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.
Walking into the inn, you see a disheveled dwarf in a patchwork of stained leather armor, shield strapped across his back and wearing a wolf's skull as a hat. He's definitely someone that you would cross to the other side of the street if you saw him walking toward you, and you might want to stay upwind of him as well. He brings in his own wooden mug, shooing away the one offered by the barkeep, blowing the dust, dirt and a feather out of his own before he sits down and proceeds to fill it from a small container at the bottom of his backpack. He has the flyer in hand, muddy fingertips putting his mark on it. He leans his staff against the wall and leans into the half orc as he looks him up and down, assessing him.
"You sent out these flyers? Need some help with salvage? My name is Barkas, who might you be, if you don't mind for me ta ask? Got some dirty work that you don't want to get your hands dirty with? Whatsthisallaboutheresee?" He sees you spy his mug and the wrinkle of your nose, says "Goat scrotum ale, my own brew. Ifnya pay me enough I might give the recipe to ya. Been brewing for many a year. But that's beside the point, whatcha need doin?"
Naru looks up from the halfling to the table they're pointing and sees the half-orc. Awkward has never been part of Naru's vocabulary, so he starts making his way towards the table confidently.
The most noticeable feature of Naru's attire is the hat. Not only is it huge, but instead of feathers like one wouldn't be surprised to see, a whole wing is attached. Not only one either, but two of them, one on each side!
The rest of his attire is also pretty extravagant. His white shirt is open way further than it needs to be, with tight sleeves that enlarge into much wider openings near the wrists. His pants are black and tight, while his white boots go up almost to the knee. He has matters of ornaments, such as a delicate scarf around the neck and a loose red belt at his hip. All of this seems to have seen better days, though, and show signs of rougher times.
His face is young, and he stands relatively tall. His hair is a beautiful silver that contrasts with his green eyes. He holds himself with impeccable posture, showing confidence and assertion. One could believe he is an important figure of some sort, but his clothes are somehow stating otherwise.
"Hello, young man... orc?... whichever, I'm not one to judge, everyone is beautiful in their own way. I get that a lot," (wink, sparkle on tooth as he smiles). "I have your flyer here. Interesting handwriting, I could give you some tips if you want... Regardless, I think I could be an indispensable addition to your team, and I would love to hear more about what this is all about!"
Without waiting for an answer, gesture or anything, Naru plops down on a seat looking at the half-orc expectantly.
Shafir is a statuesque blue skinned man and he wears green chitinous clothing common among tritons. It is painted with swirls reminiscent of waves. He has red eyes, short black hair, and deep red markings on his body. On his belts he carries daggers and a pouch. Shafir never liked shoes and he walks in barefoot.
Shafir found the fish smell comforting and approaches the lanky half-orc. He begins gesturing in the typical greeting among tritons, but stops himself. He gives the dwarf a wide berth upon smelling something foul. Shafir speaks telepathically to Vertheg. "I found your flyer and I am interested. I command some mystical arts and it will be at your disposal for the right price. Now tell me more of this salvage operation."
Barkas's eyes look up at the two new arrivals to the table, he sees the feathered hat, white shirt and white boots and looks down at his own muddy leather boots lined with fur, stained with uncountable varieties of dung and clay. He listens to the fancy talk, eyes darting back and forth between the dandy stranger and the half orc and lets out a rousing, guttural belch. "Mmmm hmmm. Pleasameetcha." is all that he gets out, before he takes a few more heavy draughts.
Barkas hears the voice in his head and gives the Triton a inscrutable look, he seems to be chewing on his beard. "Triton, eh? It has been a while since I've seen one of your kind. Good to meetcha. Hey, settle a bet for me that came up in ... well it came up in the last bar I was in, right down the road. Whooseywhatsis. Anyway. The thing we were debating was - can your kind breathe through beer in your gills? In other words, if I dunked your head in a keg (not that I'm going to mind ya), but - - could you breathe in it? Do the bubbles do anything to your gills there? I've wondered that about you're uhh... anatomy." He looks at you and flushes slightly, but you can't tell if it is dwarven rosacea with the amount of beer he's starting to put away.
Naru looks at the other two people around the table. "Oh, well, hi there, you are also here for the salvage group?" he asks.
He looks at the dwarf first. "You, sir, have an intriguing smell to say the least. And your attire is... beautiful in its own right, that's for sure. I so happen to know quite a lot about fashion, my senses are naturally attuned to it, as you can see."He gestures up and down himself with his hands. "If you ever have... questions, I'd be glad to give you some pointers."
He then looks at the triton. "You have a beautiful blue tint. I like it. Not very talkative though. I'm pretty apt at communication, if I say so myself. I could coach you if you ever want to achieve eloquence."
He looks at both of them with a smile on his face, not any rudeness in his words.
The half-orc looks a bit stunned as he smells Barkas come closer, the mix of alcohol, hopefully mud, and something akin to a wet dog. He shakes the stupor off as he approaches and gives a weak smile,
"Um yes, I am Vertheg. And yes, it is salvaging a ship at my master's behest. He has tasked me with seeking...suitable...help with such a plan. You do seem...traveled, I-I believe you'll be a help to it. And no thank you, I'm not a man of spirits nor is my master, more of a collector actually."
Barkas looks at Naru like he is from Mars. He loosens the chin strap on his wolf skull cap and sets it on the table gently, reverently. He takes what may have been a small bug in his hair, brings it down and pops it in his mouth, chewing. “Mmmm hmm. Nope. I don’t have any questions right now. Other than…. have you seen the alignment of the planets lately? The stars are dancing their merry little jig, whooo wee! (Slaps his mug down on the table). I’m just doin this work to get some coin, mindja, and I need to keep on my travels. After we hear from Mr. Bossman there I’d be glad to show you, if you have any interest, my map. It’s quite fascinating you see. I knew before I walked in here that I’d be meeting up with a various and sundry lot like you are, just by looking at the stars and my map. But no sir, not right now, don’t need any pointers that I can think of.”
He turns to look down the table at the half orc, saying “Well, are you gonna tell us about this job of yours? You see, I can turn into a big bear, throw things all around for ya if you need me to. It’ll knock your socks off, ha hah!” With that he elbows the Triton and gives a good guffaw, almost spilling his beer.
Vertheg looks visibly relieved as Naru comes over.
"Yes, yes, Vertheg is my name and I do believe you'll be a very welcome addition to the team. I am actually just here to gather a group to meet my master then he'll explain his plan."
Vertheg studies the triton as he approaches, curious of his species. And shivers as the triton speaks to him telepathically, he frantically looks about himself for a moment before he spots the flyer in the triton's hands. He gives a sigh and nods,
"Y-yes, well I am Vertheg, a butler for my master. I am actually here to gather prospective help for the operation. Please feel free to sit down while we wait for more, I'm afraid my master was particular about how much help I am to gather."
He seems put off by the sudden talk in his head but continues on with a weak but faltering smile.
The door to the tavern opens and a man enters the tavern. His skin is blue-gray, like that of a shark, and his deep green hair seems to float above his shoulders like seaweed. His simple linen shirt is half-open to reveal a tattoo of a manta ray across his chest. Strapped across his back is a trident. He clearly looks out of his depth among such a bustling crowd, and timidly makes his way between the tables and towards the lanky half-orc. "Fair weather to you all," he says with a lilting accent. "Are you the one to speak to about a salvage job? My name is Arvastan Brightwave, of the isle of Mystros."
"Yes, I am the one seeking for prospects for the job, I am Vertheg. Feel free to join us."
He turns to Shafir, "I serve lord Aubreck, a noble in this fair town. And I do apologize, but I've been told to avoid sharing the details of the operation in public."
The door swings open, revealing a towering figure we’ll over six feet tall. He wears little, a thin vest and some baggy shorts, along with the Greatsword strapped to his back, a smaller boomerang hanging from a belt, a quiver filled with javelins, and a backpack slung over one shoulder held by a single hand. None of this is incredibly important as the thing that stand out most about this mountain of a creature is the red scales covering their whole body. Beady eyes seem to hold anger and resent, or cold calculations, repitilian remorselessness seems to be the main trait of this thing as it surveys the tavern. In the hand not clutching his bag he holds a flyer, slightly torn from the effort of taking it off the post. Curls of smoke go up as his head goes down in what might have been an appreciative nod to the halfling waiter as he makes his way over to the table. He looks at the others gathered there, taking a whiff of the dwarf and his nose twitching, but seeming to decide against saying anything about the smell, he addresses the gathered group;
”I am Craice Nathair, however my company called my Snakeskin, or simply Snakes since they could not pronounce my name. I am here to inquire about this flyer, and offer my services to this operation, I assume this is the rest of the team?”
His voice deep and rumbling, slightly raspy from what you could assume is his fire-breathing potential of his kind, he seems polite, respectful, his mouth twists upwards and he appears to realize he wasn’t smiling before and seems much more approachable. He smells of smoke, not in the nice bonfirey way, more like a hint of an inferno to come, a latent danger you try to ignore, because you don’t want to know what happens if he released the fire inside.
Naru perks up as Shafir speaks in his mind. "Oh! You're in my head! Beautiful! I would be delighted to teach you how to speak out loud, it would be tiresome to say the same thing to everyone individually, no? Unless you can speak to groups, too?!" he asks expectantly.
He turns to the new arrival and beams at him. "Your hair! Beauuutiful! Please share your care secrets with me later!"
To Vertheg, he says: "It's very noble to keep your word to your master. Beautiful. I'm just curious, how many are we expecting?"
The door swings open, revealing a towering figure we’ll over six feet tall. He wears little, a thin vest and some baggy shorts, along with the Greatsword strapped to his back, a smaller boomerang hanging from a belt, a quiver filled with javelins, and a backpack slung over one shoulder held by a single hand. None of this is incredibly important as the thing that stand out most about this mountain of a creature is the red scales covering their whole body. Beady eyes seem to hold anger and resent, or cold calculations, repitilian remorselessness seems to be the main trait of this thing as it surveys the tavern. In the hand not clutching his bag he holds a flyer, slightly torn from the effort of taking it off the post. Curls of smoke go up as his head goes down in what might have been an appreciative nod to the halfling waiter as he makes his way over to the table. He looks at the others gathered there, taking a whiff of the dwarf and his nose twitching, but seeming to decide against saying anything about the smell, he addresses the gathered group;
”I am Craice Nathair, however my company called my Snakeskin, or simply Snakes since they could not pronounce my name. I am here to inquire about this flyer, and offer my services to this operation, I assume this is the rest of the team?”
His voice deep and rumbling, slightly raspy from what you could assume is his fire-breathing potential of his kind, he seems polite, respectful, his mouth twists upwards and he appears to realize he wasn’t smiling before and seems much more approachable. He smells of smoke, not in the nice bonfirey way, more like a hint of an inferno to come, a latent danger you try to ignore, because you don’t want to know what happens if he released the fire inside.
"Hello, I am Vertheg and yes, you are right. These are the other prospects for the operation. Please feel free to join us at the table. I'd like to wait for a short while before I escort you all my lord's manor. Just to ensure there are no missed prospects, I'd like to assure my master's success with his operation."
He motions for the staff and they hurry over with a few more chairs and some light food, "Please feel free to order anything in the meantime, my master shall pick up the tab."
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.
Walking into the inn, you see a disheveled dwarf in a patchwork of stained leather armor, shield strapped across his back and wearing a wolf's skull as a hat. He's definitely someone that you would cross to the other side of the street if you saw him walking toward you, and you might want to stay upwind of him as well. He brings in his own wooden mug, shooing away the one offered by the barkeep, blowing the dust, dirt and a feather out of his own before he sits down and proceeds to fill it from a small container at the bottom of his backpack. He has the flyer in hand, muddy fingertips putting his mark on it. He leans his staff against the wall and leans into the half orc as he looks him up and down, assessing him.
"You sent out these flyers? Need some help with salvage? My name is Barkas, who might you be, if you don't mind for me ta ask? Got some dirty work that you don't want to get your hands dirty with? Whatsthisallaboutheresee?" He sees you spy his mug and the wrinkle of your nose, says "Goat scrotum ale, my own brew. Ifnya pay me enough I might give the recipe to ya. Been brewing for many a year. But that's beside the point, whatcha need doin?"
Naru looks up from the halfling to the table they're pointing and sees the half-orc. Awkward has never been part of Naru's vocabulary, so he starts making his way towards the table confidently.
The most noticeable feature of Naru's attire is the hat. Not only is it huge, but instead of feathers like one wouldn't be surprised to see, a whole wing is attached. Not only one either, but two of them, one on each side!
The rest of his attire is also pretty extravagant. His white shirt is open way further than it needs to be, with tight sleeves that enlarge into much wider openings near the wrists. His pants are black and tight, while his white boots go up almost to the knee. He has matters of ornaments, such as a delicate scarf around the neck and a loose red belt at his hip. All of this seems to have seen better days, though, and show signs of rougher times.
His face is young, and he stands relatively tall. His hair is a beautiful silver that contrasts with his green eyes. He holds himself with impeccable posture, showing confidence and assertion. One could believe he is an important figure of some sort, but his clothes are somehow stating otherwise.
"Hello, young man... orc?... whichever, I'm not one to judge, everyone is beautiful in their own way. I get that a lot," (wink, sparkle on tooth as he smiles).
"I have your flyer here. Interesting handwriting, I could give you some tips if you want... Regardless, I think I could be an indispensable addition to your team, and I would love to hear more about what this is all about!"
Without waiting for an answer, gesture or anything, Naru plops down on a seat looking at the half-orc expectantly.
Shafir is a statuesque blue skinned man and he wears green chitinous clothing common among tritons. It is painted with swirls reminiscent of waves. He has red eyes, short black hair, and deep red markings on his body. On his belts he carries daggers and a pouch. Shafir never liked shoes and he walks in barefoot.
Shafir found the fish smell comforting and approaches the lanky half-orc. He begins gesturing in the typical greeting among tritons, but stops himself. He gives the dwarf a wide berth upon smelling something foul. Shafir speaks telepathically to Vertheg. "I found your flyer and I am interested. I command some mystical arts and it will be at your disposal for the right price. Now tell me more of this salvage operation."
Barkas's eyes look up at the two new arrivals to the table, he sees the feathered hat, white shirt and white boots and looks down at his own muddy leather boots lined with fur, stained with uncountable varieties of dung and clay. He listens to the fancy talk, eyes darting back and forth between the dandy stranger and the half orc and lets out a rousing, guttural belch. "Mmmm hmmm. Pleasameetcha." is all that he gets out, before he takes a few more heavy draughts.
Shafir bows his head slightly and speaks into the Dwarfs mind "Greetings, I am Shafir a Triton"
Barkas hears the voice in his head and gives the Triton a inscrutable look, he seems to be chewing on his beard. "Triton, eh? It has been a while since I've seen one of your kind. Good to meetcha. Hey, settle a bet for me that came up in ... well it came up in the last bar I was in, right down the road. Whooseywhatsis. Anyway. The thing we were debating was - can your kind breathe through beer in your gills? In other words, if I dunked your head in a keg (not that I'm going to mind ya), but - - could you breathe in it? Do the bubbles do anything to your gills there? I've wondered that about you're uhh... anatomy." He looks at you and flushes slightly, but you can't tell if it is dwarven rosacea with the amount of beer he's starting to put away.
Shafir gills flares a little as he tilts his head in thought "I believe so, but there are some dark waters that no beast can live in"
Naru looks at the other two people around the table.
"Oh, well, hi there, you are also here for the salvage group?" he asks.
He looks at the dwarf first.
"You, sir, have an intriguing smell to say the least. And your attire is... beautiful in its own right, that's for sure. I so happen to know quite a lot about fashion, my senses are naturally attuned to it, as you can see." He gestures up and down himself with his hands. "If you ever have... questions, I'd be glad to give you some pointers."
He then looks at the triton.
"You have a beautiful blue tint. I like it. Not very talkative though. I'm pretty apt at communication, if I say so myself. I could coach you if you ever want to achieve eloquence."
He looks at both of them with a smile on his face, not any rudeness in his words.
The half-orc looks a bit stunned as he smells Barkas come closer, the mix of alcohol, hopefully mud, and something akin to a wet dog. He shakes the stupor off as he approaches and gives a weak smile,
"Um yes, I am Vertheg. And yes, it is salvaging a ship at my master's behest. He has tasked me with seeking...suitable...help with such a plan. You do seem...traveled, I-I believe you'll be a help to it. And no thank you, I'm not a man of spirits nor is my master, more of a collector actually."
Barkas looks at Naru like he is from Mars. He loosens the chin strap on his wolf skull cap and sets it on the table gently, reverently. He takes what may have been a small bug in his hair, brings it down and pops it in his mouth, chewing. “Mmmm hmm. Nope. I don’t have any questions right now. Other than…. have you seen the alignment of the planets lately? The stars are dancing their merry little jig, whooo wee! (Slaps his mug down on the table). I’m just doin this work to get some coin, mindja, and I need to keep on my travels. After we hear from Mr. Bossman there I’d be glad to show you, if you have any interest, my map. It’s quite fascinating you see. I knew before I walked in here that I’d be meeting up with a various and sundry lot like you are, just by looking at the stars and my map. But no sir, not right now, don’t need any pointers that I can think of.”
He turns to look down the table at the half orc, saying “Well, are you gonna tell us about this job of yours? You see, I can turn into a big bear, throw things all around for ya if you need me to. It’ll knock your socks off, ha hah!” With that he elbows the Triton and gives a good guffaw, almost spilling his beer.
Vertheg looks visibly relieved as Naru comes over.
"Yes, yes, Vertheg is my name and I do believe you'll be a very welcome addition to the team. I am actually just here to gather a group to meet my master then he'll explain his plan."
Vertheg studies the triton as he approaches, curious of his species. And shivers as the triton speaks to him telepathically, he frantically looks about himself for a moment before he spots the flyer in the triton's hands. He gives a sigh and nods,
"Y-yes, well I am Vertheg, a butler for my master. I am actually here to gather prospective help for the operation. Please feel free to sit down while we wait for more, I'm afraid my master was particular about how much help I am to gather."
He seems put off by the sudden talk in his head but continues on with a weak but faltering smile.
The door to the tavern opens and a man enters the tavern. His skin is blue-gray, like that of a shark, and his deep green hair seems to float above his shoulders like seaweed. His simple linen shirt is half-open to reveal a tattoo of a manta ray across his chest. Strapped across his back is a trident. He clearly looks out of his depth among such a bustling crowd, and timidly makes his way between the tables and towards the lanky half-orc. "Fair weather to you all," he says with a lilting accent. "Are you the one to speak to about a salvage job? My name is Arvastan Brightwave, of the isle of Mystros."
Real Life Healbot
Shafir speaks to Naru telepathically "I am Shafir and I may take your offer. Speaking the peoples tongue feels strange."
Shafir takes a seat "Who is your master Vertheg?'
Vertheg looks to the new arrival and nods,
"Yes, I am the one seeking for prospects for the job, I am Vertheg. Feel free to join us."
He turns to Shafir, "I serve lord Aubreck, a noble in this fair town. And I do apologize, but I've been told to avoid sharing the details of the operation in public."
The door swings open, revealing a towering figure we’ll over six feet tall. He wears little, a thin vest and some baggy shorts, along with the Greatsword strapped to his back, a smaller boomerang hanging from a belt, a quiver filled with javelins, and a backpack slung over one shoulder held by a single hand. None of this is incredibly important as the thing that stand out most about this mountain of a creature is the red scales covering their whole body. Beady eyes seem to hold anger and resent, or cold calculations, repitilian remorselessness seems to be the main trait of this thing as it surveys the tavern. In the hand not clutching his bag he holds a flyer, slightly torn from the effort of taking it off the post. Curls of smoke go up as his head goes down in what might have been an appreciative nod to the halfling waiter as he makes his way over to the table. He looks at the others gathered there, taking a whiff of the dwarf and his nose twitching, but seeming to decide against saying anything about the smell, he addresses the gathered group;
”I am Craice Nathair, however my company called my Snakeskin, or simply Snakes since they could not pronounce my name. I am here to inquire about this flyer, and offer my services to this operation, I assume this is the rest of the team?”
His voice deep and rumbling, slightly raspy from what you could assume is his fire-breathing potential of his kind, he seems polite, respectful, his mouth twists upwards and he appears to realize he wasn’t smiling before and seems much more approachable. He smells of smoke, not in the nice bonfirey way, more like a hint of an inferno to come, a latent danger you try to ignore, because you don’t want to know what happens if he released the fire inside.
Farewell.
Naru perks up as Shafir speaks in his mind.
"Oh! You're in my head! Beautiful! I would be delighted to teach you how to speak out loud, it would be tiresome to say the same thing to everyone individually, no? Unless you can speak to groups, too?!" he asks expectantly.
He turns to the new arrival and beams at him.
"Your hair! Beauuutiful! Please share your care secrets with me later!"
To Vertheg, he says:
"It's very noble to keep your word to your master. Beautiful. I'm just curious, how many are we expecting?"
"Hello, I am Vertheg and yes, you are right. These are the other prospects for the operation. Please feel free to join us at the table. I'd like to wait for a short while before I escort you all my lord's manor. Just to ensure there are no missed prospects, I'd like to assure my master's success with his operation."
He motions for the staff and they hurry over with a few more chairs and some light food, "Please feel free to order anything in the meantime, my master shall pick up the tab."
Shafir shakes his head and looks at Naru "No I cannot speak with a group telepathically, but I usually can get my point across"