Chadron Land's page

has noro had any success in her romantic pursuits as yet? or is it still early days?

@Tierce - Chadron is at your disposal. I hope the farmer lad makes good.

Best of luck to all - enjoy!

Hearing a crash from the corridor, Chadron snatches up his shield and spear, 'no sheath to clear with a spear.' Chadron flings open his door and bursts into the corridor, looking for trouble.

Seeing all the doors closed, and a peaceful-looking corridor, Chadron moves to Flit's door. He thumps the door with the butt of his spear. Chadron calls through the door, "Flit, I'm coming in in 3, 2," and on '2' Chadron flings open the door, braced to engage someone on the other side.

'I hope that wasn't just "contract negotiation". And if there are leather and whips involved, I'm going to be very, very embarassed in front of the new boss.'

'Some good, some bad. On the one hand, I'm employed by the Pathfinder Society, and paid in hard coin. Hurrah! On the other hand, I'm working for a goblin. ewww. He seems like a nice enough goblin, though.' Chadron continues to weigh the evenings fortunes as he beds down for the evening. 'Small room, but certainly not as tight as when the militia barracked at the Temple at Ardigh last summer.' He lays out sheathed sword, spear, bow (strung), and quiver accessible and not tangled with pack and other kit. Boots in their place at the foot of the bed. Armor piled order on a stool shield leaning against them.

Down to his breaches and light tunic, Chadron takes a last turn or the room - no window to secure, door locked. 'Seems like friendly territory, but it's the small rituals that make the difference between a professional soldier and a dead sword carrier. Chadron played Captain Marten's old adage through his head somewhat smugly. Then for himself, 'That, and getting paid.'

I was going to write ahead a bit more. But I'd be forcing/anticipating other PCs' actions more than I'm comfortable with..

Holding off waiting for some adjudication around the top of the stairs. I'd riff on forward, however I think there's some interaction that merits the GM's attention (see @Chadron's last and @Blix's last).

I also anticipate the GM may be attending some other matters at the moment :)

Uncharacteristically quietly, Chadron gathers his bundle from beneath the bar. As he heads for the stairs, he grunts, "Going to drop my kit off in a room. I'll be back down for a nightcap in a bit."

Silent as they head up the stairs, as Flit and Chadron look for their correct doors, Chadron addresses Flit directly, "Master Pathfinder, I doubt you need my help, but I need an opportunity. Please allow me to be a strong arm and a bright eye to aid your efforts on behalf of the Society. I came to Sandpoint seeking adventure and glory, monsters to slay. I can only think that some divinity has put me in your path."

Realizing the extent to which he's put himself forward, and made himself vulnerable to the judgement of this goblin, who, however personable, is still a stranger, Chadron continues on. "My alternative is to hunt about for some trouble to emerge. Perhaps I'll see if the town guard needs help for the festival." Looking sharply again at Fliter, "but it seems very vague and undirected, when I'm betting you've got trouble on a leash."

Chadron ducks his head a bit abashedly, and fumbles a key into a door, looking for a possible exit if he's shot down.

@Gudada: K - general funerary vibe. But not necessarily of the blood-feud variety. As a non-local, Chadron wouldn't intrude, but would note it as a solid tell that the Rusty Dragon is also a local establishment, frequented by local folks with local concerns. ..And probably not picking up on Gudada having been 'away for a while'... thanks!

"A ready blade's nothing to apologize for," Chadron grins at Talon, "and a quick wit to know what and whether to do with it is a greater gift. Flit might have had a bloodier tale from this evening if your wits weren't quicker than your sword. Lovely blade, by the way. Is it one of James' here, or is he trying to pitch you an upgrade?"

As Chadron banters with Talon and James about steel, and keeps half an ear on the byplay between Flit and the performers, he's keeping an eye out for Blixa. 'That gnome, on the other hand, was all too ready with his dogslicer. It would be a great shame if he were to sour the mood.'

Aside from the nagging thought about Blixa, James settled in to enjoy himself thoroughly. A good tavern, engaging conversation, a frission of derring do. And the possibility of finding some real adventuring. James was never much of a student, or a one for memorizing tales, but the Pathfinder Society had an air of mystery and excitement.

'There must be a reason the Pathfinders sent someone for this quaint festival. And so far Fliters is telling tales about anything except why he's here. The ceremony's not for a week, but that may just be an excuse masking something else. I'll have to bend his ear quietly (generous, green ear that it is...) sooner, rather than later.'

@Gudada: would your actions (table of folks pouring out a libation on the ground, a serious toast, and tying a knot in rope) set off warning bells to another native (though non-local) Varisian? As a player, I'm not familiar with the gravity or import of the ritual.

"Kojan of the Shundar-Quah, well met. There certainly seems to be much to learn here tonight, though I haven't learned much as yet."

"Goblin problem... Ha ha! A goblin problem indeed! I believe our friend goblin here may be thirsty - or at least a drink may do him good. I don't have any hounds handy, but there's definitely some barking going on," looking significantly at Talon and Blixa.

"Oh, pardon friend." Chadron says to Gudada as they nearly collide at the bar - Gudada gliding lithely aside.

Glaring at Talon and Blixa, looking at Noro, James, Karas, and Kojan, at Zelldania, Olly, Dairkal and tessara as they converge at the bar, and addressing the goblin, "But come, friend Pathfinder, with drink in hand and belly to bar, please do tell us your story. You've a goodly audience here. I'm sure our performing friends would be grateful for a worthy tale to recount, " indicating Zell, Olly, and Dairkal, "Blixa and Talon might have their horizons expanded; Kojan seemed interested in a tale or a song. And as for me, " suddenly earnestly, "as for me, I am intensely interested in the Pathfinder Society."

And inwardly, The Pathfinder Society may be that 'something more' I've been chasing. Or at least, a step on the right path.

"OK, so, a goblin, a gnome, and a Shoanti walk into the bar. The Sheriff follows them, and duns the tavern keeper for a week's worth of lodging. Hmmm... I think that needs a bit of work. But there's definitely a story in there somewhere."

Turning to Ameiko, "Please let me be the first to stand our most unuusual Pathfinder to a drink. And please let met overpay outrageously to ease your lodging burden. Oh, and come to think of it, I'll need lodging for tonight as well. Seems a line may be forming, and I'm behind the goblin."

Ah, Kojan. Please call me Chadron. It appears there's a story developing right here. Your.. clansman?... appears to have some insight into this small green gent.

Then to Noro, Talon, Karas, and Ameiko, It seems everyone's in agreement that the Sheriff is wanted. Since we all want the same thing, maybe we can sit and wait for him, without fisticuffs? Unless, of course, our hostess has some other plan? he says, looking expectantly at Ameiko.

Meanwhile, perhaps this traveller can spin us a tale, as reward for locating a Sheriff for him.

As a side note, Chadron is Varisian, and would probably react poorly to being mistakeng for a Chelaxian. Minor differences, local ethnicities, long feuds. Chadron's native Bloodsworn Vale has a history of defending against Chelaxian incursions.

Seeing the small knot of entertainers self-organizing by the bar, Chadron senses he's lost his audience of locals. So if the locals are going to be clannish.. he thinks.

Shoanti? Shoanti! bawls Chadron, rolling up on Karas and Kojan. Why... I believe your uncle may have shot my grandfather at Hardass Ridge. Great story - though I seem to remember the ending depends on the teller.

Erp - scratch those next 3 paragraphs. pausing for reaction on my poor bluff check...

It's still early afternoon as Chadron's steady, ground-eating strides take him into Sandpoint. It was a lonely camp last night, and a cold start this morning. But a few hours of steady walking had brought him in sight of his goal. He'd heard from a hosteler on the road yesterday that there was a cathedral dedication, and a large festival.

It should be crowded, busy. Plenty of chance to find some rumor of monsters, and treasures, and adventures. Maybe a band of adventurers to fall in with! Chadron thought to himself as he neared the Sandpoint Bridge.

As he walked through the town in search of a likely inn - somewhere not too expensive (a proper campaigner needs a horse, and my purse is only getting flatter at the moment), but somewhere with some life to it - Chadron noted some of the local goings on.

The docks looked no more run-down than most of the docks Chadron had seen in the last several weeks. Chadron's home in Bloodsworn Vale was inland, as were its local communities. Only since he'd left home 3 months ago had he actually seen the sea. Chadron had worked a few stretches along Conqueror's Bay as a deck hand, but found he was just as happy walking the coast roads. Chadron also found he wasn't partial to dockside taverns.

A bit farther into town, a warehouse floor was hosting a fighting competition of some sort. Though tempted participate, Chadron was late, didn't know the rules or organizers, and felt a bit uncomfortable. Chadron did pay his coppers at the door (with a muttered devotion to Kurgess). The crowd was excited and boisterous, though Chadron was a bit inhibited because he was carrying all his posessions, and he suspected that not everyone in the place was an honest citizen. Probably the most exciting element of the event was a dust-up with the bouncer as things were winding down. The bouncer put on a pretty good show, but she seemed a bit grumpy.

So, friend, where can I find a few pints, that might still have a bed free? Chadron's overture to some of his fellow spectators received some hearty responses - "The Dragon" "we're off to Omeika's Rusty Dragon for a pint!" Falling in with the most enthusiastic group, Chadron swept through the streets with his new friends-of-the-moment.

As the small crowd streamed into the tavern, Chadron pulled up a stool at the bar, securing his pack and heavier gear between the stool and bar. Looking around for someone likely-looking, he noticed a halfling seated neaby at the bar, who seemed comfortably settled in. Say friend, what's good to eat here? I've had a day of walking, and precious little food. And can I take you choice of drink as a recommendation?

After discussing victuals, and trading a few jibes with the crowd from the fight, Chadron takes a belated look at the other patrons of the Rusty Dragon. He notes the bouncer from the fight.