Pelastour

Mitchifer the Bartender's page

5 posts. Alias of Orthos.


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Luriel Greenleaf wrote:
”Sorry, but what’s a Thri-keen? I’ve never seen one before. And what’s Arthas?” Luriel asks as she tries not to gawk TOO much, less the mantiswoman takes offense. ’Those mandibles look mighty sharp, I don’t want to end up on the wrong end of them’

"What you see there, lass. All eight feet tall and four arms of her. Athas is the Prime she hails from, it's a bit of a roughsack from what I've heard, lots of desert, powerful wizard-kings ruling cruel empires, and a sun that's started to go dark."

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”Ok…the Slaad looks a bit like a giant bipedal frog, and what are the Halls you’re talking about?” Luriel asks Mitchifer.

"Most Slaadi do, though there are exceptions." He nods. "They're a type of outsider associated with realms of Chaos, such as the Plane of Limbo. Kind of like Proteans or Ei'risai."

He gestures to one of the many doors along the sides of the room leading out of the tavern. "The Halls of the Serpent are what make up the rest of the World Serpent outside the tavern and the Arena. While the front door takes you back from whence you came - usually, unless it's moved - the Halls wind through the Astral Plane and contain many, many Doors, all of which lead to different places all over the multiverses. Some are marked, though most aren't. Some are locked - literally or metaphorically - though most aren't. And some simply don't function, or lead back in loops to another part of the Halls. And it can all change like that." He snaps his fingers loudly, a sound that echoes through the tavern and causes several of the nearer conversations to pause momentarily before they go back to whatever discussion had just been interrupted. "You may want to see about having a guide or someone with a knack for Doors or Portals before you explore the Halls too much, or make sure any employer asking you to use them knows exactly which Door they want you to take."

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” What’s an Obsidiman and what’s the world of Thera like?” Luriel asks Mitchifer. ”I’m sorry if I ask too many questions, but curiosity has always been a sin of mine.”

"It's a crime that's easily forgivable but can also land you in a great deal of trouble if indulged at the wrong place and time, miss," he replies cheerfully, tapping the side of his nose with one finger before resuming cleaning a new glass. "The Obsidimen are folk like Miss Hallovein, humanoids composed of a mixture of living essence and stone. I suppose they'd not be too dissimilar to what your world would call an Oread, or other worlds an Earth Genasi, though more specifically so. They're born from great living stones called Liferocks on their homeland." At that he shrugs. "I'm not as familiar with Thera or its world as I am some other Primes, but if I recall right it's a world that was dead to magic until relatively recently when it returned with a vengeance. Upset the order of things pretty significantly when all the other races returned from hiding or claimed humans to join them, and when the dragons resumed open control of reality there."

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"What’s Gear exactly? The closest I’ve seen to Gear were those Androids in the pathfinder lodge. And what’s Eberron like?” Luriel asks Mitchifer.

"Eberron's a world where magic and technology are closely entwined, rather than opposed or one outweighing the other significantly like on many Primes. Gear's a Warforged, a race of living constructs created for some war or another, then left to find their own way after it ended. He's no mere golem, but a living, thinking creature, just one made of metal and such instead of flesh and bone."


Luriel Greenleaf wrote:
"Vinsegroth the White Slaad? He won't mind if I peek at the postboard, will he?" Luriel asks Mitchifer.

"Not if you don't start defacing it or doing something else to spur him to throw you out," the bartender replies brightly.


Luriel Greenleaf wrote:

To Mitchifer, earlier conversation

"I know it's better then the inns we have in Absalom. Many of them are mostly rowdy drunks! Could you tell me more about the current patrons?" She shows Mitchifer her journal where she has been taking notes on various species.

"Like what are the various species around, I have never seen any of them in my homeworld of Golarion." She gestures at the woman carved of obsidian, the mantiswoman and the warforged.

"Oh I'm sure you'll get to know most of them in time." He chuckles again. "A lot of the folks here are regulars, and either use my little tavern as a convenient place to do business, or are frequent patrons on their own travels. But I can give you a few introductions, certainly."

He starts with the mantis merchant and the towering blue figure. "Those two are Chch'kraran and Jabal Abl-al-Jameel. She buys and sells weapons, primarily, and is a thri-kreen from the Prime of Athas. He, of course, is one of the Mercane, and has all manner of magical wares available for purchase."

His gaze sweeps around the room. "At the end of the bar there is Asphyxyx, or at least that's the best us Common-tonguers can manage," he explains, raising a glass toward the illithid. "She's another regular, works as a translator between mentalist creatures and us lowly mouth-speakers. And she doesn't always charge in brains, so that's nice. I'm not precisely sure what Prime she's from, she's never said. Maybe Oerth? You can try asking her but I'm not sure she'll answer."

He turns next to the group by the fireplace. "That slaad there is I'tiq. He's... well, very typical slaad. I'm not precisely sure what he does with his time, but he makes his payments on something resembling schedule - again, for a slaad - and manages to avoid making trouble beyond being eccentric, at least within the tavern. What goes on in the Halls stays in the Halls, if anything is." He shrugs and switches to a new glass to clean. "That fellow is Kraksha, he's a Nathzarune Rakshasa from the Prime of Eberron. He calls himself a 'businessman', but I'm fairly certain that's slang for 'smuggler'. The woman with him is Lith Hallovein, an obsidiman from a place called Thera. She's a traveler much like yourselves, so I imagine she's trying to find work or 'business' opportunities from our furry friend there."

He gestures to the rear of the tavern, to the heavy iron door. "Through there is the Arena. You can bid and try to win wagers on the competitors, or you can join in the circle if that's more your thing. It's all run by an old neogi who calls itself Reaver, so you'll need to negotiate with it if you want to participate; the Staff otherwise handles the biddings."

His attention next goes to the band. "Sholanar there is part of The Staff, but her bandmates are from all over. I believe the drummer Rukina is from your world of Golarion, the pianist Simtharil is from the Prime of Toril, and Gear is from Eberron."

And lastly he turns back toward the entrance. "And of course Vinsegroth, our Bouncer."

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"And also who are the Owners here? Would there be an opportunity to speak to them?" She asks Mitchifer curiously.

"Afraid I don't know the answer to that in any detail. I've never seen them in person myself. I get messages from them from time to time, of course, only reason I know they exist. But that's the extent of my knowledge. Apologies."

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"And also, what are your rates for the night here? And where can we be getting adventuring supplies around here?" She asks Mitchifer.

"Between Chch'kraran and Jabal, I imagine you can manage to acquire basic supplies for most any sort of excursion. There's also Nekagth, a gelugon who hangs out watching the arena; he sells alchemicals and other non-magical trinkets for what most travelers seem to consider fair prices. I'm sure he does deviltry on the side, no doubt, but as long as you're careful with your wording and don't sign anything you don't read, you should be fine for day to day purchases."

He then provides her with a set of plaques with listed rooms and prices. The Serpent is considered a Good-quality inn (2 gp a night), with available suites at the usual prices (4 gp/night for a small suite, 16 for a moderate suite, and 32 for a large luxurious suite).


Luriel Greenleaf wrote:
"What can you tell us about how this place functions? We'll probably stay here, but at some point of time we'll need to get some gainful employment. How's that done here?" Luriel asks the purple haired gnome.
Kizzie wrote:
She nods toward the bar. "You'll wanna talk to Mitch about workin'. Meself, I mostly just take the foodstuffs around t'keep people happy."

"There's a postboard there near the entrance, just behind Vinsegroth." He points toward the hulking white slaad at the entrance; in the alcove just behind the beast is indeed a large rectangle made of some kind of greyish material. Several notes, posters, and scraps of parchment have been hung on the board, many looking at a glance to be all sorts of appeals for labor or aid, wanted posters from across the planes, business opportunities, and other such requests.


Luriel Greenleaf wrote:
She then asks Mitchifer, ”Could you tell me more about this fine establishment, and how it came into being?”

The man chuckles softly, his voice a deep basso that seems to echo about the room despite the lack of any appreciable acoustics outside the alcove set aside for the band. He smiles broadly as he works on cleaning glasses.

"Those are questions I find myself answering quite often, young lady. Or at least the first one. This is the World Serpent Inn - the finest establishment you'll encounter, the foremost tavern and waystation for the weary planar traveler. We have everything here you can think of as far as food and drink. From the finest cuts of faerie stag to the sweetest fruits of Bytopia's fields to the brightest gems of the Dismal Delve. From firewine boiled in the City of Brass to liquid chaos dripped from the Spawning Stone itself to a draught of Ha'absmefaaj that would put Charon himself on his arse after a stiff draw. If you can think of it, or if you've heard, seen, or dreamt of it in any reality, any universe, I assure you, our Staff can see it prepared and served to you in a quality as good as if not superior to any you've encountered elsewhere."

He pauses a moment to exchange one of the empty glasses he's been wiping down into the cabinet behind him, and in return is given - by something unseen within, not even its hand or other type of limb is visible - another glass filled with some kind of steaming green concoction. This he slides down the bar with pinpoint accuracy to the waiting hand of a quiet illithid sitting at the corner, before turning his attention back to Luriel's inquiry.

"As for the second question, my dear, I'm afraid that's one of the great mysteries of the multiverses. Much like asking 'where did the Abyss begin?', or 'who is the Prisoner of Elysium?', or 'what are Crystal Spheres made of?', or 'what's under the Lady of Pain's mask?'. There are some things that no cutter truly knows, not even me. The Owners know, I'm sure, but they aren't talking. Believe me, I've asked, as have many before you. Maybe someday someone'll stumble onto the answer, but I'm certain it won't come from me. I'm just a bartender." He chuckles again, a deep and pleasant rumble that seems by some supernal means to set all your fears and anxieties to rest.