World Serpent Inn

Game Master Monkeygod

The Procyal gives Josten a warm smile. "Well met my friend! I'm Moriko, and my companions are Truszrasz(Reptial), Sqrooth(Avoral), and Hanako(Silvanshee). Please, pull up a chair, and join us!" She says, gesturing to each in turn as she introduces the group.

"That is a good point," she replies to Silvertail. "The fact I didn't blast him shows I am patient enough to understand that difference in here. Plus...I'm not sure what would happen to me if I did start some conflict. There are odd things here that might stop me anyway. Regardless, I've never seen his race before. He isn't one from my galaxy if I had to put money on it. He plays nicely though," she considers. "...for how primitive it is."

"So you cannot play, or if you did, it wouldn't sound the best, but how do you feel about music? Most animals I've seen don't care much for music, but you aren't just an animal." She pauses and holds up a hand. "I hope I'm not being offensive. I am not trying to be."

When the guitarist pauses, she looks his way and sees him wink at the fox and then scoot his tips closer. She has some money from a job she did, but doesn't feel like getting up at the moment. Instead, she keeps eating her soup while her and Silvertail speak.

Aleksandros heads to the barkeep Mitchifer after he finishes his simple meal. "Say man, who is in charge of the fighting pit here?" He looks around briefly when he hears some new music but not long enough to see who is making it.

"Well that depends. Are you lookin for a more informal contest, or a tournament style one? If the former, you want Linxx Koldrish who organizes semi regular 'fight nights'. If the latter, you want Grandmaster Davin Sunwake. He operates all of our various games of chance, from simple dice and cards, to the Ring of Blood grand championship. However, both of them aren't here at the moment. Davin is off scouting potential new challengers for the Ring, while Linxx hasn't come down from her rooms just yet." Mitchifer replies in what might be the friendliest voice Aleksandros has ever heard.

The Procyal gives Josten a warm smile. "Well met my friend! I'm Moriko, and my companions are Truszrasz(Reptial), Sqrooth(Avoral), and Hanako(Silvanshee). Please, pull up a chair, and join us!" She says, gesturing to each in turn as she introduces the group.

"Well that depends. Are you lookin for a more informal contest, or a tournament style one? If the former, you want Linxx Koldrish who organizes semi regular 'fight nights'. If the latter, you want Grandmaster Davin Sunwake. He operates all of our various games of chance, from simple dice and cards, to the Ring of Blood grand championship. However, both of them aren't here at the moment. Davin is off scouting potential new challengers for the Ring, while Linxx hasn't come down from her rooms just yet." Mitchifer replies in what might be the friendliest voice Aleksandros has ever heard.

Ring of Blood you say... That sounds like exactly what I could take a swing at." He grins at the barkeep. "I'm up for any kind of scrap. Are there any rules? Whenever either of those two turn up, point them my way if you get a chance. I fight with no armour or weapons or magical items. Just the divine rights I was born with." Divine spell casting did not equate to magic items in his mind.

"Music is interesting," Silvertail replies to Britta. "It took me a while to appreciate, but now? I enjoy it from time to time."

Her gaze slides back towards Aleksandros. "Now... while it's been interesting answering your questions, I have some curiosity myself about this fellow that was claiming to be descended from a god. You don't hear someone say that every day--at least not without seeming like a madman."

With that said, she trots over to where Aleksandros is speaking with the barkeep in time to hear him talk about wanting to fight. Immediately the gears are turning--the fighting ring here is nonlethal, but that doesn't mean there's not *blood*... Silvertail doesn't quite hide the intensity of her gaze as she considers him.

"Three Dragon Ante!" Hanaoko replies a bit excitedly, grinning as Josten joins in. They are in the middle of a game, but Truszrasz patiently explains the rules, and shows the godling how to play.

Three Dragon Ante, for those unaware, is an actual D&D game from the 3.x days. I believe there's full rules on how to play, but since Josten is currently the only PC playing, I'm gonna skip them for now.

"A god?" she chuckles with a shake of her head. Although looking around, who can argue? "Well, if you find anything out, feel free to come back. I'm just finishing my soup." The fox's determination creeps her out and instead of focusing on the strange being, she decides to focus on the playing of the odd instrument. A few people wander past and drop coins in his busking implement, but she remains where she is, watching him and enjoying her soup. It seems to be something similar to a bisque, but unlike any she's had before.

Ring of Blood you say... That sounds like exactly what I could take a swing at." He grins at the barkeep. "I'm up for any kind of scrap. Are there any rules? Whenever either of those two turn up, point them my way if you get a chance. I fight with no armour or weapons or magical items. Just the divine rights I was born with." Divine spell casting did not equate to magic items in his mind.

"Linxx can fill you in on the rules, though I'm not sure she'll be runnin a fight night for a few days. If yer lookin for a fight that badly you can always challenge some of the other patrons to an unofficial brawl." The jolly man offers.

He notices the Fox out of the corner of his eye and turns just his head, posture dismissive. "Have you followed me all the way here to punish me Trickster? I knew someone must find me eventually. Will you try your luck here in the Tavern I wonder? You will not find it easy to force me to return to Greece." He has clearly taken your interest in him as some form of pursuer from his home world.

... she decides to focus on the playing of the odd instrument. A few people wander past and drop coins in his busking implement, but she remains where she is, watching him...

Hey, she saw the folks dropping money, I'm going with it.

Watching the fox begin to move, Eldlen view was blocked as a few people wandering his way. He nodded to them as they dropped a few coins in his gray felt hat, his eyes returned to the table where the fox had been. As he started the third, and final verse, he noticed that the attractive woman in the odd white armor would occasionally glance his way as she ate her soup. Finishing his song, he looked around the room, watching to see if anyone was headed his way, as he slowly returned the acoustic guitar to his rucksack. Leaving the floppy gray felt hat on the floor for a moment, he stood up, collecting his grey great cloak and dropped it in the rucksack as well. Bending over he scooped the coins up in one hand, shaking his hand as if to weigh them. With the other hand he picked up his hat, placing it on his head. Collecting his rucksack, he began to move towards a table near the woman in the odd armor.

Moving towards the table it was obvious that he was short, around five foot eight, and thin; his gossamer dragonfly-like wings almost touching the floor behind him. As he passed through the eerie blue mist his features became more apparent, the violet-grey tone of his skin, white shoulder-length hair worn loose, deep set silver eyes, aquiline nose, high cheekbones, thin lips and protruding pointed ears. His clothes also easier to differentiate; the black square-toed 'stovepipe' boots are clean and well kept. The dark grey pants made out of a canvas-like material the stitching held in places by small pewter rivets worn but clean. His double-breasted maroon vest decorated with green and 'cloth of gold' thread stitched in vine patterns having two pockets, in the left a pewter watch, its chain passing through a buttonhole with the end of the chain tucked in the right pocket. Under the vest he wears a muted blue long-sleeved collarless shirt that could be mistaken for grey. His only weapon visible, other than the coach gun's stock sticking out of the rucksack, a foot long arkansas toothpick. riding high on his left hip in a serviceable sheath.

Stopping at a table near the attractive woman in the odd armor, he pulls out the heavy oak chair. Setting the rucksack under the table at his feet. Taking off the floppy grey felt hat, he sets it on the table dropping the coins beside it. As he takes a seat, he waves at one of the passing servers. Shifting his chair slightly towards the attractive woman in the odd armor, he greets her. "good day Ma'am, pardon me if I'm disturbing you, but I couldn't help noticin' you were talking to the fox over yonder?" Nodding towards where Silvertail was speaking with Aleksandros.

Realizing he'd forgotten to introduce himself, he smiles, placing his hand on his chest. "Sorry, wern't trying to be rude, I'm Eldlen Meirdrerel."

Britta brightens a bit as the musician begins to head her way, as any shopkeeper would who hopes to gather a customer. She has nearly finished her soup anyway, and so she shifts the bowl aside. Oddly, out of the mist, almost immediately, a serpent wench (a gnome by race) comes and reaches up to gather it. Britta now focuses on her drink as she studies the wings and overall look of this approaching long-eared alien.

To her, he seemed like a person who might enjoy living in the forest. The decorations on his clothes seemed to suggest he was one of those nature lovers. She is at a public table, so doesn't mind when the man picks out a chair and sits.

"Yes. I was." He then introduces himself and she copies the salute by placing a hand in a stern, militaristic style upon her breast before lowering it down to her glass. "I'm Britta. You are new here, aren't you?" she asks, a playful smile crawling wider. In truth, she was freaking out herself when first coming into the inn.

He notices the Fox out of the corner of his eye and turns just his head, posture dismissive. "Have you followed me all the way here to punish me Trickster? I knew someone must find me eventually. Will you try your luck here in the Tavern I wonder? You will not find it easy to force me to return to Greece." He has clearly taken your interest in him as some form of pursuer from his home world.

Silvertail laughs and lashes her tails. "As far as I know, I have nothing to do with Enkili, much less any Trickster from your home world--Greece, you say? No, my interest in you is entirely based on your behavior since your arrival. If you're being pursued you're doing a remarkably bad job at not leaving a trail--though given you walked in here and then immediately started asking about getting in fights, I suspect that's rather deliberate on your part."

"It does make me, a fragile forest animal, curious as to what could drive you. Do warmth and safety bore you so, that you must seek out their opposites?"

Nodding as the attractive woman verifies his suspiciouns, Eldlen, raises an eyebrow as she gives a military salute, he wondered it that was just her habit or if she'd deduced that he was ex-military. His mind wandering, he didn't really care if people knew he was ex-military. Realizing she'd given her name and asked him a question, he focused on the here and now. Mentally repeating the name, wondering if it was spelled with one 't' or two, as he reached for his pocket watch with his left hand. Looking down at the pocket watch, then back to where he had played, then following the wall back the way he'd walked he responded. "Well Britta I've been here about twenty..." Realizing he could not find the door he'd walked through, he pauses, then points with his right hand. "I came through a door over yonder." Putting his hand down, "But I don't see it now." Looking for the spiral staircase he'd gone around, as he tucked his watch back in the maroon vests pocket. "Several of the servers had gone through it. But I don't see it now."

Looking back at Britta, deciding he could find his door later. "Sorry, sometimes it take a moment to get used to a new 'Place'. But to answer your question; I've been here just a few minutes really. How 'bout yourself? How long have you and your..." He was about to say 'pet fox' but if the creature was Fey, it would not want to be considered someone's property. So adjusting, "Fox friend been here?"

Silvertail laughs and lashes her tails. "As far as I know, I have nothing to do with Enkili, much less any Trickster from your home world--Greece, you say? No, my interest in you is entirely based on your behavior since your arrival. If you're being pursued you're doing a remarkably bad job at not leaving a trail--though given you walked in here and then immediately started asking about getting in fights, I suspect that's rather deliberate on your part."

"It does make me, a fragile forest animal, curious as to what could drive you. Do warmth and safety bore you so, that you must seek out their opposites?"

"I have not been gone long. Likely they still have no idea what has happened to me." Aleksandros looks just a tiny bit disappointed that the fox was not what he assumed, but he relaxes, seeing no immediate threat in the fragile forest animal. "No great story begins with warmth and safety vixen. Those come at the end of the story. If you're lucky. Icarus may have flown too close to the sun but he did fly and will be remembered for all time for this deed."

"I have rejected the safety of the commands of those that would consider themselves my betters. Gods they call themselves. I do not hide my trail like a thief for I have wrought no evil. I welcome pursuit, for it deems me dangerous and worth controlling. Have you met a god? Never a more self-righteous creature you'll find."

Okay. We need to get Josten back where the real RP is happening. Now, I need extract myself from the table.
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24
The tall, red-haired man looks up from the table of agreeable outsiders, to see the larger possible-godling engaged in raised voices with the two ladies he was talking with before.
Goodness. Can leave them alone for a second, Josten thinks to himself.
"Fine beings, it was fanatstic to meet you, but I see my other friends might have gotten in a bit of trouble. Please. Continue your game. May the Blessing of Nirvana be upon you always." Josten rises from the table to assist the little fox, if she needs it.
Diplomacy + Charming: 1d20 + 35 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 35 + 1 = 45

"I have not been gone long. Likely they still have no idea what has happened to me." Aleksandros looks just a tiny bit disappointed that the fox was not what he assumed, but he relaxes, seeing no immediate threat in the fragile forest animal. "No great story begins with warmth and safety vixen. Those come at the end of the story. If you're lucky. Icarus may have flown too close to the sun but he did fly and will be remembered for all time for this deed."

"I have rejected the safety of the commands of those that would consider themselves my betters. Gods they call themselves. I do not hide my trail like a thief for I have wrought no evil. I welcome pursuit, for it deems me dangerous and worth controlling. Have you met a god? Never a more self-righteous creature you'll find."

"Stories are human things," Silvertail states with a dismissive swish of her tails. "I'd rather have a full belly and a warm home... though I've learned to have a bit of a taste for some other things, I'll admit. As for your second question, 'met' would be too strong a term. 'Fled the presence of' might be more accurate. I'm not sure if they were being particularly self-righteous while warring, but it wasn't anything I wanted to be too close to."

...though I didn't want to be too far, either, for how else could I get another taste? she thinks to herself.

"My fox 'friend' has likely been in places like this before. She seemed far more knowledgeable than I am. Though she is not alone." Britta glances around to the edges of the blue misty fog. "I have been here a couple of weeks now, trying to make due selling chemicals and poisons, but there is so little I understand. My...doorway...led to a place where things like this place are not normal. Since being here, I've heard it referred to as magical, planar, or a unique dimensional place, but what you've entered into is not a typical bar or tavern. It is a connection point between many worlds and places. Some doors are stable and lead always to the same place. Some are not...I think. I'm still working on that. There are people in here, who sort of stay in the inn who seem to know far more than I do. Not in generalities, but in direct knowledge."

She gestures away from the door that Eldlen came through and mentions, "The door I came through was in the middle of a place called the Unknown Reaches. A place of death and unknown wildness among the stars up in space so terrible that most don't go there. When I came across the doorway, I had to go through it. So strange was it to see in that location, it just didn't make sense. When I entered here, even less made sense. To some in here, who have known more of this place are astounded that in my galaxy, many of the species there travel between stars and planets. To them, that would be astounding and this place normal, but to me, this place is a mystery."

Then, looking at the myriad of races, such as the brainy rat, and the efreet, she shrugs, "I'm used to other races and species, but many who come in here lose their minds at what they see. You have not, I've noticed."

Glancing towards the Fox as Britta spoke of the creature, Eldlen wondered what she meant by 'not alone.' As the attractive woman explained her experience, he listened closely; some of the things she said making sense, some not. Surprised by the description of the door she'd come through as a 'place of death,' he had been entering doorways that led to and from the fey realm. Even the door to this building entered through a strange tree planted in the other room. Wondering if her 'doorway' had been in a dark place in the fey realm or someplace altogether different. His mind had started to wander thinking about the places he's heard of in the Fey realm that might be a 'place of death' until she commented about traveling between stars and planets. Raising an eyebrow at the comment, she again had his full attention.

As he'd approached her earlier, he'd thought about the things he'd ask her: about her friend the fox, its name and if it was fey; about Britta's armor and if the insignia were ranks, if she'd seen combat and how long she'd been in the military; he even wanted to ask her about the waitstaff, the food and drinks and if the place had any rooms. All of that became irrelevant. He nodded, answering her question, "Ma'am ta the best of my abilities I recon I still have my faculties. But you did just say that folks where yer from travel between the stars, right?" He cocks his head slightly, "Exactly how would they go about that?"

From the look on his face, she isn't so sure she is dealing with someone who would easily understand space travel. Silvertail and the Godling seemed to have their minds opened to many secret things and to gather much from her simple explanation. "Well...that is a complicated matter. We manipulate space and slip through it with vessels that are engineered to carry us. They are technological marvels of science that plot a course around all manner of hazards and dangers, then slip through...sort of a channel...which allows us to travel at an intense speed. We can traverse from one side of the galaxy to the other in anywhere from a couple of days to...oh...about a few weeks depending on the mass, the...um...the engine...um...power pushing us through the galaxy, and/or how complicated the route is."

For some reason, there is a brilliant smile on her face. One that seems brightened all the more by his curiosity and seems to make her seem even more stunning than the dreary look she had upon her face while eating her soup. She herself is a curious person, and so when faced with someone who enjoys learning, she is livened.

"...Or do you mean, specifically, how do we do it?"

Raising an eyebrow when Britta says it's a complicated matter' Eldlen listens to her explenation, compairing it to the technology he was aware of. First imagining their 'technology' as great boats lifting off the ground flying into space; when she said they slipped through a channel, he realized their transportation must be more like steam-driven trains. It would make sense that once haveing dug channels, bypassing hazzards and dangers, to lay track in these 'tunnels' through space. He wondered momentarily if the smoke from the steam engines would clear enough for the next train.

Surprised by how much Britta seemed to be enjoying talking about her world's machines he realized she'd asked if wants 'specifics'. Eldlen had seen ridden on a paddle-wheeled boat when he visited his grandfather and during the war he'd blown up several train tracks, after the war he'd even ridden on one headed west. But he didn't really understand how they worked. Shaking his head at Britta's question, "No I was just wondering if they flew up on their own or rode on something."

Wanting to change the subject, he nods towards the emblems on her cloak. "Out of curiosity, the marks on the shoulder of yer cape, are they like Epaulettes?" Not sure if the words made sense to her, he used a simpler term. "Officers markings." Realizing he'd made several assumptions all at once, he backtracked a little, shifting uncomfortably. "Sorry if I over stepped, seeing the armor and all, I reckoned you were military or ex-military. Where I come from you see a lot of old soldiers, so's I figured the shoulder markings identified you as an officer."

There is a flash of disappointment on her face as Eldlen seeks to change the subject. It is momentary and not altogether painful as she doesn't overly care. The less she has to explain the better, but it would have been interesting to her to try to. She nods and accepts what he wishes.

When he asks her about the emblems on her cloak, she takes a drink of her ale.

"Yes. I am Officer Britta Karan of the First Order. I won't get into the official title, but I am an officer in the military. Funny how things are similar to some places. I guess that would be because it is commonplace to mark with banners of distinction so that others of lower or higher rank can see them." Her hand traces over the fabric where her insignia is. To her, she recalls the memory of receiving her marks.

"We dress differently also, dependent on what our job or purpose is. It helps keep things orderly to help those in our massive spaceships to know who does what," she explains. "You don't immediately come off as military to me, but you also aren't weak-looking...," she observes his arms and potential fighting capability. "...but I'd wager you can fight." She then looks to his gun. "Is that a weapon?"

Raising an eyebrow as Britta Explained that she wouldn't 'get into' official titles, Eldlen pondered what sort of military unit 'the First Order' may be. The fancy shoulder marking reminded him of the zouave uniforms he'd seen once. He smiled as she commented about officers wearing distinctive uniforms thinking of the union officers shot off their horses due to such markings. He watched as she ran her hand over the fabric, wondering what hazing she may have experienced to earn hem.

Nodding as she continued about different uniforms for different purposes, every organized modern military he'd seen had done the same. Though he wondered what sort of different jobs their space-trains might have had. He was taken by surprise when she started to analyze his appearance aloud; chuckling at the thought of what someone who fights in armor with swords would think of the appearance of someone who fought with firearms.

Smiling he nods at her observation and question, "It is in fact a weapon, but not really military." He reached down to the rucksack under the table, lifting the Coach gun from the top of the pack. "This is a firearm my grandfather gave me, I had a little work done to it to modernize it before I left home." As he drew it out, he tabbed the thumb latch opening it so the two empty barrels were exposed. Scooting his chair closer to her table, "I was a scout in the war, joined really before the war even officially begun. There was this group of irregulars called the 'Red Legs' that were trying to force their political opinion using violence. So I joined a group of irregulars who was tryin' to stop 'em." He laid the weapon on the table. "Once the war began, it just became official like."

He pauses, touched one of the shells in his bandolier, then moving his hand he touched the breach portion of the barrel. "These are the shells. they fit in the breach here. You close the breach, cock the hammer and squeeze the trigger." He then moves his hand to the trigger "Here." Pointing toward the end of the barrel, "The powder in the shell ignites and the lead flies out, too fast fer the eye to see."

Knowing the weapon couldn't harm Britta, nor Britta the weapon, he pushed it across the table so she could examine it. "With the right shell, it'll reach out an' kill a man up to about thirty yards. But I usually kept it loaded with birdshot." He pauses remembering what was left of a gnome he'd shot with it. Unintentionally his eyes grew dark. "for up close work."

Wanting to change the subject again, he gestured toward the rucksack, "I keep it exposed like that so folks know I'm heeled." Not really wanting to talk about firearms anymore, he segued to armor, "So, folks who might be doin' a little sword work would wear armor. Them only using firearms at a distance wouldn't." He gestures towards her armor. "I reckon your people use swords?"

"Stories are human things," Silvertail states with a dismissive swish of her tails. "I'd rather have a full belly and a warm home... though I've learned to have a bit of a taste for some other things, I'll admit. As for your second question, 'met' would be too strong a term. 'Fled the presence of' might be more accurate. I'm not sure if they were being particularly self-righteous while warring, but it wasn't anything I wanted to be too close to."

...though I didn't want to be too far, either, for how else could I get another taste? she thinks to herself.

Does that mean animals do not have stories? His eyebrows dip slightly.

"The gods of my world fight and scheme all the time and innocent mortals suffer in the middle of it. If your world's gods have made your home unsafe, I feel for you. You are no regular vixen. Can all creatures talk on your world? In truth I thought you one of the gods of Olympus in disguise."

Unlike Eldlen, she enjoyed learning every single thing she could learn about something as soon as possible. When he begins to explain his gun, she hugs her ale and a curious and studious look overcomes her features as she explores the coach gun with him.

She gets a bit of a jump scare as the latch opens the gun. Without knowing what it is, it could have dropped something or fired accidentally in that moment. Thankfully, it was just a primitive load lever for the gun. She considers to herself as he speaks: she has seen this before.

There is a term of something she doesn't understand as he slides over the weapon:

"Bird...shot? Hmm..." she assumes it is the explained in the name as she examines the gun. As he explains it, she is certain she knows what it is. A quick sniff of the barrel confirms it. Then as he mentions it's for "up-close work", she considers it may be a dispersing stun pellet round? He then uses another strange term: "Heeled". She assumes it means he's armed given how he had the weapon protruding.

She will hand back his weapon as he looks at her armor. At first, it seems like he's checking her out, but then his question makes it clear. Unlike other armors, it has strange lights flashing to some degree within it at random intervals. It is very much a mechanism more than a hunk of armor.

"We use a myriad of weaponry in my home...um...'plane'? I think that is the term they use here. That weapon you have there, we'd call that a 'slugthrower' where I come from. They are particularly good for muddy or environments where an energy rifle or blaster won't go." She pats her side to communicate that that is what she has equipped there. A blocky looking mechanism, but one very gun-like, but far more elegant and beautiful (a smaller WESTAR Blaster Pistol). Evaluating his gun further, she comments on what she smelled. "These guns utilize Rhydonium or some minor, weaker form of Detonite and a projectile I'd guess is what you called the 'lead'? I could probably make any of that. I am a chemist by trade here, or at least am trying to be."

"But to answer your question, yes, we use swords..." she looks down at her armor. "We also have weapons that throw big gouts of flame. Other ones that can shoot from one city to another, and ones that can explode entire planets in mere moments." Perhaps she is showing off here a little bit from the grin on her face. "But yes...we mainly use electroswords, or vibroblades. I have one here. An electroblade. It is a throwing style combat blade. Sort of a dagger or small sword, really."

She will then pull out her blade from under her cloak on her hip. The handle is simple, but the metal is otherworldly and beautiful. While in form it is dagger-like, instead of a blade on either side, there is a vacuum of empty space. She considers igniting her weapon here and thinks against it. This nervousness can be seen on her face as she hides it away.

"When I activate this, a beam of powerful energy fills the recess on both sides up and into the tip, allowing pure energy to flow. It then illuminates with intense electrical power and is ready to be thrown or used in melee combat. This armor of mine, which you mention, is made to resist such energy...to a point." She will finish returning the weapon to her side, indicating it is not safe to hold like his weapon was. She then adds, "But I can use a simple sword just as easily."

Josten returns just as Officer Britta ignites her weapon. "Wow. Not bad. I hear energy weapon are great against ghosts and other incorporeal undead."

She didn't ignite it. She chose not to. He could see it though, that it is an energy weapon of some kind.

"Your back. And you are welcome to join us. I'm sorry, I forgot your name already." There is a slight smile on her face. Perhaps she recalls it but isn't sure, or just gives him the chance to introduce himself. Either way, she gestures to Eldlen and introduces him. "This is Eldlen Meirdrerel." Once greetings are done, she allows Eldlen to respond, but before she does, she asks, "Did I pronounce that right?"

Linguistics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 Dang! Like she's a native speaker. She may have pronounced it better!

With that natural 20, she can pronounce it just fine. - Management

"The gods of my world fight and scheme all the time and innocent mortals suffer in the middle of it. If your world's gods have made your home unsafe, I feel for you. You are no regular vixen. Can all creatures talk on your world? In truth I thought you one of the gods of Olympus in disguise."

"Oh, no, most certainly not," Silvertail replies with a wave of two of her tails. "The only other talking animals I've met on my world have generally been the result of some wizard or druid. As far as I've been able to tell, I'm the only one who's the result of divine slopiness."

That's certainly one thing to call it... now, he doesn't seem the particularly bad sort thus far. But he does seem the sort to get himself hit in battle. Perhaps I could volunteer to support him? Maybe make something up about having to lick wounds to use my healing magic... hmmm... too soon, probably. Keep him talking for now, get him comfortable with me before making any kind of offer.

"So, you obviously like a good fight. Are you mostly a 'get up there and hit them' sort of fellow or do you have some magic, too?"

"You're back. And you are welcome to join us. I'm sorry, I forgot your name already." There is a slight smile on her face. Perhaps she recalls it but isn't sure, or just gives him the chance to introduce himself. Either way, she gestures to Eldlen and introduces him. "This is Eldlen Meirdrerel." Once greetings are done, she allows Eldlen to respond, but before she does, she asks, "Did I pronounce that right?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Looking to the bald human and the fox, Josten shrugs. "And since it appears we are 'laying all our cards in the table', as it were. I am a godling as well. Son of Shelyn, Golarian Goddess of Love, Music and Art. And Cayden Caliean, Golarian God of Drunkeness, Partying, and Heroes." Josten even strikes a heroic pose for a moment to emphasize the statement.

Looking to the dark-skinned fey, Josten smiles. "Nice tune, Eldlen. I play too. We'll have to jam sometime."

It's interesting, in my minds eye, Eldlen followed the wall counterclockwise, and approached Britta from her left side. sitting down on the table beside her. Also I didn't see an energy weapon in the picture and didn't read down Britta's gear far enough to see the laser pistol. So, I'm assuming the holstered blaster is on her right side and Eldlen hadn't noticed it until she pointed it out :)

Accepting the shotgun back from the 'Officer of the First Order' Eldlen mentally smiled at himself as he realized he now thought of her as an 'officer' instead of just 'regular folk'. As he tucked the gun back into his pack, he half listened as she told him what her people called a shotgun and was commenting about a blaster or something. Looking up, he saw that she had a hogleg strapped to her thigh. ''Mab's frozen tit!' Blinking looking from the gun to her face then back to her waist. Some scout he was, walked up to an attractive woman, not even paying attention if she was armed or not. Breathing a sign, it was too late to worry about it now.

No longer thinking of her as a pretty face with some desk job, dress armor and a fancy title for bureaucrats; he actually listened to what she was saying. She was a chemist and could make modern rounds. He nodded as she commented about a weapon that blew flame or fired from one city to another. He'd seen weapons that use petrol for fire, and howitzers that could toss a ball from one small town to another a couple miles away. Raising an eyebrow as she added 'destroy planets.' Mentally shrugging, if they could travel from planet to planet, like trains did town to town, why not be able to destroy one.

Not wanting to insult a woman clearly armed and dangerous, he tried to pay better attention; watching as she pulled out what she called an electorblade. He watched approvingly as she handled it like someone who knew what they were doing with a weapon. He'd seen weapons that had magical components that behaved like lightning. He'd heard lightning was a form of electricity, maybe this odd dagger was magical like that. If you had a lightning blade you wouldn't need metal to stab with.

Nodding as she explained the armor and its defenses. Being built to defend against magical electric weapons would explain why it wasn't metal; metal would conduct electricity. Breathing a sigh, he had no idea where he was, or what this woman, or any of the others were capable of. As she returned the magical hollow lightning dagger to it's scabbard, he nodded towards her holstered weapon, "For a while in the war I carried a saber, but decided two pistols were better than one."

Watching the pretty, red-head head man head their way, he stopped talking while the tall man interrupted asking about the weapon. As Britta introduced him, Eldlen turned and looked up at the tall man; nodding and resisted the urge to stand up and hover about three foot off the ground. Turning back to Britta, he gave a longer nod, more akin to a bow. "Your accent was perfect, not many catch it quickly." Which was true, being a Fey name, most of the soldiers he'd fought with, couldn't quite pronounce it. But his last name being pronounced poorly was not the worst thing he'd been called.

Mentally, noting the tall mans name, Eldlen looked from Josten back to Britta, as he called across the room to the fox and the tall bald man. When Josten turned and commented about his playing, Eldlen smiled, visibly please. He'd wondered if many noticed due to the few coins he earned. Compliment were nice, but not as nice as coin. Confused, slightly, Eldlen responded, "Why thank you, what instrument do you play?" He blinked, "and what does it have to do with preserves?"

Her pistol had purposefully been hidden behind her cloak as it drapes off the edge of the public bench she sits on. As she has been hunched for a while, relaxing and enjoying her ale, there is little chance Eldlen could have seen it had it even been on her chest, let alone on her right hip where it is firmly holstered.

"I know some who carry two blasters like that. They've made a fighting style of it. I am far more...effective...with my blades." Her cheeks begin to flush with red as she talks more about weapons and decides to calm down. She enjoys the talk, but also doesn't wish to be thought of as a freakish person for enjoying it so much. She had to admit though that it was exciting to finally be able to talk about something about herself for once. Those in her order were so close-lipped, she felt like she hasn't spoken her whole life. Despite her discomfort though, she becomes more reserved. That all changes with the redhead.

Britta is taking a drink and has to hide her laughter in her cup at hearing that Josten was the son of a goddess of love, whatever that meant. "I bet he tells all the ladies that..." There are cute small, but very quiet chuckles from her as she looks at him. "Wait...is he serious?" With the pose and isn't so sure. Her raised eyebrow communicates this.

She picks up on the bow from Eldlen and she almost squirms with happiness as she feels more mirthful (or was it the ale?).

"Preserves? No...I think he means...he wants to play with you?" she half asks. For all she knows, making music is a martial challenge where Josten is from. "Jam..." She thinks about why "jam" would be used as a word in a topic of music and how it must have evolved to get there. She didn't even know how J1zz (cantina music) ended up becoming so popular. Music was not her thing.

"Preserves? No...I think he means...he wants to play with you?" she half asks. For all she knows, making music is a martial challenge where Josten is from. "Jam..."

"Britta's correct. 'Jam" is a slang term to 'play instruments together'", Josten nodded toward the relaxed officer. "I like to play most stringed instruments. I also sing."

Nodding as Britta commented about 'some carrying two blasters' Eldlen remembers she'd patted her pistol-like weapon and called it a 'blaster.' Raising an eyebrow as she says she 'prefers' blades, he realized she was more comfortable with the energy weapon she'd showed him earlier. Curious about her interest in blades instead of 'blasters' he wanted to pursue the topic. But he also didn't want to be impolite to the redhead who had joined them. Though it seemed that this Josten must be a fairly new acquaintance of Britta as well. Though, Eldlen doubted, that as well as she'd remembered his own name, that she'd actually forgotten Cailean's.

'Laying our cards' on the table' was a metaphor Eldlen, as a gambler, understood. But that was about all that he caught of Josten's original comment, But as Josten affirmed that Jam meant 'play' Eldlen assumed that some of the other words the redhead had used, like: godling, goddess and god, must have some other purpose as well. Resisting the urge to tell the would-be performer that he didn't 'play well with others, Eldlen nodded noncommittally, "I reckon I'd like to hear you play sometime."

Hoping to change the topic back to weapons, he nods towards Jostens 'gold sword' "I see you favor a blade as well." Smiling, he reaches to his waist, drawing out his arkansas toothpick. Holding it so his two new friends could see it. "Around about two hundred years ago my mother's people only used flint or stone weapons. when the Europeans showed up they learned to work with metal."

He pointed the knife towards a knot in the wood of the wall where he'd sat to play his guitar. Throwing the knife watching it fly to it's target, he held his hand open as the blade returned. Smiling at the magic in the blade, he flipped it over holding it by the blade, offering the staghorn handle to Britta. "Would you like to give it a try?"

knife throw at the knot in the wood: 1d20 + 14 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 14 + 1 = 35
Sleight of Hand (flipping the knife): 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (13) + 17 = 30

Looking to the bald human and the fox, Josten shrugs. "And since it appears we are 'laying all our cards in the table', as it were. I am a godling as well. Son of Shelyn, Golarian Goddess of Love, Music and Art. And Cayden Caliean, Golarian God of Drunkeness, Partying, and Heroes." Josten even strikes a heroic pose for a moment to emphasize the statement.

Silvertail's attention snaps to Josten as he reveals that he, too, is descended from gods. How many demigods were there in this tavern? She can't help but wonder if there's a reason behind that...

So... maybe she can arrange for them to work together? Doing something dangerous enough they'd bleed a bit... that might work, if she could convince them to go along with it.

"If his mother is 200 years old, how old is he? He must be ancient." There are races in her galaxy who do live for a long time, so it's not too much of a surprise for her, despite it being a long time for her.

"No, thank you," she answers Eldlen. "While I enjoy knife throwing, and would enjoy a good throw, I would not feel comfortable damaging the inn or invoking Mitchifer's anger. At least where I come from, throwing a knife into someone else's furniture or walls is considered rude."

"Is that some form of technology that makes the blade fly where you direct it, or is it some power within yourself?" She seems slightly uncomfortable mentioning a power within. For her, it was abnormal to have her powers in her galaxy, but here, such as with Silvertail, such things were seemingly not uncommon. She was still attempting to get used to such an idea.

After Eldlen's knife *thunks* into the wall and flies back to his waiting hand, the wall instantly mends itself.

"Oh, no, most certainly not," Silvertail replies with a wave of two of her tails. "The only other talking animals I've met on my world have generally been the result of some wizard or druid. As far as I've been able to tell, I'm the only one who's the result of divine slopiness."

That's certainly one thing to call it... now, he doesn't seem the particularly bad sort thus far. But he does seem the sort to get himself hit in battle. Perhaps I could volunteer to support him? Maybe make something up about having to lick wounds to use my healing magic... hmmm... too soon, probably. Keep him talking for now, get him comfortable with me before making any kind of offer.

"So, you obviously like a good fight. Are you mostly a 'get up there and hit them' sort of fellow or do you have some magic, too?"

Aleksandros smiles warmly when learning the talking vixen's origin. "Then we have something in common."

He flexes several muscles, perhaps bragging, but it doesn't seem like it. " My divine blood has given me great strength. I was trained to fight. A soldier for the gods. I wasn't as good at following orders as they would have liked. Whatever fights I find here will be good practice. In a place like this perhaps there are more dangerous creatures than I." He doesn't seem concerned about losing a fight. You can't see any scars or marks on his skin that would indicate years of fighting or soldiering. His skin looks perfect but tough. "Magic?" He chuckles. "That's a word for something mysterious and unknown. I don't have magic. I have Faith. Belief. This strengthens me, protects me. Those with me can't help but feel the effect of my Faith radiating from me. Those against me." A smirk. "They feel it through my fits."

After Eldlen's knife *thunks* into the wall and flies back to his waiting hand, the wall instantly mends itself.

"Whew. That was close", Josten said relieved. "Careful, Eldlen. I wouldn't want to see you get thrown out so quickly."

Finding the wall instantly mending itself a neat trick, Eldlen was half hoping Britta would throw the dagger to see if it would repeat. Raising an eyebrow at his two companions concern, Eldlen wasn't quite sure what the fuss was about. He'd been in dozens if not hundreds of saloons and none had ever said anything. He paused for a moment, none had ever said anything about sticking a knife in the wall, there was that time he got too close to some fey's ear. But in his defense the fellow had ears like a jackrabbit.

Shrugging his shoulders, he returned the weapon to its scabbard. Smiling as he answered Britta's question, "The throw was all me, the blade returning was the magic placed on it from when it was crafted." He paused for a moment, thinking how to explain it. In his travels he'd seen different kinds of magic; well, at least different from where he'd come from. The fabricators and alchemists of his world use science and technology to build their machines. Folks who had magic had it innately or worked for 'higher powers' to get it.

Focusing on answering the question, he furrowed his brow. "I don't think you'd call it 'Technology' at least the fabricators and alchemists of my home wouldn't. But an experienced crofter is needed to make the blade while they are putting the magic in it. But that magic isn't mine, it will return to the hand of anyone who throws it."

Seeing the Fey server pass near, Eldlen remembered the coins he'd tossed on the table. Waiving at the server. "Miss, does your fine establishment have cigars?"

"Is this a hologram?" she wonders at the wall repairing itself. It's clear that she's disturbed by it. She decides to focus on the weaponry flying back to Eldlen's hand.

"Magic...like mystical stuff? Interesting. I mean...it's said to exist in my galaxy. There is that, or a power we call the Force. It's just rumors that those exist...but um...I think I also have some of it within me. So yeah...not so much a rumor. Enough at least magic or whatever that I am sure I can replicate your returning effect with...whatever is in me, be it the Force or magic. I'm unsure. And I don't want to test in his walls, but if I can do it I'd think, mine will only return to my own hand, so it is a little different I think."

She appears deep in thought before looking to both of the men.

"Well! I am not sure if in your lands...or planes...you have problems that arise, such as infestations or annoying tax collectors...," she cornily jokes, "but if you do, I make and sell poison for whatever need you may have of it. It can even go on blades if you are careful with it. It would go a long way to help a poor girl if you think of anyone who may be in need of such things."

Silvertail flicks her tails to one side and leans her head to the other, considering Aleksandros's words.

"Faith in yourself, then?" she asks, with a vulpine grin.

She looks to the group around Britta. "You know... we certainly make an interesting little group. If this were a stereotypical bards' tale, this is when some wounded innocent would come stumbling through the door pleading for help, and we'd all volunteer."

"Well! I am not sure if in your lands...or planes...you have problems that arise, such as infestations or annoying tax collectors...," she cornily jokes, "but if you do, I make and sell poison for whatever need you may have of it. It can even go on blades if you are careful with it. It would go a long way to help a poor girl if you think of anyone who may be in need of such things."

Josten looks to the fey at the table, then back to the female officer. "Not for me, per se. Rarely have I been in a situation that called for it. If you sold alchemical hangover remedies or stomach tonics, I'd be interested in that. Sorry."

Keeping his arm raised, waiving at the server, Eldlen turns towards Britta, raising an eyebrow. So magic was not foreign to her. What had she called it? the Force? He paused for a moment wondering if it was an innate magical ability like his own or a religion that someone practiced. Making a mental note to ask her, once they actually had a better understanding of what everyone considered 'gods' or religion. He had no desire to offend Josten or anyone else's belief in this strange place.

Feeling sort of dumb, keeping his left arm raised at the passing server, he rested his elbow on his table and just sort of kept waiving to see if she'd come over.

Chuckling at Josten's response about 'tonics' Eldlen chimed in, "I don't think it would work with my primary method of fighting." extending his right hand he summoned one of his matching revolvers. Spinning it in a flourish he lays it down on the table. Holding up a finger, (in the universal emblem to wait a second) he then points to the firearm, just before it disappears. "I reckon if I had you put poison on the bullets, that when I resummoned it, the poison would not return with it."

"I do!" Britta comes alive as Josten asks for something she actually has in stock. Being that she's sitting in a tavern, it only made sense to make a hangover cure. "It's only a gold piece each. I think Mitchifer might be able to exchange some of your local monies into a gold, if you want it."

She will fish it out of her pack and hold up a few vials.

Elden hadn't realized the gnome standing behind him, patiently waiting for his order. She appeared out of the fog as it swirled around almost instantly, but his desire for a particularly busy server, coupled with not knowing how things work and wanting to show off his guns has made him overlook her. In his defense, gnomes are stealthy creatures. Out of kindness, Britta will gesture next to him as the server moves more into view at his side.

She will jump as he summons one of his revolvers. Was it a magic trick? Was she seeing things? Did it just fly to his hand?

"Poison is expensive, so it would cost to test out, but I could perhaps do something with a pitted style of slug. When it hits the target, the poison would enter their system, but no, it would not return, if that's what you mean...at least I don't think so."

"I do!" Britta comes alive as Josten asks for something she actually has in stock. Being that she's sitting in a tavern, it only made sense to make a hangover cure. "It's only a gold piece each. I think Mitchifer might be able to exchange some of your local monies into a gold, if you want it."

She will fish it out of her pack and hold up a few vials.

Josten looks skeptical at the vials.

She looks to the group around Britta. "You know... we certainly make an interesting little group. If this were a stereotypical bards' tale, this is when some wounded innocent would come stumbling through the door pleading for help, and we'd all volunteer."

Windchime walks into the common room with a bone quill the size of a javelin embedded in its back.

"Master, there is an unconscious pukwudgie down the fifth red hallway," she says pleasantly to Mitchifer. Her mechanical form clicks and whirs with protest as she hobbles over and reaches behind the bar to retrieve a set of pliers and a small black wooden box. "I will mop it up when I am again fully operational."

She hops up to sit atop Eldlen's table, her motions as dainty and graceful as those of a ballerina, and slides the box over to him. "Pardon me, master," she says politely. "The behirian and dreadful cigars are two gold coins each, the Kyonin cigars are two silver coins each, and the rest are five copper coins. Please excuse me using your table."

Her hands now freed, she begins prying the quill out. Or trying to. This effort is significantly less graceful and a lot more comical, as Windchime is neither particularly strong nor particularly good at reaching directly behind herself.

Windchime's ceramic form is decorated with floral patterns like a piece of fine china. She has no mouth, just a pair of massive glowing eyes that are currently a vivid sky-blue. She's chosen a layered pale pink dress today.

Silvertail flicks her tails to one side and leans her head to the other, considering Aleksandros's words.

"Faith in yourself, then?" she asks, with a vulpine grin.

"Exactly. The gods only care about me as a tool in their schemes. They aren't interested in what's best for me. I have no faith in that. I on the other hand, want what's best for myself. They would want to hold me back from gaining too much power. This is my primary value. Believe in yourself."

She looks to the group around Britta. "You know... we certainly make an interesting little group. If this were a stereotypical bards' tale, this is when some wounded innocent would come stumbling through the door pleading for help, and we'd all volunteer."

"We seem to be the most recent to find this place. I have made few friends so far. Can I consider you one? What do you call yourself? I am Aleksandros." If her reaction is positive he extends his right arm as if to grip forearms and shake but quickly realises this will not suit a small creature like a fox and pulls the arm back awkwardly.

"I'll take the two. Any special instructions?"

"Take one vial for a hangover. It really depends on your xenobiology, but typically, if you can process salts well, you can eat it--although I can't recommend the taste myself--or if your body dislikes partaking of salts in thier pure form, perhaps diluting would be better. I would suggest mixing it with water. It will fizz and then within a few minutes of drinking it, you should feel better. If your physical composition is worse at handling salts, it could take up to ten or so minutes, but it is effective. When dealing with alien races, I always suggest putting it first on your skin to see if you have a crazy reaction, then touch a salt crystal to your lips and see if you have a reaction. If not, then you should be okay at processing these salts. Being the son of a love goddess...," she almost can't say with a straight face, "...and the son of a drunken god, you should feel the effects quicker than most, I'd think. And since you are likely into partying from the sounds of it, I hope we can do business in the future if you like the product."

She will hand them over and take the offered gold. He will see Britta takes a moment to evaluate Golarion's strange markings on these coins before putting them away. She now turns to Eldlen to see what he thinks of her bullet idea. As she does, she observes the robot come sit on the table and attempt to pull out a quill.

"Do you need help doing that, droid?"

Britta finds it intensely rude that a droid server should feel so lax in its duties that it would hop up on their table and start working on itself. "Doesn't it have a repair bay it can do that in?" To her perspective, this was nothing other than a standard robotic droid and certainly not something alive.

"Oh, new regulars!" Windchime beams, half-doubled backwards in her pathetic efforts to disimpale herself. "It would be nice to have new regulars. So few decide to linger. Are you going to be staying here long?"

It glances over at Britta, eyes briefly flashing green. "Oh, yes, Mistress, that would be very courteous of you. My creators in their wisdom designed me to be quite dependent on others.

"Is 'droid' a regionalism? People always suggest such wonderful creative terms for me."