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The clouds above darken, and rain begins to fall upon the tattered hood of a green-grey scaled Nagaji man. He stands before a small tavern, staring at the sign gently swaying in the wind.
"The Corn & Cob Taverne? What kind of name is that?" he mutters and shakes his head before entering.
He shakes himself dry before ignoring the stares of some of the patrons and approaching the bar.
"What can I get you?" the youngish man in charge of the establishment does not even look up from the counter he seems intent on scrubbing into spotlessness, when he asks. It is only after some moments of nonresponse he peeks up, to be met by the Nagaji's curious glance.
The Nagaji unfurls a parchment from his loose dark clothing and shows it to the bartender.
"I understand your establishment needs some sort of entertainment act." The Nagaji's voice is less accented and far more... smooth than anyone would've guessed.
"...Yes-"
The Nagaji clears his throat.
"Well then, you are in luck. You can call me Darsten. I am a travelling troubadour, you might say... I sing, play the lute, tell jokes, do comedy routines, er, anything your tavern needs!" he chuckles.
The bartender sighs. "Look, I just need someone who can play a musical instrument to provide some background ambience for the pub. That is all. You said you play the lute?"
"Yes!" Darsten retrieves the lute that's strapped to his back. His trustworthy lute of many years, looking particularly worn and - peculiarly, at least to the bartender - scorched. Darsten strums a couple of notes, but something sounds off.
"Ah, er, I'll need to tune it! Heh heh..."
The bartender merely grumbles.
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Darsten suddenly springs awake from the daze he had inexplicably entered, having heard someone crash into the nearby booth. Looking to his right, Darsten sees it was an Elven man in fancy garments, who has now managed to sit himself up.
"You alright?" Darsten calls out as he casually strums his lute, surprised to hear everything now sounds right. He must've spent the past few moments tuning the instrument, he just doesn't remember doing it!
The bartender moves to the booth to bring the Elven man the wine he desires.
"I'm good to go." Darsten whispers to the bartender.
"Wha- oh, right, your lute, er... fine, go ahead, but if you're no good I'll throw you out right away."
Darsten clears his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, for your evening pleasure, I shall play some much-beloved classics. Enjoy."
Darsten is able to put in a decent enough performance. His lute playing is relatively accomplished, his singing pleasant to hear. A few patrons clap and cheer after some songs have been played.
"Thank you! Thank you!"
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"Eh...?" The elf's eyes go out of focus. "Nothing a few bottles of fey wine won't cure. "
His clothing though richly made shows signs of recent battle. The damage appears to have started at his shoulders and worked It's way down...as if he'd been....eaten. The elf mutters.
"Lefty says let's go hunting, plenty of treasure, easy job, just my thing. Knew the game was on when Glory approves the mission. Baron Jaquo wouldn't have me served as an appetizer. One minute here next in some damn beasts guts, then heckle n heckle bake me like a duck in a turkey. While that Razmir fellow pulls me out of Pharasma's..."
"Hey you play good" he ignores the glass and drains the bottle of wine. Shakes it at the barman and says, "keep em coming.."
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Darsten hears the Elven man ramble away about hunting for treasure as he finishes up a song. Then, amongst the (limited yet increasing) applause from the crowds, he hears the Elf's positive remark about his playing and smiles at him. And then Darsten feels his eye twitch.
"Ah, yeah, uh... don't worry about the eye, sir, that happens from time to time, just one of these things." he explains.
After pausing for a moment, Darsten approaches the booth.
"Well, I see from your clothes and hear from the tale you told you've been on adventure recently. A Pathfinder, am I right?"
Darsten quickly points out scorch marks on his lute, and some tearing of his cloak.
"Fire damage. Went through unbearably hot conditions for an important Society mission. Extreme temperatures, dangerous monsters. Had to fight some creature clad in strange armour. Oh, you should've seen my shoulder at the end of that battle, tor- er, on second thoughts, I don't want to put you off your drink!"
The bartender, having just brought more wine for the Elf, gives Darsten a dirty look before returning to the counter. Except he turns around before reaching it.
"You're pretty good. Keep it up!" the bartender says to Darsten.
The Nagaji bard grins.
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Yeah Pathfinder, don't bother trying to rob me, all my gear is checked into the lodge...guess you could abduct me, but the kids would rather I was dead to hasten the inheritance. Glory would probably pay a few copper to stick me in the ground..if you're into that sort of thing.
Wounds, you'll get plenty of that in this business. We should be called Pharasma's doorstep for the horrors we dispatch you kids to face. Probably doesn't market well.
I'm a magus trickster...somewhat an evangelist for dear Calistria. Most of the time I'm just one step ahead of the headsman.
I was retired before Lefty brought me back into the grinder....but if I didn't watch out for him he's be hhalflingburger.
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A plate armored warrior walks into the bar, shaking his head at the Taldan elf. "Gods what a sorry state you're in." He waves in six retainers who gather the elven pathfinder and place him on a litter outside. The old elf cries, "Onward for Taldor and Baron Jaquo Dalsine!" then slumps unconscious in his chair.
The armored warrior removes his helm and sighs. Putting a few gold coins on the bar. "Sorry for the disturbance He's actually not a bad person... when sober."
The two elves appear related in appearance... almost identical.
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A slim young man with a rapier at his side fronts the bar. "Have you a Caliphas red? The wine brings back my student days."
As he turns toward a table, his face momentarily falls in shadow, but his eyes remain visible with a fiery glow deep within.
The light strikes his features again, and all is as before.
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He smiles a little wearily. "I don't take my name from Ustalav, or any place on any map I have seen, and I've viewed many. My father's birthplace, I'm told, is called Chicago."
"Interesting to hear. I've seen what they call siege castles at a distance, but my investigations here have mostly been within the city limits."
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I've not been in Absolom long, constantly weaving around from Varisia, Mwangi, Cheliax, Galt, and the river kingdoms. Just about the time I settle into the rest home It's off to the wilds....makes me wonder if that house was economical or just a tricky way for the VC's to limit expenses and keep track of prospective adventurers.