Under the watchful eyes of the Windhovers, the island realm of Syndaris has greatly prospered over the course of the past two centuries. Since their initial inception to defeat the cambion Rahzzur and his fiendish followers, the successive generations of Windhovers have continued to serve the Syndarian people as overseers and protectors, as civic counselors, and as ambassadors to the surrounding realms. Through their unified purpose, purity of heart, and formidable power, they have valiantly guarded Syndaris from threats without and from treason within. The Windhovers of the past are now legends, and the Windhovers of today soon will be, for so highly esteemed are they in the minds of the men, women, and children of Syndaris.
Summer has now yielded gracefully to fall on Syndaris, and, therefore, the annual celebration of the original Windhovers’ victory over Rahzzur is fast approaching. This celebration, known simply as The Festival of Syndaris, is a tremendous three-day party that takes place in Talisten, the largest city in the realm. The Festival of Syndaris commences on Harvest Eve and is renowned for its food and drink, games, music, dancing, theater, and vast array of shops and merchants. For many, the highlight of the festival is the Tournament of Talisten—a series of skill contests that ends with one competitor’s being crowned as Lord or Lady of the Festival. The prizes for the top finishers are generous, and to return to one’s town or village with that title is for many Syndarians the stuff of dreams.
For many others who attend the festival, however, the greatest highlight is the chance to see the real Windhovers face to face. For it is a tradition that each of the current Windhovers makes the journey to Talisten and enjoys the fanfare with the people they have sworn to protect. And nothing is more exciting than when one of the Windhovers lightheartedly takes part in one of the tournament games, allowing a Syndarian commoner the chance to pit his skill against a great hero who wields a fragment of Aeris.
The grandeur and merriment of the annual Festival of Syndaris is well-known far outside the island realm, and, therefore, many adventurers have been known to secure passage on a ship and make the journey to Talisten. The festival atmosphere is, for most adventurers, a much-needed diversion from the danger and toil that saturates their lives. For others, it is the perfect venue for a bit of profiteering. For some, it might at long last be the place to find that elusive magical item or piece of arcana. For a few, it may be just one more attempt to satisfy that seemingly insatiable urge to see more of the world, meet more of its people, and experience more of life’s wonder.
And, so, despite their different reasons for traveling to the festival, a few adventurers will soon gather in Talisten, and their lives will become unexpectedly intertwined…
It is the day before Harvest Eve, and Talisten’s docks—which lie just to the south of the city—are bustling and vibrant with noise and activity. The recent days of rain and unusually chilly autumn weather have done nothing to slow the pace of anyone or anything that may be involved with the great festival that begins tomorrow. Deckhands are rapidly mooring up their sailing vessels and offloading cargo. Captains are barking out orders, and passengers are gathering their belongings and weaving their way through the excitement and noise toward the road that leads northward into the city. And, of course, a few Syndarian locals, in the spirit of free enterprise, are offering their services to those who have just disembarked. You hear calls of “Can I help you with that trunk, ma’am?” and “If you’ll follow me, good sir, I’ll show you to Talisten’s finest lodgings,” and “I know just the place for a hot meal and a pint. Follow me, please!”
With those delightful words "lodgings" and "hot meal" in the forefront of your mind, and with your few belongings in hand and slung over your shoulder, you descend the gangplank. How good it feels to have dry ground beneath your feet! With a faint smile on your face, you look for some semblance of a path through the throng of people on the docks and begin walking toward Talisten…
The tall elf disembark and takes a deep breath. He has his bow on the quiver at his back and he looks around amused. The hood of his grey cloak is off so he can see and hear all the sounds of the city with his silver eyes.
*Here we are at last!* he thinks to his companion. *Let’s find ourselves a place for the night ok?*
*Do not ever think on approach that charlatan that is offering to guide that idiot of a halfling to an inn. He will probably end with his throat open in one dark alley” *
The eagle perched at the elf’s shoulder looked at the urchin as if she was going to eat him, and he didn’t bother them as they walked away.
*Don’t be so mean. They are only trying to make some coin.*
*Yeah... like those orphans you gave our money to. They certanly made some coin...*
*Again? Come on. They needed more than us. You are upset because you had only rats and fish the last days. Let’s find you some good rabbit for today’s meal ok?*
With a low squeek the eagle just start cleaning his silvered feathers.
After walking a little bit and get away from the docks the elf approaches one merchant and ask him.
“Greetings. I wonder if you could point us to a fine stablishment here in the city. One that is not too far from the main festivities and that has with the quality of facilities that we need. We’ve been too much time on that ship you know, and now we need some real rest during the Festival”
A tall, solidly built man makes his way out of the docks. Clothes having a travel worn appearance. With a rapier and scimitar on either hip. At first when standing still you could mistake him for just a regular man, but when he begins to walk you can not help but stare. The man gracefully walks through the crowded streets as if he was the only one on them.
The man stops near a guard and asks.
"Hello, I am Kurt. Would you know an inn that a working man might stay at? Near the Tournament of Talisten grounds if at all possible?"
“Greetings. I wonder if you could point us to a fine stablishment here in the city. One that is not too far from the main festivities and that has with the quality of facilities that we need. We’ve been too much time on that ship you know, and now we need some real rest during the Festival”
The merchant, not sure whether he should make eye contact with you or the creature on your shoulder, responds warmly but loudly, "Well, first things first! Welcome to this fine island! Welcome, welcome, welcome! No doubt about it, you'll be wantin' a meal and a bed, won't you? Well, let me see. Any idea what you might be wantin' to spend? If you're wantin' some place tip top, The Singing Fire in north Talisten can't be beat. And The Sailor's Hammock, which is just inside the Fisherman's Gate is a fine place as well. But be ready to open that coin purse of yours, however! "
He interrupts himself briefly as he quickly moves back a few steps, allowing a bit of the crowd to pass between the two of you. He continues, "But maybe you'd rather spend a little less on the room, eh? If that's the case, then why don't you try Sham's Peg or The Donnybrook? They're directly across the street from one another in north Talisten, so you can easily make your comparison. Sham, by the way, is downright famous around here for his whisky. Famous indeed!"
"Hello, I am Kurt. Would you know an inn that a working man might stay at? Near the Tournament of Talisten grounds if at all possible?"
The guard's first response is a silent one. He stares momentarily at your scimitar, and then, again, stares at your rapier. He then looks you in the eye, as if he's about to say something about your weapons. "Tournament, huh? Well, you won't need all that steel for the tournament, friend." You're not sure if he's merely trying to be funny or trying subtly to assert his authority or possibly trying to do both.
"Well, anyway, closest to the tournament area you have two choices...no, wait, you have three choices. The Donnybrook, Sham's Peg, and just across the Sea Bridge is The Fisherman's Knot. The Donnybrook has the best rabbit stew a man could want, but it may be too late to find a bed there. The place is very popular, especially at this time of year. Good luck."
A dark-skinned human with a touch of elven grace walks on to the docks. She has three instruments strapped to her back and a rapier sheathed in her belt. She goes up to one of the more reputable-looking locals and says:
"Hello, kind sir! Would you kindly tell me where I could find a gathering place, a building of rest, a supplier of food and drink, a centre of fireside stories? In other words, a tavern."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Horatio Hirschfeld - Squire imbued with fae powers, in the Coliseum of Conquest (W2/L1) DM for Reavers of Harkenwold, and sometimes The Fighting Grounds of the Coliseum
“Thank you kind sir, this Donnybrook Sounds most delightful, It has been a bit since I have had anything other then fish. Would you care for me to give the tavern keeper your name for recommending such a fine establishment?”
waits for the guards response then proceeds into the direction of Donnybrook.Thinking to himself hopefully they have room and I will not have to sleep in the stables.
A tall, athletic, and fair skinned human woman walks off the gangplank onto the docks with a look if relief in her young face. Tossing a long red braid over her scale mail shoulder she tucks a helmet under her arm heaving a travel sack over her shoulder. A mace hangs from her waste which is her only visible weapon except for the symbol of the Morninglord emblazoned on a shield strapped to her back. She wears an amulet as well and it dangles from her neck glinting in the soft sunlight.
Once on land she gives silent thanks to Lathander for her safe and uneventful passage. She notices a few of her fellow passengers have already collected on the dock and moves towards them. Greetings and blessing from the Morninglord pass her lips until she spots a man who told her he was a local tradesmen in Tailsten. Alora smiles to herself remembering their first encounter. A trial flrvthe young cleric indeed when his sick ended up covetibg her new leather boots! Alora aided him for the next day for sea sickness and hopes he will return the favor in information she having refused payment for her medicines aboard.
"Fine day to be on land," Alora Brightwell says smiling at the much shorter man who looks up at her beaming. "Didn't you mention an inn that was safe, inexpensive, and near the festival grounds in our discussions aboard," she asks him with a soft smile. "I have to say in all the fuss of disembarking I have forgotten it's name," she explainslains with a sheepish expression.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
A pale-skinned gnome with a staff a bit taller than himself moves north through the docks toward Talisten. He keeps the hood of his deep blue cloak down, relying on his small stature to avoid attention. Dodging through the sea of pedestrians, he looks for someone reliable from which to get information. He makes his way to a food vendor and coughs,
"*Ahem*, excuse me, down here. Would you happen to know where I could get a room for the night? Preferably something near the center of the city or wherever most festivities are taking place, if it's not too much trouble."
“Wich one is the closest to the Tournament?” He asks.
"Of course! You look just like the sort of fellow who'd win 'Lord of the Festival'. Straight through the Fisherman's Gate, over the Sea Bridge, veer a wee bit left and you'll come to Sham's Peg and The Donnybrook just north of the tournament grounds. One's no closer to the tournament than the other, I reckon. Not sure which place will have room for you, but if those places are full someone can direct you elsewhere I suppose," replies the merchant.
"Hello, kind sir! Would you kindly tell me where I could find a gathering place, a building of rest, a supplier of food and drink, a centre of fireside stories? In other words, a tavern."
As if he'd been expecting you and been making arrangements in advance, he replies, "Absolutely. I never leave these matters to chance, and I've made sure the proprietor of The Nightbear has a room ready for a traveler such as yourself. Furthermore..."
He pauses, looks around, and then yells to a female human child sitting on the edge of the dock about 40 feet away, "Renna! Renna! Lead our guest to the Nightbear. Straight away! Be quick!"
He then returns his attention to you. "As I was saying...furthermore, I have someone at my service who will escort you. This girl Renna is a gem, and make sure you give her a few things to carry. No need for you to wear yourself out after being aboard a ship for so long."
Renna approaches you, looking rather weary, not to mention rather unkempt. You estimate that she's eight or nine years old. She mechanically reaches up to take your right hand in her left. "Ready?" she asks.
“Thank you kind sir, this Donnybrook Sounds most delightful, It has been a bit since I have had anything other then fish. Would you care for me to give the tavern keeper your name for recommending such a fine establishment?”
waits for the guards response then proceeds into the direction of Donnybrook.Thinking to himself hopefully they have room and I will not have to sleep in the stables.
Your words seem to have caught the guard by surprise. He cracks a quick smile and says, "Ah, yes...yes, please do that. Tell Pom--he's the jolly gnome that owns the place--tell Pom that Finnegas sent you."
As you head northward, an unusually talkative dwarf named Morindak introduces himself and engage you in conversation about the tournament. "A fellow of your size and strength is surely joining the fun, eh? You're just the sort of competition I love to beat! Ha!"
He laughs at his own words and asks if you know any of the specifics about the various contests.
"Fine day to be on land," Alora Brightwell says smiling at the much shorter man who looks up at her beaming. "Didn't you mention an inn that was safe, inexpensive, and near the festival grounds in our discussions aboard," she asks him with a soft smile. "I have to say in all the fuss of disembarking I have forgotten it's name," she explains with a sheepish expression.
"Well, bless me, here's just a small thing I can do to help you," he responds warmly.
"Let me think. If I recall correctly, we discussed a few places as I tried to give you the general picture of Talisten. On the south side of the river you'll find the festival grounds. That's the place with vendors, music, the stages, the dancing, and the like. Just across the street is a quality spot: The Leaf and Burl. But if you'd like to be on the north side of the river--and that'll be a bit closer to where all the tournament contests start tomorrow--then I can't think of anything better than The Donnybrook. Wherever your path leads you, kind lady, I pray all goes well. As they say around here, 'May the fish jump into your boat before you ever lift anchor!'"
"*Ahem*, excuse me, down here. Would you happen to know where I could get a room for the night? Preferably something near the center of the city or wherever most festivities are taking place, if it's not too much trouble."
"Oh, by Solinari's wand, you've caught me quite off my guard, sir!" says the vendor. "With all respect, gnomes aren't a common sight on Syndaris. Forgive me. I'd say you're in luck though. Rooms that accommodate the smaller folk are sometimes a bit easier to find during the festival. It's the humans and elves that end up sleeping in tents in Traveler's Field because they can't find a room. So, for you, may I suggest Traveler's Inn, Sham's Peg, or The Donnybrook. All three are in north Talisten. Take this road here, through the Fisherman's Gate and over the bridge. After that, ask just about anyone, and you'll be pointed to the places."
"Thank you kind sir. May his light shine upon you," Alora replies.
Alora then heads to The Donnybrook.
OOC: Anything stand out to Alora around her in the crowd? Passive Perception 18.
No, but you stand out.
Your walk to The Donnybrook takes you across the Silverthread River by way of the Sea Bridge. The streets of the city are, as expected, busy with people going to and fro and with horse-drawn carts and wagons laden with goods. You might be tempted to think that blending in and being inconspicuous would be an easy task. As you begin crossing the bridge, however, three halflings youths on your left fall into step with you. You can sense their gazes and are certain they mean no harm. The youngest--a boy--blushes a bit as he catches your glance. Despite his embarrassment, he blurts out, "You're a hero..or a mighty warrior...or something, right? My sisters and I were talking, and I told them you've probably killed a dragon. Maybe even TWO dragons!"
The halfling who is likely the oldest of the three giggles at her little brother, but then decides she should chide him for being so intrusive. "Tarnie, let her be, please. Mother would throw you down a well if she knew you were asking perfect strangers about killing dragons."
A Tiefling male of average build, light brown hair that looks as if it's been colored dark purple from crushing up a plant of some sort, and reddish skin dressed in a green robe with orange and yellow embroidery resembling flames walks slowly and casually disembarks to stand on the dock. He is also carrying a pack and wearing a strange looking hooded black cloak that looks as if it's stitching was purposely designed to resemble scales.
He pulls his black cloak over his horns to avoid unwanted attention, then takes a deep inhale of the salty air. Seeing the locals are quite eager, he purposely approaches one who looks new to business and with zero customers around them. Someone who might be down on their luck a bit. He weaves through the crowd and approaches such a person.
In a deep and exotic sounding accent he says, "Pardon. Is there a place a stranger may go to enjoy a hot meal and crafted spirits or wine? Preferably one not overly crowded or unsafe. If the establishment is what I ask then I will put in a kind word for you to possibly help business."
After a few minutes walking across the city and amazed of the crowd and the traffic that fills the city, Frandal reaches the Northen part of the city and he asks again for the location of the Sham’s Peg.
*Aren’t we going to the Signing Fire? That sounded like a nice place*
*We better ask here first. We aren’t in our better economical moment, remember?*
*And who’s fault is that?*
*You are impossible*
*But I’m right* replies the eagle as the elf enters the stablishment.
*Ok if there is no room here we can try that one*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PbP Character: A few ;)
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Under the watchful eyes of the Windhovers, the island realm of Syndaris has greatly prospered over the course of the past two centuries. Since their initial inception to defeat the cambion Rahzzur and his fiendish followers, the successive generations of Windhovers have continued to serve the Syndarian people as overseers and protectors, as civic counselors, and as ambassadors to the surrounding realms. Through their unified purpose, purity of heart, and formidable power, they have valiantly guarded Syndaris from threats without and from treason within. The Windhovers of the past are now legends, and the Windhovers of today soon will be, for so highly esteemed are they in the minds of the men, women, and children of Syndaris.
Summer has now yielded gracefully to fall on Syndaris, and, therefore, the annual celebration of the original Windhovers’ victory over Rahzzur is fast approaching. This celebration, known simply as The Festival of Syndaris, is a tremendous three-day party that takes place in Talisten, the largest city in the realm. The Festival of Syndaris commences on Harvest Eve and is renowned for its food and drink, games, music, dancing, theater, and vast array of shops and merchants. For many, the highlight of the festival is the Tournament of Talisten—a series of skill contests that ends with one competitor’s being crowned as Lord or Lady of the Festival. The prizes for the top finishers are generous, and to return to one’s town or village with that title is for many Syndarians the stuff of dreams.
For many others who attend the festival, however, the greatest highlight is the chance to see the real Windhovers face to face. For it is a tradition that each of the current Windhovers makes the journey to Talisten and enjoys the fanfare with the people they have sworn to protect. And nothing is more exciting than when one of the Windhovers lightheartedly takes part in one of the tournament games, allowing a Syndarian commoner the chance to pit his skill against a great hero who wields a fragment of Aeris.
The grandeur and merriment of the annual Festival of Syndaris is well-known far outside the island realm, and, therefore, many adventurers have been known to secure passage on a ship and make the journey to Talisten. The festival atmosphere is, for most adventurers, a much-needed diversion from the danger and toil that saturates their lives. For others, it is the perfect venue for a bit of profiteering. For some, it might at long last be the place to find that elusive magical item or piece of arcana. For a few, it may be just one more attempt to satisfy that seemingly insatiable urge to see more of the world, meet more of its people, and experience more of life’s wonder.
And, so, despite their different reasons for traveling to the festival, a few adventurers will soon gather in Talisten, and their lives will become unexpectedly intertwined…
I. The Festival of Syndaris
Day 1
It is the day before Harvest Eve, and Talisten’s docks—which lie just to the south of the city—are bustling and vibrant with noise and activity. The recent days of rain and unusually chilly autumn weather have done nothing to slow the pace of anyone or anything that may be involved with the great festival that begins tomorrow. Deckhands are rapidly mooring up their sailing vessels and offloading cargo. Captains are barking out orders, and passengers are gathering their belongings and weaving their way through the excitement and noise toward the road that leads northward into the city. And, of course, a few Syndarian locals, in the spirit of free enterprise, are offering their services to those who have just disembarked. You hear calls of “Can I help you with that trunk, ma’am?” and “If you’ll follow me, good sir, I’ll show you to Talisten’s finest lodgings,” and “I know just the place for a hot meal and a pint. Follow me, please!”
With those delightful words "lodgings" and "hot meal" in the forefront of your mind, and with your few belongings in hand and slung over your shoulder, you descend the gangplank. How good it feels to have dry ground beneath your feet! With a faint smile on your face, you look for some semblance of a path through the throng of people on the docks and begin walking toward Talisten…
The tall elf disembark and takes a deep breath. He has his bow on the quiver at his back and he looks around amused. The hood of his grey cloak is off so he can see and hear all the sounds of the city with his silver eyes.
*Here we are at last!* he thinks to his companion. *Let’s find ourselves a place for the night ok?*
*Do not ever think on approach that charlatan that is offering to guide that idiot of a halfling to an inn. He will probably end with his throat open in one dark alley” *
The eagle perched at the elf’s shoulder looked at the urchin as if she was going to eat him, and he didn’t bother them as they walked away.
*Don’t be so mean. They are only trying to make some coin.*
*Yeah... like those orphans you gave our money to. They certanly made some coin...*
*Again? Come on. They needed more than us. You are upset because you had only rats and fish the last days. Let’s find you some good rabbit for today’s meal ok?*
With a low squeek the eagle just start cleaning his silvered feathers.
After walking a little bit and get away from the docks the elf approaches one merchant and ask him.
“Greetings. I wonder if you could point us to a fine stablishment here in the city. One that is not too far from the main festivities and that has with the quality of facilities that we need. We’ve been too much time on that ship you know, and now we need some real rest during the Festival”
PbP Character: A few ;)
A tall, solidly built man makes his way out of the docks. Clothes having a travel worn appearance. With a rapier and scimitar on either hip. At first when standing still you could mistake him for just a regular man, but when he begins to walk you can not help but stare. The man gracefully walks through the crowded streets as if he was the only one on them.
The man stops near a guard and asks.
"Hello, I am Kurt. Would you know an inn that a working man might stay at? Near the Tournament of Talisten grounds if at all possible?"
Kurt Stoneseeker
Ragmin Graybeard
“Wich one is the closest to the Tournament?” He asks.
“You are more than welcome sir. Have a good day!” Answers Frandal with a smile and a nod of hid head. He continues walking towards the North Talisten.
PbP Character: A few ;)
A dark-skinned human with a touch of elven grace walks on to the docks. She has three instruments strapped to her back and a rapier sheathed in her belt. She goes up to one of the more reputable-looking locals and says:
"Hello, kind sir! Would you kindly tell me where I could find a gathering place, a building of rest, a supplier of food and drink, a centre of fireside stories? In other words, a tavern."
Horatio Hirschfeld - Squire imbued with fae powers, in the Coliseum of Conquest (W2/L1)
DM for Reavers of Harkenwold, and sometimes The Fighting Grounds of the Coliseum
“Thank you kind sir, this Donnybrook Sounds most delightful, It has been a bit since I have had anything other then fish. Would you care for me to give the tavern keeper your name for recommending such a fine establishment?”
waits for the guards response then proceeds into the direction of Donnybrook.Thinking to himself hopefully they have room and I will not have to sleep in the stables.
Kurt Stoneseeker
Ragmin Graybeard
A tall, athletic, and fair skinned human woman walks off the gangplank onto the docks with a look if relief in her young face. Tossing a long red braid over her scale mail shoulder she tucks a helmet under her arm heaving a travel sack over her shoulder. A mace hangs from her waste which is her only visible weapon except for the symbol of the Morninglord emblazoned on a shield strapped to her back. She wears an amulet as well and it dangles from her neck glinting in the soft sunlight.
Once on land she gives silent thanks to Lathander for her safe and uneventful passage. She notices a few of her fellow passengers have already collected on the dock and moves towards them. Greetings and blessing from the Morninglord pass her lips until she spots a man who told her he was a local tradesmen in Tailsten. Alora smiles to herself remembering their first encounter. A trial flrvthe young cleric indeed when his sick ended up covetibg her new leather boots! Alora aided him for the next day for sea sickness and hopes he will return the favor in information she having refused payment for her medicines aboard.
"Fine day to be on land," Alora Brightwell says smiling at the much shorter man who looks up at her beaming. "Didn't you mention an inn that was safe, inexpensive, and near the festival grounds in our discussions aboard," she asks him with a soft smile. "I have to say in all the fuss of disembarking I have forgotten it's name," she explainslains with a sheepish expression.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
A pale-skinned gnome with a staff a bit taller than himself moves north through the docks toward Talisten. He keeps the hood of his deep blue cloak down, relying on his small stature to avoid attention. Dodging through the sea of pedestrians, he looks for someone reliable from which to get information. He makes his way to a food vendor and coughs,
"*Ahem*, excuse me, down here. Would you happen to know where I could get a room for the night? Preferably something near the center of the city or wherever most festivities are taking place, if it's not too much trouble."
"Thank you kind sir. May his light shine upon you," Alora replies.
Alora then heads to The Donnybrook.
OOC: Anything stand out to Alora around her in the crowd? Passive Perception 18.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
A Tiefling male of average build, light brown hair that looks as if it's been colored dark purple from crushing up a plant of some sort, and reddish skin dressed in a green robe with orange and yellow embroidery resembling flames walks slowly and casually disembarks to stand on the dock. He is also carrying a pack and wearing a strange looking hooded black cloak that looks as if it's stitching was purposely designed to resemble scales.
He pulls his black cloak over his horns to avoid unwanted attention, then takes a deep inhale of the salty air. Seeing the locals are quite eager, he purposely approaches one who looks new to business and with zero customers around them. Someone who might be down on their luck a bit. He weaves through the crowd and approaches such a person.
In a deep and exotic sounding accent he says, "Pardon. Is there a place a stranger may go to enjoy a hot meal and crafted spirits or wine? Preferably one not overly crowded or unsafe. If the establishment is what I ask then I will put in a kind word for you to possibly help business."
After Apocalypse - Liavyre Withrethin Elf Ranger
Dragon of Autumn - Geoff Krowly Human Cleric
Princes of the Apocalypse - Leofir Sylvaranth Elf Rogue
The Windhovers' Call - Xellos Mazoku Tiefling Sorcerer
High Times at Low Tides - DM
After a few minutes walking across the city and amazed of the crowd and the traffic that fills the city, Frandal reaches the Northen part of the city and he asks again for the location of the Sham’s Peg.
*Aren’t we going to the Signing Fire? That sounded like a nice place*
*We better ask here first. We aren’t in our better economical moment, remember?*
*And who’s fault is that?*
*You are impossible*
*But I’m right* replies the eagle as the elf enters the stablishment.
*Ok if there is no room here we can try that one*
PbP Character: A few ;)