Four ships arrived last night in the Bay of Chult, making way to Port Nyanzaru.  The Haunter of the Dark, the Eastern Hand, the Wicked Hard Woman and Umberlee’s Bounty.  Though hailing from different parts of Faerun, they share a common bond.  Each ship brings with it a load of coin and trade goods with plans to stock up on the exotic spices, pigments, gems and beasts for sale in the markets of Chult.  Each also carries another cargo; adventurers, bound for the mysterious jungles of this dark subcontinent. 

Among them were four of our party, still unknown to one another and of distinct backgrounds and purposes but with a shared interest in an expedition into the rainforests, whether to hunt, to find lost kin, or to save the souls of their friends from this terrible death curse.  Though their journeys to Chult were not all alike, they did share in the experience of one unusual event.  Their fare to reach this land included a special tithe to the Captains of their ships:  a ring, a necklace, or an item of silver worth no less than 10gp… or the equivalent in coin.  These tithings were placed in locked boxes and not seen since you departed, until last night.  Under cover of darkness as each ship first glimpsed the lights of Port Nyanzaru, the Captains and First Mates brought forth the boxes and with great ceremony, cast them into the sea (the Haunter of the Dark, sailing from Calimport, also included a condemned man from that city’s jails in its offering).  Without explanation, this seemed a queer ritual and a waste of good coin until in each case the seas rolled and you caught glimpse of something jagged and massive break the surface, as though the sea floor itself was rising – alive - to claim its prize.  The lengthy customs work required of this busy port meant there was no offloading until sunrise, forcing you to spend the night on your ship… your thoughts inevitably drawn back to what may be lurking in the waters outside its creaking hull.

In the morning, Danica, Meili, Mica and Ran are finally able to disembark and step foot into the bustling jungle metropolis of Port Nyanzaru.  You find yourselves in a tropical city under the blazing sun. The familiar sounds of a harbor — creaking ropes, slapping waves, heavy barrels rolling across cobblestones — mingle with voices shouting and cursing in an unfamiliar language filled with singsongy words that make it sound almost musical. Chultan, the native tongue of this land, a language said to be as old as any spoken by men.  To these people, Common is a second language, if that.   The Chultan people make up the overwhelming majority of those you see.  Dark of skin and with large eyes, purple and green and icy blue the most common eye colors.  Braided hair is popular among both the men and the women, and the common clothing style is light, breezy wraps that come in a kaleidoscope of different colors.  There are others here too; dwarves, mostly, though there are also a few elves, halflings, and what look to be humanoid tortoises in the crowds.  Many of the dwarves look peculiar, their skin a pale, chalky white color.

The aroma of unfamiliar spices and tropical fruit mixes with the wharfside smells of fish, tar, and canvas.  Beyond all that, Port Nyanzaru is an explosion of color. Buildings are painted in bright shades of blue, green, orange, and salmon pink, or their walls are adorned with murals portraying giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Every building sports baskets and clay urns of colorful flowers or is draped in leafy, flowering vines. Minstrels in bright clothing adorned with feathers and shells perform on street corners. Multicolored pennants and sun awnings flutter atop the city walls. A crowd of children dressed in feathered hats and capes races past you, squealing in delighted terror as a street performer costumed as a big-toothed lizard stomps and roars behind them. The whole city seems to be bustling, sweating, laughing, swearing, and singing.  The buildings are a mixture of ancient stone and newer wooden construction, and in the distance you can see a large shining dome that seems to be made of solid gold.

Two things strike you, most of all.  The first is the overpowering humid heat.  Those of in you in armor find your underclothes and padding drenched with sweat almost immediately.  While the locals move about their business, laugh, talk and carry on with ease, you feel as though you are trying to swim through a blanket of hot, moist air.  Even drawing regular breaths seem to take effort; you hope this is something you will get used to quickly, or else this will be a miserable trip.

The second thing that draws your eyes are the great lizards.  Dinosaurs, you may have heard them called.  All around, enormous, scaly monsters fill the role of oxen and other domesticated beasts of burden.  Some are two legged with clawed hands and sharp teeth, while others walk on four legs and sport long horns or armored plates.  And those are just the large ones… all around you see examples of them great and small.  Even in the air.  While there are the usual sea birds like gulls, terns and pelicans, so too are there flying reptiles, some no larger than sparrows and others larger than an albatross.   The large herbivores are attached to wagons and carts while the carnivores are muzzled and are ridden like two-legged, prehistoric horses.

Eager to make arrangements to join an expedition into the jungles, the four newcomers all make your way to a tavern which was recommended by all of the sailors – the Thundering Lizard.  There you seek to find new allies and begin your adventure.

Welcome to Chult. 

Welcome to Red Dead Annihilation.

The Thundering Lizard is a popular inn and tavern in the heart of Port Nyzanzaru’s bustling Red Bazaar (Area 18). The atmosphere of that chaotic marketplace extends throughout the inn.  Patrons seem to include a mix of native Chultans and travelers from afar.  It is a tall building set on a corner overlooking the Bazaar.  It is instantly recognizable, even from a distance, due to the large Tyrannosaurus skull mounted above the doorway.

A plaque outside the door tells something of the history of this establishment:

The main floor is separated into two levels.  The front area comprises a long bar with a colorful awning over it.  Today, a party of dwarves is taking up most of the bar space.  The rear area is made up of additional seating, and an area of cushions to lounge on, which is currently occupied by a group of locals smoking hookah pipes.  A small stage can be seen – at the moment someone is setting up a table and chairs atop it.  This rear area also has the stairs to the second floor and a wide open doorway leading to the gardens.

The gardens behind the tavern are the busiest location.  The shade provided by the tall stone walls combined with a shallow pool seem to hold appeal with the guests.  The pool resembles a fish pond – it may once have been just that – but now it is treated as something of a community wading pool and today a handful of guests recline in the water while sipping their drinks.

A large menu is painted on one of the walls:

Ran Deadgleam looks up at the dinosaur skull above the entrance to the Thundering Lizard, trying to decide if it's real or not. A sheen of sweat cover his olive complexion, and his black hair and beard glisten with moisture. He steps into the inn and as soon as he spots it, he takes his stocky, 6'1 frame to the bar to get anything remotely cold to drink.

"This heat's going to finish me long before Rosznar has a chance," Ran says to himself after he orders.

A bead of sweat appears on his forehead and starts moving down Ran's face. Rather than a straight line down, it moves to the side, almost zigzagging as it traces a couple of deep scars. For a face still in its twenties, the number of scars, and a clearly once broken nose, indicate Ran will likely never reach old age.

Ran sighs, closes his eyes, furrowing his brow at the same time and rolls his large shoulders. Two long swords, in crossed scabbards across his back, rise and fall as he stretches. His armor rustles and clinks too.

He finally turns back to face the crowd, looking for anyone who might prove useful with information about getting to the interior. If Shepard's last note was accurate, she'd long since left this city and was somewhere inland.

"If that welp, Tobem, is still in one piece I may have to fix that," Ran says. "8, or 9 finger is as good as ten to his uncle I'd guess. And a small price to pay for making me come here."

The hairless dinosaurs were something for sure, but was it worth melting in this heat. And what on earth was that in the harbor last night? No. This was no Waterdeep.

Meili was standing in front of the menu (fortunately written in Common) and counted in her head the meagre finances left after the journey. It was much longer than she expected and ate up practically everything she owned. If she can not find the expedition fast, she would have to begin job hunting or risk it to go alone. But that last option... Let's just say the books could not prepare for reality. Everything around was "too much" - too big, too loud, too bright, too smelly in every meaning of the word. And way, way too hot and humid. Would get time to get used to. At least her look - a bit too exotic for the foothills of Nether Mountains here felt more in place.

A bit on a small side for a human girl, Meili had tan skin and jet black hair, not matching the look of the natives exactly but close enough to not stand out on the streets. The feeling was surprisingly comforting, but she did not decide if it was a good thing yet. If she was about to find the expedition (or a job) she might need to attract attention somehow.  

The heavy footsteps behind made Meili step aside to allow a bulky dwarf to get through. The movement was fluid and calculated, leaving the exact space needed and not an inch more. Master Harsat always said that opportunity for practice can be found anywhere and Meili followed the teachings to the letter (or at least tried to). She looked at the list of exotic dishes and sighed. Right now she would prefer some kind of flier "volunteers are needed for the mission in the jungles". Well, "the right opportunity always arises by itself for the one who had enough patience to wait". And there is no saying ordering you to wait on an empty stomach.

Meili picked up her backpack and walked to the free table. She could allow herself at least one meal now and chicken stew with bread sounded innocent enough. She ordered her breakfast/lunch (and, as she suspected, supper too) and prepared to exercise one of her "three greatest treasures" to catch that opportunity.

For a moment as Danica stood on the docks with her eyes closed and head tilted back she could have sworn she could be at any port. She tried to let the sounds sweep over her and wash away the nightmares brought about by the 'offering' . Or rather, whatever took the offerings. The scene brought back old fears for the weathered sailor. So she tried to just focus on the sounds. The waves lapping against the wooden posts of the dock, creaking of the masts of ships roped up... But then the sound of gulls sounded...off...and there were no dogs barking further inland but strange...braying? Not to mention the language difference. Opening her eyes and craning an eye over her brow, a faint smile tugged at her lips. It had been quite sometime that she had been somewhere truly new. Seeing the unfamiliar architecture, fashion, accents and people somehow brought on a sense of familiarity.

Adjusting the strap of her backpack so it fit under her bulky shield, the elf set her sights to the east and chuffed under her breath when sure enough she spied the skull of some large creature that had tusks of a kind. She had made sure to ask around the ship she had been on for advice and it was unanimously suggested she go to the Thundering Lizard first as it was the most popular. Not just a tourist trap but genuinely established in the port city and well liked by locals and travelers alike. A good place to settle into if she was going to try and find any help. She had been told of the strange fauna of Chult but it was quite another thing to see it in person. It wasn't that she didn't like reptiles, she was simply more familiar with animals that had either fur or feathers. Scales she only associated with the fish she netted. The skull that marked the inn was bigger up close than made her comfortable, wondering if this was an average size for the creatures that awaited her further in the Chultan jungles. 

The wood elf took a moment to survey the scene of the colorfully tented inn front before she walked in. Anywhere else she likely wouldn't have stuck out much, wavy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face and exposing her long ears, her naturally medium olive skin tanned from years under the sun. Green eyes taking in everything around her like moss absorbs dew. Her height was just as average as the rest of her appearance, resting at just six inches above five feet, perhaps made just a half inch to an inch taller with the help of her thick leather boots. The most distinguishing feature about herself was that she had was an old healed over scar on her left cheek digging down into her jaw. But on her person what likely might draw people's eyes was the ship wheel strapped to her back like a shield, a scimitar at her waist. 

Ducking under the awning and taking in the people, it was rather obvious who were the locals and who were the passer throughs. She being rather firmly in the latter category with her dark brown pants held up by worn suspenders, blue scarf belt, half-hazard leather armor on her shoulders, forearms and thighs with a lining inside her outwardly dark blue vest. Her collared formerly white button up shirt had the top two buttons undone and had the tell tale dark stain of sweat under her arms. Spying a man with metal armor made her wince just thinking about how he must be cooking in that, even in the shade. 

Seeing one of the sailors from the ship she had came in on, Danica smiled with a two fingered mock salute as he raised a mug of something to her in greeting before getting distracted and chuckling as an already tipsy dwarf stumbled into her. Seeing a large menu painted on the wall and catching the word 'Lodgings', she made her way to it, weaving to avoid the partying dwarves and other patrons. Looking it over she snorted at the last listing of the lodgings and said to herself, "Can't imagine many'd travel here for their honeymoon." Her accent lilting and sing-song, her pronunciation skewing the normal common due to her home's dialect. Making her way to the crowded bar, she tried her best to squeeze in between a pair of dwarves and shouted over the din, "Ey, don't suppose a lass could pay for a dorm with meals n get herself a pineapple juice? Och, sorry lads, no disrespect." Maneuvering her shield away from them. "Don't suppose any of ye know of anyone lookin for a bit o'work in the jungle?" Word of mouth always worked better than fliers...at least when fliers cost money to make and permission to put up.

((OOC: Danica speaks with a 'Scottish' accent. Not thick mind you but still noticeable. ))

The large bleached skull hanging over the tavern’s doorway drew the ranger's eye from across the bazaar.  Mica had departed the ship as soon as he could that morning, glad at least to feel his connection with the earth under his feet instead of the rocking of the ocean.  Tall and broad-shouldered, he was covered in hide and leather of all varieties and the shine of well-worn scale mail, although most of his fur outer garments were rolled up in his pack as a small concession against the heat.  An unstrung longbow and quiver was slung across his back next to his pack, and two mismatched hand axes hung on his belt. 

He has spent a good portion of the morning going through the bazaar and the areas next to the docks, looking at hides and caged specimens of exotic creatures from the interior, and seeking information from the leatherworkers, traders, and hunters on both the animals and the jungle.  He learned precious little, but enough to know he could not strike out on his own in this strange land.  He was awestruck by the creatures swarming the port, both in the bazaar and the domesticated lizards in the street, but the large skull over the tavern took his breath away.  “Now that is a magnificent trophy, one worthy of the hunt.”

Mica entered the tavern and strode up to the bar, raven black hair falling down to his shoulders.  His skin was a rough, pebbly texture,  gray as stone with a mossy greenish tinge.  “Mug of Tej” he orders in a gruff voice and throws 4 coppers on the bar.  He doesn’t know what Tej is, but he needs something to drink after the heat of the morning and it was the cheapest option by far. “That skull.  What type of beast hangs over your door, and where do you find it?”

As he stepped outside of the Golden Macaw, Velan could feel the smell of dust, sweat and spices. Every city has its scents, he remembered to have read once in one of the Crone’s books. A flourish from a writer, trying to make his examinations on history and architecture sound more poetic, maybe in the hopes to attract the attention of young ladies of high birth eager to spend their family’s coin looking for romanticism. A futile endeavor, the wizard thought since them. Rather than make the writing more attractive the author only made the tome unnecessarily extensive and dull. Maybe I should try writing, he considered making his way to the Thundering Lizard. Two months in the city and he had already grow accustomed to its sounds. By Tiryki Anchorage shouts, with orders and curses, echoed through the air. As he approached the Red Bazaar music took hold of the streets, giving rhythm, almost a pulse, to the moving crowd. Before long he stood in front of the tavern.

It amused him to see the newcomers, all impressed with the skull by the door. Most of them suffering from the heat, he was sure. Most of Faerûn was colder, after all. Only folk like him, raised in a damp hellshole such as the Umber Marshes, would find no trouble with the Chultean sun. He entered the building, enjoying the shade it provided, and moved directly to the balcony, trying his best to avoid drawing attention. A task not exactly simply. He was a six feet tall figure with three claw marks over his right eye and tattoo-like vertical white lines over his face. The longer one went from his brow to half of his cheek, crossing his left eye and bending in an acute angle to the left. Two smaller ones rested under his left eye, parallel and separated by the longer line. Two more marked his chin. From his lips a pair of tusks was visible, marking him as a half-orc, but his skin had a bluish-gray tint instead of the usual green. His hair was black and wavy, kept a little longer than shoulder height. Plenty of unusual traits for one to notice.

“Good morning.” Velan spoke reaching the bar. “A pineapple juice.” He was not interested in the drink but it was expected for one to make a purchase before asking any question. “Any news about work?”

Ran's head turns as he makes out what the wood elf has said just down the bar from him. He spots her easily over the heads of the drinking dwarves. He swipes the back of his hand across his forehead and shakes off more sweat and moves down closer to her.

"You're heading into the jungle?" Ran asks Danica. "Whereabouts? I imagine the temperature is just as grotty out in the wop-wops so no point sticking around here. I need to head inland and will take what work there is to help me get there."

Ran takes a look around the bar. No familiar faces. Doesn't mean there isn't anyone here, but he knows most of the hard cases Rosznar would send and not seeing any of them is a plus. At least he's got a head start.

He holds out his hand to Danica.

"Ran," he says. "Ran Deadgleam. Fair hand with these swords, and not complete shite when it comes to hard work."

A steady flow of patrons passes through the Thundering Lizard, as those who have finished their repast and depart are just as quickly replaced by new customers.  

As the young monk sidestepped the bulky dwarf, the intoxicated figure paused briefly.  He seemed to sense that he had almost bumped into someone but there was no one there.  He shrugged and continued on to rejoin his companions at the bar.   Meili's chickpea stew and bread is brought out to her table promptly (that will be 3sp, please).  As she sets down to an early lunch, she is able to maintain an observant eye on the crowd forming around the bar.

Ran is greeted at the bar by a middle aged Chultan woman, her wrists jangling with silver bracelets.  "Welcome to the Thundering Lizard."  She notes his chainmail and the sweat forming on his brow.  "New to town?  Perhaps a taste of home will help you acclimate to our beautiful weather."  She pours cider from a small keg into a wooden mug.  Before sliding it across the bar to the fighter, she holds a hand above it and whispers something.  When Ran picks up the mug it is... not cold, exactly, but cool.  Much cooler than expected (that will be 2sp please;  the magical chilling is on the house, this time).

Mica is treated to an almost overwhelming sampling of the hides and trophies available in the markets of the Red Bazaar.  He barely has time to marvel at a necklace made from 2-inch long claws before another merchant hails him across the aisle to show him beautiful tiger hides.  Then a trader tries to sell him on the stuffed mount of something that looks like a jaguar but with a mess of snakes emerging from its shoulders, before realizing Mica is only window shopping and moves on to better sales prospects.  Inside the tavern, he finds a spot at the bar beside the dwarves.  After a moment, a handsome Chultan man greets him with a smile.  "Welcome, traveler!  The Thundering Lizard is proud to host any kin of the dao.  I think you will find out land is rich in mysteries left here by the earth spirits."  He laughs deeply and honestly when you order tej.  "Excellent!  I can see you will fit in well... this land suits you."  He picks up one of dozens of glass jars behind the counter, each filled with an amber colored liquid, along with what look like sticks, roots and bark.  As he pours you a mug of tej, he tells you about how the drink is made.  Tej is the customary native alcohol.  It is based on fermented sugar cane juice, but then the resulting liquor is placed in barrels or jars along with honey, cinnamon bark, a slice of orange and certain flowers, herbs and roots, (each family has their own secret blend).  These are then left in the sun for several weeks to 'mature' ... "...and then you have tej!  Look around at all of the smiling faces here.  This is paradise.  Warm skies, beautiful people, and tej!  A soul could not ask for more."  As a beverage, tej is... interesting.  It doesn't burn like alcohol and it has a taste that dwells in the strange borderland between sweet, bitter and spicy.  While it may not burn, it definitely has some kick and you can soon feel the alcohol even if you cannot taste it (that will be 4cp, please).

Finished teaching the earth genasi about the wonders of tej, the tavernkeep moves on to the elf who has just gracefully shoved her way through a gaggle of raucous dwarves to reach his bar.  "Good day to you, miss."  He offers a slight but sincere bow.  "You have the carriage of a sea captain, but I have not seen you share your company with us before.  I am Emeka Isrit, that is my wife Esther Isrit," he waves an open palm at the woman serving a chainmailed human at the end of the bar, "and this is the Thundering Lizard."  He is happy to provide you Danica with a pineapple juice.  "The dorms are available, but might you be more interested in a single room?  The dorms are common sleeping spaces and - though popular - they see guests coming and going at all hours.  They do come with a key for a private lockbox... are you sure that is what you are looking for?" (that will be 4cp for the pineapple juice, please; more once we confirm the lodgings). 

In response to Danica's question, one of the dwarves grins but then has to stifle a burp.  "A thousand pardons for that.  We'll be off to the jungle ourselves, soon enough.  The priests of Marthammor Duin gathered up me'self and this rowdy bunch of knuckleheads to come down to Chult and set to rights this curse business.  As I understand it, the lord 'o' wanderers wouldn't feel right unless he had his own representation exploring this sweltering hell.  The drinks are good, though..." he trails off and then joins a brewing argument with his comrades about how many barrels of tej they need to purchase before they depart for the jungles.  

Departing the Golden Macaw, Velan could not help but notice a new visitor to the anchorage... a medium sized barge had come downriver in the night.  More interesting, or concerning, was the black flag flying from its top mast - a signal of disease.  A couple of guards stood by the dockside, preventing anyone getting on or off.  Such a vessel would remain under quarantine until the Merchant Princes were convinced they were not a danger to the settlement. 

Arriving at the Thundering Lizard, Velan sees it is crowded as usual, with the lunch rush soon to begin.  Esther Isrit smiles and prepares the pineapple juice as ordered (that will be 4cp, please).  "It is always a pleasure to see your colorful face, young one.  It seems we have quite a few new visitors... the ships have once again brought new explorers and champions looking to brave the jungles.  Oh.  And there will be a show beginning soon... some author from the continent here to peddle his books."

(Couldn't get the update up before Ran's most recent post... consider this to be chronologically immediately before post #8)

Meili was eating her chicken stew and watching the dwarves, definitely celebrating something here. They were so similar and yet so different from Master Harsat and drank as they were going to war, no less. She was so deep in her thoughts that almost missed it - "work", loud and clear (thanks to the big human that dared to wear metal armour in that heat). And again! With the word "jungle" attached to it and all in the clear tongue of the continent.

The stew was finished anyway, so she put the rest of the bread into her backpack (supper!) and moved closer to the forming crowd. It seemed the one hiring was the elf, but she did not say how many did she need and the competition - if those two big guys were the one - looked scary. "Fear is an illusion!" Meili waited for the elf-girl to finish her conversation with the inn-keeper, took a deep breath and stepped closer.

"If you are searching for people to go in the jungle, I humbly ask you to consider me too." Meili made a short bow and politely smiled. She was good four inches shorter than the elf girl herself and her well-worn light travel clothes were as unimpressive as her size, but she hoped that the sword she carried and the calm confidence she did her best to project would speak up for her. "My name is Meili Liang of the Cloud Valley monastery. I can fight. And I can heal. I travelled half the world to get to the jungle and I am not afraid of any work. I would be grateful for the chance to join your expedition."

“It is always a pleasure to see your beautiful face and thank you.” He answers to Esther, taking prepares his drink and giving her the coin. Her answer was clear enough to those who know the meaning - expeditions are happening and it is a good day to find recruitment, one just need to listen. Echoes of the Death Curse, he thought without surprise. If anything, the idea that a writer had come to sell his books sounded far more curious. Velan just hoped the man was not as bad as the historian whose work he remembered earlier. The voice of another woman brought him to reality.

Speaking with dwarves a wood elf asked about people interested on venturing in the jungle. That was fast, the wizard thought pondering about his options. Any journey to forest was dangerous work, he knew as much, but nothing he hadn’t tried already. The coin was probably good and he would soon need more. He was that close to understanding the process of summoning a familiar, a process that he knew would need a fair bit of charcoal and incense. Before he could speak a man in armor and then a short woman approached the elf, both interested in the job.

“Pardon me the intrusion.” He says approaching the trio, cup still in hand. “I could not help but hear you talking, looking for work hands.” He takes a sip of the juice before continuing, eyes upon the recruiter. “Depending on the payment, I may be interested. My name is Velan, a spellcaster. I can guide you through the city, offer ranged support in combat, identify herbs, and any kind of item for that matter, not to mention speak any language with but a few minutes of preparation.”

As our party begin to make their initial introductions, they do so in the midst of a formidable, and intoxicated, collection of dwarves.  From overheard conversation, this group has been stuck in town for more than a week, paralyzed by arguments of what supplies to pack, where to travel, and how much alcohol they will need.  At present, two factions within the group are near to blows over whether to purchase something called a hadrosaurus or not.  At either end of this small army is a local dwarf lobbying them desperately to hire them to guide them into the jungle.  On the left is a chalk-skinned dwarf who is doing his best to appeal to their dwarven heritage and fighting spirit to help him reclaim a lost ruin in the mountains.  On their right is an older shield dwarf.  His face is deeply scarred and his left sleeve is tacked up to his tunic… he is missing that arm.  Yet he can be overheard to claim he is the most experienced of all the guides in the Port, and that he can take them to any spot in the jungle they wish to find.  The dwarves immediately adjacent to these two humor them with questions about costs and logistics, but the rest of the dwarves seem to be intentionally ignoring the two would-be guides.

Mica raises his mug in thanks to the friendly bartender and throws back the drink.  It was sweet, sweeter than he thought it would be, but it was strong and reminded him of the honeyed mead from back home. Mysteries from the earth spirits, he would have to be on the watch for those.

The crowd gathering around the sailor elf down the bar pulled him out of his thoughts and drew his attention.  He overheard snippets of the conversation, work in the jungle, offers of assistance.  It seemed like there were always those looking for work, and several in the crowd looked like they could more than handle themselves.  This could be just the thing he needed to get out of the city and into the jungle.

He slides over to the group and introduces himself, focusing his conversation on the elf.  “What kind of work brings a sailor to the jungle?  It’s far from the deck of a ship.  But I can help.  I am Mica, an outdoorsman and hunter.  I can track, forage, and fight if needed.”

Blinking in surprise at the comment about seeming like a captain, Danica laughs and waves a hand in protest, "Flattery will only get you so much in tips good sir! Just a sailor, though a sailor on a mission now as it were." Nodding to himself and then raising a hand to wave at his wife she responded in kind, "Danica Amastacia. Good to meet you Emeka." Raising the proffered cup of pineapple juice in a toast, her movements at her coin purse slowed as she considered the inkeep's advice. Closing her eyes briefly to savor the tang of the juice, she opened her green eyes and nodded. "Wise words indeed. You've convinced me sir Isrit, a single room it'll be." She passes over a single gold piece, single silver piece and four copper to the man. 

Taking another sip of the pineapple juice, the motion pauses as she hears someone diagonally to her left and glances to see the man she spied 'cooking' when she first entered. He certainly had worked up a sweat though she was just at a sheen now. Finishing her swallow, the elf appraised the well armored man and grinned. "Aye. Don't rightly know the direct whereabouts. More about the journey than the destination n all that. Though I think with enough enlightening journeying, I might be able to find a destination inland in the end." Setting her cup down at the bar, she turned to properly face him and took his hand with a firm hearty shake, her hands wearing no gloves and being fairly worn. "Danica Amastacia."

Laughing at the end of his introduction, she was about to reply when another voice spoke up, causing her eyebrows to raise in surprise. "Y'know I thought it'd take me a sight longer than ten minutes fresh off the ship to find any help around here. Ahm no' a captain but I am lookin' to assemble a crew of sorts." Glancing Meili up and down she nodded in consideration, introducing herself again to the woman, "Danica Amastacia. Healing comes mighty handy when far from home and port. I can't help but wonder what two fine fighting folk like yourselves are doing at the bottom of the world here looking for work. Y'don't even know what I'm lookin' t'do in the jungle. Could be lookin' t' kidnap babes from their cradle or the like." It was fairly obvious that she was exaggerating but still curious. "Not that I'm one to look a gift deer in the mouth." 

Upon hearing the phrase, 'Pardon the intrusion,' the woman at this point looked upwards to the ceiling in amazement. "Thanks for the help?" For only divine intervention could give her such amazing luck in finding so many people to help her. Focusing back on the newest interuptee, Danica tried to take in this newcomer and got the sense he wasn't as new to the area as they were, seemingly more comfortable and settled even just standing. She nodded a few times in acknowledgement at his list of skills before her eyes lit up at the mention of being able to magically understand any language. "Now that is rather intriguing and a fairly invaluable skill when possibly combing through unfamiliar ancient ruins. Velan did ya say? Danica Amastacia. And payment there will be." She met Ran and Meili's eyes at that as well before the shouting of the dwarves pulled her attention away and she was momentarily distracted by the one armed dwarf and the pale dwarf at either ends of the bars. Taking a moment to nudge one of the dwarves rather pointedly ignoring both of them she asked, "Oy, they got leprosery or somethin? Or just shite at directions?" Her gaze is mainly focused on the scarred amputee. 

After speaking to the dwarf for a moment her attention was once again pulled to a person that approached her, this time by one that looked even more interesting than the last, seemingly assembled of stone except for his hair and eyes. Expression intrigued by his statement of his own skillset, she was just about to reply when the dwarves arguing about purchasing whatever a 'hydrosaurus' was picked up and was nearly getting to blows so she shoulders off her shield to lean against her stool before saying to the inkeep, "Sorry Emeka." Before standing atop her stool and using it to give her a higher vantage point over most of the crowd, her head not far off from the awning. Cupping her hands around her mouth she shouts loudly to gain attention, "OY! EXCUSE ME!"

Assuming that or possibly the second attempt did the trick she would state as loudly and clearly as possible, "Name's Danica Amastacia, just got in. I'm a sailor an a druid. I'm lookin' to hire me a crew to go into the jungle." She paused for a moment to look around the crowd as well as the smaller group of four people that had already approached her before finishing with a determined grin, "... And I'm lookin' to cure the Death Curse.  Be here all night!"  With that said, she stepped off of the stool and landed rather hard on her rear with a laugh. "Any questions?" She poses to the four that had first approached her. 

Ran raised an eyebrow at the mention of a Death Curse. He'd heard a few stories on the journey here but they were the near incomprehensible ramblings of drunken sailors.

"I thought them swabs was just taking the piss with that story," Ran said. "Or the bull stories the right munted spin once they've had half a barrel of watered rum."

He turns his gaze to the dwarves. 

"Whatever the truth, I need to go inland. Someone I care for seems to have lost their way trying to fix a mess I got the family into."

He thinks about saying more but pauses when Danica hops up to get the dwarves attention. While she talks, Ran's eyes run through the crowd, looking, watching and judging reactions. 

"Sometimes stealing a baby is an act of mercy." Danica was obviously joking but leaving the joke unanswered felt rude. The point was, she made it into the expedition - whatever the reason for the expedition was, meaning, her journey continued. Truly, " luck is just preparation meeting opportunity".

The next minute proved that the meeting was more than luck - it was fate! No, Meili did not have any questions and knew one thing for sure - she will follow Danica's group even if this sailing elf refused to take her in. And helping too. Being here all night? As long as it takes! For now, Meili was just going to stay close to the "captain".

In response to her question about the dwarf guides, the fellow she asks just looks at Danica in confusion, until his mate answers instead.  “No, not leprosy.  Just greedy fingers.  All the guides in this town want a fat purse of coin up front.  And for what?  We’re not children, to be led around and told,” he says the next part in a nagging, school marm-type voice, “ ‘don’t step on that rock, don’t eat that plant; don’t try to pet that dinosaur.’  Bah!  We’ll do better spending that same coin on a beast, some water and a few extra tankards of booze.”

As Danica hops up on the stool and raises her voice, all eyes in the lower level of the main floor turn to look.  Among the dwarves, her speech solicits fists pounding on the bar top and a variety of throaty cheers:

• Aye!  End the Curse!
• Yeah!
• Huzzah for the … the Wheelspinner!  Aye, the Wheelspinner!
• To the Jungles!
• Yeah!
• Another Round!
• YEAH!

Those of you taking note of the other patrons, see that the local Chultans' response is more muted.  Most barely look up from their drinks and smoke pipes.  A few smile and tip their mugs toward the boisterous sailor-elf.  There is another elf woman in the bar, conspicuous now that you notice her for the first time.  Despite the heat she has a brown cloak pulled up around her, and a speckled lizard perches on one of her shoulders.  She is working at what appears to be a sketch pad.  She glances up to look at Danica during her speech, and then she is back to work on the pad.

Of the two dwarven guides, the chalky skinned fellow takes a long look at Danica’s face before returning to his entreaties to the other dwarves.  The other dwarf, the one missing an arm, looks to Danica, then to the dwarf he had been talking to… then back to Danica.  He pushes away from his seat and begins forcing his way through the crowd toward your group.

Before he can reach you however, another figure approaches Danica and makes an exaggerated bow.  “Marvelous, my dear.  You’re an inspiration.”  Standing before you is a tall, slightly doughy human man with a thick and curly black beard.  He is dressed in a manner not unlike a child might imagine a poet to be dressed; an expensive green doublet with frilly white collar and sleeves.  He has a large scroll case slung over his shoulder and holds a crate with several thick books, all smelling of fresh leather and inks.  “Such is exactly the kind of courage and spirit we sorely need in these perilous times.  And – I believe – I may have exactly what you need.  Please!  I shall be putting on a brief show in just a few minutes, at the rear stage.  I hope you shall come and have a listen?”  With another nod, he departs toward the back of the bar.

Ran notices the elf woman working at a sketch pad and the way she pays attention to Danica. He decides safe is better than an arrow, an axe and a poisoned dart in the back. Ran bumps his way through the crowd, jostling and clapping dwarves on the back as he goes - trying to be inconspicuous by being noticeable.

Once he can get around behind the elf woman, he tries to move closer to get a look at what she's doing on the sketch pad.

Stealth if needed - 13  

 (disadvantage from his armor - or 19 if the noise of the bar would drown out that noise)

“I know one should not judge a book for its cover, but I heard from Esther that our less than discreet fellow soon to take the stage is an author from the continent hoping to sell his book, so he may want to hire another guide through the jungles.”  At least the man didn’t look like someone who would know his ways around the wild. Too much flourish in his speech and gesture and cloth for that. “I would still keep him around since considering the smell of his products he arrived recently and already have a gig at the stage. His eloquence may be useful in negotiations.”

With as many adventurers taking to the forest, persuasion was likely to be almost as necessary as guide. Last thing Danica, or anyone, would want is to fight another expedition. The aftermath, assuming a victory, which by itself was unlikely against larger groups, would probably involve exhaustion and Chultean beasts attracted by the smell of fresh blood. Neither of those were good things to have in hostile lands, Velan knew better than he would ever like to admit.

“Which remembers me, you did not mention how much you are willing to pay.” Waiting for the wood elf to name her price he notices other woman looking in their direction. “Would you happen to have enemies following you?” It was unlikely she had a bounty on her head, considering how much less than discreet she behaved. Strong antagonism, though, didn’t always need the stimulus of coin.

Quote from Thoradin_Orcbender >>

Ran notices the elf woman working at a sketch pad and the way she pays attention to Danica. He decides safe is better than an arrow, an axe and a poisoned dart in the back. Ran bumps his way through the crowd, jostling and clapping dwarves on the back as he goes - trying to be inconspicuous by being noticeable.

Once he can get around behind the elf woman, he tries to move closer to get a look at what she's doing on the sketch pad.

Stealth if needed - 6  

 (disadvantage from his armor - or 19 if the noise of the bar would drown out that noise)

Ran, the elf woman in the cloak makes no indication she has noticed you approaching her from behind and you are able to steal a glance at her sketch pad.  I need a WIS save from you.