|
Azkadellia raises a hand to wave away Xan's offer of a drink. "No thanks. I prefer to keep a clear head."
"Acquisitions? Liberations? As I said, pirates and thugs... and other types of thieves, apparently. I don't mind doing errands for this 'family' in exchange for favors that help me gain magical power, but I won't whore out my abilities," she pauses thoughtfully and grins, "...or anything else, for a few trinkets and coins. Material wealth doesn't concern me."
|
"Well, I guess I'd be lying if I said that material wealth doesn't appeal to me. I'm no dragon who likes to roll around naked on piles of gold coins..." :She winks at the men at the table: "...though I do like pretty things. But, really, it's what wealth brings. Freedom, mostly. Freedom to do what I want. I have my own ship now...I can go where I want, do what I want, for the most part."
:She takes a sip of her rum.:
"And, yeah, Uncle Guaril sometimes asks me to pick something up for him while I'm out. I do have certain limits...certain things that I'll only do if I choose to do them. And with whom I choose, as well."
|
|
"I was born poor, so I know the importance of money, but I have enough power now to never have to starve on the streets again, or do anything I don't want to do just to survive. A nice dress or two doesn't hurt, but money is usually the farthest thing from my mind."
"As I said, I'm a sorceress. Power is both my goal and the means towards that goal. But besides arcane power, the power that comes from the exchange of favors within well connected organizations like the Sczarni family and Pathfinder Society can also help in that regard."
"I don't know yet what type of favors that man Guaril will ask of me, but I'm sure I'll be able to accommodate them. I started with the Sczarnis as a messenger on the streets of Riddleport at 12 years old, working my way up in the organization, so I've seen it all before."
|
"Damned eye blow'n fierce'r th'n usual this time o'year...damned Absalom pilots takin' their sweet time dock'n th'ships..."
The man's booming voice, even as he mutters, heralds his arrival before he actually steps foot inside. His sun-kissed bald head poking into view first, the jolly-looking bearded man strides boldly inside, looking around with a broad grin - his golden tooth flashing briefly. He's dressed like he took the last ship to Absalom from the Shackles, right down to the edge of the "Jolly Roger" tattoo peeking out from the open part of his billowy white shirt.
"Blessin's of th'Lady be upon ye all!" His arms sweep out to encompass everyone visible, before moving up to stroke his thick beard thoughtfully.
"Now, here I was down th'other end o'the pier, makin' for me first shore-leave in weeks, but then me ears suddenly think they makes out the distinct sound of that preternaturally attractive word...Rum...comin' from this here direction. And so I come, as if called, I do."
"Black" Ramsey's th'name, and wherever the lasses, rum, and wealth are, there be my games for certain. How be ye keepin' this fine day?"
|
|
:Xan looks up at the new entrant, and grins.:
"Fair winds and the Queen's blessings to you, too, 'Black' Ramsey. Good to see another sailor here. Captain Xan Stormblade, of the Stingray. I hear you, the local pilots have us over a barrel here...with all those wrecks in the harbor, you need them, but they're slower than a drunken dwarf. Aye, there's still quite a bit of rum, so pull up a chair."
:She slides the bottle over to him.:
|
|
Ramsey grins at the greeting (or was it the rum?) and grabs the nearest sturdy chair or box or other piece of floatsam to sit on nearby, bringing two fingers of his right hand to his bald pate as he faces Xan.
"Cap'n, a pleasure. Glad t'find good salt blood in this den'o'cuthroats!"
He grabs the rum and lifts it in a semi-toast to her before lifting it to his lips...but then pauses at the likely looks his statement may have drawn.
"Good gentles, where I come from, that be high praise. Makes me feel right at home, it does!" Another toothy grin flashes for a brief instant before that bottle is upturned and a generous pull taken from its neck, before it's firmly *thunked* down again, followed by his sleeve wiping the bottle lip.
"Ah, Cap'n, that be a taste for sore buds! Thankee kindly! So, The Stingray, fast ship I wager? How are ye fixed f'r crew? Last filthy barge I crewed wan't even worth th'grog!"
He slides the bottle back, a little bit lighter than it was before.
|
Meritaelin has been sitting at another table, and has been brooding rather sullenly. He seems to be preoccupied, but, has obviously been listening to the conversation and watching the card games.
Meritaelin wears functional leather breeches and a plain cotton tunic, obviously stiff and salty from sea-spray. At his side, is looped a carriage whip, and a small hatchet. His long curly hair is matted from being somewhat unwashed. In contrast with his rather plain look and his disconsolate demeanor, he carries a rather well-made, and well-maintained flute rather casually in his left hand.
Meritaelin quietly approaches those discussing the need of drinks, and pulls a tarnished flask from beneath his tunic. He tips it back fleetingly, for a single drink.
In a somewhat inebriated and thickly Varisian-accented tone, he says, "Well, if anyone has need of a dram of brandy, I'm glad to offer. ... I'm Meritaelin Vindreşkaya. Though I may not be as talented as some of you, and clearly not as exotic", looking at the tiefling, "I'm always looking for a place on a barge, or a few coins to earn ashore. There's little enough trust for some of us, but, amongst our kumpania there is enough. "
He sways a bit, mumbling to himself, whilst standing with his flask held out invitingly, with a sly grin on his face that would imply (to those who may be attentive enough to pick up on such details) that he may be neither as sullen, nor as drunk, as he seems.
|
|
:Xan smiles: "Fast, indeed. She's a Varisian brig, built for speed. Always looking for good crew, especially those who know how to handle themselves in a fight, since we seem to find ourselves in them more often than not."
He grins, one hand almost absentmindedly scratching the line where the open edge of his shirt and his tattoo meet.
"Good shape, Varisian brigs, good design - cut t'water like a shark an'glide through! So, th'question be, Cap'n, if ye might be willin' ta give a fellow Pathfind'r ye just met a look-see on deck next time ye leave port? Won't lie, I plan t'abscond or 'acquire' me own ship someday, but until I build up me 'cred' more I'd never find me a crew, so I needs t'make a good name for me'self servin' w'good Cap'ns n'ships, under t'Black Lady's eye."
Even though the bottle of rum is on the table between them, he picks it up and holds it out, offering it to her, waiting for her reaction.
|
|
:Xan accepts the bottle from "Black" Ramsey, pours some into her glass, and hands it back. She picks up the glass, considering, and flashes him a smile.:
"The Stingray's moored in the eastern docks. Meet me there tomorrow, at, say, three bells after sunrise. I'll have you talk to my first mate. Oh, and our 'family' can help you find your way to your own ship, too."
((Just for a little imagery, here's Xan's table tent, made by a talented friend of mine.))
((OOC: I've been playing online OP stuff for over a decade now, going all the way back to Living City. The groups I play with typically use MapTools. Might be interested.))
|
|
Ramsey grins at Xan's words, especially the latter parts, lifting his hand again with two fingers touching his bushy eyebrow. "Aye Cap'n. May th'Lady bless ye for it!"
When opportunity presents, he gets another handle on the rum and gives himself a generous pull from it, but quiets down a bit to let others share in the conversation, quietly muttering to himself, "bah, n'er had t'gift f'r tongues anyways."
He does make a point to nod and grin at Meritaelin, both for his words, and his contribution to the rapidly diminishing supply of alcohol at that particular table...
|
|
*A street urchin of a halfling enters, his clothes a simple white shirt and green pants. His tussled brown hair and scarred face say that he's no stranger to a scrap, but you've never seen him around the Society*
"Eh, always gotta make the new guy run for the booze, am I right? Consider this my initiation fee."
*He plops a large jug of gin on the table*
"Some big half-orc guy was gettin all pissy that I was allegedy takin his booze. Let's just say now he knows how I got the nickname, and that now I've got a place we can get drinks on the house."
|
|
Xan smiles. "I consider that fee paid in full."
She pours herself a bit of the gin, and takes a sip.
"Not bad at all. A nice pinch you've made. Now, I must excuse myself...I've business to attend to back in Varisia, and I need to make sure that the Stingray's crew is sober enough to sail. Good evening to you all, and may your coin purses grow heavy with gold."
She stands, puts on her tricorn hat, and curtsies to the group, before striding out.
*A elf in a coutier's outfit wanders through the doors, he nod polietly to the room and pulls up a seat*
Good evening all
(Chex would be reasonably well know by those who frequent the theatre and opera)
|
|
Latharel enters and moves straight to the bar.
"Guaril should have send you a note. My prized elven bow that I gave to you when I had fallen on hard times. My understanding is that Guaril paid you for it - so please hand it back to me."
The bar man reaches up to the wall where a well crafted composite longbow of clear elven origin leans.
Latharel takes the bow and carefully straddles it before inspecting it to ensure it hasn't taken any damage in the last two years that has taken him to pay off his debt and that had lead to him joining up with the Pathfinder society after his wife's death that non of the magic healing he had purchased for her was able to stop.
"The next round is on me."
He places a few gold coins on the bar. Surely Guaril wouldn't pay for this as well - but it felt good to have gained enough prestige with Guaril and the Szarni that they had aranged for him to get the bow back.
Chex wanders over to join Latharel,
Thank you for the drink. That is a fine bow, do you mind if I join you?
|
|
"Yes - A fine bow indeed. It is my only connection back to my heritage. I'm now much more used to live among humans - but I'm still not used to the way they make bows.
Just in time - seems I'm on my way to Kortos and hope I will get the opportunity to test it out and see if I'm still able to use it properly."
I agree all of the power but never quite the same .. grace. Good luck on Kortos
A redhaired Kitsune with a big feathered hat appears out of nowhere next to the halfing and saids to him with a devilish smile"My my it smells quite strong in here.It be a shame if someone pocket got picked tonight"
*The foppish elf speaks*
"I agree, I would suggest that Uncle may be a little up set if people start losing fingers or pocket contents in here"
*Shuffles a harrow deck* Who is up for a game? Absolom rules, copper bets only, we are playing for pride not riches*
(ooc: if any one wants to find some rules for a game please let us know)
"Oh and.... this round is on me" *Flicks the bartenters some gold"