Cor leaned into Larken, closing her eyes and smiling at his comment. "Your face is good..." she murmured. Her voice trailed off as drunken realization hit her, her eyes shooting open. "Traako, Jil's gunna be so, so, soooo mad at me when she fines out I got you drunk." The rogue shook his shoulder urgently as she loudly whispered to him. "We've gotta be cool."
Getting Larken drunk was one of the simplest pleasure in life for Cor'avin. Getting lectured by Jilwyn when they came back, on the other hand....
"It's ok. She is will never notice." He puts on a stern face and cracks his neck. "Ooooh," he says, "We should take her there. I think she'd love Brod." He wraps his arm around cor and leans against the wall next to the acolyte. "Shhhh," he says to the acolyte. Play it cool. She taught him what that means. Pretend nothing is wrong. He can do that.
The acolyte stares at the two drunken baffoons for a moment, then glances down at her robes--did they honestly look red? No, no they weren't red. Obviously the man was color blind or something. With a sigh she patted them on the heads, led them over to a small bench, and headed to grab Inete and her guests. She recognized the two from previous visits although this was honestly quite new.
"Miss," she whispered, "two more of your party arrived. Ah. Inebriated."
Zitembe rumbled, a faint sort of laugh, and said, "I think then we are done for the evening, don't you?" He looked to Inete whose eyes snapped open wide, and she turned to Zitembe with a sort of dazed look as she mouths they're drunk? in almost horror.
"Y-Yes grandfather. I will...meet you here tomorrow, then." Inete led the group out into the main hall and murmured in goodbye, "Fair travel, friends." Back in the room the sudden laughter from Zitembe is the only parting farewell they are offered.
"I have no objection to aiding Inete, Jilwyn, no."
When the acolyte walks in and informs the group of the arrival of Cor'avin and Larken, Kulan silently mouths a prayer (Gods, give me the strength of will to avoid crushing their skulls together).
"Good eve, and may the gods remain at our sides in this troubling time."
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"Perhaps it would be best if I avoid dealing with your friends for tonight, Jilwyn." With a sigh, she rises to her feet. "We will need to start fresh tomorrow and come to a better understanding of each other. I doubt that speaking to them while they are, ah... not themselves, will help that." Korine gives Jil a small smile. "Tomorrow will be a better day, I have no doubt. I will meet you all back at Kaya's, if you don't mind. I believe Zitembe wanted a private word with me anyway. Be safe."
As the others file out of the room, Korine lingers until she is the only one left with the priest. "That is, if you still wish to talk, Grandfather."
Jil sat in horror as the acolyte told everyone that Larken and Cor had arrived... drunk! "My apologies," she said hastily, giving Zitembe a quick bow and followed Inete out of the room. "I'm so sorry Inete. We will meet you tomorrow." Once in the main chamber, she spotted her friends. A mixture of anger, sadness, and disappointment washed over her. She walked toward them, giving each of them a disapproving look, then began to walk past them.
Just as Jil is walking towards them, Larken sweeps forward and gives Jil a massive embrace. "Jil!" He says with a smile on his face, "You smell so good." He holds her for a moment, ponders if he should lick her hair, then stops himself. He gently sets her down and walks a circle around her, soaking in her scent.
"Come with us to the Plastered Dragon... they have Evermead." How can anyone resist Evermead? The last time they had it was back home, and even then you could only drink it from small glasses. Aged for hundreds of years by elves in the Dalelands, he never thought that Chult would have it!
"Come!" He says, taking her by the hand. He scoops Cor up on the way.
"What," Jil said, exasperated. "No... but... I..." She gave up and allowed herself to be dragged along behind Larken. She knew better to try to fight him on something when he had made up his mind. I'll let them have their fun, she thought. Then I'll go to my shrine when they aren't looking.
The bench was so nice. Using Larken’s shoulder as a pillow was so nice. Why was he getting up? Oh, right. Cor opened her eyes to see the rest of the party, all with varying levels of disappointment and disdain.
The rogue couldn’t help but giggle when Larken scooped her up. Even if Jilwyn was coming along, they would still have fun. “Did I ever tell you abou’ the time I stole from a Grey Rider back in ‘Arrowdale?” She slurred, wrapping an arm around Larken’s waist. “Tha’s a good story...”
Kulan decides to follow Cor'avin, Jilwyn, and Larken. Mostly so that they would be able to make it back to Kaya's House of Repose if the others decided to get plastered, but also hoping that they would give him any reason to trust them beyond Jilwyn's kindness. If he couldn't trust them by morning, Kulan decides, he won't be joining them in the jungle.
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Cor’avin, as always, seemed to be the only one to know their way around the city. Even in her inebriated state, she was able to lead everyone back to the Plastered Dragon.
With a wink and far more gold than she would normally spend on drinks, Cor purchased 4 shots of the expensive liquor Larken had been raving about. “A’right you two holy people,” she handed Kulan and Jilwyn both a shot. “I spent good money on this fancy pants stuff for you, so put this shot in your hole.”
The rogue took her own shot, and the room started to spin. She decided that getting up on a table and leading the whole bar in song was the best idea she had all night, so she did just that.
“Gather 'round ye lads and lasses, set ye for a while And harken to me mournful tale about the Chultan Isle Let's all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone, And lift our voices in another half-elf drinkin' song
A dragon killed me mother and me father charred alive Me brother stole from nobles ‘till he got caught and took the dive Me other brother in the troubles met with his demise Me family has forever closed their smilin' half-elf eyes
Now everybody's died, so until our tears are dried We'll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we'll drink some more We'll dance and sing and fight until the early mornin' light Then we'll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again!”
Jil had never drank alcohol before. She gaped at the tiny glass in between her fingers, then looked at Larken. Before she could say anything, Cor was on the table singing at the top of her lungs. As Cor sang, Jil leaned close to Larken, and offered him the drink. "Here," she said. "You can have mine."
Larken softly pushed the shot back to Jil, "We'll do it together, Jil. You don't have to have another if you don't want to." He looked into her eyes and added, "This is the only drink I could actually tolerate the taste to. The elves got it right..." He then raised his own small glass and waited.
Jil frowned, but raised her own tiny glass and clinked it against his. "It's small, how bad could it possibly be, right?" With a shrug, they both tipped back the drink. Jil grimaced. It was much stronger than she expected. She gingerly placed the small glass on the table before her and looked around the noisy tavern, feeling very out of place. She quickly began to feel the effects of the alcohol, and she gripped the edge of the table to keep her balance.
Cor had shot hers immediately and then hopped atop the table to sing. Larken could see the other few patrons smiling and clapping, but he tried to remain focused on his surroundings. When Jil tried to offer her drink, a flood of emotion went through him. She had never experienced this before. A single drink of something he hadn't had since before he left for the miltia, the only drink he could ever really tolerate the taste of, and she was hesitant to try it. When he pushed it back he could sense her hesitation, but Larken followed Jil in taking the shot. He could taste the delightful flavors as the fragrant liquid tumbled down to his stomach. It tasted just as he remembered. If he could have a last drink, this would be it.
As Cor finishes her song, he turns his attention to Kulan. "Have you experienced any war, Kulan?" He asks. He eyes the paladin. Many soldiers buckle under the pressures of being out-manned and out-armed. Would he be one of them?
Orcish god of What? Larken didn't even know the Orcs had more than one god. "Well that's just about one of the most interesting things I've heard all night," his speech slurs a bit as he says this. "I had no idea there was an Orcish god of Strategy." He leans back in his chair a gives Kulan a peculiar look. He didn't look like he'd seen all that much battle. His armor and weapons looked freshly polished and he smelled of, he sniffs, fresh sage. "Both Cor and I served as scouts for the Daleland's Militia," he says. "We didn't really kill many orcs unless they were members of the Zhents. Our commanders could have used a reliable god of strategy." He chuckles at the last bit.
Larken then stands, with a short stumble, to help Cor off the table she stood on. She was ready to fall at any moment. "Cor," he gets her attention, "I think these drinks went straight to your head." He says with a smile. "Sit with us, our new friend is blessed by the god of strategy. Lets talk tactics!" He plops her down into a chair next to Kulan before turning his attention back to Jil.
A concerned look on his face, he asks, "Are you doing alright?" He touches Jil's brow and forces her to look at him. "The experience does not last long... do you want a water?"
“I thought I had already had you,” Cor frowns at the shot in her hand before shrugging and downing it. The rogue unceremoniously got off the table, with Larken's help, and clutched at the bar. It was getting really spinny in here.
Jil held out her hands to help steady Cor. "Careful. I think the floor is slanted." Wait. That made no sense. Jil shook her head, wondering if this is what alcohol did to a person.
“No no no no no,” Cor shook her head. “Th’ floor s’fine, you’re jus’ drunk.”
Jil frowned. "How do you do this? My brain is all fuzzy and it's hard to think." She looked at Larken when he touched her. "It's warm in here. Is it warm in here? I'm warm." She reached up and patted him on the cheek. "You're too good to me, Larken. What did I ever do to deserve you?" Jil leaned in and grabbed Larken, giving him a huge, tight hug. Closing her eyes, she smiled.
Vistani took a moment with Inete as the others walked out. "I'll be glad to help you get to where you need to go. Hopefully, none of them sleep in late. I'll do my best to have them here on time in some semblance of coherent though I'm not sure about that."
She smiles at Koren next. "I don't blame you. I'm going to keep an eye on them. At least, Kulan appears to be doing the same thing."
At the Plastered Dragon, so appropriately named due to the Plastered Patrons, she pulls out her viol first to play music that fits the mood of the bar. When Cor gets up to sing, she plays right along with that then rolls into something else as Cor is helped off the table. She doubted tomorrow morning would have the intended early start and apparently all three of the core that had been here longest were drunk to plastered. Maybe she would manage to make some money while here.
“You went straight t’my head,” Cor booped Larken’s nose before collapsing in her chair. That was a good comeback, she was the best at comebacks. “Strategery? I’m the best at strategery.”
”Step one, don’t le’ them hit you,” she slurred, surprisingly holding up the appropriate number of fingers. “Step two, stick them wi’ th’ pointy end. Step three,” apparently three fingers was too difficult for her, so she skipped right to four. “Don’t die. Boom! Strategery.”
”Step four,” Cor motioned for a bartender to come over to her. “Get another drink.”
As Kulan opens his mouth to respond to Larken, Cor starts discussing strategy.
"That is generally a good strategy. Don't get hit, do the hitting, don't die. A classic. Anyway, there are 5 gods of the orcs beyond the One-Eye. Gruumsh's right hand man is Ilneval the War Maker, god of strategy. One-Eye's wife is Luthic the Cave Mother. Bahgtru the Leg Breaker epitomises raw strength, Yutrus the White Hand is god of Disease, and Shargaas the Night Lord is darkness. I serve Ilneval."
Kulan holds up his holy symbol, an amulet resembling an upright sword, covered in blood. His right arm carries a near-identical tattoo.
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The bartender brought another round for them, this time the cheap stuff that Cor’s brothers had raised her on. Before anyone could stop her, she had already downed the alcohol. “Drink up!” She toasted her friends.
”Kulan, kooooo-lan,” Cor pointed at the half-orc. “I challlenge you, to a battle... of wits! If I win, you have to defend my honor and sucker punch the next person to insult me.”
Cor leaned into Larken, closing her eyes and smiling at his comment. "Your face is good..." she murmured. Her voice trailed off as drunken realization hit her, her eyes shooting open. "Traako, Jil's gunna be so, so, soooo mad at me when she fines out I got you drunk." The rogue shook his shoulder urgently as she loudly whispered to him. "We've gotta be cool."
Getting Larken drunk was one of the simplest pleasure in life for Cor'avin. Getting lectured by Jilwyn when they came back, on the other hand....
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"It's ok. She is will never notice." He puts on a stern face and cracks his neck. "Ooooh," he says, "We should take her there. I think she'd love Brod." He wraps his arm around cor and leans against the wall next to the acolyte. "Shhhh," he says to the acolyte. Play it cool. She taught him what that means. Pretend nothing is wrong. He can do that.
(Deception 9)
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The acolyte stares at the two drunken baffoons for a moment, then glances down at her robes--did they honestly look red? No, no they weren't red. Obviously the man was color blind or something. With a sigh she patted them on the heads, led them over to a small bench, and headed to grab Inete and her guests. She recognized the two from previous visits although this was honestly quite new.
"Miss," she whispered, "two more of your party arrived. Ah. Inebriated."
Zitembe rumbled, a faint sort of laugh, and said, "I think then we are done for the evening, don't you?" He looked to Inete whose eyes snapped open wide, and she turned to Zitembe with a sort of dazed look as she mouths they're drunk? in almost horror.
"Y-Yes grandfather. I will...meet you here tomorrow, then." Inete led the group out into the main hall and murmured in goodbye, "Fair travel, friends." Back in the room the sudden laughter from Zitembe is the only parting farewell they are offered.
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"I have no objection to aiding Inete, Jilwyn, no."
When the acolyte walks in and informs the group of the arrival of Cor'avin and Larken, Kulan silently mouths a prayer (Gods, give me the strength of will to avoid crushing their skulls together).
"Good eve, and may the gods remain at our sides in this troubling time."
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"Perhaps it would be best if I avoid dealing with your friends for tonight, Jilwyn." With a sigh, she rises to her feet. "We will need to start fresh tomorrow and come to a better understanding of each other. I doubt that speaking to them while they are, ah... not themselves, will help that." Korine gives Jil a small smile. "Tomorrow will be a better day, I have no doubt. I will meet you all back at Kaya's, if you don't mind. I believe Zitembe wanted a private word with me anyway. Be safe."
As the others file out of the room, Korine lingers until she is the only one left with the priest. "That is, if you still wish to talk, Grandfather."
Jil sat in horror as the acolyte told everyone that Larken and Cor had arrived... drunk! "My apologies," she said hastily, giving Zitembe a quick bow and followed Inete out of the room. "I'm so sorry Inete. We will meet you tomorrow." Once in the main chamber, she spotted her friends. A mixture of anger, sadness, and disappointment washed over her. She walked toward them, giving each of them a disapproving look, then began to walk past them.
A dwarf with a canoe on his back? What could go wrong?
Just as Jil is walking towards them, Larken sweeps forward and gives Jil a massive embrace. "Jil!" He says with a smile on his face, "You smell so good." He holds her for a moment, ponders if he should lick her hair, then stops himself. He gently sets her down and walks a circle around her, soaking in her scent.
"Come with us to the Plastered Dragon... they have Evermead." How can anyone resist Evermead? The last time they had it was back home, and even then you could only drink it from small glasses. Aged for hundreds of years by elves in the Dalelands, he never thought that Chult would have it!
"Come!" He says, taking her by the hand. He scoops Cor up on the way.
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"What," Jil said, exasperated. "No... but... I..." She gave up and allowed herself to be dragged along behind Larken. She knew better to try to fight him on something when he had made up his mind. I'll let them have their fun, she thought. Then I'll go to my shrine when they aren't looking.
A dwarf with a canoe on his back? What could go wrong?
The bench was so nice. Using Larken’s shoulder as a pillow was so nice. Why was he getting up? Oh, right. Cor opened her eyes to see the rest of the party, all with varying levels of disappointment and disdain.
The rogue couldn’t help but giggle when Larken scooped her up. Even if Jilwyn was coming along, they would still have fun. “Did I ever tell you abou’ the time I stole from a Grey Rider back in ‘Arrowdale?” She slurred, wrapping an arm around Larken’s waist. “Tha’s a good story...”
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Kulan decides to follow Cor'avin, Jilwyn, and Larken. Mostly so that they would be able to make it back to Kaya's House of Repose if the others decided to get plastered, but also hoping that they would give him any reason to trust them beyond Jilwyn's kindness. If he couldn't trust them by morning, Kulan decides, he won't be joining them in the jungle.
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Cor’avin, as always, seemed to be the only one to know their way around the city. Even in her inebriated state, she was able to lead everyone back to the Plastered Dragon.
With a wink and far more gold than she would normally spend on drinks, Cor purchased 4 shots of the expensive liquor Larken had been raving about. “A’right you two holy people,” she handed Kulan and Jilwyn both a shot. “I spent good money on this fancy pants stuff for you, so put this shot in your hole.”
The rogue took her own shot, and the room started to spin. She decided that getting up on a table and leading the whole bar in song was the best idea she had all night, so she did just that.
“Gather 'round ye lads and lasses, set ye for a while
And harken to me mournful tale about the Chultan Isle
Let's all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone,
And lift our voices in another half-elf drinkin' song
A dragon killed me mother and me father charred alive
Me brother stole from nobles ‘till he got caught and took the dive
Me other brother in the troubles met with his demise
Me family has forever closed their smilin' half-elf eyes
Now everybody's died, so until our tears are dried
We'll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we'll drink some more
We'll dance and sing and fight until the early mornin' light
Then we'll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again!”
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Jil had never drank alcohol before. She gaped at the tiny glass in between her fingers, then looked at Larken. Before she could say anything, Cor was on the table singing at the top of her lungs. As Cor sang, Jil leaned close to Larken, and offered him the drink. "Here," she said. "You can have mine."
Larken softly pushed the shot back to Jil, "We'll do it together, Jil. You don't have to have another if you don't want to." He looked into her eyes and added, "This is the only drink I could actually tolerate the taste to. The elves got it right..." He then raised his own small glass and waited.
Jil frowned, but raised her own tiny glass and clinked it against his. "It's small, how bad could it possibly be, right?" With a shrug, they both tipped back the drink. Jil grimaced. It was much stronger than she expected. She gingerly placed the small glass on the table before her and looked around the noisy tavern, feeling very out of place. She quickly began to feel the effects of the alcohol, and she gripped the edge of the table to keep her balance.
A dwarf with a canoe on his back? What could go wrong?
Cor had shot hers immediately and then hopped atop the table to sing. Larken could see the other few patrons smiling and clapping, but he tried to remain focused on his surroundings. When Jil tried to offer her drink, a flood of emotion went through him. She had never experienced this before. A single drink of something he hadn't had since before he left for the miltia, the only drink he could ever really tolerate the taste of, and she was hesitant to try it. When he pushed it back he could sense her hesitation, but Larken followed Jil in taking the shot. He could taste the delightful flavors as the fragrant liquid tumbled down to his stomach. It tasted just as he remembered. If he could have a last drink, this would be it.
As Cor finishes her song, he turns his attention to Kulan. "Have you experienced any war, Kulan?" He asks. He eyes the paladin. Many soldiers buckle under the pressures of being out-manned and out-armed. Would he be one of them?
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"I was raised in an orcish war band. Of course I've experienced war. When you've been blessed by the god of strategy, you don't get much choice. You?"
Kulan moves his still-full glass towards Cor'avin as he says this, hoping that she wouldn't notice the switch.
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Orcish god of What? Larken didn't even know the Orcs had more than one god. "Well that's just about one of the most interesting things I've heard all night," his speech slurs a bit as he says this. "I had no idea there was an Orcish god of Strategy." He leans back in his chair a gives Kulan a peculiar look. He didn't look like he'd seen all that much battle. His armor and weapons looked freshly polished and he smelled of, he sniffs, fresh sage. "Both Cor and I served as scouts for the Daleland's Militia," he says. "We didn't really kill many orcs unless they were members of the Zhents. Our commanders could have used a reliable god of strategy." He chuckles at the last bit.
Larken then stands, with a short stumble, to help Cor off the table she stood on. She was ready to fall at any moment. "Cor," he gets her attention, "I think these drinks went straight to your head." He says with a smile. "Sit with us, our new friend is blessed by the god of strategy. Lets talk tactics!" He plops her down into a chair next to Kulan before turning his attention back to Jil.
A concerned look on his face, he asks, "Are you doing alright?" He touches Jil's brow and forces her to look at him. "The experience does not last long... do you want a water?"
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“I thought I had already had you,” Cor frowns at the shot in her hand before shrugging and downing it. The rogue unceremoniously got off the table, with Larken's help, and clutched at the bar. It was getting really spinny in here.
Jil held out her hands to help steady Cor. "Careful. I think the floor is slanted." Wait. That made no sense. Jil shook her head, wondering if this is what alcohol did to a person.
“No no no no no,” Cor shook her head. “Th’ floor s’fine, you’re jus’ drunk.”
Jil frowned. "How do you do this? My brain is all fuzzy and it's hard to think." She looked at Larken when he touched her. "It's warm in here. Is it warm in here? I'm warm." She reached up and patted him on the cheek. "You're too good to me, Larken. What did I ever do to deserve you?" Jil leaned in and grabbed Larken, giving him a huge, tight hug. Closing her eyes, she smiled.
A dwarf with a canoe on his back? What could go wrong?
Vistani took a moment with Inete as the others walked out. "I'll be glad to help you get to where you need to go. Hopefully, none of them sleep in late. I'll do my best to have them here on time in some semblance of coherent though I'm not sure about that."
She smiles at Koren next. "I don't blame you. I'm going to keep an eye on them. At least, Kulan appears to be doing the same thing."
At the Plastered Dragon, so appropriately named due to the Plastered Patrons, she pulls out her viol first to play music that fits the mood of the bar. When Cor gets up to sing, she plays right along with that then rolls into something else as Cor is helped off the table. She doubted tomorrow morning would have the intended early start and apparently all three of the core that had been here longest were drunk to plastered. Maybe she would manage to make some money while here.
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“You went straight t’my head,” Cor booped Larken’s nose before collapsing in her chair. That was a good comeback, she was the best at comebacks. “Strategery? I’m the best at strategery.”
”Step one, don’t le’ them hit you,” she slurred, surprisingly holding up the appropriate number of fingers. “Step two, stick them wi’ th’ pointy end. Step three,” apparently three fingers was too difficult for her, so she skipped right to four. “Don’t die. Boom! Strategery.”
”Step four,” Cor motioned for a bartender to come over to her. “Get another drink.”
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As Kulan opens his mouth to respond to Larken, Cor starts discussing strategy.
"That is generally a good strategy. Don't get hit, do the hitting, don't die. A classic. Anyway, there are 5 gods of the orcs beyond the One-Eye. Gruumsh's right hand man is Ilneval the War Maker, god of strategy. One-Eye's wife is Luthic the Cave Mother. Bahgtru the Leg Breaker epitomises raw strength, Yutrus the White Hand is god of Disease, and Shargaas the Night Lord is darkness. I serve Ilneval."
Kulan holds up his holy symbol, an amulet resembling an upright sword, covered in blood. His right arm carries a near-identical tattoo.
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The bartender brought another round for them, this time the cheap stuff that Cor’s brothers had raised her on. Before anyone could stop her, she had already downed the alcohol. “Drink up!” She toasted her friends.
”Kulan, kooooo-lan,” Cor pointed at the half-orc. “I challlenge you, to a battle... of wits! If I win, you have to defend my honor and sucker punch the next person to insult me.”
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