Cailyn was curious about the curious goblin and exactly what her 'alley' would be, but then Willie arrived.
Cailyn's delight in Willie finding them instead of her having to go into the crowd to get his attention was quick and then muddled at his description of her. She didn't rightly know if she had been complimented or insulted... maybe both?
No matter. "It is... nice to see you as well, Wilberforce." her eyes took him in and she frowned just a little "Are you doing okay? Your hair is a right fright. I have a comb... one moment." she had been distracted and missed the amazing upside down playing, but she does rummage through her sachel and pull out an ornate comb, handing it to her cousin. "Now, yes, introductions. This is Scrapeknee Viskalai, the destined survivor of a near-tragic fall. I do expect great things from him, so decided he should meet you." 'Great' things was one of Willie's trends. Well, at least they were Greatly talked about things.
As he recovers his temporarily scrambled thoughts, Scrapeknee's first musing is that he is very glad he brushed his own hair for this eve. His second thought is he should say hello.
"Hello, Willie. Nice to meet you. We've not met but I've heard you're quite the musician." He offers a hand to shake.
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"Aye, not all of us shout our faiths. Though some might carve it on our faces." She taps the flame tattoo on her eye.
Conrad just gives her a confused look. "Desna?" he tries to guess.
The young man is no stranger to rowdy taverns, but the last time he's been to one, he was throwing punches left and right amidst a shouting crowd that was betting a handful of copper coins on the likeliest winner. He feels uncomfortable the moment he steps through the door. His alarmed gaze is particularly drawn to a woman sitting by herself.. A woman with hooves.
The black horns didn't appear to be decorative. Conrad swallows hard.
"Are you s-sure about this?" he asks Dare. He can't take his eyes off the orange-eyed woman.
"Desna's the stars and butterflies one. Maybe chat with the priests at the festival. Anyway, let's go. I'm Dare by the way." Dare leads Conrad away from the docks up the street, hearing the buzz of the crowds entering the Rusty Dragon even before they can see its sign proper.
"Lotta people. Must be good." As people enter, Dare straightens and low-key growls a little, and conveniently their path becomes clearer. She begins to head toward the one mostly-empty table there is.
"Are you s-sure about this?" he asks Dare. He can't take his eyes off the orange-eyed woman.
Dare playfully claps him on the shoulder (if he allows her to touch him). "Relax. You thought I looked a fright too, and I ain't eaten ya yet. Remember the Feedbag is the one where the fights break out."
She approaches the table, and the tall half-orc woman plants a scarred hand on the back of a chair and asks Lita, "Any problem if me an' my friend sit here?"
Lita does not jump, because that would be embarrassing. She certainly doesn't sputter a little, mid-sip when Dare addresses her, and have to quickly make sure she hasn't spilled any of her ale.
Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.
"Uh," she starts, eloquently. "No. No problem, I mean, please-" she motions to the seat Dare's hand rests on. "Help yourself."
She smiles to them both, expression closed-lipped and almost apologetic, though the smile falters for just a second as her eyes land on Conrad. The poor kid looks terrified, and Lita doesn't need to think long to guess why. But, he's here. He's here, even if he was dragged, and is waiting to be allowed to sit by her. Sure, maybe he's scared, but Lita doesn't see a threat so much as she sees a mind, ready to be changed. Her smile returns, as gentle as she can make it.
"It's always better to have a little friendly company."
"Ooh, that's mighty good of you, Cailyn," Willie laughed, faintly embarrassed, in accepting the young woman's comb. "Can't represent the old blood with a zareba up top, what?"
Any irony in talking of representing one's house well while he pranced about common taverns performing parlor tricks was lost on the gent. One, two and three draws through the oiled hair followed, setting his little pompadour straight. Ah, thoughtful in more ways than one, Willie mused in handing back the somewhat greasier comb. He knew there was a reason he liked cousin Cailyn despite her being deeper in the tomes than a booklouse.
Well, there was hope for her yet. She was in a tavern, after all!
"Hello, Willie. Nice to meet you. We've not met but I've heard you're quite the musician." He offers a hand to shake.
"Charmed, charmed!" The Shoanti might think himself mistaken for someone of national fame by the interest invested him by Wilberforce, the aristocrat shooting him the sort of loopy smile children sported for rainbows. He took the proffered hand in his own, conspicuously soft, palm. "Who, me? A musician? No no no, my dear fellow! Why, a music sheet looks like Shoanti chicken scratch to me. One just likes to contribute a little vim to festivities, you know? If stumbling my way through a popular tune or another accomplishes as much, so be it!"
It was unclear whether this was a case of false modesty or if the young man genuinely couldn't recognize his own talent, especially as he moved on from the topic immediately. "A fall?" Willie parroted his cousin before turning back to Scrapeknee. "How great a tumble does one have to survive to be named after it?"
The Sandpoint native had nary opened his mouth before the gent hailed down a passing server with urgency. Waitresses walking within earshot was like the famed two ships passing in the night: a rare opportunity not to be squandered!
"Wine steward!" he called in holding his drink high. "Another Midnight Blitzer for my dear cousin here, thank you and please!"
Before said cousin could protest, Willie fixed her with an - absurdly - sober look. "Oh, do try it, dearest Cailyn. I assure you it will do you good. This is the stuff rabbits train on when they're matched against grizzly bears, and there's only one instance on record of the bear having lasted three rounds."
Did that one crack a smile at least? Bless her, though he knew the studious half-elf as a good egg, she could be a frightful bore. But there was hope! If he could just get a drink in her hand, the surrounding merriment might do the rest and slacken the reins she held onto herself. If only said drink was more enticing than the iridescent oil spill sloshing within his glass.
A firm but not aggressive shake of hands occurs.
Scrapeknee finds Willie is.. well, a talker.
"Charmed, charmed!" The Shoanti might think himself mistaken for someone of national fame by the interest invested him by Wilberforce, the aristocrat shooting him the sort of loopy smile children sported for rainbows. He took the proffered hand in his own, conspicuously soft, palm. "Who, me? A musician? No no no, my dear fellow! Why, a music sheet looks like Shoanti chicken scratch to me. One just likes to contribute a little vim to festivities, you know? If stumbling my way through a popular tune or another accomplishes as much, so be it!"
It was unclear whether this was a case of false modesty or if the young man genuinely couldn't recognize his own talent, especially as he moved on from the topic immediately. "A fall?" Willie parroted his cousin before turning back to Scrapeknee. "How great a tumble does one have to survive to be named after it?"
Not sure what to make of the term 'Shoanti Chicken Scratch' , Scrapeknee decides to answer the question, "It was from the top of Dev.."
"Wine steward!" he called in holding his drink high. "Another Midnight Blitzer for my dear cousin here, thank you and please!"
Before said cousin could protest, Willie fixed her with an - absurdly - sober look. "Oh, do try it, dearest Cailyn. I assure you it will do you good. This is the stuff rabbits train on when they're matched against grizzly bears, and there's only one instance on record of the bear having lasted three rounds."
Finding a gap in the conversation, even if it was shifting like a snake on a winding path, the Shoanti finishes up " I fell from the roof of Deverin Manor, tallest building in Sandpoint. I should by rights be dead." He actually manages to look both a bit sheepish and yet proud.
Cailyn became partially distracted from her cousin, as the corner of her eye caught the imposing half orc from their caravan Coming To Their Table!
Cailyn tried to remember all the details about the fire and about this woman, Dare?. Forgetting details was not like her, but it was taxing trying to see without be obvious while still listening to her cousin, since ignoring him would probably not go over well.
Scrapeknee thankfully stepped into the conversation, giving her one more moment to see the woman was not approaching her, and why would she? They had only briefly talked and there were so many other people... five or so... to chat with for the rest of the trip. She and her companion were stopping to talk to the striking tiefling that had occupied the other end of the open table.
Sighing, she turned her full attention back to her cousin "A rabbit? What? I..."" she realized she hadn't been following nearly as weel as she had hoped, but was saved when the waitress arrive "Oh, a drink! yes that is a good idea." her nerves were on a bit of edge so she took a long pull of the dark... oh, what was this?
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She smiles to them both, expression closed-lipped and almost apologetic, though the smile falters for just a second as her eyes land on Conrad. The poor kid looks terrified, and Lita doesn't need to think long to guess why. But, he's here. He's here, even if he was dragged, and is waiting to be allowed to sit by her. Sure, maybe he's scared, but Lita doesn't see a threat so much as she sees a mind, ready to be changed. Her smile returns, as gentle as she can make it."It's always better to have a little friendly company."
Nodding with thanks to the tiefling, Dare pulls out the chair she had her hand on and the one next to it, gesturing to Conrad to sit. She flops down in her own chair.
"What's good he-" she begins to ask Lita, when she looks up toward the group gathered around some kind of keyboard instrument. She spots Cailyn looking at her. "Oh piss, it's Princess Crinklenose."
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After taking the drink, her eyes went right back over and met the gold ones looking back.
She nearly sputtered out the heavy liquid in her mouth, but swallowed quickly instead, which BURNED like molten fire down her throat.
Somehow suppressing the desire to cough up her right lung, she managed an attempt at a smile and in a slightly raspy voice returned the greeting "Why hello, Ms.... Blake!..." She remembered the rest of the name! "Fancy meeting you here. Has your stay been..."
Her mind wants to say 'eventful' while wishing for 'less than eventful'.
'There was an orphanage here too, Turandarok somethinganother. Wait why would that matter? She probably isn't a serial arsonist victimizing orphanages... ' her nose started to crinkle. 'No! No crinkling!'
"... Pleasant!" she managed, finally, in more of a squeak than she had hoped for, followed quickly by a hiccup, which she helped drown without another pull of the nearest liquid.
OjWoj aka Scrapeknee turns to see who has caught Cailyn's attention and sees Dare. Trying to be polite, even if he's a bit confused at some of the tension, he says to her and to Conrad, "Good eve."
He doesn't recall meeting either of them, either on patrol with the militia, or at the White Deer, but then, this is the time of year when new faces flow in, and that's part of what's great about the Festival.
That eyebrow shoots up, making the flame tattoo look like it's burning higher.
She juts out her jaw. "Takes quite a busybody to know that name. As it is, 'Blake' is the name of a mother that threw her child to the wolves. My name is Ashborn. Dare Ashborn." She leans over. "I am, indeed, lookin' for a 'pleasant' stay. Which means I'm here to cause no trouble unless someone causes me trouble. We clear?"
Eyes still on Cailyn, she waves out to a passing barmaid. "Stout, one for me an' one for him." She points to Conrad.
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" I fell from the roof of Deverin Manor, tallest building in Sandpoint. I should by rights be dead." He actually manages to look both a bit sheepish and yet proud.
"Nooo!" Willie exclaimed in a sort of surprised hoot some poor unsuspecting owl a mile off mistook for a mating call.
"You mean to tell me... Why, those are the very rafters I sleep under now! Whatever possessed you, dear fellow?" Wilberforce appreciated a rousing round of rowdiness as much as the next inebriated young man, but this was the sort of stunt he, frankly, didn't have the stomach for, no matter how much drink lined said organ. What an admirable creature this Scrapeknee was!
"Well, I applaud you, old chap! Would that we all could cast off the yoke of common sense! Cailyn, did you know about a- oh."
He stopped short at seeing the half-elf now in conversation with a rather roughshod character of dubious parentage. Happy days, had her Midnight Blitzer already worked its magic?! Willie was much heartened in seeing his cousin make friends not bound in leather, feeling more than a little proud of himself in helping her bloom. He slung back his own well earned drink in satisfaction. It spilled out of the corners of his goofy grin.
"Ooh, steady on," he chortled at the spillage, quickly retrieving an embroidered handkerchief to dab at himself. "I say, I didn't get any on you, did I?" Willie looked to the broad-shouldered fellow next to him at the table.
Scrapeknee answers Willie, "It was a double dare, I was fourteen winters." As if that explains it but he does look a bit amused and nods at the accusation of the deed having no common sense.
That said, his eyes are on the awkward encounter going on between Dare and Cailyn
Something about the two rather hearty swallows has settled her nerves more than a little, making the prim half-elf ruffle a bit. Then remarkably she leans over toward the offending ruffler. "I am not a busybody or a crinklenose." she says with a bit more sharpness than is normally ever in her voice, which she spoils by adding "Though I do apologize for using the incorrect name and bringing forth unpleasant reminders."
She understands that most people with their muddled heritages do not retain both or sometimes any parents. Hers being on good, though mostly absent, terms was a deviation from that norm.
She leans backs and drinks the remains of her rather yummy drink, finding herself licking the edge to gather the last drop. "I... don't want to cause trouble, to you or anyone really. But..." she leans in again, her eyes dancing suddenly "See I love history, which is as muddled as a pothole puddle since it is usually relayed to others by people who don't truly Know. Um... could I... ask you... to tell me what Really happened?"
Somehow her declaration of not being a busybody seems invalidated now.
Scrapeknee answers Willie, "It was a double dare."
"Ah. Well, no other option, then." Willie gave him a salute with his now mournfully empty glass. He should see about fixing that.
Then remarkably she leans over toward the offending ruffler. "I am not a busybody or a crinklenose."
"Eh," Willie offered by way of commentary.
Cailyn turns her blue eyes on her cousin and uncharacteristically blows him a raspberry. Then returns them to Ms. Ashborn.
As drinks are ordered and food asked for, the serving girls at the Dragon weave through the crowd with practiced grace and deliver both vittles and libations in plenty. The Ulfen sailors are now engaged in a competition with Varisian caravaneers over who has the best songs, each verse more bawdy than the last. It's just as Cailyn gives her dear cousin Willie a raspberry that two new faces appear at the last table with any room at the Rusty Dragon.
Willie and Cailyn recognize the two pretty young women as the young scions of a couple of Magnimar's prominent merchant families, Tera Flinders, a young woman with a talent for the arcane and a ruthless business sense hidden behind silky brown hair and limpid dark brown eyes, and Josephina Annabella Whitehall, a young noblewoman rumored to practice the sword and blessed by the gods with some gifts with raven-black hair and piercing gray eyes that appear almost like silver in the right light. Some of the others from Magnimar may recognize them, especially if they happened to keep up with the families with wealth and connections.
"Umm, Pardon us," Joanna begins, "would you mind if we joined you?"
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Dare's jaw tightens. She's being invited to air the very dirty laundry she had been trying to escape by coming to Sandpoint--dirty laundry that she had never been responsible for in the first place. Stuff that she did not want even more heartless bluebloods to be gossiping about at her expense. There would be no point in having begged Frallino to pay for her passage here if she would just have to leave again. The air around her heats as part of her starts to panic, half enraged, half frightened--displayed in a dilation of her pupils. One hand clenches on the edge of the table. Part of her wants to flip the table and walk.
Her eyes flicker over to Conrad. His presence is so anxious the space around him practically vibrates. This nudges her to reconsider that impulse. She'd wanted to help the fellow relax in a place less likely to invite a fight. She'd do neither him nor herself no good by revving things up here.
She physically swallows, as though her pride was something that could slide down her gullet. "I am not here to spread gossip to entertain a toff--who looks like she's constantly smelling something awful, by the way--because she's half-drunk and bored." She inhales and exhales, recognizing that was a failure at non hostility. She tries to find the words. "What I am here for is..." Why was she here? "The Swallowtail Release. A day about... about transformation. Hope. If you're not here for the same things, then kindly f&$@ off." A triumphant grin opens her face. She successfully did not set this woman on fire. Hooray.
Now she silently prays to Sarenrae that someone else take up the conversation and gets the eyes off her.
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As she prays for someone to create a distraction, someone appears!
Their accents and dress also betray them to be Magnimarian. *sigh* Modi's Teeth, did we all leave the city at once?
Dare's shoulders slump, though she waves to indicate she has no issue with anyone else sitting there. She looks to see how far away the waitress is.
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"In-c-correct name?" Conrad repeats -but one glance at the half-orc woman is enough to reckon there's no way she'll open up on the matter. This whole evening was well set to become a disaster.
A terrible idea suddenly comes to his mind. What if she was some sort of criminal on the run? This would certainly explain her willingness to come to a place like... this.
He knew that music and songs were typically the kind of art Shelyn would cherish - but frankly, what little he could overhear were enough to make even the tips of his ears burn. He can't help but think of what his mother would say. Probably she'd just have a heart attack.
He is just about to rise from his chair and declare he'd rather be on his way when two extremely -extremely- pretty women approach their table.
"Umm, Pardon us, would you mind if we joined you?"
"No," he admits. Conrad slumps back in his chair, defeated.
Scrapeknee sees the tension, and he's not sure what the hell is going on. Apparently one lady insulted the other lady, but may not have realized it, and the apology attempt isn't working well at all but the festival he can talk about "Oh yes, it's a time of celebration. I hope you all love it. There's storytelling, singing, and of course, we eat more than is good for us, but it's all in good fun. And, of course, the release of the swallowtails is glorious to behold." he tries to ease the tension.
Umm, Pardon us," Joanna begins, "would you mind if we joined you?"
"Please do," he says as these two new ladies approach. He rises to either pull out chairs or just pay respect as they settle on the bench parts depending.
"Please, call me Scrapeknee. Welcome to Sandpoint." He wants to do more to ease tension between Cailyn (Who seems quite nice) and Dare (who seems to have been insulted unfairly?) but for now he settles for the arrival as a way to change the subject "We were just talking a bit about the upcoming festival."
A soft mist settles in Cailyn's overactive mind, like a pillow on one's face, that doesn't suffocate you, cause that would be bad... her entire focus is on the words of Ms. Ashborn, it feels like it has to or everything in the room would wander away
"A transformation?" Cailyn thinks as her nose crinkles. She was here for that, even though her transformation was to be a forced one.
She blinks at the half-orc and then nods "I am so I won't. Won't... that.. off, I mean." Mother taught her cursing was to be used as emphasis when you need to make a point, and this seemed like a place where the point was already made.
The dark-haired woman sits up straight, with just a tad bit of wobble. She meant to say more, but others arrived.
Her sharp and necessary focus made her miss most of what Scrapeknee had said, so she barrelled on with a "Cousins!" She smiles warmly, wider than normally when seeing her two younger vastly more attractive and accomplished cousins again. "Please do sit. Introductions are in order. Tera Flinders and Josephina Annabella Whitehall please meet... well Wilberforce, you are already acquainted with. Scrapeknee Viskalai is the gentleman helping you. Ms. Dare Ashborn-" she annunciates the last name slowly to be sure she has it right, looking at the gold glare at the end of the table to be sure, a glint of something in her own eyes. Ashborn is not hard to say in the least, so the show is somewhat of a 'See, even a toff can learn'
"And..." her gaze falls to the young man and woman with Ms Ashborn, and suddenly she realizes she has been frightfully rude, making the tips of her pointed ears brighten "Oh, I apologize. I am Cailyn Vanderale, and you are?"
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Oh, that's a lot of people suddenly at her table. Lita knew it was going to happen, crowded as the inn is tonight, but for the table to be so full, so suddenly, of people so talkative, is almost overwhelming.
She almost gets up, worried she'll have to put herself between Dare and Cailyn to keep any damage from being done, but thankfully it seems to resolve itself - mostly, at least - before she needs to intervene. To her relief, most of the people now gathered at their table seem preoccupied, already, in speaking amongst themselves, though she does pick up a sentence here or there that has her interested. Scrapeknee, for one, introduces himself, and she realizes that she does recognize him, vaguely. He was too much younger than her to be among her peers, and not one of the orphanage kids, anyways, but she remembers his face now. Little Hawk, is what the kids called him back then, right? She makes a note not to repeat the name now. The other one, Willie, she realizes was the one on the piano earlier, and hardly seems like he's about to dispel her assumption of him as someone with too much time and not enough sense, but there's an easy kind of charm to his smile and his turn of phrase. She nods, polite, as the two new women approach, gesturing them towards open seats, but she doesn't respond until Cailyn addresses her directly.
"Lita. ...Just Lita, afraid I don't come with much pedigree." She fiddles with her tankard as she speaks, one sharp nail tapping at its side, self-conscious to be around so many well-to-do, and especially to be introducing herself to them.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lita." Cailyn beams. Her inquisitive mind loves stories and it recognizes Lita here might have just as interesting a tale as Ms Ashborn has yet to tell her.
Oh, legends, lads, and ladies, her mind sighed, loving the thought of a good book and a deep reading with each of these folk as the heroes.
Except maybe Wilberforce. He's about as likely a hero as Cailyn herself.
"My mother has always tells me that a name is what YOU make of it. Nothing more." she frowns then "She tells me that constantly really."
Then she looks at their last tablemate, an eyebrow raised in anticipation.
Dare leans over to Conrad and whispers. "Just say your name and get it over with."
"Lita. ...Just Lita, afraid I don't come with much pedigree." She fiddles with her tankard as she speaks, one sharp nail tapping at its side, self-conscious to be around so many well-to-do, and especially to be introducing herself to them.
Scrapeknee is trying not to stare, but... "Wait, Lita? I know you. I think? Have we met before this?" He feels foolish asking but does so anyway
Lita smiles, the expression more sincere than she entirely expects it to be, at Cailyn and Scrapeknee in turn.
"Not formally, I don't think, but I did grow up here in town. I thought you looked familiar."
She nods, ducking her head in as close of an approximation to a bow as she can manage without standing from her seat.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all."
"Nice meeting you, Conrad. And Lita, I'm sorry I treated you like a Stranger. I mean, Sandpoint is not THAT big." He says sheepishly "I hope everyone here has a wonderful time. The festival is going to be amazing. I tease about its size, but this is a great town as some of you already know."
He sounds almost patriotic.
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Well, this wasn't like him. Willie was losing track of the conversation - conversations? - and he wasn't sure whether this was due to its number of participants, its rapid twists and turns, or the comforting warmth settling onto his brain like a big, friendly dog. Oh dear. Was he drunk? It was a state not unfamiliar to the young man, and so he put it to the test. Craning his long neck about, he regarded the tavern. The sun shone in through the window; birds twittered in the treetops outside; everyone inside happened to be his best friend; and, generally speaking, the world seemed alive and hopeful. At least one of these observations was contradicted by the fact that it was in actuality late evening, leading Willie to conclude that, yes, he was a mite whiffled.
Still, he retained enough presence of mind to find encouragement in Cailyn and the orcish one resolving their differences - whatever those had been. Clearly his cousin wasn't the lost cause he'd feared! But best as Wilberforce strained his drink hampered grey matter to follow the table discourse, more voices joined in. Far from adding another wrinkle to his beleaguered bean, however, the realization of who said voices belonged to just about shocked him sober.
"Tera Flinders and Josephina Whitehall?" he grinned, mouth agape in an expression of surprise and delight no greater than had the two come bearing the resurrected form of his childhood pet turtle, Wentworth. "Why, I'm dashed! Come, sit, you dear old things! You must tell us whatever you're doing here in Sandpoint, I am agog."
"Cousins!"
Were they? Willie was distracted once more by this consideration, one he dismissed quickly; he'd long ago abandoned any attempt at keeping track of what was less a family tree than a thicket. Besides, he trusted Cailyn to know these things better than him. He trusted Cailyn to know most things better than him, really.
Only now, coming down from this thought, did the gent notice whom the conversation had veered towards, the others exchanging greetings with a woman he had entirely missed in the hubbub.
"Oh lor'. Is that some sort of hell spawn?"
The query was addressed to no one in particular. In truth, he hadn't entirely meant to forward it to anyone's address at all, it just slipping Willie at the sudden sight of Lita's singular appearance. Drunkards and children knew naught but honesty, and young Wilberforce was a bit drunk and more than a bit immature. "Sorry, I don't think I meant to say that out loud."
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Cailyn inclined her head in greeting Conrad and further acknowledgment to Lita. Her head does feel the desire to continue to nod. Thankfully her soup arrived, making her stop. Instead, she breathed in the hearty weight of the scent, feeling it delightfully in her toes.
Just as she is dipping her spoon into the broth, she hears Wilberforce say What he said. Quickly, she tries to kick him under the table
But a post happens to be right there where his shin should properly Be. So instead of interrupting him from speaking, she stubs her toe with a sharp Yelp.
Then he apologized, and it seemed like her littlest of toes suffered for no reason.
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"Oh lor'. Is that some sort of hell spawn?"
The query was addressed to no one in particular. In truth, he hadn't entirely meant to forward it to anyone's address at all, it just slipping Willie at the sudden sight of Lita's singular appearance. Drunkards and children knew naught but honesty, and young Wilberforce was a bit drunk and more than a bit immature. "Sorry, I don't think I meant to say that out loud."
Scrapeknee is about to suggest to the man that perhaps he's had enough to drink, when, abruptly, Cailyn, for no apparent reason gives a YELP
City folk are very odd. He decides.
Dare shoots an apologetic look at Conrad. A table filled with half-drunk toffs--let alone ones who could recognize her--was not what she had in mind when she wanted a change of scene. She had, indeed, genuinely thought the Rusty Dragon would be more peaceful than the Feedbag. Ah well.
Ignoring the shenanigans, she gestures at Lita and Scrapeknee to get their attention.
"You're locals, eh? I am here for the festival an' all, but I'm hopin' to find work around here too." Her eyes flicker toward Willie, Cailyn, and their cousins. "I've had about enough of Magnimar." She spreads her hands. "Any suggestions? I can do any sort of physical work, an' I know a bit of magic."
The barmaid slips in and deftly slides mugs of ale toward Dare and Conrad, and Dare hands her a silver piece she's been holding in her hand for a bit.
"You're locals, eh? I am here for the festival an' all, but I'm hopin' to find work around here too." Her eyes flicker toward Willie, Cailyn, and their cousins. "I've had about enough of Magnimar." She spreads her hands. "Any suggestions? I can do any sort of physical work, an' I know a bit of magic."
The barmaid slips in and deftly slides mugs of ale toward Dare and Conrad, and Dare hands her a silver piece she's been holding in her hand for a bit.
Scrapeknee's attention is pulled away from watching Lita's reaction, though he keeps half an eye out to make sure she's okay. Here he is boasting about Sandpoint and folks are getting on each other's nerves it seems. Not the impression he wanted his town to make.
Then Dare talks about MOVING here, and he feels a bit better. Even if some days he wonders if HE will be leaving, to learn about a tribe he barely knows, "Oh, Sandpoint always has room for strong backs but the wages might seem smaller than you'd get in the big city. Of course, cost of living is lower too. I could see if Uncle Garridan, he owns the White Deer Inn and Tavern, needs some help if you like." Best to warn her the man is no charmer "He can be a bit gruff, but fair. my other Uncle, Sheriff Hemlock, might want help on patrols, but the work there can be irregular. My uncles have...very different styles." And they argue if theyr'e in the same room for more than 20 minutes, but no need to bring that up "The shipyard is one of the biggest employers around here but not sure how far you'd get there beyond lifting and hauling. The better pay goes to trained shipwrights."
A beat, "You good with animals, or know any crafting skills?"
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With not much else to contribute to the conversation, Conrad resorts to taking slow slips of his ale. He hasn't had alcohol in a while, and although he's definitely used to drinking much stronger beer (and usually in larger quantities as well), it seems that it's been long enough for him to be pleasantly buzzed after just one pint.
It's enough for him to react when Scrapeknee finally asks a question he can answer. "Yes." He adds, less confidently: "Sort of. The animal p-part at least. G-Grew up in the c-countryside."
It takes a few questions to register that the question was not addressed to him, but to Dare. "Oh. Sorry."
It's enough for him to react when Scrapeknee finally asks a question he can answer. "Yes." He adds, less confidently: "Sort of. The animal p-part at least. G-Grew up in the c-countryside."
It takes a few questions to register that the question was not addressed to him, but to Dare. "Oh. Sorry."
Scrapeknee doesn't seem offended Conrad spoke up, and nods "My late mother, may her spirit fly with joy, she knew Daviren Hosk , he runs Goblin Squash Stagbles. It's where I keep my horse which my mother's actions won for me when the horse isn't at the Deer. If you like horses, he might be looking for an assistant though you're just as likely to shovel manure."
The barmaid takes the coin from Dare with a thank you before taking Tera and Joanna's orders and scurrying off.
"Thank you for the introductions, Cailyn," the young woman with black hair and gray eyes says, ignoring Willi's faux pas with regards to Lita and Cailyn's missed kick, before turning to the others. "My friends call me Joanna or Jo. Either rolls more easily off the tongue than Josephina, I think."
"And as for why we're here," the other young woman, Tera, begins, "We were asked to see what deals we could work out. It just so happened that we came during the festival, so we also decided to have a little fun while we're here. Seems everyone's going to be be busy until afterwards, anyway."
The two let the conversation move along, seeming more curious about the people they share a table with than interested in talking over the others. Joanna shoots an apologetic look at Dare when she mentions having enough of Magnimar before the young noblewoman turns back to her newly arrived meal. Tera, on the other hand, pays more attention to the sorceress when she mentions being able to do a bit of magic.
"You said you could do magic, Dare? What kinds," Tera asks in a lull in the conversation and causing Joanna to snicker.
"Sorry Dare," the young woman apologizes. "She loves all sorts of magic and talks about it every chance she gets. She's probably going to be spending much of this trip talking with Brodent Quink to learn more about ancient Thassilon and with anyone else in town that knows about magic." The smile Joanna gives Dare is one of sympathy. "Fair warning, she will talk your ear off."
Tera gives an indignant whine. "Jo~! Why'd you have to tell her all that?"
"I just wanted to let Dare know what she was getting into." Jo's expression is innocent, but the gleam in her eyes gives away her amusement.
Dare begins to shake her head at Scrapeknee when Conrad interjects, and far be it from her to discourage the seemingly shy man from talking, so she lets it go.
When Tera questions her, she nearly looks surprised that one of the merchantfolk might take a genuine interest, so while she nods to Joanna's warning, she regardless replies to Tera, "I'm a sorcerer. My... previous employer needed a sort of bodyguard for his son, so my teacher had me focus on evocation, but the nature of the blood, you sort of suss out what you suss out. Can't say I know much about Thassilon. This place got a special association?"
This is far wordier than she is wont, but ale and nervousness related to a need to show she knows something might be affecting her.
cailyn was quite lost in the food at the moment, or at least seemed to be, until Dare asked about Thassilon and she perks up, bright eyed, but still full mouthed, so instead she just nodes enthusiastically.
The Shoanti quiets a bit, suddenly a touch intimidated by so many scholars doing their thing. He isn't an idiot, but on matters of ancient lands of myth? He feels positively uneducated.
He savors his food and tries to keep up as best he can
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Lita had been in the middle of waving off Scrapeknee's apology - she doesn't take it personally, it's almost a relief to be forgotten so easily - when Willie speaks, and, for a moment, she freezes in place. Those odd eyes go wide, eyebrows raised, as she lets the statement sink in. She blinks in his direction once, twice.
That she starts to laugh seems to come as much of a surprise to her as anyone else, a light, surprised sound that she tries to stifle with a hand.
"Oh, you really just say whatever comes to mind, don't you?" She shakes her head, pressing the backs of her knuckles to her lips as she waits for the last of the laughter to subside. "Your apology is appreciated, but it's hardly the worst thing I've been called." Laughter finished, she makes a motion with the hand she'd covered her mouth with as if to wave away any concerns. It's one thing to know that people were insulting her behind her back, to hear the whispers and to know that the rumors are spreading. Hearing them said, bold and to her face, is almost refreshing, and all the more so for the immediate apology. A poor first impression, sure, but one she thinks will be simple enough to smooth.
She can't entirely help herself, and leans forward, almost conspiratorial, with a cheeky sort of smile. "And, Demon-spawn, if you'd like to be accurate in insulting me next time." Lita shoots him a wink, and, without another thought, turns her attention back to Dare, as if Willie's faux pas had never happened.
"I've been out of town a little too long to know too much about employment prospects. My plan was to go to the cathedral and hope I could be of a little use there."
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Lita reaches under her scarf by way of illustration, hooking her thumb on the chain of her holy symbol and pulling a fine silver symbol of Sarenrae from where it had fallen under the neckline of her tunic.
"Before I left town, the Sarenites at the church here helped put my life on a better track than I think it would have found otherwise. Now that I've finished my training and taken my vows, it seemed... right, I suppose, to come back here."
Scrapeknee looks IMPRESSED at Lita's declaration
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Dare's pointed ears flick when Lita mentions the Sarenites. Her eyes fall on the holy symbol with a sense of recognition... and something else. Almost like longing.
She says nothing, however, and as soon as she realizes she's looking at all, she looks back toward Tera and takes a long drink of her ale, waiting for the others to expound further on Thassilon. She would want to talk to Lita later, but preferably not in front of everyone else.
Tera's eyes light up and while Cailyn is preoccupied with chewing, the young woman is more than up to the task of filling Dare in on Sandpoint's own Thassilonian monument.
"Magnimar may get a lot of the attention because of the Irespan and the other monuments left behind by ancient Thassilon, but Sandpoint has it's own bit of Thassilon with the Old Light. It's that ruined tower in the north of town. I'm hoping that I can talk to Brodent Quink and get a close look at it. Jo's even promised to do some sketches and paintings of it and the interior if we can get inside. She's a wonderful artist," she says, causing Joanna to blush at the praise. "I'd love for you to come if you're interested. It'd even give me a chance to ask you more about your magic. You said you specialize in evocation? What elements do you like to use? How did you figure out you could use this kind of power? Could you show me," Tera asks, practically climbing over the table in her excitement.
"Tera, I think you might need to calm down a bit," Joanna says as she pulls her friend back into her seat. Tera blinks, then realizing how she was acting, blushes furiously in embarrassment.
"Oh, I am terribly sorry, Miss Dare. Please forgive my impropriety," she says while her expression turns mortified.
As Tera apologizes, Joanna sees a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye and turns to Lita.
"Pardon my intrusion," she says, "but are you a priestess of the Dawnflower, Miss Lita?"
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As Tera presses Dare (verbally if not physically), the sudden torrent of passionate interest unfortunately triggers her street kid "stranger danger" survival instincts--and the request for a demonstration sets her off in an entirely different way. She bares her tusks, snarling, "For the last time, I am not here to 'perform' for bored toffs!"
Joanna tries to save the moment, but by the time Tera apologizes, Dare is standing up and shoving her way through the crowd to try to find as distant corner as she can to finish her ale in peace. As busy as the tavern may be, few are likely to stand in the way of a seething six-foot-four half-orc dead set on being somewhere else.
Scrapeknee watches Dare snarl, and then turn and go. Honestly, he wants to try to make peace , to smooth things over, but he has no idea how to do that and.. I'm pretty sure plugging the relatively quieter White Deer would be tacky and not likely well received.