Coming soon
Languidly, Restless Cherry Blossom stretches, arching her back in an almost feline manner as the whispers of the tease her to full wakefulness.
Deneb looks around expectantly. Thought Riddleport would be more interesting than this. Not much to see here so far...
"Might help if you light a torch."
"OOOO! Can we play "Whose in my mouth?", Eris asked cheekily."Wait, but I have darkvision so that would be cheating..." and Eris kind of trails off for a moment.
"Unless, of course, someone wants to tie me up and blindfold me?"
You can see Eris grinning a very toothy and sheepishly adorable grin.
Riddleport…the City of Cyphers….also a haven for pirates, scoundrels, and vagabonds. Once a secret pirate haven, Riddleport has grown over the last three centuries into a port city in its own right. Though a frontier town as the northernmost outpost on the lonely strip known as the Lost Coast, it still remains true to its roots – you can get rich quick in Riddleport if you’ve got skill and a bit of luck, though for every Riddleport success story there are a dozen nameless bodies buried in potters’ fields or tossed to the hungry denizens of the sea.
Riddleport is located in a secluded, rocky harbor situated at the easternmost reaches of the Calphiak Mountains, where the meandering Velashu River meets the sea. Although the site was partially chosen for ease of defense, the original settlers picked the site as much for its singular Thassilonian monument: the mysterious and intriguing arch known as the Cyphergate.
The city proper is tucked in between two rocky ridges, the easternmost rising just over 300 feet in elevation and blocking the city from a tidal swamp of hillocks and mires that serves today as a dumping ground for refuse, derelict ships, bodies, and undesirables. The western ridge ascends swiftly into the Calphiak Mountains themselves. To the north, the Velashu River threads its way between these ridges, leading up into the Velashu Uplands. While roads from the east and north exist, they are not well-maintained – the most notable access to the city is its harbor. No one who sails into Riddleport by sea can avoid passing beneath the Cyphergate, which has brought an influx of scholars and experts who specialize in arcane study.
The city is currently ruled by the self-appointed Overlord, one former pirate captain named Gaston Cromarcky, the latest in a series of pirate lords, buccaneers and other unsavory sailors who had wrested control though bloody means. Cromarcky employs his own breed of enforces, called his Gendarmes (“gentlemen at arms”.) Traditionally, eight crime lords rule Riddleport under the Overlord, each with a small army of contacts, snitches, foot soldiers, fences, and favored lieutenants (called “capps”.)
Most of the buildings in the city are composed of wood - logs or planks - with multiple floors and steep, high-peaked roofs of wooden shingles. They are built in close quarters, and in some cases their wooden upper floors sag and lean together from the constantly sodden conditions. The major streets are cobbled, though the side streets tend to be relegated to muddy tracks that swiftly turn to stinking morasses of mud and filth int the moist weather.
Now, strange days are afoot in Riddleport as an inexplicable shadow hover in the sky over the city, attracting scholars and mystics to divine its meaning. Called "The blot" by most, its appearance doesn't deter the always enterprising citizens of Riddleport from attempting to turn a profit. So, now the buzz about the streets is a large local game tournament at the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall, where a man named Saul Vancaskerkin hopes that "Cheat the Devil and Take his Gold" is poised to bring the game hall back in business after a rumored decline.
Talant'edhel hadn't been in the city long, just a half hour since walking through the gate. The morning was still fresh, if one dared use that word to describe a morning in Riddleport, and the elf was already wondering if she was a bit touched in the head for coming here. She kept her wits about her and her eyes peeled. Unfortunately for her peace of mind, she had seen more eyes, many of them full of lust, following her than she cared to count, but it was the eyes that were taking in her worth as a fighter that had her nervous. The elf half-expected to have a knife in her back before too long.
Despite her wariness, Talant'edhel saw something that caught her eye on the ground. A flyer telling her to "Cheat the Devil and Take his Gold."
Hmm, I think I heard some people talk about this tournament. Perhaps I can find work there.
Her stomach growled and her hand reached down to try and quiet it.
"I hope so anyway. I have a feeling that playing on the streets for coin might get me a few daggers in my back."
With that, she hurried along her way to the Golden Goblin (What a horrid name!), trying not to think about knives in her back, or the blot in the sky.
Stretching lazily, Restless Cherry Blossom looks out over the city as dawn breaks across the eastern horizon. Is it today? Vancaskerkin's last gasp? It is, isn't it! Now I have to wait until nightfall. I hate waiting...
Ah well. Oh, Breakfast! With that she traipsed off the roof from which she had observed the stars the night before.
Eris awoke in yet another bed that wasn't his. And if you do it enough times, as he had, you learn to get over those questions like 'where am I?' and 'how did I get here?' and 'whose this lying next to me?' become so second nature after a while that you just sorta stop asking them. The tiefling shifted forward to move and get out of bed, but he found that at some point in the night, his partner had wrapped their arm around his waist making it...more difficult for Eris to sneak out completely undetected as was customary in his line of work.
Despite his best efforts to get out of the bed without disturbing his partner of the night before, Eris could feel the mass moving behind him. "Mmmm...that was wonderful," said a male voice that almost purred each syllable. The man reached out and tried to pull Eris closer, but the tiefling used the man's grogginess to his advantage and managed to wiggle free of the Human and get to his feet and began the arduous process of getting dressed. He grabbed the money from the night stand as he rose, though.
"Well, its easy when the client is as cute as you are, hon," the Rakshasa spawn said, half-heartedly as he started walking about the room looking for his clothes.
The Human, who was also as naked as Eris, leaned forward ontop of the pillows and rest his head upon his hands in an almost girlish way so he could watch the lithe almost pantherlike Tiefling go about the room collecting his things. "Oh, I bet you say that to all your clients," the human retorted, pouting as he did so.
Eris hid a sigh, and put on a giant smile and turned to face the Human...what was his name? John something? Vorna? Vorish...Tobin? "Well of course I do, but you're the first one I've ever said that to and meant what I said," Eris replied, smiling just the appropriate length of time before he went back to his task of finding...ah! Pants! And the Tiefling bent down low to pick them up and put them on.
"Mmmm. Well, you're certainly the cutest easy lad in this town. There's just something so exotic about you...its a shame you have to go and hide all your best assets with those clothes," said "John" with a sigh as he watched Eris put on the pants, his interest in the whore waning significantly now.
Eris continued dressing, not quickly, but he didn't exactly linger either. The morning after was always the most awkward part of this job, especially if you're really good at it. The clients are always on some euphoric high and think two things: first, that they -- the clients -- are the best at what they do and their magnificent prowess in the bed will make their whores fall madly in love with them; and second, if the prostitute is skilled enough at what they do, they always try and coax one more go out of them. Easy lads had to learn how to humour them, without giving in. Play up everything so that their client would be a repeat client. Its always better to have repeat clients, safer too. Because you know what to expect.
"Thanks hon. But I don't think --" there door to the bed chamber suddenly flung open and a gruff looking older man clad in scale mail armor walked burst into the room and stopping in the door as he found a half naked Rakshasa Tiefling standing there, holding his clothes, and the naked male lying on the bed.
It was a tense moment. Eris looked at the new man, then back to the Human in the bed. Then back to the man in the armor. The man in armor looked from Eris to the bed and back to Eris. And the Human in the bed simply looked Eris right in the eye and with a smile said, "Hello, father."
Eris raised a finger as if he were going to say something, but then he saw father reaching for his sword and Eris elected for the alternate plan: he took a deep breath, and then he ran. Specifically, he ran towards the window at the far end of the room, opposite where "father" was. He raised the cloak of his entertainer's garb before him just before he dove at the window.
The glass exploded into the street outside and with it came the half-dressed Tiefling who rolled with the momentum so he came out of the crash landing on his knee. He could hear the old man yelling curses and threats from within the...higher end slum shack? Eris cursed. Anyone whose father can afford armor like that can afford to pay me more money. Next time, I'll make sure to squeeze more outta him. He snickered at his unintentional double entendre, as he grabbed his cloak from off the street and continued at a brisk jog into the city, just in case "father" decided to give chase.
As Eris jogged he started brushing the class off of his cloak, noticing several new tears in the fabric which he cursed about in infernal. He held the cloak up into the light to see the damage but he decided to keep walking at a brisk pace with his vision utterly obscured. It should, therefore, come as no surprise that he soon found himself careening into an someone with enough force to knock him back onto his ass, leaving him staring up at whatever had obstructed his path.
It was an Elf, a female Elf to be more precise. A female elf clad in studded leather armor and armed to the teeth with wickedly sharp blades. So Eris did the only thing he could do at a time like that, he furrowed his brow, cursed in Infernal, and reconsidered his position on worshiping the Gods.
Yup, just another day in Riddleport.
There is a belief that elves are always graceful, balanced, and elegant.
This is not true.
There are many times when elves can be just as clumsy as humans, dwarves, and even ogres trying to perform a ballet. They can be tripped. They can fall flat on their face. They can take on the attributes of a klutz.
For example, if an elf happens to be paying attention to where she's going more than, say, the rather dashing young man that was briskly coming in from the side, then they can be made to look just as foolish as any of the other races.
Or more so as poor Talant'edhel finds out. She tries, futilely, to keep her feet under her, but the force of the collision pushes her body ahead of her feet.
"WAH!"
She sees that her mandolin is in danger of being crushed in the fall, so she twists, awkwardly, to get her arm under her and break her fall. She manages, just barely, to land on her front instead of her side.
"Ow."
She quickly stands and pulls the instrument around to make sure the instrument was okay, then brushes herself off after putting it back. The curse in infernal grabs her attention. The curious look on her face makes it clear she doesn't understand the language.
"Well, you didn't put a knife in my back, so that earns you some trust," she says as she reaches down and helps the man up.
The delightful crescendo of shattering glass yanking her attention from the whispers in the back of her mind, Restless Cherry Blossom turned toward the sound. This is bog side, who has GLASS in bog side? Especially that much glass? That had to have been at least a full pane.
Ooh,ooh! Gossip for the 'girls'! With that, Restless Cherry Blossom ran in the direction of the breaking glass. The only Riddleport citizen to do so...
As Riddleport streets are rumored to do, the main cobblestone thoroughfare clears of people in seconds. This section of town, known as the Wharf District is known as a rather raucous place that lies hard on the edge of the very docks of the the city, and is where much of the day-to-day action of commerce and thievery occurs. Filled with warehouses, cheap grog shops, pirate-frequented Inns and shops with grimed windows and peeling paint, the Wharf district is used to the rough and tumble of every day life in Riddleport, and its citizens know that discretion and sometimes invisibility, are the best means of survival.
After the breaking of the glass, there's silence for several moments before a gruff man in scale armor stands at the second story window of a run-down Inn, just above the canvas covered piles of wood down upon which the exotic, feline form had just tumbled. He looks quite aggravated, though he's quick enough to realize that his own jump from said window would end up far worse.
Eris blinked his eyes once, and then again, and then he cocked an eyebrow as he gave the Elf a more than passing once over. In short, he was clearly put off by the Elven woman's response to the collision. Finally, he decided that if she was going to kill him, she may as well do it while he standing.
"I take it you're not from around here then," Eris said with a knowing smile as he took the Elf's outreached hand and pulled himself up to his feet.
Deneb wandered. That was part of him. And today he was doing it in Riddleport. Not the worst city he had ever been in, and a far cry from the best. There was danger here. But also friends. Brothers. Sisters. Desna had called him here to help out. A new church was born. He had lingered here longer than he thought; a few weeks now. but he sensed a change was coming. It might be time to move on.
He had done what he could for the church, using both his magical energies and his skills to help the fledgling organization take root and get a start here. But his dreams these last few nights have been calling him to something different. Something darker. There was no use ignoring such dreams. He had learned that over the years. When Desna told him a task was done, it was done. And he better start looking for the next thing. Better start, well, wandering.
His wandering today took him to the Wharf District. He had been here before but it never felt quite like this. Today he felt Desna in his step. He was supposed to be here. But Why? he wondered. There should be some sign. There always was a sign.
CRASH The sound of breaking glass startled him out of his daydream and into reality. The street was clearing to reveal two people prone on on the cobbles. They could be hurt. He moves against the flow of people toward these two. And elf and a man. No, not quite a man. What was he?
As Talant'edhel helps Eris to his feet the half elf is there, only a few feet away. I am Deneb, hand of Desna. he intones, as if the holy symbol on his armor does not sufficiently advertise his calling. Are either of you hurt?
"Not at all."
With surprising strength for her slight frame, she hauls the young man up to his feet and catches him as he stumbles forward.
"So should I be-"
I am Deneb, hand of Desna. Are either of you hurt?
Talant'edhel is caught off guard for a moment and doesn't reply as quickly as she normally would.
"Uh, No, I am fine, as he seems to be. I didn't think I'd be finding a holy man of the Starsong here."
"Uh, No, I am fine, as he seems to be. I didn't think I'd be finding a holy man of the Starsong here."
Deneb looks up at the second story broken window and then back down at the hard cobble stones, and then addresses both Eris and Talant'edhel. If you fell from that height it is a wonder you do not need my help. Does someone pursue one or both of you? He looks concerned and not judgmental.
As to your question, alas, the Song of the Spheres is heard throughout these lands and her clerics must roam to hear her in entirety. he says in way of explanation. I am here because my goddess called me here. We have a new church, in another district. But that work is now done, at least for my part, and I am following another tune. One that is quite and less defined at the moment.
He changes his tone after assuring himself that no one is hurt and after answering Talant'edhel's question. Apparently the song now says get a job, as my purse is too light for much more than another night's room and a hot meal. I have heard that the Golden Goblin might be hiring sharp eyed elves to watch over this great game they have scheduled. Desna has gifted me with a watchful eye and I think that skill might earn me a coin, no?
Eris cocked his eye at the cleric as well, once again, clearly off put by people in Riddleport being kind. The sentiment was...unnerving. If Riddleport is suddenly becoming a haven for do gooders and 'stoic heroic' types...well, maybe there's something to that whole sun being blotted out as a sign of the apocalypse line of reasoning.
Also, I'd have to think of a new profession. Heroes generally don't have use of us working lads. End up having to get a job as a tailor or some such...I'd last maybe a day before I killed myself. Of course, at least I'd be able to mend my cloak, the Tiefling mused to himself as the Cleric went of about divine purpose this, watchful eye that. Typical religious babble.
To the cleric's question, Eris checked back down the street he'd burst out onto to see if he was being pursued by anyone who looked like "father", or possibly "father's" associates. Because everybody in Riddleport seemed to have associates.
"Oh, the crashing out the window? That was me. Definitely not something I'm looking forward to doing again, but otherwise..." Eris trailed off as he spoke, turning back from the alley to face the Elf he'd slammed into, "What do you say I buy you and your chatty friend here a meal? We can swing by the tavern I'm staying at so I can change into something more...fitting...for life in Riddleport?" Eris said. The offer was sincere, and not a bluff or a real deception of any kind.
Deneb looks to the Elf to gauge her reaction to the offer of a meal. Hmm. I have not broken my fast yet this day. If the lady is with us I will accept your generosity.
"See, now you have to come or else Deneb isn't going to accept my generosity," the feline added, "and that would just be a gosh darn shame." Eris is clearly taking jabs at Deneb's prim and proper speech patterns and mannerisms. The remarks are meant in jest, or at least Eris intends them to be so as evidenced by the coy smile that comes to his lips.
Eris enjoyed pushing the buttons of clergy folk. Not in an outright antagonistic kind of way or anything, but mostly because the clergy generally all seemed to take themselves so seriously with their 'divine missions' and 'blessings of blah...'. None of them lived for themselves, they could only live to serve. And such a life was utterly...strange, and bizarre to the Tiefling.
"Looks as if Desna's smiling on both of us. I'll come, but I'll take why you ran headlong into me over the meal. I am not quite that poor." yet.
Turning onto the street in time to catch sight of the gruff, older, soldier; Restless Cherry Blossom watches as he examines the freshly shattered glass & turns to look for any sign of flight.
Alright, so is he hunting or merely inquiring. He doesn't look like a Gendarme...
She leans indolently against the side of a run-down warehouse & continues to observe through the stands of her hair which have managed to escape their confinement. Finally, after several minutes of less-than-fruitful searching, the older armsman departs. Sighing, Restless Cherry Blossom turned back the way she came & proceeded to Baba the younger's flat to make certain her dress was ready for the night's dancing.
You can recall enough about Desna to know a few titles and rituals of her followers. Also called Lady Luck or Starsong, among others, Desna is quite a popular patron in Varisia, and among travelers, astronomers, gamblers, and musicians. She's the patron of travel and luck, and her clergy is fairly informal in their worship, and temples are few and far between. Her patrons take well to wishes of good journey and the wisdom of the road.
"Looks as if Desna's smiling on both of us. I'll come, but I'll take why you ran headlong into me over the meal. I am not quite that poor." yet.
As the three walk towards the tavern where Eris stays Deneb smiles at the question and comments in Elven.
Ennyn Durin aran Riddleport Talant'edhel. Pedo mellon a minno
im Narvi hain echant teithant i thiw.
"The truth?" Eris asked as they walked, and then he burst out laughing. "My dear, you do realize where you are, right? This is Riddleport!This is a city of scoundrels, whores, thieves, and murderers!
"If I were you, I'd take the free meal. 'Cause truth kissed the snickersnark a long time ago," he added, with a rather smug grin on his face.
The rumble in the streets of the Wharf are not uncommon neither is sleeping beneath some planks, leaning against the walls of the warehouse. They provides a decent shelter for the night as Kallan have done so often. But this time it is a bit different, the breaking of glass and the crowd of people gathering woke Kallen clearly hours to early for his liking. Yet another day of a hungry stomach had begun. Kallan slowly peaks out from beneath the planks and see the gathering of people around where the noise came from. Looking up he notices an angry looking man in what seem to be left of a window.
Getting out of the shelter unnoticed or at least without drawing any unwanted attention is not going to a problem Kallan thought and quickly on all four he crawls out. As he gets up his eyes darts around for potential danger. His gaze falls upon the odd trio standing talking softly. Elves and their kin are not uncommon around town, well they normally are not seen walking around the wharf but still isn't them that make this trio so odd. Two elves a male and a female, but the third person. Not a human nor an elf, that was for sure and surely not a hell-spawn whom Kallan have seen a few times roaming the shadows at dusk around Riddleport. This one is a feline of some sort.
The trio went on their way but these are strangers, most likely foreigners. Foreign folk always carries a coin if asked politely. This trio could provide the next meal, if Kallan plays his cards correctly. Kallan follows the trio a good 20 feet behind them, keeping an eye out for other who have gotten the same idea.
The Talant'edhel shrugs and continues to walk with the other two.
"I'll take your word for it. Free breakfast it is then!"
This one's a bit bitter. Something in his past? Eh, I'll find out in time if I'm meant to.
Kresham strolled about the streets of Riddleport, cursing himself. He knew he was going to feel alien in the accursed city, and promised himself he would not go about slack-jawed like a moron, but in the end found himself unable to keep from gawking. The awful, tear-inducing smells of the fish market (no fish can possibly smell like that!), the filthy leperous beggars in front of gaudy palaces, city guards walking several feet from a mugging victim without paying any attention - all of that schocked Kresham, despite all his attempts to mentally prepare for it.
Inevitably, he found himself lost, with Talant'edhel nowhere to be seen. She was supposed to lead him to the "Golden goblin", where he would be able to find lodging, and, with some luck, an employer. He spent some time to find a more reputable-looking citizen and asked for directions, then strolled forward again, swearing to himself that he wouldn't let himself get involved into the humans' depraved affairs.
After a while he noticed a familiar brass-colored helmet ahead, and his heart jumped with joy, to his own surprise. "Well, that's natural - I avoided staying alone in a hostile city, that's all", he thought half-heartedly. But immediately his blood started pumping as he saw Talant'edhel in the company of two men. He brought himself closer to the company, but immediately noticed that he wasn't the only one trailing them - some ragged-looking vagabond was keeping an oddly constant distance from the trio. Flexing his arms, Kresham adopted a silent hunting gait and caught up with the stranger.
"Looking for someone?" he spoke softly over the stranger's shoulder with a thick elven accent. His sword remained strapped to his back, but he was ready to draw it at the first sign of danger.
Eris led his small group of chums to the tavern he was staying at: The Outrageous Slug. It was still another few minutes walk before they got there which would give him and his new 'friends' a chance to get to know one another. He continued to walk topless, holding his tattered cloak and rather skimpy shirt in his off hand. He would be changing in a few moments anyways, so what's the point in putting on a shirt?
"And what brings you to the areshole of the world, my dear?" Eris asked, looking at the Elf as he spoke, "Are you also here to 'cast your watchful eye upon the gambling tournament' as our friend here claims to be?"
Deneb listens for the answer, curious about the elf himself.
The route through the Wharf district takes you past quite a few houses of ill repute, be they raucous inns whose denizens spill out into the street, crimson shuttered brothels from which professionals showed their wares from second story windows, stores that specialized in implements of the darker trades of piracy, thievery, and the slave trade, and even small venues wherein one could bloody one's knuckles on the face of another. All of this, and it was only just past midday.
As you follow Eris's lead, you walk by a scrawny youth in rags, whose eyes are cast skyward, starkng at that shadowy blot in the sky that seems to have perplexed even the most studious cyphermage. The boy looks at the travelers and gestures. Oi, wha's ya' think a' that up there? Some kinda' cloud er somethin'?
Pausing, Deneb studies the sky thoughtfully for a moment, as he has done most every day of his life.
"You mean besides it 'not being my problem'?" Eris snorted, making no effort to hide his disinterest in the question.
The youth shrugs and looks at his feet as he smiles. Guess yer' right, um...mister. He starts taking a few tentative steps closer. Say...any'ya' have any coin ta' spare fer a poor street boy like me? I got a lil' sis ta' feed; ma's been gone a while. Another step...
The blot seems to be some cloud effect in the sky. some miasma or obscurement that floats high in the air. he comments to no one in particular.
Then, quickly reaching into a small pocket, Deneb grabs one of the few coppers he has taken to housing there since he entered this city, for just this purpose. Then feed your sister young one, and yourself. he says with a smile. He tosses the coin to the beggar, but intentionally throws it high, just over the boy's head, so that he will have to turn away go grab the coin.
Deneb's hand goes to his morning stat after the through, just in case the boy does not turn away.
The boy smiles graciously, his head bobbing in excitement as the coins fly over his head. He tracks it to where it hits the ground, then turns back to smile at you. Can't thank ya' nuff; ya' dunno how 'ard it is out 'ere sometimes.. Another step...
Eris sort of scoffed at Deneb's coin toss. "You shouldn't encourage them like that. Now he's likely to run off and tell all his little friends about the easy mark from out of town," Eris said as he placed his face into his left hand and started shaking his head slowly. "Tell me, boy, do you even really have a sister?" Eris asked, point blank. His voice was nonchalant, as if he wasn't judging the child about lying (if he was lying), and he was almost coaxing the boy to fess up to the lie if for no other reason than to illustrate his larger point.
Turning around as someone touch his shoulder, as always expecting the worse he replies “Excuse me.”. Twisting around, he sees yet another elven face in the Wharf. That makes it three which is darn close to an invasion. Since the darn black blot have appeared everywhere are becoming unpredictable.
No my good man, I am but a humble beggar of the streets looking for a loaf of bread or a friendly person, as ya self to help with a coin or two.
With that he slowly start backing up.
Course I got a sister; an' she's 'ungry too!
Kresham can't help the look of contempt on his face.
"Can't object to that, I suppose, as long as the people who help you out are aware of their own generosity."
As he hands a silver piece to the beggar, he assesses him:
. Though emaciated from hunger, the man appears quite healthy.
"Say, I'm new to human lands and Riddleport in particular, but surely there must be some work for an able person such as yourself? I came here looking to sell my skills, but looking at the likes of you littering the streets I'm starting to think there's a problem with employment in this town."
Receiving the silver coin the young lad's eyes widen.
Thank you kindly noble one.
he replies bowing almost over extending himself.
As for work, well most people around here are only hiring people that know someone. Ya know of 'em families and such. I aint one to be so lucky. But a fine fellow like ya self might have a chance at the goblin. Rumours had is old Vancaskerkin might be having positions open, if ya don't mind gambling and such, which I expect ya don't since ya come here to Riddleport.
Looking down at the coin once more a faint smile appear on his lips.
For one of these I show ya his fine place.
Kresham presses his lips.
"I've heard about this establishment and planned to pay it a visit, although I don't partake in gambling myself. But I have to confess I'm not exactly rich, otherwise I wouldn't set my foot here while I still have my wits about me. We'll have to settle on 5 copper. Is it a deal?"
5 copper it is then Kallan replies with a grin exposing his rotten teeth.
With a quick twist of his fingers the silver coin disappear leaving the hand empty and ready to receive yet another days earning.
.
The satisfaction is vivid in Kallans face as he even before noon has "collected" a weeks pay. A week where hunger will not be an issue.
He extend his hands Lets not waste any daylight, I hear this Vancaskerkin a'int one to sit 'round waiting. He most likely already have hirelings around town to find suitable people for his job openings
A shout sets you each on your toes, before you realize that the elven woman, Tal, is the one shouting. She stole my pouch!. The armored woman is making quite the spectacle of herself as she stares, slack-jawed, and points at the back of a tiny, retreating figure. The figure is only seconds from dissappearing into what looks to be a large crowd that has gathered in the open street.
A glance back at the youth shows him picking up the coin from Deneb and also making a hasty retreat. He calls over his shoulder as he rushes away. See! Told ya she was 'ungry!
Eris chuckled quietly to himself. "Told ya not to trust 'em," he said with a grin as he watched the group of them run off into the crowds. A terrible thought then crossed Eris' mind as he turned back to face the cleric. "Please tell me you're not going to make us chase after them in the name of justice or something silly like that," Eris said, a genuinely distraught look on his face. It wasn't so much he thought what the kids did was excusable so much as...it just was something so utterly petty and insignificant that he had no reason to make it his concern.
That and with her gone, Eris only had to pay for one meal besides his own which is always an added bonus. 'Sides, clerics make better companions when the s@~& hits the fan. Mostly because they have 'moral convictions' and the like and he couldn't bare to watch me die an 'unjust' death at the hands of some old bastard's goon squad simply because he 'disapproves of the company his son keeps.'
That, and it never hurts to have a God on your side.
Deneb laughs out loud at the thieft, glad that he keeps his coins of value deep in his backpack and only a few coppers on his belt. The city feeds itself. he explains to Tal.
To Eris he lectures Lad, you have much to learn about my Lady of the Heavens. She cares little for the laws of men and their ideas of justice. Besides, I do not run well in this heavy armor. he lies.
Bluff
Eris smiled coyly, "then maybe there's hope for you yet, priest." He looked Deneb over, really for the first time as earlier, he'd been more concerned with not being where he was and not getting stabbed by the Elf woman he'd collided with. All in all, he didn't seem anything too extraordinarily special. In addition to checking out the cleric, Eris used the momentary pause to take another opportunity to make sure he wasn't being followed by any of 'father's' men.
If you're living in Riddleport and you're not paranoid, you must be crazy Eris mused to himself, the smile on his lips growing slightly as he bastardized another witticism he'd heard about somewhere else from some obscure writer a long time ago.
Talant'ehdel does, surprisingly do just what Eris is afraid of; she puts a hand to her sword belt to keep it from jostling and chases after the diminuitive pickpocket, her red face a picture of both embarrassment and rage.
There is a thick crowd, growing thicker by the minute, in front of a large, domed building...the Gold Goblin Gaming Hall. Though approaching from different angles, you all come within sight of what looks to be a line of people of various description, which juts out of the door and onto the street like the mast of a ship.
Deneb eyes the line. Well, this is not what I was wanting to see. I wonder where I go to see about a job? He walks closer looking over the scene.
Perception: