You are in the city of Neverwinter, the Jewel of the North, along the northern Sword Coast of Faerûn in search of adventure. It is a large, bustling, cultured city home to all kinds of people, most of whom value efficient and dedicated work and civilized, kind people.
On this bright morning, you enter the Riverside Tavern and Inn, a larger tavern on the south side of the city, expecting to meet a dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker willing to pay you for some work. The dining hall is starting to bustle with activity as its residents and local merchants alike break their fast. A middle-aged human barmaid hustles between tables, taking orders and serving food and drink, while another middle-aged female human cook can be seen through a serving window working the kitchen. A very young looking but tall human girl is tending the bar and pouring drinks, laughing with the patrons there for a morning ale.
There is an open table nearest the door to the latrines that seats six, an open table nearest the entrance that seats two, some room at the bar, and an open gathering area where no one is currently playing darts. This last area is also where a job board hangs and a single half-orc woman peruses the morning's offerings.
Standing outside, Tristan glances down at a loose piece of paper in her hands. The Riverside Tavern and Inn, her potential employer, and 'Escort job?' are the only things written on the crumpled paper. Tucking it away into some pocket, she enters the tavern, and looks around.
The young human stands a bit above average height, and has fair skin. A scar runs across her nose and cheek, and seems old. Her auburn hair is tied back into a ponytail with a blue ribbon, kept out of her light brown eyes. It seems she dressed to impress, as she wear a dark blue padded vest and chainmail shirt. A lighter blue surcoat, with a crudely sewn on patch covering where an emblem might be. She places a gloved hand on her stomach as it grumbles, the smell of food appealing. The job board seems to catch her attention, but food seems to take first priority. Tristan strides over to the larger of the two tables, sitting down at one in one of the chairs. She tries to look inviting, allowing other people to sit with her if they choose.
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The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
Sig comes inside running. He's panting and sweating as he enters the tavern, looking frantically around. The teenage boy, 16, although he looks 3 or 4 years younger, is dressing in a very plain shirt that used to be white a few years ago but now it's just a mix of grey and brown, just like his leather pants and boots. Everything seems to be borrowed from an older brother, or his father, and the loose clothes make him seem even younger. He has black short hair and blue eyes. "Gods am I late? Gundren mentioned he'd be meeting more people, and he's nowhere to be seen!... Is he gone?" He stops at the gathering area, recovering his breath, nodding softly to the half-orc woman, exchanging a few pleasantries before he, too, starts to check the board, eyeing the entrance door, waiting for Gundren to appear, and also the woman sitting on the large table, looking oddly welcoming.
Finn walks into the tavern, keeping a close eye on the humans around him as he passes. He's a small halfling man, just over three feet tall, wearing black boots, leather pants, and a small brown coat over a leather tunic. As he walks in, the rest of the tavern pays little mind to him, many not even noticing his presence. Almost by instinct, he places his left hand under his coat, feeling the one of the daggers he always keeps sheathed by his side in case he runs into trouble. He looks around for Gundren's cousin Kharfen, a local merchant he tracked down some stolen goods for and that recruited him for this job, but he doesn't see him anywhere.
"Come on, where is he? He said he'd be here. A tavern like this is not a safe place for me to be. I've got to get out of here as soon as possible. Any one of these strangers could let them know I'm in Neverwinter and then I'm in deep trouble"
Keeping a close eye on the people around him as he does, he takes a seat at the table closest to the door, making sure to face the entrance. He exchanges short greetings with the few others who see him, but the vast majority of the tavern continues to go about their business. As he waits, he keeps a close watch on the door, hoping to see Gundren arrive soon, ideally with Kharfen in tow
Emrin strode purposefully down the street in the early morning light, he had a destination in mind and little time to get there. His cloak billowed out behind him in a fair imitation of his long dark hair revealing his gleaming mail shirt and white tabard beneath, emblazoned with the flaming sword of Tempus. The shield strapped to his arm, flat topped and gently pointed bottom, also bore the flaming sword proclaiming him as a cleric of Tempus, god of war.
He saw his destination ahead and quickened his pace, it was already past dawn and tardiness was not a good first impression. The few people on the street gave him a wide berth despite his short stature, for he stood at a mere four and a half feet tall, because even the most un-educated villager knew it was not wise to stand in the way of a determined dwarf.
Emrin pushed through the door into the Riverside Tavern taking care not to smack anything with the hilt of the warhammer slung across his back. His ice blue eyes quickly scanned the room in search of Gundren, gratefull that most people were sitting down and he didn't have to climb on a chair to do so, seeing no other dwarves he made his way to the bar.
"Ale, if you wouldn't mind young miss" he said to the barmaid, laying the requisit coin on the bar as he turned back to continue scanning the room, stroking the braid in his beard as he considered the day ahead and what it might entail.
"I guess you best be getting the man an ale," Zaiden says to the lovely young bartender with a wink, letting her break free of their harmless flirting. He picks up his own drink and turns away from the lass and towards the barroom proper, scanning the patrons. And most importantly, the new arrivals.
The one at the big table alone, definitely. The eager boy, too,Zaiden thought to himself, trying to pick out his likely "coworkers" on this job. Probably the Halfling, though he could just be running from someone... Still, better than even money. Dwarves are tricky though, hard to read. But then again they always seem more interested in ale than anything else. Still, a definite maybe - coin flip at worst. They all looked more like the adventuring type than he himself did - He was a typical human. Nothing particular about him at all, excepting when he smiled perhaps. Or when he began to weave his words as if they were magic. But they are, really. Perhaps the craftiest magic of all... With words, be it song or tale or poem, everything is possible.
Zaiden drank deep and scanned the room again, this time for his potential employer. Kharfen said his cousin would be here at sunup and, well, the sun is up... Still, not a single dwarf that looks likely to be related to him in sight. "Pardon, but you're not Gundren by any chance...?" Zaiden asks the dwarf who just came up to the bar and made the cute bartender actually turn her attention back to the bar.
"No, no, definitely not!" Zaiden quickly follows up. It's in the eyes, the tell is always in the eyes. "But waiting for him as well, perhaps? It's a safe bet that one over there at the big table all by her lonesome is as well. I'm going to go join here..."
Zaiden, begins crossing the bar to join the table, paying no attention to if the dwarf joins or not. He wears a leather jerkin that appears to be made up of a patchwork of various colors, but all faded and muted. The jerkin has a sheath at chest level which appears to store a flute, though at his waist there does dangle a rapier and several sheather daggers as well. The shirt sleeves that aren't covered by the vest are also patchwork but slightly more vibrant colors, though still muted. Around his right ankle, tied around his leather boot, are several colorful bandanas. He looks like one who can make a scene, or not, depending on their own desire...
A quick, sharp whistle cuts through the low buzz of the rooms occupants. "Sorry, sorry," Zaiden says with a smile and a sympathetic gesture. "But those waiting for Gundren are gathering back here by the...Oh, um... latrines. I do hope that's not a sign for things to come!"
Arriving at the table, Zaiden smiles to auburn haired girl with the scar. "This is the Gundren table, isn't it?" he asks, grabbing a chair to pull out but waiting to do so until he has an answer.
((MOre or less what Zaiden looks like...))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
The half-orc woman does not respond to your pleasantries. She looks you up and down with a grimace and scoffs. She grabs one of the posts on the job board and brushes past you without a word and exits the tavern into the bright morning sun.
@Zaiden
The girl at the bar is young, but her skill tending to the patrons and handling the coin betrays perhaps more years than she shows. She grins at Zaiden's flirtations and gives back as best she can, but Zaiden can tell she isn't too seasoned at such banter. When an older, scruffy human male sitting at the bar makes a crass joke about the city guard, she laughs loudly and more comfortably. You never catch her name, and if you had asked, she would have played coy.
@Emrin & Zaiden
The girl at the bar glances at Emrin when he asks for the ale. She quickly fills and delivers a glass and takes the 5 copper without losing a beat in the conversation with the human male.
"It's shaping up to be."The young woman responds as Zaiden approaches. A hand is waved towards the empty seats, a wide smile on her face. "Take your pick."
At a quick glance, her armor and clothes are well made, but nothing particularly special. And if anyone thinks to look down, they see war hammer and war pick hanging off her belt. Similar to her clothes they are well made, though have some smaller, more intricate detailing that hint towards some sort of wealth. That, or she is not very good with money. Perhaps both. That sort of thing is hard to tell with a brief impression. A finger taps against the table as she looks around. "Think we need a sign?"
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The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"Wow... that was kinda rude... or maybe I didn't express myself well?" - Sig thinks, watching the little empty space left by the pamphlet taken by the woman like there was something there worthy of being looked at. He didn't like awkward exchanges like that, city folk still put him on edge, as he was not used to the fast paced life of Neverwinter. Granted, he had only arrived a few days prior, but the culture shock was starting to show. Coming from a little town where everybody knew him on a first name basis, the contrast was immense.
"Maybe... that group of people?". They were just gathering around the table, speaking as if the didn't know each other. "But wait... what if I go there, and it turns out they're not!" He stops himself from even giving the first step in their direction. In the end, he decides to fool around on the common area, trying to look interested in the job board while checking the table from time to time.
"If they didn't hear my whistle and announcement then I doubt they can read," Zaiden jokes, tossing a wink to the woman.
"My name is Zaiden McSullivan," he says, pulling out a chair and making himself comfortable. "I was expecting our employer to be here by now. Did you have a more specific arrival time, by chance?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
Still observing the tavern around him, Finn watches as a boy in a patchwork jerkin saunters over to the table near the back, where a well-dressed human girl with a scar on her face is sitting. While he can't quite make out everything they say to each other, he certainly does hear him whistle loudly and announce that people here for Gundren should meet at the table in the back near the latrines, and he hears him introduce himself as Zaiden. Knowing now these are at least some of the people he'll be traveling with on his upcoming job, he begins to play closer attention to them to judge how cautious he needs to be around them
"That boy is perhaps the least subtle human I've ever seen. If he's one of their informants or assassins, I'm a frost giant. Given she's sticking around, she can't be either. If she was trying to hunt me down, there's no way she would stay near someone drawing that much attention."
Out of the corner of his eye, he also notices a young human boy, lurking around the center of the tavern and constantly glancing awkwardly over at Zaiden and the girl with the scar. Immediately, he knows this young boy must be coming with them as well.
"There's absolutely no way that one is one of them. Heck, I've probably been on the run from them for longer than he's been alive! Plus, no trained thief would just stand in the middle of a room like that"
Relatively certain now that these three are also waiting for Gundren and, more importantly, that they are not operatives, he takes a look around the tavern for anyone else he thinks might be traveling with them. For the moment he can't seem to find anyone else that sticks out was obviously waiting, so he returns to watching the entrance and waiting for Gundren's arrival. He contemplates for a moment going over to the table and introducing himself, but decides it's probably best if he stays here to be safe until they are somewhere less crowded
Emrin was still taking in the mans colourful appearance when he turned and strode off, not even waiting for an answer. He ordered a second ale, already having put a large dent in the first one, and a round for 'the table near the latrines' "terrible name" then makes his way towards the aforementioned table.
"Ho friends" he says companionably as he takes a seat "If we're all waitin for this here 'Gundren' fellow, we might as well wait together". He takes another long pull of his ale, leaving white foam clining to his beard "Emrin Bigtoe at yer service"
Caiden pushes a chair out with his foot and motions for the dwarf to sit. “Welcome Emrin! I am Zaiden and this here… Well i haven’t quite caught her name yet,” Zaiden says cheerfully. “I am sure Gundren will show at any moment. As sure as I am that the moon is made of frozen milk, anyway. But at least he’s kept us waiting in a tavern, am I right?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
"Tristan." The woman chimes in, nodding her head in greeting. "All I was told was the day to arrive, so here I- we are." She grins. "At least we won't be complete strangers when we start this. Not that it's a team building exercise or anything, but knowing a little about each other is better than nothing."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
The tavern door opens with a jolt and a regal-looking human gentleman of about sixty years in chain mail armor enters. He has short white hair; a clean, short, well-kept white beard; and an impossible to ignore scar down the side of his face through his still working left eye. He carries a longsword.
He surveys the room. His eyes briefly stop at the table by the latrines, at the curious group gathered, and then his eyes continue. He sees the boy standing by the job board awkwardly. He acknowledges the girl tending bar with a simple, "Nothing for me," and moves to the open gathering area by the job board, then calls out. "Rockseeker?"
He notes that the table he suspected look at him, and that the boy at the job board perks up. He's surprised that another person in the tavern looks interested, a halfling sitting near the door. He motions you all to the larger table you've already secured.
Once gathered, the man introduces himself.
"I take it you have each been hired to help Gundren Rockseeker today? I am Sildar Hallwinter. Member of the Lord's Alliance and friend of Gundren. I am here in his stead. I apologize for our tardiness, but something urgent needs our attention. He and I are needed in Phandalin. Instead of escorting Gundren and his provisions to Phandalin, you will be escorting the provisions alone."
He looks you each in the eye to see that you're paying attention, then continues.
"If the goods reach Barthen's Provisions in Phandalin unscathed, Gundren will pay you 50 gold. A hefty sum for simply ensuring some goods make it to their destination, but Gundren insists. He and I will be about a day ahead of you. Deliver the goods to Barthen's, then seek Gundren out at Stonehill Inn for payment. If everything goes well and you are interested in more work, Gundren will likely have something for you. Your wagon and oxen are currently being tended by Gundren's cousin, I forget his name. Kharfen or something like that. Go see him in the adjacent alley to get on your way. Do you have any questions before I leave?"
Finally, Sig walks slowly towards Sildar, as if wanted to go unnoticed. Without really approaching the table or the people around it, he stays 8ft away, listening to what he's saying. Finally, when he finishes, he speaks, barely louder than a whisper.
"That's ok, I know the way to Phandalin, and I know Barthen's, a friend of mine works there..."He looks at the table, visibly a fish out of the water between these people.
"Hello, I'm Sig, Gundren hired me through Kharfen to be one of the escorts." He waves softly, looking at each member of the table and nodding when they lock eyes with him.
Following Sildar over to the table as he makes his announcement, Finn treads carefully in order to not draw too much attention from the rest of the tavern, a hand still kept under his coat near one of his daggers in case anything happens. He doesn't quite sit down at the table, standing instead near the boy who just introduced himself as Sig, turning to Sildar as he begins to talk:
"Thank you for letting us know. Hopefully we will be able to manage the journey on our own, and if Sig knows the way, we should have no trouble navigating the path"
He then turns towards Zaiden and the girl and dwarf who have just introduced themselves as Tristan and Emrin:
"I'm Finn, a private eye here in town. We should head out to go meet up with Kharfen. Its' best if we get on the road so we can get these provisions to Phandalin as soon as possible "
With that, he begins to walk towards the door, heading to the alleyway where they have been told Kharfen is waiting, hoping the others will follow him out
Tristan gives a wary eye to Sildar as he first enters, but quickly masks it with a more jovial expression. Finn and Sig get a wide grin as they come over, and gives them a small wave to invite them closer. "A friend of mine put in a good word for me to Kharfen. Since it seems we're dong more formal introductions, my name's Tristan. Just a local weapon for hire. Pleasure to be working with you all."
Her attention turns briefly to Sildar again. "Anything we should keep an eye out for on the road?"
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The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"A hefty sum is never paid for anything simple," Zaiden notes with a smile. "But escort the goods we shall, with Tristan here as muscle, Finn solving all our problems and Sig as a navigator, what can go wrong? And if it does, we have Ermin the dwarf and me! Fool proof! I'll be the fool and Ermin can be the proof against me, right?"
Standing and looking over the group, Zaiden smiles, polishes off the rest of his drink, and rubs his hands together. "This'll be fun, just you wait and see!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
At Tristan's question, Sildar squints at her as though making an assessment. He glances over the rest of the table. "Phandalin is a three-day journey south and east if nothing goes wrong. Most of the way is along the High Road, so there are regular patrols that'll keep you relatively safe. I can't vouch for Triboar Trail nor the road south to Phandalin, but all I believe are well-traveled enough."
After Zaiden's confidence, Sildar allows a grin to form on his weathered face. "Just keep an eye out for roving bandits or goblins and you should be fine with the five of you. See you in Phandalin." He leaves.
You're welcome to finish your drinks and conversation as you will.
Once the party joins Finn outside in the adjacent alley, you find a set of oxen tied to a wagon packed full of crates and barrels. A dwarven man with thinning red hair and a long red beard is checking the oxen and wagons over, preparing them for the trip. Some of you recognize him as Kharfen. When he sees you approach, he smiles wide and says, "Ah, my mercenaries. Or Gundren's, I guess. He is the one giving out the coin for this little adventure, isn't he? Heh. Here to guide these goods to Phandalin, eh? Well, let ol' Kharfen have a look at the group. Yes, yes, I'm sure you'll do just fine. I do pick only the best mercenaries, after all! Take good care of these oxen for me."
He leans in, putting his face inches in front of one of the oxen and speaks the next sentence in a baby voice. "They'll surely do well for you, won't you Bunsen? Won't you Beaker? Anyway, off you go. I do need to get back to my shop. Well, which of you is taking the reins?" Kharfen asks with a friendly smile, holding the reins out to you.
Tell me how you plan to travel.
Who sits in the wagon to steer the oxen? Make an animal handling or nature check.
Who sits in the wagon (if any)?
Who walks along the road (if any) and in what proximity to the wagon?
Those keeping watch, make a perception check for the first day's travel.
Lost Mine of Phandelver
DM: ArgoFlux
You are in the city of Neverwinter, the Jewel of the North, along the northern Sword Coast of Faerûn in search of adventure. It is a large, bustling, cultured city home to all kinds of people, most of whom value efficient and dedicated work and civilized, kind people.
On this bright morning, you enter the Riverside Tavern and Inn, a larger tavern on the south side of the city, expecting to meet a dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker willing to pay you for some work. The dining hall is starting to bustle with activity as its residents and local merchants alike break their fast. A middle-aged human barmaid hustles between tables, taking orders and serving food and drink, while another middle-aged female human cook can be seen through a serving window working the kitchen. A very young looking but tall human girl is tending the bar and pouring drinks, laughing with the patrons there for a morning ale.
There is an open table nearest the door to the latrines that seats six, an open table nearest the entrance that seats two, some room at the bar, and an open gathering area where no one is currently playing darts. This last area is also where a job board hangs and a single half-orc woman peruses the morning's offerings.
What do you do while you wait?
Standing outside, Tristan glances down at a loose piece of paper in her hands. The Riverside Tavern and Inn, her potential employer, and 'Escort job?' are the only things written on the crumpled paper. Tucking it away into some pocket, she enters the tavern, and looks around.
The young human stands a bit above average height, and has fair skin. A scar runs across her nose and cheek, and seems old. Her auburn hair is tied back into a ponytail with a blue ribbon, kept out of her light brown eyes. It seems she dressed to impress, as she wear a dark blue padded vest and chainmail shirt. A lighter blue surcoat, with a crudely sewn on patch covering where an emblem might be. She places a gloved hand on her stomach as it grumbles, the smell of food appealing. The job board seems to catch her attention, but food seems to take first priority. Tristan strides over to the larger of the two tables, sitting down at one in one of the chairs. She tries to look inviting, allowing other people to sit with her if they choose.
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
Sig comes inside running. He's panting and sweating as he enters the tavern, looking frantically around. The teenage boy, 16, although he looks 3 or 4 years younger, is dressing in a very plain shirt that used to be white a few years ago but now it's just a mix of grey and brown, just like his leather pants and boots. Everything seems to be borrowed from an older brother, or his father, and the loose clothes make him seem even younger. He has black short hair and blue eyes.
"Gods am I late? Gundren mentioned he'd be meeting more people, and he's nowhere to be seen!... Is he gone?"
He stops at the gathering area, recovering his breath, nodding softly to the half-orc woman, exchanging a few pleasantries before he, too, starts to check the board, eyeing the entrance door, waiting for Gundren to appear, and also the woman sitting on the large table, looking oddly welcoming.
Finn walks into the tavern, keeping a close eye on the humans around him as he passes. He's a small halfling man, just over three feet tall, wearing black boots, leather pants, and a small brown coat over a leather tunic. As he walks in, the rest of the tavern pays little mind to him, many not even noticing his presence. Almost by instinct, he places his left hand under his coat, feeling the one of the daggers he always keeps sheathed by his side in case he runs into trouble. He looks around for Gundren's cousin Kharfen, a local merchant he tracked down some stolen goods for and that recruited him for this job, but he doesn't see him anywhere.
"Come on, where is he? He said he'd be here. A tavern like this is not a safe place for me to be. I've got to get out of here as soon as possible. Any one of these strangers could let them know I'm in Neverwinter and then I'm in deep trouble"
Keeping a close eye on the people around him as he does, he takes a seat at the table closest to the door, making sure to face the entrance. He exchanges short greetings with the few others who see him, but the vast majority of the tavern continues to go about their business. As he waits, he keeps a close watch on the door, hoping to see Gundren arrive soon, ideally with Kharfen in tow
Emrin strode purposefully down the street in the early morning light, he had a destination in mind and little time to get there. His cloak billowed out behind him in a fair imitation of his long dark hair revealing his gleaming mail shirt and white tabard beneath, emblazoned with the flaming sword of Tempus. The shield strapped to his arm, flat topped and gently pointed bottom, also bore the flaming sword proclaiming him as a cleric of Tempus, god of war.
He saw his destination ahead and quickened his pace, it was already past dawn and tardiness was not a good first impression. The few people on the street gave him a wide berth despite his short stature, for he stood at a mere four and a half feet tall, because even the most un-educated villager knew it was not wise to stand in the way of a determined dwarf.
Emrin pushed through the door into the Riverside Tavern taking care not to smack anything with the hilt of the warhammer slung across his back. His ice blue eyes quickly scanned the room in search of Gundren, gratefull that most people were sitting down and he didn't have to climb on a chair to do so, seeing no other dwarves he made his way to the bar.
"Ale, if you wouldn't mind young miss" he said to the barmaid, laying the requisit coin on the bar as he turned back to continue scanning the room, stroking the braid in his beard as he considered the day ahead and what it might entail.
"I guess you best be getting the man an ale," Zaiden says to the lovely young bartender with a wink, letting her break free of their harmless flirting. He picks up his own drink and turns away from the lass and towards the barroom proper, scanning the patrons. And most importantly, the new arrivals.
The one at the big table alone, definitely. The eager boy, too, Zaiden thought to himself, trying to pick out his likely "coworkers" on this job. Probably the Halfling, though he could just be running from someone... Still, better than even money. Dwarves are tricky though, hard to read. But then again they always seem more interested in ale than anything else. Still, a definite maybe - coin flip at worst. They all looked more like the adventuring type than he himself did - He was a typical human. Nothing particular about him at all, excepting when he smiled perhaps. Or when he began to weave his words as if they were magic. But they are, really. Perhaps the craftiest magic of all... With words, be it song or tale or poem, everything is possible.
Zaiden drank deep and scanned the room again, this time for his potential employer. Kharfen said his cousin would be here at sunup and, well, the sun is up... Still, not a single dwarf that looks likely to be related to him in sight. "Pardon, but you're not Gundren by any chance...?" Zaiden asks the dwarf who just came up to the bar and made the cute bartender actually turn her attention back to the bar.
"No, no, definitely not!" Zaiden quickly follows up. It's in the eyes, the tell is always in the eyes. "But waiting for him as well, perhaps? It's a safe bet that one over there at the big table all by her lonesome is as well. I'm going to go join here..."
Zaiden, begins crossing the bar to join the table, paying no attention to if the dwarf joins or not. He wears a leather jerkin that appears to be made up of a patchwork of various colors, but all faded and muted. The jerkin has a sheath at chest level which appears to store a flute, though at his waist there does dangle a rapier and several sheather daggers as well. The shirt sleeves that aren't covered by the vest are also patchwork but slightly more vibrant colors, though still muted. Around his right ankle, tied around his leather boot, are several colorful bandanas. He looks like one who can make a scene, or not, depending on their own desire...
A quick, sharp whistle cuts through the low buzz of the rooms occupants. "Sorry, sorry," Zaiden says with a smile and a sympathetic gesture. "But those waiting for Gundren are gathering back here by the...Oh, um... latrines. I do hope that's not a sign for things to come!"
Arriving at the table, Zaiden smiles to auburn haired girl with the scar. "This is the Gundren table, isn't it?" he asks, grabbing a chair to pull out but waiting to do so until he has an answer.
((MOre or less what Zaiden looks like...))
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
@Sig
The half-orc woman does not respond to your pleasantries. She looks you up and down with a grimace and scoffs. She grabs one of the posts on the job board and brushes past you without a word and exits the tavern into the bright morning sun.
@Zaiden
The girl at the bar is young, but her skill tending to the patrons and handling the coin betrays perhaps more years than she shows. She grins at Zaiden's flirtations and gives back as best she can, but Zaiden can tell she isn't too seasoned at such banter. When an older, scruffy human male sitting at the bar makes a crass joke about the city guard, she laughs loudly and more comfortably. You never catch her name, and if you had asked, she would have played coy.
@Emrin & Zaiden
The girl at the bar glances at Emrin when he asks for the ale. She quickly fills and delivers a glass and takes the 5 copper without losing a beat in the conversation with the human male.
"It's shaping up to be." The young woman responds as Zaiden approaches. A hand is waved towards the empty seats, a wide smile on her face. "Take your pick."
At a quick glance, her armor and clothes are well made, but nothing particularly special. And if anyone thinks to look down, they see war hammer and war pick hanging off her belt. Similar to her clothes they are well made, though have some smaller, more intricate detailing that hint towards some sort of wealth. That, or she is not very good with money. Perhaps both. That sort of thing is hard to tell with a brief impression. A finger taps against the table as she looks around. "Think we need a sign?"
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"Wow... that was kinda rude... or maybe I didn't express myself well?" - Sig thinks, watching the little empty space left by the pamphlet taken by the woman like there was something there worthy of being looked at. He didn't like awkward exchanges like that, city folk still put him on edge, as he was not used to the fast paced life of Neverwinter. Granted, he had only arrived a few days prior, but the culture shock was starting to show. Coming from a little town where everybody knew him on a first name basis, the contrast was immense.
"Maybe... that group of people?". They were just gathering around the table, speaking as if the didn't know each other. "But wait... what if I go there, and it turns out they're not!" He stops himself from even giving the first step in their direction. In the end, he decides to fool around on the common area, trying to look interested in the job board while checking the table from time to time.
"If they didn't hear my whistle and announcement then I doubt they can read," Zaiden jokes, tossing a wink to the woman.
"My name is Zaiden McSullivan," he says, pulling out a chair and making himself comfortable. "I was expecting our employer to be here by now. Did you have a more specific arrival time, by chance?"
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Still observing the tavern around him, Finn watches as a boy in a patchwork jerkin saunters over to the table near the back, where a well-dressed human girl with a scar on her face is sitting. While he can't quite make out everything they say to each other, he certainly does hear him whistle loudly and announce that people here for Gundren should meet at the table in the back near the latrines, and he hears him introduce himself as Zaiden. Knowing now these are at least some of the people he'll be traveling with on his upcoming job, he begins to play closer attention to them to judge how cautious he needs to be around them
"That boy is perhaps the least subtle human I've ever seen. If he's one of their informants or assassins, I'm a frost giant. Given she's sticking around, she can't be either. If she was trying to hunt me down, there's no way she would stay near someone drawing that much attention."
Out of the corner of his eye, he also notices a young human boy, lurking around the center of the tavern and constantly glancing awkwardly over at Zaiden and the girl with the scar. Immediately, he knows this young boy must be coming with them as well.
"There's absolutely no way that one is one of them. Heck, I've probably been on the run from them for longer than he's been alive! Plus, no trained thief would just stand in the middle of a room like that"
Relatively certain now that these three are also waiting for Gundren and, more importantly, that they are not operatives, he takes a look around the tavern for anyone else he thinks might be traveling with them. For the moment he can't seem to find anyone else that sticks out was obviously waiting, so he returns to watching the entrance and waiting for Gundren's arrival. He contemplates for a moment going over to the table and introducing himself, but decides it's probably best if he stays here to be safe until they are somewhere less crowded
Emrin was still taking in the mans colourful appearance when he turned and strode off, not even waiting for an answer. He ordered a second ale, already having put a large dent in the first one, and a round for 'the table near the latrines' "terrible name" then makes his way towards the aforementioned table.
"Ho friends" he says companionably as he takes a seat "If we're all waitin for this here 'Gundren' fellow, we might as well wait together". He takes another long pull of his ale, leaving white foam clining to his beard "Emrin Bigtoe at yer service"
Caiden pushes a chair out with his foot and motions for the dwarf to sit. “Welcome Emrin! I am Zaiden and this here… Well i haven’t quite caught her name yet,” Zaiden says cheerfully. “I am sure Gundren will show at any moment. As sure as I am that the moon is made of frozen milk, anyway. But at least he’s kept us waiting in a tavern, am I right?”
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
"Tristan." The woman chimes in, nodding her head in greeting. "All I was told was the day to arrive, so here I- we are." She grins. "At least we won't be complete strangers when we start this. Not that it's a team building exercise or anything, but knowing a little about each other is better than nothing."
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
@All
The tavern door opens with a jolt and a regal-looking human gentleman of about sixty years in chain mail armor enters. He has short white hair; a clean, short, well-kept white beard; and an impossible to ignore scar down the side of his face through his still working left eye. He carries a longsword.
He surveys the room. His eyes briefly stop at the table by the latrines, at the curious group gathered, and then his eyes continue. He sees the boy standing by the job board awkwardly. He acknowledges the girl tending bar with a simple, "Nothing for me," and moves to the open gathering area by the job board, then calls out. "Rockseeker?"
He notes that the table he suspected look at him, and that the boy at the job board perks up. He's surprised that another person in the tavern looks interested, a halfling sitting near the door. He motions you all to the larger table you've already secured.
Once gathered, the man introduces himself.
"I take it you have each been hired to help Gundren Rockseeker today? I am Sildar Hallwinter. Member of the Lord's Alliance and friend of Gundren. I am here in his stead. I apologize for our tardiness, but something urgent needs our attention. He and I are needed in Phandalin. Instead of escorting Gundren and his provisions to Phandalin, you will be escorting the provisions alone."
He looks you each in the eye to see that you're paying attention, then continues.
"If the goods reach Barthen's Provisions in Phandalin unscathed, Gundren will pay you 50 gold. A hefty sum for simply ensuring some goods make it to their destination, but Gundren insists. He and I will be about a day ahead of you. Deliver the goods to Barthen's, then seek Gundren out at Stonehill Inn for payment. If everything goes well and you are interested in more work, Gundren will likely have something for you. Your wagon and oxen are currently being tended by Gundren's cousin, I forget his name. Kharfen or something like that. Go see him in the adjacent alley to get on your way. Do you have any questions before I leave?"
Finally, Sig walks slowly towards Sildar, as if wanted to go unnoticed. Without really approaching the table or the people around it, he stays 8ft away, listening to what he's saying. Finally, when he finishes, he speaks, barely louder than a whisper.
"That's ok, I know the way to Phandalin, and I know Barthen's, a friend of mine works there..." He looks at the table, visibly a fish out of the water between these people.
"Hello, I'm Sig, Gundren hired me through Kharfen to be one of the escorts." He waves softly, looking at each member of the table and nodding when they lock eyes with him.
Following Sildar over to the table as he makes his announcement, Finn treads carefully in order to not draw too much attention from the rest of the tavern, a hand still kept under his coat near one of his daggers in case anything happens. He doesn't quite sit down at the table, standing instead near the boy who just introduced himself as Sig, turning to Sildar as he begins to talk:
"Thank you for letting us know. Hopefully we will be able to manage the journey on our own, and if Sig knows the way, we should have no trouble navigating the path"
He then turns towards Zaiden and the girl and dwarf who have just introduced themselves as Tristan and Emrin:
"I'm Finn, a private eye here in town. We should head out to go meet up with Kharfen. Its' best if we get on the road so we can get these provisions to Phandalin as soon as possible "
With that, he begins to walk towards the door, heading to the alleyway where they have been told Kharfen is waiting, hoping the others will follow him out
Tristan gives a wary eye to Sildar as he first enters, but quickly masks it with a more jovial expression. Finn and Sig get a wide grin as they come over, and gives them a small wave to invite them closer. "A friend of mine put in a good word for me to Kharfen. Since it seems we're dong more formal introductions, my name's Tristan. Just a local weapon for hire. Pleasure to be working with you all."
Her attention turns briefly to Sildar again. "Anything we should keep an eye out for on the road?"
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"A hefty sum is never paid for anything simple," Zaiden notes with a smile. "But escort the goods we shall, with Tristan here as muscle, Finn solving all our problems and Sig as a navigator, what can go wrong? And if it does, we have Ermin the dwarf and me! Fool proof! I'll be the fool and Ermin can be the proof against me, right?"
Standing and looking over the group, Zaiden smiles, polishes off the rest of his drink, and rubs his hands together. "This'll be fun, just you wait and see!"
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
At Tristan's question, Sildar squints at her as though making an assessment. He glances over the rest of the table. "Phandalin is a three-day journey south and east if nothing goes wrong. Most of the way is along the High Road, so there are regular patrols that'll keep you relatively safe. I can't vouch for Triboar Trail nor the road south to Phandalin, but all I believe are well-traveled enough."
After Zaiden's confidence, Sildar allows a grin to form on his weathered face. "Just keep an eye out for roving bandits or goblins and you should be fine with the five of you. See you in Phandalin." He leaves.
You're welcome to finish your drinks and conversation as you will.
Once the party joins Finn outside in the adjacent alley, you find a set of oxen tied to a wagon packed full of crates and barrels. A dwarven man with thinning red hair and a long red beard is checking the oxen and wagons over, preparing them for the trip. Some of you recognize him as Kharfen. When he sees you approach, he smiles wide and says, "Ah, my mercenaries. Or Gundren's, I guess. He is the one giving out the coin for this little adventure, isn't he? Heh. Here to guide these goods to Phandalin, eh? Well, let ol' Kharfen have a look at the group. Yes, yes, I'm sure you'll do just fine. I do pick only the best mercenaries, after all! Take good care of these oxen for me."
He leans in, putting his face inches in front of one of the oxen and speaks the next sentence in a baby voice. "They'll surely do well for you, won't you Bunsen? Won't you Beaker? Anyway, off you go. I do need to get back to my shop. Well, which of you is taking the reins?" Kharfen asks with a friendly smile, holding the reins out to you.
Tell me how you plan to travel.