The Singing Saytr Pub, a cozy yet bustling little favorite of adventurers and pathfinders alike. With reasonably priced food that makes many an adventure keep the pub as their last civilized meal before they set out and the first one when they get back. The Thinwhistles run a tight but joyous ship, from the small stage in the corner, that boasts all manner of bard, singers, story tellers or even the occasional loud mouth drunk. To the other corner that has a mighty hearth, where an elderly Halfling can be found, typically soaking in the lovely atmosphere. Legends and adventures fill the air and the atmosphere radiates with good cheer.
The bar is interesting in that behind half of it the floor is raised so that the Halflings that run it can easily serve taller folks, the other half is much lower, for shorter folks so they don’t have to climb up a stool just to have a drink. But not to waste space, under the raised floor is storage for a decent amount of the produce they use. The round wooden tables sit at descent height, the Thinwhistles work with a fine touch, the lot of them finding just the right amount of wit and respect while delivering the food and taking the orders.
On the stage at the moment a young man is playing the lute and seeming to relax in between more active pieces. Merely a guest bard, he will probably occupy the stage until someone else wants their turn. His hat and feather sit on the edge of the stage with a decent amount of copper in it from playing and taking in tunes.
At a table near the hearth a couple of men are playing a friendly game of bones with the aforementioned elderly halfling laughing and throwing in a jib hear or there. He seems to be enjoying pestering the regulars as much as he does sitting by the fire sipping cider.
Quinn takes a look around the bustling tavern from his stool at the end of the bar where he sits drying freshly washed tankards. A large black sheep dog curled around his stool where it almost looks like he is sitting on the dog itself. He pauses between tankards and takes a bite of a meat pie tossing the last quarter to the dog. 'ere Pepper you tell mum and no more pie for you. He warns jokingly as the dog's tail thumps the hardwood floor as he scarfs down the leftovers in a single bite. Did ya bother to chew ya great lummox? Don't blame me iffen ya choke.Quinn picks up the last tankard and starts to dry it. A little Halfling lady of middling age comes forth from the kitchen bearing a huge platter of dripping mugs Oh your doing a fine job luv. taking the dry tray away. Well there goes me thinking i'm done 'ere. Quinn looks to the kitchen as the little lady makes her way back. Mum, could ya send Mika with some chips when they're ready?
Bofgar pushes the door open to The Singing Satyr. The tavern is a little quaint for his tastes but its safe and his employer seemed to be keen on "safe." He gives the room another look and grunts a laugh to himself. "Little quaint," he mutters to himself smiling.
A thin man in a tatty suit follows him through the door. With two fingers Bofgar gestures to an empty table in the corner. The fellow takes a seat and looks about nervously before taking a book from his pocket. The dwarf takes a seat at the short bar and orders, "Mug a' ale, dark as you got. Water for the man in the corner." He looks over his shoulder. "Or maybe some warm milk."
Warm milk bleh! I suppose some people like milk though. Quinn says in a friendly manner.
Catrin sashays her way through the tables and comes to the dwarf. The pretty Lass of twenty two, seems to have mastered the ways of the waitress. A little quaint is just the way we like it, we 'ave a dwarven stout and Caydensbrew.Our ale is probably a shade light than you'd like and the stout is more flavorful in my opinion. she says to the dwarven stout with a wink and to the other man. we 'ave water and fresh goats milk of course, but the Kahve is better by far. She shoots her brother a look and smiles. You don't complain when we offer you milk with Aunt Dalia's blueberry muffins. Though I suppose no one complains about anything when they 'ave those muffins.
"Moneychangers. They seem weak. Making a living with hands on mint metal rather than forged steel," Bofgar replies about the man he barely considers an employer. "I'll have the Caydensbrew then. Whatever for the other."
Well that is good cold milk with fresh warm blueberry muffins. Quinn mutters Looking at the dwarf's gigantic axe he turns to him. I bet there is a story behind that fine weapon sir. Quinn adds hopefully
Alright then Cayden’s it is. And? she glances at the other man and finally receives a quiet response.
Kahve would be nice. the tatty suit man replies before putting his full attention back on the Dwarf in front of him.
and a Kahve. She says with a peppy curtsy and off she goes again grabbing dishes and empty mugs as she goes.
The young man up on stage springs up and starts in on a lively tune as if he was just startled awake. Making his lute spring to life along with him and playing with a energy he hasn’t show for the whole time he has stayed.
"Aye, s'true," he says unslinging the massive weapon so it can be seen better. The axe head is ornate and thick with interweaving designs. The curving blade shines bright a full three feet and more. A solid piece of oak as tall as it's wielder is braced with leather and steel. Bofgar holds it with two hands one on the haft beneath blade the other farther down were the near a metal join halfway down the haft. Even in his large hands it seems unwieldy. "I'm usually not one to tell it though. That was for me granfa."
Quinn lets out a long low whistle Very nice I would love to hear it sometime if you ever feel up to it, I'm Quinn by the way. Quinn Thinwhistle apprentice pathfinder at your service. This 'ere is me folks pub. Best food this side of the Puddles. Quinn smiles
"Some night after a couple more drinks, when my tongue is loose. When I do not have a charge." Bofgar hitches his thumb at the thin man. "I am Bofgar Morarr, bodyguard, mercenary, adventurer by trade," he says introducing himself. "I usually stick to the Foreign District, where you can get a proper mug and bed. Hard to find a woman with the right looks among the beggars and whores around here."
The door bangs open, and a ponderous mountain of a man steps through, wrapped in a crimson cloak, hood and mantle. Thick, powerful fingers clad in fingerless leather gloves rise to push the hood back, revealing a neolithic face, ferociously ugly and heavily scarred, thuggish and stupid-looking. A half-orc, by the look of him.
A smile lights up his twisted lips, and grace and good humor light his eyes. "What a happy discovery," his voice is impossibly deep, and, unlike the rest of him, is a warm, beautiful purr. "Good music...and...is that muffins I smell?"
He turns to close the door. A black iron morningstar rides in a leather loop at his hip, and a simple kite shield rides on his back, marking him as a fighting man of some sort.
Catrin has the drinks back and on the table before it seems possible, just let me. know if you gentlemen need anything else let me know. she the twirls towards the door taking in the giant of a halforc. that cerainly is muffins you smell! You just pick any empty seat and I'll get you as many as you like! Can I get you something to drink?
Bofgar looks the newcomer over. He glances over at his ward and back to the half-orc. Finally he sets the axe on his back again, taking the drink in one hand and tipping his head back for a long pull. Without watching openly he tries to keep his senses tuned to the stranger in case this is the expected trouble.
He throws his head back and laughs a booming, pleasant laugh at the size difference between himself and Catrin. "You certainly can, little beauty. I'd pay handsomely for a flagon of something dark and strong, and mayhap a plate of those delightful smelling muffins. Hardtack, jerky and water can only carry a man so far on the road, and my tongue cries out something sweet!"
Grinning broadly, he touches his forehead, then his chest in a polite gesture of greeting, then searches the commonroom for a chair that can handle his weight, finally settling onto a sturdy chair not far from where the dwarf, the halfling and the man in the tatty suit are chatting together.
Easing up on the suspicion the dwarf says, "New to town?" This money changer fellow was afraid of locals. I doubt they would hire an out of town sell-sword to take care of him. "Where are you from?"
The ugly Half-Orc grins and offers that same brow-to-breast salute he had given to the halfling serving girl. "Very new, I'm afraid. As for whence I came, that's a touch harder to answer. The roads have been home and hearth for the past seven years or so."
Leaning over, he offers one hand, the size of an oar paddle, to the dwarf.
"<Good tidings to you,>" he offers in Dwarvish. Then, in Common once again. "My name is Krom'gosh Chainbreaker, servant of Milani the Everbloom."
"<You speak the father tongue as well as I.>" Bofgar replies in Dwarvish accepting the handshake. "Not much opportunity to practice it. Absalom only has a few thousand of my kind in its walls. Even few of yours."
Krom grins again, clearly a man of wide humor. "It's a good thing, too. If there were a handful more with my devilish good looks, all the women of Absalom would be weak in the knees!"
He throws his head back and laughs another thunderous, pleasant laugh.
"But in all seriousness, my dearest friend and mentor was a Dwarf. He taught me the deep language when I was a lad. What name do you go by, braid-beard? I'll buy you and your reticent companions another round when the bottoms of your cups are dry."
"My granfa dubbed me Bofgar Morarr. Brave bear of the great tower he said it meant." he replies finishing his first drink. "Where did that wee lass go? My stomach calls for meat!"
"A goodly name. My own means 'The Liberator' in the Orcish tongue. I never cared much for Orcish, however. Too many 'k's and 'o's, it sounds like you're gargling with cheap ale whenever you speak the language." He grins wider.
Bofgar bristles at the mention of true orcs, "Their tongue sounds like squished organs and breaking bones." He spits on the floor in disgust. "I may have grown up in Absalom but me granfa had a word or two about orcs. They haven't proved wrong yet. Half-orcs are a different story of course."
Krom'gosh shrugs his massive shoulders expansively. "I've put spikes through the brains of many an Orc," he rumbles. "But a man who judges the acts of a man by the skin he wears must have the brains of a cabbage. My mother was an Orc, and she did the best she could for me, given the circumstances. And she loved my father very much."
He pauses, then grins grotesquely.
"Would you believe HE was the ugly one?"
Quinn can't help but laugh at that last one. He has been quietly listening to Krom and Bofgar share bits of heir past. Smiling he says I'm Quinn Thinwhistle and well met indeed. If you should need any help finding your way in the city I would be happy to serve as guide my family has been here going on eleven years now.
"Qunn Thinwhistle, is it? A pleasure to meet you as well! It's rare and treasured to meet good drinking companions on the road these days. All I need now is a good workout and a good night's sleep, and this will have been the top of my week!"
"Nah, it's true. I know a half-orc dame at Lady Dusk's. She's built like a fine stone wall. Can do such things with those tusked lips, make you forget about that green tint to her skin." Bofgar tries one of the muffins a little disappointed it is not some kind of skewered and roasted meat.
"something sweet it 'tis."Catrin replies with a luagh, curtsies at the large fellow's request and makes haste to get to the kitchen and returns shortly, bringing a flagon of caydens with the plate of Muffins. ah, master dwarf, Meat it is then, we have roasted sheep or a fine pork and cabage stew, there is of course the days catch as well.
A young halfling burst from the kitchen door carrying a plat of sizzling patatoes. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, Quinn! I got those chips ya told ma you wanted. he sets the plate down on the counter and glances around the bar, when he lays eyes on the dwarf and the half orc near his sister his eyes narrow a little and his tiny chest puffs a bit. he then grabs a couple of spoons from the dishes heis brother is washing and sits at the foot of the lute player, he then starts tapping a beat to the lute players song. with the obvious intent of watching the pair.
"Ah, thank you, my dear! They look extravagant!" he lays some coin down for his meal with another hearty laugh, then pops an entire muffin into his mouth, chasing it down with a swallow of ale. "Delectable. My compliments to the chef!"
He pauses in the act of lowering his flagon, noticing the little halfling ostensibly drumming along with the bard. He lowers his voice with a rumbling chuckle. "It seems to me that the courageous young buck over there believes us to have designs after this fair lass. Somebody should tell him he has nothing to fear."
Oh Mika just noted you are new here. He is almost as fasicinated by adventuring life as I am. I suppose he may very well follow in my footsteps one day. I know spending the last eleven years here made me want to adventure. That and being saved by adventurers at sea of course. Quinn smiles[/b] Mika has been here his whole life so I am sure he will either an adventurer make or a publican one or the other. I mean Bofgar has the biggest axe I've ever seen, and Krom you are probably one of the biggest fellows as well.[/b]
"I would appreciate the roasted sheep then, miss. My mouth is watering already," Bofgar responds to Catrin. Nibbling the muffin he looks at Quinn. "Sometimes an adventurer's heart has to be bigger then the blade he carries. My granfa left me a deep goal, as dwarves say. I think you and your friend may be on your way. Keep an eye out if you see an opportunity to prove yourself."
Krom spreads his arms expansively. "The Dwarf speaks true, my young friend. A stout heart and a courageous will can see you through the darkness better than a sharpened blade--though that certainly helps at times, I'd wager!" He laughs and takes another swill of ale. "In my experience, being an adventurer is equal parts skill, bravery, desire and sheer, massive balls!"
"I've been too long without a good adventure. These bodyguard jobs grow dull. Why this fellow in the corner is afraid some two-bit thugs are going to jump him because he fixed their books." He flicks a bit of muffin in the direction of his employer. "I wouldn't even bother using Gimthic's blade if they showed up. Just knock 'em in the head with her haft.
Krom'gosh looks thoughtful for a moment, then stands up to his full seven foot height and lifts his flagon in one massive, meaty, scarred fist.
"To new friends! He toasts in a booming, throbbing bass, grinning from ear to ear and showing the pearly teeth behind his chipped and battered tusks. "To Bofgar, to Quinn, to Catrin and to Mika! To Krom'gosh, if I may be so bold! To strong ale, cold as the northern snows, and sweet muffins, hot as the desert sands! To the Pathfinders, ever blazing new paths! To those that toil in slavery, that they may soon be freed! To all that and more, I propose a long draught! To adventure, my friends!"
He raises his flagon higher.
"TO ADVENTURE!
Leaning back, he chugs down the rest of his ale, downing it in three long, deep swallows. Grinning broadly, without a single hint of self-consciousness, he sits back down at his chair and lays one hand on the table.
"To Adventure! Wherever it may be lurking." Bofgar cheers and quaffs his drink. "Tell us more of your tale halfling and perhaps I will share more of my axe's."
After taking a long drought of Well I started my life a slave like the rest of my family save little Mika. He was born here, I was nine when we were freed by Andoran freedom fighters. We were slaves of the Von Hestin's A Chel family that were mean as vipers. When the Sea Hawk came to port here my family thanked them and quickly vanished into the city fearing we would be brought back to our wicked masters. After a few weeks we found ourselves hired on here at the Singing Satyr. Mister Geddy Rothan may the gods bless his soul took us in and put us to work. He saw how mum and Auntie Delia could cook and with the rest of us working happily with no whips to our back or fear of harsh treatment we helped the old widower to make The Saytr a thriving pub. When he passed; no kin known, he left the pub to da. Since we have had good fortune ever sense. I loved working the room listening to stories of adventure as I grew I knew what I wanted to do, and that was to become a relic hunter and have grand adventures. Quinn takes a breath and continues When I knew I was going to be a pathfinder I started looking for a teacher. Of all the pathfinders that came and went I was most impressed with Mistress Ilishna Blackbow she herself a bard who always told the best stories of her travels. She also was very knowledgeable about any number of subjects. She took me as her student, and right away put me to studies. I think at first she thought that I would grow bored; and decide it was to much work, however I devoured the texts she gave me I learned from journals and tomes. I studied all kinds of things. Then my martial training began I found myself a quick hand with blade and whip. Finally Ily taught me magic the art of spell and the secrete of bardic magic. Which even wizards can't master because it's different than the formulas for regular magic. Quinn notes he is beginning to ramble and takes a drink eats a few of his crisp potatoes then offers the plateChip?
"Thank you most kindly, little brave one," Krom'gosh takes a chip and tosses it into his cavernous mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. His eyes are flat, beady and black with a sort of stormy anger. "It burns my heart and turns my stomach to learn that you spent any amount of your life toiling under the yoke of slavery, Sir Quinn. I, myself, was born at the tip of the cat 'o nine tails, and labored 'neath the foreman's lash for a score and four years before Milani gave me the strength to break my chains and lead a rebellion against those that held us captive. I've been in her graces--and at her service--ever since."
Wow, that is truly something Krom! I was nine when we gained our freedom. Of course my folks and Unc Jessin and Auntie Delia suffered the longest and my poor grands are still enslaved in Cheliax. Know that if you ever need aid in freeing those enslaved I am at your service, or if those enslaved need a place to get a new start I know my folks would be willing to help. Quinn nods I salute you for leading a rebellion that must have taken untold courage.
"Fancy yourself a bard do you, lad? Let's see you perform! Give us a show to drink to." Bofgar says encouraging the halfing. "What do you do? Song, dance? Guitar, maybe a pretty little flute?"
Quinn smiles Actually I am a teller of tales if you will. I have collected quite a number right here in this very tavern. I am learning to sing as well, but I think I still have a bit of work to do before I attempt such offerings. I prefer the spoken word though. I find it suits my liking to collect tales from travelers. Quinn takes a sip of his mug. I suppose I could share a story if you wish. Have you ever heard of the Shoanti of the Storval Plateau? The savages of the Cinderlands? You see they are truly not savages at all, but noble and honorable warriors striving to return the honor of their fallen gods. Quinn takes another sip pausing for dramatic effect letting his words linger in the air enticing that there was more to come. The Azghat brought the Shoanti to the Storval Plateau in the time before time. You see evil was there and the Shoanti were the chosen weapon of the Azghat. They were the blades of the gods. The Azghat divided the Shoanti into seven quahs. That is what they call their tribes you see, and to each was given a sacred purpose and gift to see that purpose done.Quinn takes note others have begun to listen and insures that they are acknowledged as being part of the audience as he includes them in his glances and motions. Now it came to be that the Shoanti became very good at their duty to fight the evils that the Azghat had set them against; however, The foe-men were many and the ranks of those who rebelled against the Azghat seemed to endlessly grow. The Shoanti's number dwindled even though they took scores of their enemy for each Shoanti warrior that fell. This is know as the Time of the Hollow Sky. Quinn takes a deep breath looking grim as he continues his tale..
"What where these gifts you mentioned? I want to hear more of how they fought," says the dwarf thunking his mug to the table.
Catrin fills Quinn's mug with ale and does likewise for those listening to Quinn's tale Thanks Cat. Quinn nods to his sister before continuing You see the Azghat wished to reward their servants, and shared their very honor with the Shoanti, but this was a grave error on their part for it diminished their own honor. The Azghat began to act in ways contrary to their very nature. In an attempt to reward their children they had doomed themselves. They became as bad as the evils if not worse they had set the Shoanti against. The Azghat became corrupt their virtues turned to vice. Their rule became ruin for all their subjects. It was with heavy hearts that the Shoanti did what they knew they must. They had to slay the Azghat before they brought ruin to the world. They were forced to destroy their own god kings. It is said amongst their people that those who abide by the old ways not only carry their own honor, nor just the honor of their quah, not even just the honor of the Shoanti, but the remaining honor of the Azghat and the gifts they bestowed upon them. One day perhaps the debt will be re-payed and the glory of the land will be returned. The fire of the Cinderlands will return to the earth. The true Azghat may return, but until then the Shoanti are cursed to face enemies on all fronts. Either finally falling to the foul shadows of the Azghat and their wicked servants, or persevering till the day comes they can repay their honor debt and have peace for their people. Quinn takes a long drink from his mug. Lifting his mug he saysTo the noble Shoanti may their quest come to fruition and their children know peace.
Ahhh that is a tale for another time good Bofgar. Quinn smiles touching his fingers to forehead in a "tipping of the hat" motion.
Catrin brings a serving of roasted sheep to Bofgar and carries on around the room serving the appropriate drinks and food. The crowd is well pleased with Quinn's tail and Mika seems to have forgiven the Dwarf and the half orc for existing as he has slowly snuck across the room to get a view of the crowd from a different angle, Mika seems well pleased with the toast and the elders admittance that he is destined to adventure. one day the boy has decided that the Chels will feel his wraith. visions of a great halfling army fill his mind.
As Quin finishes up his tale the lute picks back up at a greater volume, playing much lighter for the fellow bards tale.
Krom'gosh sets down his flagon and applauds the spoken-word display with a broad smile. "What a talent 'ya have there, lad. 'Tis a shame the three of us aren't on some grand quest of out own, nay?"
Ah, dear Krom'gosh but tis a matter of time at least for myself that is I was recently accepted into the order of the Pathfinders and I am awaiting my first assignment even now.Quinn excitedly continues Any day now a venture captain will walk through those doors asking me to take some quest for the society. Who knows maybe even Ily; she is moving up in the organization. The important part is off I will be seeking out treasure, or exploring some ancient ruin, or investigating some mystery. Ahh I can't wait. You know often times non members get recruited to help in these endeavors that is how a good half of the pathfinders become pathfinders by working with the organization finding it suits them and then joining up to become full members. If you want I could let one of my superiors know I have some new friends who may be interested in a job?Quinn looks on hopefully.
"Hmm. Why not? I planned on relaxing in Absalom for a few days anyway, mayhap see the great Starstone Cathedral. Every man should lay eyes on the place where gods are born, yes? And if, by chance, during my tourism here I'm caught up in a whirlwind adventure? Why not?"
Oh, the cathedral is amazing if you haven't seen it that yes it is a must see. It would be a shame to visit the city and not see it. Quinn agrees I would be honored to have you as a companion in any adventure Krom. What say you master Bofgar? I say it would be more interesting than guarding corrupt moneychangers.
"I am an axe for hire, and an easily bored one at that. If you two needed some help I could always send the bill to the Society." Bofgar says between mouthfuls of delicious mutton. He finally swallows and wipes his lips clean on his sleeve. "This would be wonderful with some onions and flat dwarven bread like me mum would make."
While the story was being told and Bofgar dined another man had entered the room. This one only a hand shorter than Krom, a burly human with tattoos running down his bald head. He has worked his way near the moneychanger only a couple tables from the group. The accountant finally looks up from his book and drink nervously letting out a small yelp as the thug draws a knife.
Hearing the yelp Bofgar turns to the sound, "Ah yeah. Him. Forgot." Bofgar quickly grabs the axe which has been leaning on the table and with a great red-faced, vein popping yell hurls it sidearm.
The axe hurtles through the air, spinning twice, before the handle smashes into the back of the cuthroat's head. Knocked senseless by the blow he collapses to the ground. The axe rebounds off, landing deep in the floor beside the moneychanger. "Sorry 'bout that!" Bofgar says taking a couple deep breaths. "If that was who you where worried about ye may want to run off back home now."
White faced the coin counter stands up, hurries over to Bofgar's side and sets down a small leather pouch. "Ka..keep the..the.. change." He stammers before barging out of the tavern. Bofgar opens the purse to count his pay, his expression growing dire. "....pennies! I hate copper pennies."
The dwarf stands up and retrieves Gimthic, chuckling to himself. "Gonna be a hell of a headache." As he nudges the unconscious thug with boot. Looking around the tavern Bofgar almost seems to blush a little under his thick beard. "Quinn, maybe we should show Krom here the Cathedral? I got some change we can hire a bench-wagon with."
Krom'gosh watches the proceedings with less the expression of one witnessing a tavern brawl, and more with the expression of one watching a mildly interesting play. He takes a sip from his flagon as the massive waraxe rebounds off the thuggish man's head and clunks to the floor, then roars with laughter.
"Ha ha ha ha!" That infectious sound that makes it hard not to join in. "My favorite kind of violence! The kind where all parties walk away from at the end. He'll have a crushing headache tomorrow, and one mother of a weal for the next fortnight or two, but it won't kill 'im. And perchance he'll think twice before casually trying to take a man's life."
Tilting back his flagon, he chugs back the last of his brew and licks his lips.
"I've nary laid eyes on Abaslom's fabeled Cathedral. I'd relish the chance to come along. What say you, young Quinn? Good Master Bofgar has graciously offered to foot the bill for the carriage, and I sorely desire to feel the sun on my skin."