt ready. On her own, just her, Thistle and Narrah, well and whatever spirits she might encounter. Pushing her way to the front, Thistle giving a low growl when some large half orc gave her the stink eye. Naomi rolled her eyes, nudging Thistle with her leg. "Stop that." Once they were close enough she started to read, occasionally asking Thistle, "What do you think girl? Rappan Athuk, do you think mom and dad would approve?"
He eyes finally lit on one note, written in a familiar hand. She paused and read through the announcement. She had recognized the script, it was Gubbles, a halfling who had made several purchases over the last few months from her mother. Personable enough, if not a little chatty. Looking back over the bulletin she read it again, committing the information to memory. Reaching down she patted Thistle, "Come on girl, let's get home." As Naomi moved away from the board, Thistle gave a light woof, reacting to her masters excitement.
As she passed through Bard's Gate proper then Tent City, she planned on the things to tell mom and dad to convince them it was a good idea. Many ideas went through her head. They had been telling her to step out more. They knew Gubbles. The Stoneheart Valley was near Dad's folks' place, she could drop in and say high. She wouldn't be alone, thistle would be with her. All of them sounded like things a child would say. She realized as she stepped onto the porch. All she needed to tell them was that she was ready.
The morning of the 18th Noami woke with the sun, having laid out the gear she had been gathering the night before. As she started to get dressed the realization that she was leaving her home for an adventure was not lost on her. She had chosen to wear her favorite dark blue cotton shirt, heavy brown skirt (the one with extra pockets), black leggings and her heavy brown work boots. She had 'borrowed' her dads old chainshirt, the one he couldn't wear but kept because he always swore he'd lose the weight. Belting it to keep it in place. She had talked Valda into giving her one of her 'outdoor' jackets. Convincing her that none of her own coats would fit over the armor. Valda gave her a very nice three quarter length leather jacket. It was the one she bought last year, but Valda said it was 'no longer in style' insisting she take it. Lastly Naomi put on her mothers oldest dark blue cloak, the one she had replaced several times over, but couldn't convince herself to throw away. The one they had wrapped Noami in when she was born. Finally slipping on a wide brimmed grey felt hat, She smiled to herself remembering when she had attempted to die it black, but only made it darker grey. Tucking her sheathed sickle into the belt she had on over the chain shirt, she called Thistle and tied her ruck sack to Thistles pack saddle. Thistle pranced about excitedly, knowing something different was happening today. Looking at her room one more time she wondered how long it would take for her parents to change it. Smilng to herself she picked up her Lute and slinging it over her shoulder, headed down stairs.
Stopping she presented herself to Mom, Dad and Sis, she hugged and kissed them goodbye. Taking the time to say the things people who love each other say. Then, picking up the staff her mother had cut for her, headed out the door towards the Starving Stirge. Hoping that after the long walk she'd have time to order breakfast before they started on her adventure.
The city hummed. There was a rhythm to it, a churning bustle that wouldn't stop. But at the center of it all, no heart beat. There was no one mind that ruled here, no collective understanding, only an endless mass of people clawing out an existence for themselves even as they pulled down those around them.
Guthlag hefted his pack and turned wearily towards home. Out there, past where the dwellings of brick and wood turned to canvas and rope, past the cesspools and smoke and noise of the city, he would find peace. There he could close his eyes and breathe in deep, reveling in the sweet scents of sap and soft earth. I should check the Adventurer's board. It had been half a moon's turn and more since Guthlag had come this way. Setting his jaw, he turned again, this time back into the city.
Gubble is exploring a tower? I should join him. The chance to connect with adventurers was hard to turn down. Perhaps they would know where to go next, who to talk to. Someone elbowed Guthlag in the ribs as they walked past. The half-orc turned, scanning with his good eye, but the crowd was a seething mass of nameless faces. Someone gave him a disgusted look, pulling her child away from him. His head began to swim.
And then Guthlag was walking again, bare feet slapping at mud as he fled towards his home. The Stinking Stirge? Maybe I can just wait outside until Gubble arrives.
Time: Sistersdag, 18th of Mithrond, 8pm
From the outside, the Starving Stirge Tavern looks welcoming and cozy in this unusually cold and gray month of Mithrond . Clay and intricate stone carvings make up most of the building's outer structure, even if they don’t seem to have any particular meaning. The two weather beaten, stuffed mosquito like birds above the tavern sign are a clear indication you are definitely in the right place. Surely they must have been the work of a very skilled taxidermist, to still be holding their own on the outside as they are.
It's nearly impossible to see through the stained glass windows, but the liveliness from within can be felt outside, and as you enter the tavern through the old, hardwood door, you're welcomed by clapping hands and laughing voices.
Bartender, serving maids and boys, they are all working up a sweat attending to the requests from the large common room - which is filled to the brim - but you are still greeted and welcomed with a friendly nod -”Find a place, and I’ll be right with ye” - the fat tavern owner points out, while cleaning his hands with a rag he carries at his waist.
Squared, strong wooden beams support the upper floor and the candles attached to them. The walls are decorated with two bear mounted animal heads, a few hides and more of those stuffed stirges.
Travelers seem to be the primary clientele here, which often indicates great food - the smell of roast surely seems to hint at that. Several long tables are occupied by separate groups who, after having had quite a few drinks, seem to be trying to prove which of them is best by boasting of one feat or another. The smaller tables are also occupied by people who are mostly singing and dancing, occasionally pulling an unsuspecting waitress amidst their dancing group. Even most of the stools at the bar are occupied, though nobody seems to mind more company.
You did hear rumors about this place, supposedly it's famous for something related to stirges, but you can't remember what for. Though judging by the warmth and joy radiating through the tavern, it's probably the atmosphere that makes it known nowadays.
In one corner of the common room, you spot the main reason which brought you here - Gubble, the Halfling. Somehow in such a crowded place he managed to keep a large table and five unoccupied seats - this should undoubtedly make for an interesting evening.
It had been a long trying afternoon. First, he nearly gave himself a hernia carting Maggie's single-skillet-turned-into-a-whole-bloody-iron-cookware-set back to their mother's place. Apparently, Lady Parlicamp paid her staff pretty well, because the deluxe set must have set his sister back a pretty sum. And of course when he raised an inquiring eyebrow, he just got the typical Maggie Macrae None of your business. If you'd get a job, you'd have money too you lazy layabout. He dearly loved his sister, but there were times...
Once he'd finished playing cart mule, he announced his intention to do the very thing she'd been asking him to do since he'd finished with the River Watch.
"Pffft! Adventuring with some band of near-do-well sell swords? That's not work dear brother. Why can't you just pay your guild dues and do like father, Oliver, and Joseph? They earned a good living." Was the response he got. The harsh words offset by the worry swimming in her eyes.
"Dear sister o'mine. You know how I feel about the guilds and dockworkin'. Father worked himself to the bone day and night for them. Then when he defends those same docks from the bloody Huun and does his patriotic duty to follow the King, they give mother and us naught but this shabby sack and just enough to fill our stomachs once a week." He says. It was the same old argument between the two of them. Maggie making excuses, saying it was the Wheelwrights causing all the trouble, not the Dockworkers. But to Hamish, they were all a blight up the city. It was why he supported the Burgess and joined the Watch, to get away from the power of the blasted guilds. So before the argument could run its usual course, he leans in, kisses Maggie on the cheek and gives her a hug.
"I promise I'll be careful and back before winter. And when I return, we'll move out of this shack. I'll see you have the biggest kitchen and Mother will have the sewing room and the biggest hearth in the city to warm herself come the rains."
His sister offers a sad, resigned smile, refusing to let a tear fall as she fixes his tabard and runs her hand through his hair.
"You see you come back in one piece Hamish Macrae. I...I don't think mother could lose you as well and I'll have no one ta give me away when I married."
"Psshhh! I've plenty of time before that'll be a concern." He says offering a quick grin, knowing full well his pretty sister had more than her fair share of suitors despite being a poor dockside girl. The remark does it's job and triggers her fiery heart. But she holds off giving him another thump, choosing instead a simple glare and a second hug.
"Aye. Plenty of time."
He says his goodbyes to his mother who simply stared into the smoldering coals of the brazier and muttered something about being back before his father got home from work.
The trip across town to the Stirge was a crowded, jostling, sweaty trek but finally he found himself standing outside of the modest looking establishment. A lute's cheery notes blended with the usual cacophony of conversation heard in such watering holes. He straightens the well cared for rapier hanging from his side and adjusts his tunic and tabard before running a hand through his dark hair and slipping his wide hat back upon his head. The small, simply blue and red wave and rose pin holds one side of the hat back and marks him both a veteran of the Riverguard and a supporter of High Burgess Cylyria. Making his way inside it takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust and his nose to take in the scent of ale, whiskey, and what might be a passable stew cooking somewhere in the kitchens.
Winding his way through the room, he catches a glimpse of the musician and stops in his tracks. Certain he'd seen her before, but it takes a minute to see beneath the makeup and the couple of years that had passed since he'd last seen her. Eventually he connects the dots as he walks up and drops a wheel in the turned up hat.
"Naomi? Naomi..uh...Chawick?" He says when she finishes playing. He points to himself by way of introduction. "You probably don't remember me, because it's been a few years. Hamish Macrae. My sister Maggie took lessons from your father a while back. I remember seeing you about while I was waiting for her."
Finding herself standing outside the door of the stone building with the two stuffed stirges, Naomi looks down at Thistle, "This must be the place." Walking in she sees a few folks sitting in the large common room. The bent wood back chairs in the second half still overturned resting neatly on their cushioned seats on the small oak tables. One of the serving boys still taking them down. Hearing the greeting from the owner, Naomi nods at the large tired looking man a clean folded towel dangling from his belt. He looks as if he'd just gotten out of bed and put the towel there. Moving to the other side of the room, she shook her head realizing Gubble wasn't there yet. Hearing Thistle whine, she realized her stomach was growling, so she sat down at the bar and ordered breakfast for her and the wolf.
After she finished breakfast, she waived over the large man and explained the situation, Dropping her dads name, she asked if the owner minded if she waited for her friend explaining she'd play so it didn't look like she was just loitering. After getting the owners permission she took a chair off of one of the table and sat it in the corner near the fireplace. Leaning her staff in the corner, she called Thistle over and took the pack saddle off of the wolf so she could lay more comfortably. Dropping her dark-grey wide-brimmed felt hat on the floor, for tips, she sat down and started to play her lute.
The morning went by quickly, she played mostly jigs and tunes the locals could sing along with. The 'Starving Stirge' began to fill up for lunch and Naomi was glad she'd not come later because there would be no empty seats without waiting. As the lunch crowd died down, she paused for a little bit. She gathered the few coins from her hat and bought two bowls of stew and some dark bread for herself and Thistle. After they finished the meal Thistle looked up and whined the whine that meant I have to pee, now! So gathering her gear, she and Thistle took a walk so she could stretch her legs and Thistle could answer natures call.
Once back inside she reclaimed her seat in the corner by the fireplace and began to play again. As the afternoon passed the crowned thinned a little after lunch but folks kept coming and the crowd started to grow again, so at supper time there was hardly an empty seat. People also started to make requests, and dropping more tips in the hat. She smiled, as long as the tips were flowing and Gubble hadn't arrived yet, she'd keep playing. As the room filled up, Naomi noticed the owner, clear off a table and hold a seat out for a halfling, It was dark and his back was turned so it took a moment, but Naomi saw that the little fellow was wearing a black robe. And when he turned she saw his bulbous nose and his ever present smile. Gubble had arrived and arranged for a table.
Looking from the little halfling sitting alone at his table down to the felt hat filling with coppers, Naomi weighed arriving first at the table with arriving second with more money. Waiving at her acquaintance, she continued to play. Just a couple more songs couldn't hurt. Almost as she started the bridge on the song she was playing she felt, as much as seen, Thistle look up. Thistle gave a light woof, indicating someone was close to breaking their personal bubble. So Naomi looked up, seeing a man approaching in a wide brimmed hat, one side turned up pinned in place. it was a familiar face, she paused looking at the boy turned man, the last time she had seen him he could only a little peach fuzz on his lip.
She smiles as his face worked out what his brain was thinking, She remembered Hamish, and she remembered his sister better. Maggie and Valda had 'snuck off' several times for parties or performances or what not. Valda had told her all about it, they had no secrets. When Naomi had been older she'd even gone with them a couple of times, but she did not enjoy the crowds like Valda. As she looked into Hamish's eyes, she wondered if Maggie had ever told him.
Coming to the end of the song, she stood, letting the lute slip on it's strap behind her arm in a practiced fashion. Putting on her best smile, "Of course I remember." The smile turned mischievous, "I see you got rid of the caterpillar and actually decided to grow facial hair." Winking, she bent over and collected the few coins from her hat, dropping the coins into one of the pockets of her skirt and placing the floppy dark grey felt hat on her head. "What brings you here?" As she asked her question she picked up her pack in one hand and her staff in the other. Leaving the chair where it sat, she looked towards Thistles, "Come girl" Looking back towards Hamish she nodded with her chin, indicating that she wanted the young man to walk with her, and started moving towards Gubble's table as they talked.
With his pack in hand, the large fellow who is built like a brick wall and sports a serious demeanor, looks up and reads the sign to make sure he's got the right place. Glancing from left to right to cover all the angles, he makes note of any more exits and can only figure there is a front and a back.
Making his way inside, he stops as he walks in and sees a packed house before looking for something that might very well resemble a 'Gubble'. He takes note of the various patrons. A crew of four at one table who look to be having a good time. A couple who appear to be in love. He notices another sinister looking figure, one that's hooded and sitting at a corner table all by himself where for some reason there's very little light. Shaking his head and huffing, "Cliché." He then cuts his attention to the lute player and a fellow with a wide-brimmed hat. "Not a bad tune," he concludes plainly.
He starts back up and walks through the place until he sees a lone halfling sitting at another corner table. Figuring that's him, he narrows his eyes and scans his surroundings once again simply out of habit before making his way to the table. "You must be Mr. Gubble. Name's Jalros. I saw your post on the Board. I'm here to take you up on that. Mind if I sit?"
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Gubble had just intercepted a rough and tumble dockworker with red nose, sending him away with an easy smile and overheard words of "Legends in the making. Auspicious. And ask Grace to put a drink for you on my tab."
He had waved over at Naomi, wanted to go say hi, but knew abandoning his table for even a moment would lose it for him for the rest of the night.
The rough voice drew his eyes up and up and up, to a large fellow built like a brick. "What? OH. Sorry, loud chaos and auditory clarity seldom mix. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jalros. I am Gubble, as you surmised already. Are you interested in Adventure? And a Beer?" he raised his hand and flashed a warm smile to the passing waitress, who returned the smile, looked to Jalros for his order, and then bustled away to get them both drinks.
Hamish can feel his cheeks turning red even as he laughs. His hand runs along the full, well groomed beard and mustasche in a showy dispay.
"Haha. It was a bit thin back then. Used to drive Maggie crazy, which is probably part of the reason I kept it." The other part being Rinalda Meeks who thought it looked handsome. The two of them stepped out together that entire summer until her mother died from the pox and her father took Rinalda, her two sister and young brother off to some eastern city where he had relatives.
He follows Naomi's gaze to the table with the halfling and the burly human towering over him. With a quick nod he reshoulders his pack and steps in behind her and the big wolf.
"Here about a job." He says as they make their way toward Gubble's table. "Fella named Gubble says he's in need of folk to go digging through some ruins. Course it looks like you might already know that." He adds as the musician leads him directly to the suspected halfling in question.
'I guess I'm not the only sibling to torture their older sister occasionally.' Smiling at Hamish, Naomi admits, "Yah, I did some stuff just to annoy Valda too." As Hamish continues about the job, Naomi takes a good look at the big, brown-haired blue-eyed fellow sitting at the table. 'Quite the contrast with Gubble.'
Shrugging, she gestures towards the table. "That's Gubble over there, cheerful sort. Does a fairly regular business with my mom, spell components and such." She tries to place the big guy. 'He looks familiar, maybe he was a bouncer in a place dad played. He certainly looks like a bouncer. She smiled to herself. 'Of course as thick as he is, he could work as a door.'
Realizing she was staring at the chiseled looking fellow, Naomi turns to the halfling, smiling. "Hey Gubble, I saw you return my wave. I apologize for not coming over." She pats the pocket full of coins making it jingle slightly. "but you gotta make hay while the suns shining, right."
She gestures towards one of the empty chairs. "That's why I was here today." She left out the fact that she had been there all day, "I saw your missive on the 'boards'" Feeling Thistle rub up against her leg, she turned, remembering Hamish was there. Gesturing towards Hamish, "Gubble, this is Hamish, he saw the missive too."
As she sat down she pulled a few of the coins out, setting them on the table to order a drink, and possibly dinner. Playing the lute for hours gave her an appetite. "So, where are you going, what are you doing and how can Thistle and I help." Hearing her name Thistle lifter her head high enough to look over the table, so everyone could see thi light grey wolf.
Almost as an afterthought Naomi included, "Oh and Hamish here, too. He," She paused for a moment, It wouldn't do to say 'he can grow facial hair.' Remembering the pin he was wearing on his hat was from the 'Riverguard.' Hoping it wasn't a fake, she continued. "He's with the Riverguard."
Gubble's legs bounce a bit against the chair, like he wants to thump them loudly against the wood in eagerness, but SOMEhow is restraining himself.
"Naomi! I had hoped you would grace our budding party with your presence. If for no other reason than Thistle's notable strength of character." he beams at the light grey wolf.
"Greetings Hanmish. Are you finding the Riverguard wanting of late and wish to cross into the unknown Green?" a reference to greener pastures but having to mix it in with the fact that green is well unknown... hmm, he thinks he might need to work on that one.
Setting that aside, he decides he should listen more, but not before answering Naomi's questions, or not in truth "Details later, because while a party four is a lovely start, a party of SIX (wolves or birds not included in the count) would be where legends are born." he smiles brightly, feeding a seed to the small thrush that has flown down from the rafters to sit on his shoulder.
Elgrin is quite familiar with the location of the Starving Stirge. This is however his first time inside.
Nicer than I expected
he thinks to himself not really knowing what he expected. He just remembers cold hungry nights outside listening to the merry sounds and yummy smells wafting out from the Stirge and being supremely jealous of all the customers with warm happy bellies inside.
He walks up to the bar no longer "Mouse" and finds it ironic to order an ale inside the Tavern he'd spent so many cold nights outside of a lifetime ago.
Drink in hand he turns to survey the rest of the room, spotting the table with a halfling in the traditional robes of a wizard that must be Gubble and three others.
As Elgrin approaches, he stops in shock as he recognizes Jalros, his savior from his previous life. And blinks back tears, determined not to embarrass himself in front of the big man. Doubting the big man or anyone from his past here would recognize him.
Elgrin stands about 6'1 and around 215lbs with boyish handsome looks marred a bit by a well-healed scar running from his forehead to his right cheek. He's well-muscled and obviously strong, but lacks the sheer intimidating mass of Jalros. He's old enough to be in a bar, but barely.
After collecting himself Elgrin walks up to the table and asks the halfling
Are you Mr. Gubble sir? If so, I'm looking for opportunity he says with a winning smile.
"And the fates have provided us with a fifth! Rarely does opportunity call in such a loud clear tone as it does so today." the halfling gestures to one of the two remaining seats "Please, what it your name, young man?" as he asks his eyes briefly look toward the bar door, hoping to see the sixth, someone he knows but cannot push too hard on his own, or those very same fates might kick him in a bad place.
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Gubble had just intercepted a rough and tumble dockworker with red nose, sending him away with an easy smile and overheard words of "Legends in the making. Auspicious. And ask Grace to put a drink for you on my tab."
He had waved over at Naomi, wanted to go say hi, but knew abandoning his table for even a moment would lose it for him for the rest of the night.
The rough voice drew his eyes up and up and up, to a large fellow built like a brick. "What? OH. Sorry, loud chaos and auditory clarity seldom mix. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jalros. I am Gubble, as you surmised already. Are you interested in Adventure? And a Beer?" he raised his hand and flashed a warm smile to the passing waitress, who returned the smile, looked to Jalros for his order, and then bustled away to get them both drinks.
Nodding, "Sure. Thanks." Jalros takes a seat and awaits for whoever else is arriving.
When the two newcomers arrive, Jalros rises from his seat and remains silent, listening to the conversation in an attempt to collect names. Hamish. Naomi. And a wolf named Thistle. None of those ring a bell. "I'm Jalros," he nods in greeting and waits for the lady to sit before he does so himself.
When the latest one arrives, Jalros rises again, curious to this newcomer's name. He narrows his eyes a moment as if studying him before eventually relaxing due to having no recollection of meeting this one no more so than he has the others. "I'm Jalros," he simply says, nodding.
Well met again Jalros. There's no way you could recognize me. I've grown a lot in the past ten years. I used to be called Mouse he says with a smile and then gathers the eyes of the rest of the table
This here is a good man! Ten years ago he saved a little gutter-rat from a gang-beating. If not for him I'd have a lot worse than just this scar on my face.
And then once again meeting Jarlos' eyes I'm in your debt sir
Narrowing his eyes as he studies the man once again, Mouse? he mentally asks himself, searching his thoughts. And then out of nowhere, "It was Mouse's gang that jumped you. Your own? Interesting. There were a half a dozen of them. You were scrounging through a pack you nicked and kept for yourself. You were hungry and that's what one does to survive. I was walking along and just so happen to see it all play out. I walked over, deduced who the leader was, broke his nose with my head, grabbed his arm when he reached to cover his face - because that's what you do when your nose gets broke - grabbed his arm and broke his elbow by forcing it in the opposite direction. He dropped, screaming in pain and the rest fled. Leaving the screaming guy on the ground, I took you to the Church of the Divine Right. And I haven't seen you since. Sound about right?" he finishes, explaining everything in a clear and concise and to the point manner, bearing nary an expression. "And you owe me nothing," he adds lastly and quite plainly before taking a leisurely drink of his ale.
The night air is cool and crisp. Guthlag savors the chill for a moment, his hides wrapped tight around him, as he studies the stuffed birds on the outside of the Stirge. It is strange, to him, that a dead animal could be the symbol of a place where people eat and drink. He fingers the rough wood of his walking stick for a long moment before pushing his way through the door.
Guthlag's green skin and scarred face belie the fact that he is one of the youngest people in the room. He wears hide armor made of strips of leather taken from many different animals, here bristling with the thick fur of a badger, there a soft and smooth fox's coat. He brushes the fox coat now, a small, quick motion. He carries little, most of his supplies left at his hut, but his walking stick can clearly be used as a club if need be, and he wears a spell component pouch at his belt. He is tall and broad shouldered, with thick muscles beneath a thin layer of fat.
The air inside the Stirge is hot and humid. Guthlag is late, having been lost in the city for much of the day, searching for the Stinking Stirge. The sight of Thistle gives him pause. I wonder where Cann is now. Probably hunting. The last time he had seen his wolf, she had just brought down a deer. She had looked at him for a long, still moment, and then dipped her red maw back down to feast.
Guthlag sits quietly in the sixth spot at the table, avoiding the conversation between Jalros and Mouse for the moment. "Hello Gubble, I will help you with your tower." His common is slow and careful, but only slightly accented. His white eye, dyed in childhood by the shamans of his tribe, fixes itself steadily on the halfling.
Yeah, except wasn't my guys beating on me. It was another gang trying to muscle into our territory. Anyways...taking me to that Church brought Thyr and Muir into my life and changed it forever and a bit uncomfortable facing the flat expression, he shuts his mouth and takes one of the seats offered by Mr. Gubble
"Guthlag Hardfoot!" Gubble exclaims with gusto. Also startlement since the sheer mass of his friend should have alerted him of his oncoming-ness but it did not. Distracted by childhood tales he must have been. He knows Guthlag does not feel the need to use excessive langauge, a trait Gubble personally never hopes or wishes to achieve, so he hopes the exclamation and wide grin is enough to relay how happy he is about Guthlag's joining.
He waves to the waitress to server the abundance of bit sized foods (chosen due to their ability to be devoured while not fully engaging a person in the act of devouring. Meaning they could talk and eat), and then got to it.
"Six wanted and Six answered." he smiled wide. "Before I get into the What of the thing we are embarking on, if you choose to continue once you hear the details of course, I wanted both to talk about the Why and the potential of a future."
Pushing up his glasses to look more studious, he starts with "My focus of study are a magic user was divination, which boils down in its simplest form to be 'Knowing things through magical means'. Even further than that broad pathway, I concentrated on Prophecy, the 'knowing of things through magical means, before it actually happens'." he holds up his hand "I swear I don't know anything specific about any of you, and in truth am too early in experience to know anything really of extended use, but it has taught me..."
The food arrives, making the halfling pause, thank the server heartedly, and then get off track "Me aside, while I do have an adventure, a job, and an opportunity for us all to take part in, one that will hopefully provide ample chances for financial improvement and provide tales for us to tell year after year in pubs as lovely as this one for the rest of our lives, what it also provides is a starting point for a Legend. Our legend. Not just a group of Six that did this thing but THAT GROUP (our name pending of course) that people talk about for lives after lives."
He does pause and look around at each of them, from forest green eyes, to milky white, even to Thistle's. The pause and the gazing adds weight to his final phrase "I want us to form a Band."
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During the day, Naomi was able to observe some of the comings and goings at the Starving Stirge - the inn is managed by the big, burly, widower Alec Lethram, his daughter Lia Lethram, and son Olm Lethram. When things get busier, they are assisted by two sisters as serving girls - Illia and Allia Griz.
Initially Alec was not very happy with the idea of having Thistle there in the room with the patrons - "Miss Naomi... Your wolf will scare customers away..." - but he was convinced after she promised him a tenth of her gains.
Illia, the blond and blue-eyed serving girl comes over to the table with two Brin Zwiescher ales for Jalros and Gubble, then takes everyone else's orders. She keeps a wide berth from Thistle.
...He does pause and look around at each of them, from forest green eyes, to milky white, even to Thistle's. The pause and the gazing adds weight to his final phrase "I want us to form a Band."
"Served my time and just recently mustered out." Hamish replies to Gubble's question after ordering a pint of the local stout. "The Rivergaurd was fine enough and one should do their duty for the city, but I was tired of running up and down the same stretch of river every couple of weeks. Plus I`ve other needs to pursue. All of which require a bit more coin than the powers that be are willing to pay a poor docksider Riverrat like myself."
As the others arrive he introduces himself and politley listens to Gubble's proposition while enjoying the hearty stew and dark ale. His body warm and finally drying from the wet trek across town, he smiles at the halfling's obvious enthusiasm.
"Well, I'm not so worried about being a legend, but if there's enough gold in it to get my family squared away and extra capital for a bit of other business, then I'm in for sure." He says ordering another ale.
Rolling her eyes at Alec's observation, Naomi knew that the 'Starving Stirge' was popular enough that no one was going to let someone elses pet deter them for sitting down and eating; Especially when the pet was sleeping in a corner by the fireplace well concealed behind a chair and lutest. Ignoring the fact that if she had contacted him to do a show, he would be paying her to play and providing beverages on top of tips. Remembering her end goal was to meet with Gubble whenever he decided to arrive, she nodded at Alec's request for a tenth of her take. Resisting the urge to say something smart, knowing if this thing with Gubble didn't work out, she might need a fallback plan. "Whatever Alec, but it's just for today. Here in a couple of days, when your customers start asking about the 'silver haired girl the lute' and you decide to hire me to play for real, it will be at regular prices."
'He is always so pleasant.' Smiling at Gubble's compliment, Naomi turns, noting the big man was introducing himself, while Thistle, hearing her name, gives a light woof. Turning to Jalros, she smiles, "A pleasure Jalros, I'm Naomi Chadwick. I played gigs with my dad and sister, Jacobi and Valda Chadwick." As she shifts in her seat, watching the big man sit down, "I only mentioned it because you look familiar. I didn't know if maybe you worked in a tavern or club where they've played?"
'Legends? Is he always this optimistic?' As Gubble politely avoids her question, Naomi listened to Hamish's introduction. 'So he is or was a Riverguard, curious; leather armor, buckler and rapier. More speed than bulk. I should ask him how his sister is. It really has been a while.' As Hamish introduces himself and gives a bit of history, Valda raises an eyebrow when he refers to himself as a 'poor docksider riverrat.' She resists the urge to point out that they couldn't have been that poor if they could pay for her dad's music lessons.
Seeing the young man in scale armor approaching Naomi discretely covers her mouth with the back of her hand, so no one notices her smile at Gubble's enthusiasm. Making a mental note to ask Eldrin about the scar on the side of his face, she watches as the young man greets the big brawler. Apparently, they had a brief but memorable history. But, she was Impressed with the bruiser's detailed memory.
Turning her attention to the door, Naomi notices another familiar face. A young druid wearing his patchwork armor moving towards them across the common room. Nodding her head to the druid "Guthlag." She was surprised when she heard that he and Gubble were known to each other, one so wild and the other so bookish. Well opposites did attract. She was glad they would be traveling together, it would let her get to know him better. She knew he was searching for his mentor's circle, which, if it was the one led by Illarda, she would like to find as well.
As the serving girl asks about their orders, Naomi ordered two bowls of stew and some bread for her and Thistle, with a pint of small ale for her and water for the wolf. Settling back, she listened to Gubble's excited description of himself. As the food arrived she sat the one bowl down for Thistle, who happily woofed and began wolfing it down. While she broke off a piece of bread dipping it in the stew listening to Gubble continue.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at words like 'opportunity,' 'financial improvement' and 'Tales to tell;' She almost choked on her stew when he said 'a legend.' Blinking, she mentally chewed on the words, 'For a band.' She had played with her dad and sister, a trio so to speak. Took her sister and her years to get to a level where they could even play back-up for him. She and her mother had been a duo, working the garden and glade. She and her sister had been another 'type' of duo, but still, comrades in arms. She had left her family to learn who she was, to find her own way. Not to jump right in and make that kind of commitment with people she barely knew.
More in agreement with Hamish, she paused weighing her words carefully, not wanting to break Gubble's bubble. she asks, "Instead of planning out the next ten years of our lives, could you tell us what the job is?"
Yeah, except wasn't my guys beating on me. It was another gang trying to muscle into our territory. Anyways...taking me to that Church brought Thyr and Muir into my life and changed it forever and a bit uncomfortable facing the flat expression, he shuts his mouth and takes one of the seats offered by Mr. Gubble
Looking as if he's thinking, "I wonder why that didn't make sense. Thanks for the clarification," he says matter-of-factly.
'He is always so pleasant.' Smiling at Gubble's compliment, Naomi turns, noting the big man was introducing himself, while Thistle, hearing her name, gives a light woof. Turning to Jalros, she smiles, "A pleasure Jalros, I'm Naomi Chadwick. I played gigs with my dad and sister, Jacobi and Valda Chadwick." As she shifts in her seat, watching the big man sit down, "I only mentioned it because you look familiar. I didn't know if maybe you worked in a tavern or club where they've played?"
He turns to Naomi and looks to be concentrating. "The Chadwicks. I remember them. They were good. Better than most. I do not remember you though. My attention does typically remain on the crowd. To be more specific, on any of those that look to be causing trouble. I pay no attention to what people look like unless unless they become a source of trouble. Until then, it doesn't matter. And yes, I am a bouncer at a tavern near Bard's college," he finishes, explaining things in proper detail. "Bard's College tavern. I know... original," he says plainly, leaving one to wonder if he's trying to be funny or not.
He then rises from his seat and looks to the newcomer, Guthlag. Unknown. "I'm Jalros," and nods before taking his seat again.
"Me aside, while I do have an adventure, a job, and an opportunity for us all to take part in, one that will hopefully provide ample chances for financial improvement and provide tales for us to tell year after year in pubs as lovely as this one for the rest of our lives, what it also provides is a starting point for a Legend. Our legend. Not just a group of Six that did this thing but THAT GROUP (our name pending of course) that people talk about for...
Tales to tell!
ALL of this sounds GREAT to the young Paladin who is now in charge of his own decisions for the first time in his life."Instead of planning out the next ten years of our lives, could you tell us what the job is?"
and then reigns in his excitement a bit on hearing Naomi's logic. she's got a good head on her shoulders, that one
Elgrin sits forward, listening intently for specific details of this venture/adventure
Guthlag acknowledges Naomi when she says his name, as he's sitting down. "Your lute will sound far better in the dark, of this I am sure." He glances at the stained glass window that keeps the night airs out.
And then he sits and greets Gubble. When the halfling grins at him, he makes an effort to peel his own lips up and smile back. Then Jalros stands, greeting him. Guthlag stands too, "I'm Guthlag," he says, and nods before taking his seat again. Naomi, Wizard, Jalros, Riverrat, Me, and...scarred guy.
Guthlag watches Naomi quietly for a moment, waiting for Gubble to respond.
The halfling returns Naomi's gaze, his smile dimming just a little. A thoughtful sadness crosses his eyes for a moment, accompanied by a Knowing, which is for some reason a down right scary combination from someone claiming to study prophecy. He quickly dispels the look and sighs, letting the smile drift away completely.
"Okay." it is almost like you can see him mentally shelving away things in his brain and getting to business. All excited energy washes out of him, as he laces his fingers together, resting them on the table before him "The job is simple. A colleague of my former master has passed away. His tower is remote, but still dangerous to anyone not properly prepared for entry. Traps, magical guardians, so on. A wandering traveller might go Thawap simply by knocking. Besides the humanitarian need to defuse the dangerous location, the former mage has no apprentices, no family, no one that cares, and certainly no one that has a claim to his accumulated knowledge and magical artifacts." he reaches up and adjusts his glasses, looking again at each of them. "We travel together, protecting each other from the dangers of the road. We reach the tower where I can open it without danger. Then we go room by room, making sure all the 'issues' are taken care of. Afterward we catalog, carry, and then sell anything of significant value that we mutally decide not to bury with the body. Burial being the preferred means of laying him to rest, unless we find evidence of him having different cultural or indidividual desires otherwise. Any questions?"
Jalros thinks long and hard a moment, processing said information, looking as if he's frozen where he sits. And then out of the blue, "Only one: When do we leave?"
Gubble's smile returns, One down, he thinks, mentally keeping his leg from bouncing. It only works if all agree though.
"Tomorrow morning, if all are prepared for travel, which it looks like that might be the case. The day after if anyone needs to make preparations before hand."
'A bouncer, he does have that 'look'.' Nodding as Jalros explained where she had 'seen' him, Naomi chuckled as he called the tavern's name 'original.' She nodded, it was good to have someone who had' proven they could handle themselves in a pinch along.
'Sound better in the dark?' Not quite sure how to take the half orcs meaning, Naomi nodded at least she was good enough with the lute she didn't need to watch her finger placement any more, and agreed, "I'm sure it will."
Watching the hafling's countenance change, Naomi couldn't tell if he was forlorn or just getting down to business. She listened as he described the situation. He was right, they would need to be alert if they were going into the Stoneheart Valley, and several sets of eyes was certainly better.
The tower intrigued her. A place of refuge to call your own was always something of value, even if you did have to share it with five roommates. 'I wonder if he assumed ownership of the tower would be the glue that binds us together.' Smiling at Jalros' question, Naomi waited for the reply.
Realizing she wasn't going back home to start over again in the morning, she wondered what Alec would charge her for a cot somewhere if she played into the evening for the bar crowd.
Setting aside her plans for the evening, she raised a hand and asked. "What's stopping us from keeping the tower once we've delved it?"
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Wizards and their towers. There isn't a more paranoid group of home safety enthusiasts. Hamish can't help but think as Gubble shares more details of the task at hand. The prospect of leaving in the morning suited him fine, he'd already said what goodbyes were needed. Glancing outside at the gray, rain filled skies and muddy street, the former Bard's Gate Rivergaurd took quick stock of his own supplies.
"Hrmm...looks like we might need some cooler weather gear. How far up the valley is this tower? And how long since the wizard passed? Might be others who're looking to give the place a snoop if words started to get out. He says, thinking of rations what kind of competition might be afoot. But other images flash unwelcome into his mind. Things best buried and forgotten within the own recesses of his memory.
"And you say your specialty in the arcane arts is prophecy, do you know this wizard's favorite area of study or interest? Might help us be a bit better prepared if we know he dabbled in the necromatic arts or preferred conjuring planar oddities from distance dimensions."
Hamish suppresses a shudder. The sickly sweet smell of blood and the odd peppered scent of the portal's opening. The screams of his squadmate, Desmond. The Freegater's leg suddenly dangling several feet from the rest of his body in one of the mouths of that tentacled, tooth-riddled, whatever-the-bloody-gods-know-it-was the portal had conjured. His own screams and those of his other mates as they hacked, stabbed, and sliced the thing into as many gory bits as possible. All because they'd been ordered to clear out some half sunken ruin of a river villa owned by a spellslinger's who thought he could charge extra 'taxes' to merchants moving up and down the river. The man was entirely mad once Captain Aldis finally ran him through, but Tykee's Grace, the horrors in that place. Marion managed to save Des' life. Her holy connection to Muir's staunching the blood and healing the wound, but she could do nothing for the Freegater's nightmares he suffered afterward. The poor soul had thrown himself off King's Brigde six weeks later screaming about the coming End of All Things.
Hamish tries to force the memories and any doubts from his mind. This'll go better. It's just one dead wizard's tower, not some crazy cultist's haunt. Lady Fortune will surely favor us and all will be well. He thinks before ordering another ale.
Setting aside her plans for the evening, she raised a hand and asked. "What's stopping us from keeping the tower once we've delved it?"
"Nothing... As far as I know..." - Gubble ponders Naomi's question for a second, and takes some notes - "Would you be interested in something like that? A tower?" - he smiles.
"Hrmm...looks like we might need some cooler weather gear. How far up the valley is this tower? And how long since the wizard passed? Might be others who're looking to give the place a snoop if words started to get out. He says, thinking of rations what kind of competition might be afoot. But other images flash unwelcome into his mind. Things best buried and forgotten within the own recesses of his memory.
"And you say your specialty in the arcane arts is prophecy, do you know this wizard's favorite area of study or interest? Might help us be a bit better prepared if we know he dabbled in the necromatic arts or preferred conjuring planar oddities from distance dimensions."
"I am not sure what his field of specialization was" - the halfling replies - "But you would be surprised to know, or maybe not, that most wizards at least dabble both in Necromancy and Summoning. Nasty affair sometimes, but can also very useful" - he added.
"As for how far up the valley, I don't think we will need to go much further than the Stoneheart Mountains' foothills, hopefully not too far from Fairhill" - Gubble explains, adjusting his glasses - "The village is far enough that we will not arrive there before the beginning of Autumn though. It lies about two hundred miles from Bard's Gate"
"And according to what I know, this wizard has died twenty years ago - perhaps even longer than that" - he finished, taking a small sip from his own ale.
"Not too far from Fairhill," Guthlag repeats quietly. He taps his fingers together absently on the table, having no food or drink to occupy his hands.
Fairhill is too near to Nel Toth. Perhaps it isn't safe for me to go? But it is near to Fangor's circle, too. The half orc surveys the other five at the table briefly. When will I get a better chance? And with the daughter of another druid by my side? He smiles then for real, not the showy expression he gave to Gubble earlier, but a wide, toothy smile that crinkles the scars on his cheeks and brings fire into his eyes. He flashes those eyes at Naomi quietly, and then orders a huge plate of food with no meat and a mug of plain water.
Jalros listens carefully to all that's said. During that time, he manages to catch Guthlag grinning quite creepily. Jalros stares at him with a stone-like visage for several moments, almost as if he's frozen in time, before instantly cutting his attention over to Naomi and stating in a very professional manner, "Don't worry, Naomi, I've got your six," before looking back to the half-orc through narrowed eyes. "And your twelve," he throws out there for good measure, never taking an eye off the half-orc.
Elgrin devours the roasted wild pig with baked potatoes while the details are discussed.
But then thinks of a something and asks
Are we joining a caravan to the village or are we traveling horseback?
and then resumes shoveling more food into his belly...growing boy and all
He smiles then for real, not the showy expression he gave to Gubble earlier, but a wide, toothy smile that crinkles the scars on his cheeks and brings fire into his eyes. He flashes those eyes at Naomi quietly, and then orders a huge plate of food with no meat and a mug of plain water.
"No food Mister?" - Ilia asks again, just to make sure - "Mebbe some bread or eggs?"
But then thinks of a something and asks
Are we joining a caravan to the village or are we traveling horseback?
"I had not thought of that - I do not own a horse myself" - Gubble pondered - "And I was just counting on us traveling alone yes... Why do you ask?"
'Would I be interested in a place that I could call my own? Who wouldn't at least be tempted?' Shrugging uncommittedly to Gubble's question, she continues eating her stew, as he answered other's questions.
'Twenty years? At best it's a fixer upper.' Mentally frowning at the idea of a dilapidated tower and all the work that might go into it, her thoughts are interrupted by Jalros' comment, about having her six and Guthlag's twelve. Familiar with the term from her father's stories, she smiled at the big bruiser. "I tell you what Jalros, if were headed to someplace dangerous enough that I'll need my six covered. How about you be in the front, I'll cover your six and Thistle here will cover mine?" Hearing her name, Thistle looks up from her bowl of stew. Realizing Naomi wasn't handing her anymore food, she returned to licking her wooden bowl clean.
When the young worshiper of Thyr and Muir asked about horses, Noami raises an eyebrow. 'Does he have a horse? It sounded like he was a street rat and now an acolyte. Maybe the church would provide him with a horse, or maybe a wagon?' Looking towards the halfling as he explained that he intended they travel alone and on foot, Naomi chimes in, looking towards Elgrin, "But if the church wants to provide a couple of horses and a wagon, I'm sure Gubble would allow it?" She looked back towards the little wizard. "Right Gubble?"
He smiles then for real, not the showy expression he gave to Gubble earlier, but a wide, toothy smile that crinkles the scars on his cheeks and brings fire into his eyes. He flashes those eyes at Naomi quietly, and then orders a huge plate of food with no meat and a mug of plain water."No food Mister?" - Ilia asks again, just to make sure - "Mebbe some bread or eggs?"
"Apologies Mister, the girl be distracted" - Alec swoops in with a sidelong glance at Ilia - "Get on now girl! Fetch some tomato salad, bread, eggs and baked potatoes" - he sends Ilia off, then turns back to Guthlag - "Next ale is on the house Mister"
Guthlag looks back and forth between Naomi and Jalros, confused. "Twelve? Are six more coming?" He scans the room quickly.
Guthlag looks nervously at Alec. "Your thanks, but I want no ale." He raises two hands to the level of his chest, palms extended outwards. "If you have no water, I ask your leave to conjure some for myself."
"I had not thought of that - I do not own a horse myself" - Gubble pondered - "And I was just counting on us traveling alone yes... Why do you ask?"But then thinks of a something and asks
Are we joining a caravan to the village or are we traveling horseback?
Just sounds like a long way to walk and if any caravans go that way we could earn some coin. Two birds, one stone, ya know.
Elgrin grimaces at the near-empty state of his coin purse truly wishing he could afford a horse.
"But if the church wants to provide a couple of horses and a wagon, I'm sure Gubble would allow it?"
I don't see why the Church would have any interest in this abandoned tower. Mr. Gubble if you could provide me with any reason they might have any interest I'd be happy to ask.
Guthlag looks nervously at Alec. "Your thanks, but I want no ale." He raises two hands to the level of his chest, palms extended outwards. "If you have no water, I ask your leave to conjure some for myself."
"Nono please. No conjurin' mister... Huh... I'll have the lass bring you some water right away" - Alec bows and moves away quickly. But he stops short, turning around with an awkward smile - "On the house! Of course" - and then goes off.
Soon after Guthlag's food is before him, as well as a LARGE mug of water.
Soon after Guthlag's food is before him, as well as a LARGE mug of water.