Even before approaching the inn, you can smell it. A strong fish smell emanates from the inn, even more so as you step in. But it bothers none of the patrons or staff, seeing as this coastal town has accepted it as their way of life. A halfling waiter hurries on by with a platter over her head, filled with fresh food and ale. Another halfling rushes by but takes note of you. He notices the flyer in your hand and points over to a table at one end of the inn. At the table you see a tall and lanky half-orc, awkward with his posture and fidgeting with his fine but stained clothes.
But before you introduce yourself, describe yourself.
There comes from outside a small disturbance when in walks a cloaked figure followed by a full size black panther. You see town folk peering ing before he shuts the door. He throws his hood back and you see what appears to be a dark elf with softened features, clearly mixed blood. You see that he has a shield across his back and a thin sword at his side. He turns his gaze to the folks in the inn. He reassures them he and his companion Raven will give them no trouble. He presents the notice and having been redirected to the half-orc he walks up and introduces himself; “Dobin Janson. I’m interested in the salvage work.
"Guh, I forgot what interesting smells they had on the surface," comes a grumbling voice from behind the elf. There stands an old Duergar, with scars and liver spots on his face and a pair of longswords at his hips. He makes a show of holding his nose at first, but then frees both hands to make a greeting gesture toward the half-orc. "You're the salvage man, then? Count me in as well."
Initially, it appears as if a large pointed hat has suddenly grown legs, and is now wandering through the inn. Upon a second glance, it is revealed that this hat not only has legs, but it has arms as well. Another inspection reveals a tiny beak sprouting from the darkness between the hat's brim and the scarf this little creature uses to obscure most of their face. A little eye, shining perfectly white, glares from the darkness alongside this beak. It regards the tavern's patrons balefully, then fixes upon the half-orc. The creature, measuring approximately two and a half feet (hat included), has a bit of trouble squeezing past the patrons' legs, due to the hat's brim, but they manage to get through with few complications. Once, a knee jostles the hat particularly violently, and a slime-slick tendril squeezes out from beneath the brim and slaps it away. The behatted being looks up at the half-orc, regarding him with skepticism. A voice sounds in the mind of the half-orc and all involved with the job.
Quill is the name I was given Before the Nameless Dark took it Thou may use it as thou wish This is the gathering of metallic graverobbers?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"This is this," deadpans a young high elf to Vertheg, unobtrusively setting the flyer down on the table in front of the half-orc and seating herself without being asked. Seemingly appearing put of nowhere from a dark corner hidden by the crowd of patrons and wait staff. Green eyes briefly clock the exits to the inn, clearly not for the first time, and take in the others before settling back on Vertheg with a neutral expression.
Unlike the half-drow, she provides no assurances that her animal companion, a small snow owl on her shoulder, will cause no trouble, though the bird itself is very aware and wary of the panther. And of the strange beaked humanoid in the hat. And the duergar. Yet unlike some high elves, perhaps, she herself appears to bear no disdain whatsoever for the blood of the Underdark that flows in two of their veins. More like curiosity. This ought to be interesting.
Strangely, although she lacks the half-orc's fine clothes, she carries herself like a noblewoman. Longbow at her back and rapier at her hip. Pretty, not beautiful. Green eyes gaze past copper hair tied in a bob behind her head, seeming to convey a message: Hatted one is right. The less said of a job out loud in the open, the better.
The half-orc roughly fixes his clothes, going from messily to slightly messily dressed.
"Uh, Me Vertheg. Nice to meet you. Master wants more people for ship thing so me need to bring more people. But you can sit with me, you have a pretty cat too mister."
The door of the tavern opens with a bam. The last adventurer appears with a gust and strong smell of seawater. A huge Dragonborn with rusty scales bends his head and goes through the door. His height is well over 7 feet. The floor of the tavern shakes as 500 pounds of thick bone, muscle and metals walk through the tables. The Dragonborn takes on the empty sheet in front of the half-orc.
"… Najax Draktelon. Son of Gorox Draktelon. The Sword of the Dragon God.…"
His voice is rumbling like distant thunder. The warrior grabs a roast fish from the table and bites off it's head with his jaw.
The door of the tavern opens with a bam. The last adventurer appears with a gust and strong smell of seawater. A huge Dragonborn with rusty scales bends his head and goes through the door. His height is well over 7 feet. The floor of the tavern shakes as 500 pounds of thick bone, muscle and metals walk through the tables. The Dragonborn takes on the empty sheet in front of the half-orc.
"… Najax Draktelon. Son of Gorox Draktelon. The Sword of the Dragon God.…"
His voice is rumbling like distant thunder. The warrior grabs a roast fish from the table and bites off it's head with his jaw.
" I heard you have a job for me."
"Me Vertheg, um, son of pa and...butler to master!"
He nods to himself as if proud of himself. He then looks to the flyer handed to him by high elf, raising it once more.
"Master has job, me bring people to master's house so master talk about job. Master good at talking."
The high elf rolls her eyes, but offers a smile despite herself (well, more a showing of teeth, really) and a quick nod to the other apparent salvagers.
"Well, the bar has certainly been set high for being 'good at talking.' I hope Master doesn't disappoint. I'm Nivi and the owl is Shiv. No time like the present, Vertheg. Where's the house?" Nivi's expression returns to blank, but Shiv looks a little miffed, while still keeping a watchful eye on the panther.
Judge not the half-orc, sylvan one His talents surely lie elsewhere Thy criticism serves no purpose But to make thyself look a fool
The little beaked fellow stares angrily up at Nivi, white eyes narrowed. Their hat shifts... dangerously? 'Confusingly' is perhaps more accurate. A slimy tendril briefly flicks out from underneath it, like a snake tasting the air, leaving a trail of slime dripping down Quill's beak. Their feathered arms cross in silent judgement. Clearly, the one who speaks with their mind has an opinion about those who criticize the lexically challenged.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"Judging? Criticizing? Not what I had in mind exactly, sweet lips, but you be the... judge. Feel free to judge or criticize me, actually. You just have to get in line behind my family. And maybe buy me dinner first. Anyway, the house?" She looks back to Vertheg.
The duergar curiously inspects Quill. "Ay, you're one of those birdfolk, aren't you? Kenku, I think? Haven't seen one in a while... an' I guess I'm still not seein' one, considerin' how covered-up you are." He grins and chuckles at his own joke.
"Anyway, nice to meet th' lot of you. My name's Davak."
Dobin nods to the half-orc and sits and observes his companions just as he had done in the loflore forest. His panther, Raven, eyes the owl a little too much before he says “friend “
At the tavern's door appears a 6 ft tall man with dark red skin. The sides and back of his head are bald but upon the top flows orange hair - that also seems to shift shades as light moves over it as if made of fire. Similar hair falls as a pointed tuft from his chin and more forms bushy eyebrows that flicker and dance like flames as he moves his eyes. Eyes that exist as orbs of pure gold light as if miniature suns. This with his large pointed, elf-like, ears gives this man a very unusual appearance. The rest of his appearance, such as his choice of clothes, are considerably less impressive. An open jacket, baggy cotton pants and some sandals - all looking rather worn and usually with some shade of purple which does not combine well - especially not with the shade of his skin. Two pieces do stand out thought: the sapphire in his belt and the ruby of his amulet. Those of the right incriminations may note these as being arcane foci.
He enters the room with little confidence. His backpack - one clearly of an explorer with ropes and bedroll attached - rustling side to side as he cautiously steps around the patrons and avoiding some of the gazes. A halfling serving customers notices the flyer in his red man's tight grip and directs him to the half-orc. With a little smile and nod as thanks the man makes his way to the half-orc and the forming group around him.
"H..." He begins but fails and takes a breath, steeling himself for the task of speaking in such a mysterious group. "H-hello. My name is Brand. Are you Vertheg?" He manages to say. His voice is soft but crackling like a small campfire, not much more than a whisper in a silent night. He nervously continues, "I... I was told you needed help with a job?" He slowly unfurls his grip and puts the flyer on the table. He notices other flyers and realises they must be here for the same reason as him.
"H..." He begins but fails and takes a breath, steeling himself for the task of speaking in such a mysterious group. "H-hello. My name is Brand. Are you Vertheg?" He manages to say. His voice is soft but crackling like a small campfire, not much more than a whisper in a silent night. He nervously continues, "I... I was told you needed help with a job?" He slowly unfurls his grip and puts the flyer on the table. He notices other flyers and realises they must be here for the same reason as him.
"Hello, me Vertheg. Um...me count...six. So me bring all to master's house, he has a really big house, many rooms."
He seems giddy as he gets up from the table, going for the exit.
"And, and Vertheg have room there too. Me does the garden work and make it look pretty. Make many leaf art things, master likes them much."
He's oblivious to any comments made about his lack of social grace, perhaps for the better. He motions for the party to follow as he holds the door open.
Nivi acknowledges the others with her eyes and a faint, lopsided grin. "Brand, Davak, Dobin, Najax son of Gorox, and sweet li-... uh, Quill, and me. Might be a well-rounded group after all. Just have to see what the job is." She seems vaguely relieved that she doesn't know any of them already.
"Plant-lover, eh Vertheg? Nice. Reminds me of my lady mother, always in her 'arboretum' as she calls it. Guessing you're not a pretentious, sentimental bore like her, though. So, does master have a name we can use? Might be awkward for us to call him 'master' before we agree to the job."
Even before approaching the inn, you can smell it. A strong fish smell emanates from the inn, even more so as you step in. But it bothers none of the patrons or staff, seeing as this coastal town has accepted it as their way of life. A halfling waiter hurries on by with a platter over her head, filled with fresh food and ale. Another halfling rushes by but takes note of you. He notices the flyer in your hand and points over to a table at one end of the inn. At the table you see a tall and lanky half-orc, awkward with his posture and fidgeting with his fine but stained clothes.
But before you introduce yourself, describe yourself.
There comes from outside a small disturbance when in walks a cloaked figure followed by a full size black panther. You see town folk peering ing before he shuts the door. He throws his hood back and you see what appears to be a dark elf with softened features, clearly mixed blood. You see that he has a shield across his back and a thin sword at his side.
He turns his gaze to the folks in the inn. He reassures them he and his companion Raven will give them no trouble. He presents the notice and having been redirected to the half-orc he walks up and introduces himself; “Dobin Janson. I’m interested in the salvage work.
D&D since 1984
"Guh, I forgot what interesting smells they had on the surface," comes a grumbling voice from behind the elf. There stands an old Duergar, with scars and liver spots on his face and a pair of longswords at his hips. He makes a show of holding his nose at first, but then frees both hands to make a greeting gesture toward the half-orc. "You're the salvage man, then? Count me in as well."
Initially, it appears as if a large pointed hat has suddenly grown legs, and is now wandering through the inn. Upon a second glance, it is revealed that this hat not only has legs, but it has arms as well. Another inspection reveals a tiny beak sprouting from the darkness between the hat's brim and the scarf this little creature uses to obscure most of their face. A little eye, shining perfectly white, glares from the darkness alongside this beak. It regards the tavern's patrons balefully, then fixes upon the half-orc. The creature, measuring approximately two and a half feet (hat included), has a bit of trouble squeezing past the patrons' legs, due to the hat's brim, but they manage to get through with few complications. Once, a knee jostles the hat particularly violently, and a slime-slick tendril squeezes out from beneath the brim and slaps it away. The behatted being looks up at the half-orc, regarding him with skepticism. A voice sounds in the mind of the half-orc and all involved with the job.
Quill is the name I was given
Before the Nameless Dark took it
Thou may use it as thou wish
This is the gathering of metallic graverobbers?
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"This is this," deadpans a young high elf to Vertheg, unobtrusively setting the flyer down on the table in front of the half-orc and seating herself without being asked. Seemingly appearing put of nowhere from a dark corner hidden by the crowd of patrons and wait staff. Green eyes briefly clock the exits to the inn, clearly not for the first time, and take in the others before settling back on Vertheg with a neutral expression.
Unlike the half-drow, she provides no assurances that her animal companion, a small snow owl on her shoulder, will cause no trouble, though the bird itself is very aware and wary of the panther. And of the strange beaked humanoid in the hat. And the duergar. Yet unlike some high elves, perhaps, she herself appears to bear no disdain whatsoever for the blood of the Underdark that flows in two of their veins. More like curiosity. This ought to be interesting.
Strangely, although she lacks the half-orc's fine clothes, she carries herself like a noblewoman. Longbow at her back and rapier at her hip. Pretty, not beautiful. Green eyes gaze past copper hair tied in a bob behind her head, seeming to convey a message: Hatted one is right. The less said of a job out loud in the open, the better.
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim
The half-orc roughly fixes his clothes, going from messily to slightly messily dressed.
"Uh, Me Vertheg. Nice to meet you. Master wants more people for ship thing so me need to bring more people. But you can sit with me, you have a pretty cat too mister."
Vertheg shakes your hand, shaking it side to side then up and down. He isn't too sure on which way is right but smiles,
"Me Vertheg, nice to meet you. Master wanted...four or six? Hmm, maybe if I count the cat too?"
Vertheg seems oblivious to the sudden voice in his head, his simple mind already accepting it. He waves his hand towards Quill.
"Hello, me Vertheg. Um...gather means count, yes? I can count you too. That'll be four if master counts the cat."
"Hello, me Vertheg. This is...flyer!"
It takes a moment for the flyer to register in the half-orc mind.
"...Oh it's master's flyer! Then here for job too, okay, me count you as well."
The door of the tavern opens with a bam. The last adventurer appears with a gust and strong smell of seawater. A huge Dragonborn with rusty scales bends his head and goes through the door. His height is well over 7 feet. The floor of the tavern shakes as 500 pounds of thick bone, muscle and metals walk through the tables. The Dragonborn takes on the empty sheet in front of the half-orc.
"… Najax Draktelon. Son of Gorox Draktelon. The Sword of the Dragon God.…"
His voice is rumbling like distant thunder. The warrior grabs a roast fish from the table and bites off it's head with his jaw.
" I heard you have a job for me."
"Me Vertheg, um, son of pa and...butler to master!"
He nods to himself as if proud of himself. He then looks to the flyer handed to him by high elf, raising it once more.
"Master has job, me bring people to master's house so master talk about job. Master good at talking."
The high elf rolls her eyes, but offers a smile despite herself (well, more a showing of teeth, really) and a quick nod to the other apparent salvagers.
"Well, the bar has certainly been set high for being 'good at talking.' I hope Master doesn't disappoint. I'm Nivi and the owl is Shiv. No time like the present, Vertheg. Where's the house?" Nivi's expression returns to blank, but Shiv looks a little miffed, while still keeping a watchful eye on the panther.
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim
Judge not the half-orc, sylvan one
His talents surely lie elsewhere
Thy criticism serves no purpose
But to make thyself look a fool
The little beaked fellow stares angrily up at Nivi, white eyes narrowed. Their hat shifts... dangerously? 'Confusingly' is perhaps more accurate. A slimy tendril briefly flicks out from underneath it, like a snake tasting the air, leaving a trail of slime dripping down Quill's beak. Their feathered arms cross in silent judgement. Clearly, the one who speaks with their mind has an opinion about those who criticize the lexically challenged.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Nivi tilts her head, still expressionless.
"Judging? Criticizing? Not what I had in mind exactly, sweet lips, but you be the... judge. Feel free to judge or criticize me, actually. You just have to get in line behind my family. And maybe buy me dinner first. Anyway, the house?" She looks back to Vertheg.
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim
The duergar curiously inspects Quill. "Ay, you're one of those birdfolk, aren't you? Kenku, I think? Haven't seen one in a while... an' I guess I'm still not seein' one, considerin' how covered-up you are." He grins and chuckles at his own joke.
"Anyway, nice to meet th' lot of you. My name's Davak."
Dobin nods to the half-orc and sits and observes his companions just as he had done in the loflore forest. His panther, Raven, eyes the owl a little too much before he says “friend “
D&D since 1984
At the tavern's door appears a 6 ft tall man with dark red skin. The sides and back of his head are bald but upon the top flows orange hair - that also seems to shift shades as light moves over it as if made of fire. Similar hair falls as a pointed tuft from his chin and more forms bushy eyebrows that flicker and dance like flames as he moves his eyes. Eyes that exist as orbs of pure gold light as if miniature suns. This with his large pointed, elf-like, ears gives this man a very unusual appearance. The rest of his appearance, such as his choice of clothes, are considerably less impressive. An open jacket, baggy cotton pants and some sandals - all looking rather worn and usually with some shade of purple which does not combine well - especially not with the shade of his skin. Two pieces do stand out thought: the sapphire in his belt and the ruby of his amulet. Those of the right incriminations may note these as being arcane foci.
He enters the room with little confidence. His backpack - one clearly of an explorer with ropes and bedroll attached - rustling side to side as he cautiously steps around the patrons and avoiding some of the gazes. A halfling serving customers notices the flyer in his red man's tight grip and directs him to the half-orc. With a little smile and nod as thanks the man makes his way to the half-orc and the forming group around him.
"H..." He begins but fails and takes a breath, steeling himself for the task of speaking in such a mysterious group. "H-hello. My name is Brand. Are you Vertheg?" He manages to say. His voice is soft but crackling like a small campfire, not much more than a whisper in a silent night. He nervously continues, "I... I was told you needed help with a job?" He slowly unfurls his grip and puts the flyer on the table. He notices other flyers and realises they must be here for the same reason as him.
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Dobin stands and says to the half-orc “I believe we are now ready to go see your master”
D&D since 1984
"Hello, me Vertheg. Um...me count...six. So me bring all to master's house, he has a really big house, many rooms."
He seems giddy as he gets up from the table, going for the exit.
"And, and Vertheg have room there too. Me does the garden work and make it look pretty. Make many leaf art things, master likes them much."
He's oblivious to any comments made about his lack of social grace, perhaps for the better. He motions for the party to follow as he holds the door open.
Nivi acknowledges the others with her eyes and a faint, lopsided grin. "Brand, Davak, Dobin, Najax son of Gorox, and sweet li-... uh, Quill, and me. Might be a well-rounded group after all. Just have to see what the job is." She seems vaguely relieved that she doesn't know any of them already.
"Plant-lover, eh Vertheg? Nice. Reminds me of my lady mother, always in her 'arboretum' as she calls it. Guessing you're not a pretentious, sentimental bore like her, though. So, does master have a name we can use? Might be awkward for us to call him 'master' before we agree to the job."
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim