"The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains." - Arthur Golden
What a misleading title. There is little which could be considered warm or welcoming about the land which sprawls out before you - the wind bites viciously, the mist shifts slyly and the boggy monotony of the marsh is only broken by the occasional shriveled tree or thicket of gorse. Miles of openness leave you feeling vulnerable to the shrieks and wails which pierce the morning air. The sun glares more ferociously here than it does in the West, burning up the horizon with impassioned oranges and pinks. This is an ancient land, a land which has seen mystery and magic, blackmail and betrayal. The secrets it keeps may never be conceded. Though neighboring Faerun, its history and destiny diverged from the continent's long ago - to residents of the Far East (few as they may be), troubles of the West are regarded as distant curiosities if they are regarded at all.
But our story begins at the very edge of the Mermosan Marsh, where a lonely tavern bridges the divide between East and West, a sole chiaroscuro of goodwill brightening the hostile world around. The tavern - run by a respectable gnomish gentleman well into his autumn years - is suspended by magical means, hovering several feet above the ground. It rotates slowly over the course of the day so that its large stained-glass window depicting a great marsh lily is perpetually struck by the light of the sun or moon. Ascending the steps and swinging open the door, one is met with the recognizable effluvium of alcohol married with sweat, the merry sound of panpipes and a full house of patrons, participating in numerous forms of frivolity from dancing to gambling to... activities which would be considered taboo in any sophisticated setting. And amongst the crowd are five individuals from very different walks of life whose fates are about to become inextricably linked. Please describe your character's appearance, and what their current affairs are at the 'Edge of the East Inn'.
At the table you see a small goblin. Smaller than any you typically see. ( The phrase "runt of the litter" springs to mind. ) And he is sitting on a box to get his chest and head above the plane of the table. Thin. Perhaps 'wirey' is a better term. Not an ounce of extra fat however he does not look malnourished; more like 'bow string taunt'. His skin looks clean and tanned though an odd shade of tanned yellow with hints of green.
An odd wooden mask festooned with large green leaves is tilted back on his hairless skull to reveal a rather flat face. A nub of a nose rather than the typical goblin 'bulbous honker'. Clear, intelligent eyes of yellow. And some impressive teeth.. some looking well used and rather sharp. If one did not know better, it was a relaxed face and even a sort of smile. Not the uptight and hyperactive 'typical goblin'. In fact, so much points to a 'not typical' goblin.
Relatively clean (for being in a swamp). Those eyes. His simple yet intricate apparel. The odd little shoulder slung bag at his side. He constantly scans the room as if anticipating someone's appearance in the room intermixed with glances at the winged female perched on a cabinet over by the bar, strumming a tune.
Gazing upon Isaac, you encounter the visage of a man who is seemingly quite the seasoned traveler, if not an adventurer. He is wearing full splint armor, and is sitting quite comfortably in his seat. You can tell that the armor is battleworn, and has seen quite the use, with various patches and repairs dotting the visible portion of the armor. He has a single pauldron adorning his right shoulder, emblazoned with the symbol of a white skull inset into a black triangle. (DC 10 Religion check to recognize who this symbol belongs to; Auto Pass if you are proficient in Religion.)
After a few moments of thought, you can tell that this appears to be the holy symbol of Myrkul.
His right arm is covered by a royal purple cloth sleeve that was sewn into the armor and his gauntlets. However, his left arm has a shorter sleeve, which exposes the lower part of his bicep, elbow, and upper tricep. This exposed section is entirely covered with what appears to be flowing blue lines, seemingly alive, but never moving. These lines and marks contrast against his otherwise tanned appearance, and from what you can tell, these marks continue beyond what is currently exposed.
(((OOC: Character Image to be added here once I find it again. I will update this post when I have it.)))
Laying against the side of his chair is a single shield with the emblem of Kelemvor painted on it, and right next to that, you can see a warhammer resting against the shield.
Isaac slightly reclines in his seat, perceptively listening to the various conversations guests are having at their tables.Perception: 27 As he’s listening and otherwise just minding his own business, drinking whatever light alcohol is on the menu, he absentmindedly reaches for something underneath his cloak near his chest, the perceptive among you can see: (Passive Perception DC13)
That he starts to fidget with what appears to be a circular gold object, almost reminiscent of a gold coin, hanging from his neck and resting just at chest level.
Isaac rests his head in one of his hands while he waits for someone, or something to finally catch his interest.
Perched high atop a corner cabinet overlooking the tavern's bar strumming a melodic melody on her lute sat a Fairy Diva known by most simply as Mimzy. While others with a more poetic bent often affectionately referred to her as the Mermosan Marsh Flower. A half-consumed goblet of cheap Goblin ale next to her.
Growing up in the foreboding Mermosan Marsh under the twisted tutelage of her adoptive mother Griselda the swamp hag the Fairy had a reputation as being something of a wild thing. Her most striking feature was not her twin treasures as most might say but rather her short auburn-red hair. Worn in a tousled pixie cut, which contrasted beautifully with her pale, porcelain-like skin. Her elongated, delicate face framed by large, expressive pale blue eyes, fringed with long auburn lashes gives her an almost ethereal allure. Large, pointed-ears peek from behind her curly red locks, their tips slightly curved and emanating an iridescent glow. Silvery-white moth-like wings sprout majestically from her back, their shimmer catching the dappled sunlight filtering into the tavern proper. As in common with her race, Mimzy is extremely slender with a petite frame, standing just two feet tall and weighing around twenty pounds. Her limbs exceedingly long and graceful she moves with an innate poise.
The plunging neckline of her thin burnt-sienna-hued gossamer chemise is low-cut, accentuating her full and shapely bosom, cinched around her slim waist to highlight her trim figure. The fabric of her dress seems to glow with a warm, earthy aura, akin to the last rays of a setting sun or the fiery shades of autumn leaves. Her only adornment is a well-worn slender brown leather belt with a matching leather collar worn snuggly around her neck, from which dangles a small pendant in the shape of a songbird, hinting at her background as a Diva and songstress. Although her attire was simple it suited her, its lack of embellishment drawing more attention to her striking visage.
A portly Halfling in the crowd calls out her name as tosses her coin requesting a song which she begins to sing filling the tavern with her haunting Fairy voice.
Once her song came to a close Mimzy blew the crowd a kiss, grabbed her goblet of ale and flitted over to join her Goblin friend Mugwort at his table. Embracing him as she gave him a friendly Fairy kiss on the cheek 💋...
"Hey runt, where you been, I've been looking all over for you? Don't worry about that little misunderstanding with my mum, I got that all smoothed over and she promised me she won't eat you... not just yet anyway," the Fairy said with a saucy affectionate giggle.
Wondering between tables you see an almost teal colored kobold tugging the on pant legs and the dangling cloaks of the taverns patrons. He is barely taller than three feet and has an athletic build for a kobold. The tarnished brass scales covering Menders face and arms almost appear almost teal colored, as thought they had been weathered under countless hours of sun and sea spray. A worn brown leather hat with an old fishing lure dangling from the side sits upon his head, swaying slightly with every clawed footstep. Around his neck there is an ornate conch shell tied to a small rope that rests against his worn brown leather clothing. caked mud covers his clawed feet and leaves behind small footprints as he moves through the bar. Over one shoulder he carries a net full of freshly caught fish from the nearby surrounding swamp. On his other shoulder he carries a bag containing additional fishing equipment and a few basic supplies. He is clutching a large ornate book that is nearly 1/3 his height tightly in his free arm as he continues to try to get the attention of patrons. The book says "Filkiati Arytiss" across the top written in golden leaf and depicts a dragon circling an island on the front.
(book text is draconic)
"Are you sure you don't know about any magic portals in the middle of the swap? No? OK then..." The kobold would reply to the old man with a look of disappointment on his face. After making his way to most the tables at the bar he would find himself in front of a goblin and a fairy. His eyes would light up and he would struggle to open his book and quickly jot done some notes.. sending his net full of fish falling to the ground. After making his note he would scoop up his book and his net of fish and clear his throat. "Hello... My name is Mender. I am new... to... all of this... and umm.." He would pause a moment as he realized how ridiculous he sounded. "WelI was wondering if you knew where to find a magical portal in the middle of the swap? He would ask as he waited to be laughted at or dismissed like he had been by everyone else.
And so it begins. For better or for worse, your paths have now converged here at the Edge of the East...
For Isaac's ears...
Remaining attentive, you glance around the room. Check your DMs.
As for Fon...
A tap on your shoulder rouses you from your melancholy reminiscing. It is the barkeep himself. A short figure even for a gnome, he smiles kindly up at you. Check your DMs.
Mender, Mimzy and Mugwort, an unlikely but alliterative trio:
A bloated older man waddles up to you, who Mimzy vaguely recognizes. He is clearly drunk, with breath that reeks of alcohol and careless wine stains across his cotton tunic. His curly white hair is matted with sweat, and his bushy brow hides two deep-set, beady eyes, giving him the impression of a swine or similar creature. "Maestro Mimzy," he interjects humbly, with an accent one from a different realm might associate with a Greek or Turk, "my son, he is learning the art of song and dance. This will be his first public performance. Will you sing along with him?"
A crudely-scrawled sheet of lyrics is set down on Mugwort's table, before the man gestures expectantly to his youth - a small, scrawny child with an unkempt mop of black hair, standing patiently at the back of the tavern.
Upon the wild and restless sea I spied a canny fishing boat. Thrown across the waves to me It barely held itself afloat
Its little painted sides were breach'd, Fierce white stallions battering down, And its lively sail so yearned the beach It strained to drag the boat back home.
But little good the boat could do Toiling with the ocean fray - The tiny thing was but a toy With which the sea did cruelly play
The drink tripped tipsy upon the rocks, Moaning, stumbled from the mist With the measured count of death's own clock, The rhythmic gavel of his fist.
But the scene was mute, the painting still; All sat in a quiet fog. The little boat danced upon the waves 'fore finally lapped up by the old grey dog.
Mogwort cocks his head sideways and looks over at Mimzy, "Zee? Maestro Mim? Time to take on an apprentice, it is?" Ducks as a swat is directed his way.
*making post from phone, sorry for lack of bolding and formatting*
Mender would stumble a bit sideways as the man pushed past him to talk with the fairy , causing the kobold to struggle to keep his grip on his book and net. "Sorry.." He would grumble as he apologized for being in the man's way before moving towards one of the empty chairs at the table. "I hope you two don't mind if I sit here for a bit, he would shout up over the edge of the table. flinging his pack onto his chair, he would scramble up the side of the wooden seat and sit upon his bag, leaving the net full of fish draped over the back of the chair. Once seated, the kobold would Gove a toothy smile towards both the goblin and fairy. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm tired of getting stepped on.... So do either of you know anything about magic portals?" He would ask once more as he placed his book open in front of him.
Mender: with your willingness to approach several tables with such an unusual inquiry, you may have inadvertently garnered some attention. Roll a luck check (1d20, no modifiers).
Isaac suddenly bolts from his chair, as he dashes towards the exit leaving both his shield and warhammer behind. Hastily moving through the crowds of people and tables without caring for people and things around him, he reaches out to a dark robed figure about to seemingly exit the tavern. Attempting to place a single hand on their shoulder.
Although Mimzy cringes at the older man's use of the use of the word Maestro as an honorific title she lets it slide without comment and graciously responds, "Of course, it would be my honor." Looking upon the boy and beckoning him forward she pulls out her lute and begins to play, urging the boy the take the lead vocally and as he begins to sing she accompanies him with her own vocals to the the song presented to her.
Mugwort feels like he is juggling swamp pies. Smiling and nodding at his friend, Mimzy, as she encourages the young lad. Waving an open invitation to the struggling kobold as he climbs up to the table. And keeping an eye on the human that just sprinted across the room. "It is lively here tonight, no?", he says to no one in particular.
[Game Log roll --> Perception: 6 ]
With all the 'normal' activity at the Inn and trying to keep an eye on Mimzy and the table 'in general' Mugwort misses most of what is going on at any deeper level beside... sure is busy tonight.
Mimzy gently enhances the song with lute and vocal countermelody. The boy's voice is pretty but timorous, and it takes the first two verses to win any attention in the rowdy tavern. As a few patrons eventually turn their heads, each is enthralled... a soft pink light falls through the stained-glass window, spotlighting the duo's performance. It is a moment of grace and innocence several of the onlookers need, restoring a little lightheartedness exacted by their day-to-day toils. The final verse is sung, the final note struck... a moment of silence... before rapturous applause.
At the opposite end of the tavern, another interaction takes place largely unnoticed, drowned out by the roar of several hundred voices in conversation. The dark-cloaked figure spins around to face Isaac, unsheathing his dagger as quick as a flash and pulling down his hood. Now exposed to the light, the character's elongated ears and sharp features betray his elven lineage. Two bright blue eyes set into a pallid face glare at the cleric. "I recommend you state your business quickly and concisely, human... I have little patience for pestering."
For Mender...
And attention you receive... with a passive perception of 14, you are blissfully unaware of the dagger which slits open your pouch. Since we did not clarify this beforehand, I will allow you to make the call via PM - how much money, if any, do you carry by your side?
For Mug...
With a perception roll of 6, you cannot make out the details of Isaac's scuffle. At any rate, drunken squabbles are not out of the ordinary on lively nights like tonight, so the interaction is not overly interesting to you.
Scouring the room, Fon immediately becomes aware of the scuffle between Isaac and the cloaked figure, and a heated row over a game of Liar's Dice between a dwarf and an elf seated next to Mugwort.
While sitting upon his pack at the table, Mender would lean forward over his book and quickly review some of the draconic text within while occasionally making notes about the strange patrons around him. He would look up from his book and clap for the fairy when she was done performing before raising a clawed finger to call over a waitress. When one approached he would give her a smile and adjust his leather hat. "Hello, I'd like to order a drink... Do you have any rum?". As he asked the question he would reach towards his hip and grab his leather coin bag. Panic would spread across his face as he pulled the bag from his belt, quickly realizing it was empty. Holding the bag up he would look straight through it towards the waitress. "Damn... I guess I must have cut it on something out in the swamp..." he would mutter towards the waitress... feeling quite defeated. He would quickly look around while griping his ornate shell tightly and subtlying asking for guidance, just trying to spot any of the coins that had been in the bag in case they had fallen out in the tavern instead of the swamp... (Perception 11 + 3), The kobold knew that many of the coins in his bad did not look like the ones he saw being spent around the tavern. His coins were a collection of old dwarven, human, elven, and many other races coins that had been found in shipwrecks and traded on his island over the years. "I... Guess I'll have a glass of water? oh.. and would do you think there is room on the grill for a couple of these fish? You can keep some of the extra if you want if you are willing to cook it up for me for free?" (Persuasion to see if they will cook some of the fish for me to eat for free if he gives them the rest that are in his net... 21)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Isaac’s hand coils back as it slowly falls back to his side. “No need to be so tense, you just reminded me of someone that I knew, one that happened to have a very similar pendent to the one you have. Although… He wasn’t an elf, so I apologize for bothering you.” As he says this, he glances more directly at his body looking for where the scroll is located, and checking to see if there are any other notable characteristics or wax seals. (Perception:11). And as Fon attempts to break the two of them a part, Isaac looks down at him saying “We were just talking. No need to worry about a fight, right?” He glances knowingly at the elf, with a slight grin.
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What a misleading title. There is little which could be considered warm or welcoming about the land which sprawls out before you - the wind bites viciously, the mist shifts slyly and the boggy monotony of the marsh is only broken by the occasional shriveled tree or thicket of gorse. Miles of openness leave you feeling vulnerable to the shrieks and wails which pierce the morning air. The sun glares more ferociously here than it does in the West, burning up the horizon with impassioned oranges and pinks. This is an ancient land, a land which has seen mystery and magic, blackmail and betrayal. The secrets it keeps may never be conceded. Though neighboring Faerun, its history and destiny diverged from the continent's long ago - to residents of the Far East (few as they may be), troubles of the West are regarded as distant curiosities if they are regarded at all.
But our story begins at the very edge of the Mermosan Marsh, where a lonely tavern bridges the divide between East and West, a sole chiaroscuro of goodwill brightening the hostile world around. The tavern - run by a respectable gnomish gentleman well into his autumn years - is suspended by magical means, hovering several feet above the ground. It rotates slowly over the course of the day so that its large stained-glass window depicting a great marsh lily is perpetually struck by the light of the sun or moon. Ascending the steps and swinging open the door, one is met with the recognizable effluvium of alcohol married with sweat, the merry sound of panpipes and a full house of patrons, participating in numerous forms of frivolity from dancing to gambling to... activities which would be considered taboo in any sophisticated setting. And amongst the crowd are five individuals from very different walks of life whose fates are about to become inextricably linked. Please describe your character's appearance, and what their current affairs are at the 'Edge of the East Inn'.
At the table you see a small goblin. Smaller than any you typically see. ( The phrase "runt of the litter" springs to mind. ) And he is sitting on a box to get his chest and head above the plane of the table. Thin. Perhaps 'wirey' is a better term. Not an ounce of extra fat however he does not look malnourished; more like 'bow string taunt'. His skin looks clean and tanned though an odd shade of tanned yellow with hints of green.
An odd wooden mask festooned with large green leaves is tilted back on his hairless skull to reveal a rather flat face. A nub of a nose rather than the typical goblin 'bulbous honker'. Clear, intelligent eyes of yellow. And some impressive teeth.. some looking well used and rather sharp. If one did not know better, it was a relaxed face and even a sort of smile. Not the uptight and hyperactive 'typical goblin'. In fact, so much points to a 'not typical' goblin.
Relatively clean (for being in a swamp). Those eyes. His simple yet intricate apparel. The odd little shoulder slung bag at his side. He constantly scans the room as if anticipating someone's appearance in the room intermixed with glances at the winged female perched on a cabinet over by the bar, strumming a tune.
Gazing upon Isaac, you encounter the visage of a man who is seemingly quite the seasoned traveler, if not an adventurer. He is wearing full splint armor, and is sitting quite comfortably in his seat. You can tell that the armor is battleworn, and has seen quite the use, with various patches and repairs dotting the visible portion of the armor. He has a single pauldron adorning his right shoulder, emblazoned with the symbol of a white skull inset into a black triangle. (DC 10 Religion check to recognize who this symbol belongs to; Auto Pass if you are proficient in Religion.)
After a few moments of thought, you can tell that this appears to be the holy symbol of Myrkul.
His right arm is covered by a royal purple cloth sleeve that was sewn into the armor and his gauntlets. However, his left arm has a shorter sleeve, which exposes the lower part of his bicep, elbow, and upper tricep. This exposed section is entirely covered with what appears to be flowing blue lines, seemingly alive, but never moving. These lines and marks contrast against his otherwise tanned appearance, and from what you can tell, these marks continue beyond what is currently exposed.
(((OOC: Character Image to be added here once I find it again. I will update this post when I have it.)))
Laying against the side of his chair is a single shield with the emblem of Kelemvor painted on it, and right next to that, you can see a warhammer resting against the shield.
Isaac slightly reclines in his seat, perceptively listening to the various conversations guests are having at their tables. Perception: 27 As he’s listening and otherwise just minding his own business, drinking whatever light alcohol is on the menu, he absentmindedly reaches for something underneath his cloak near his chest, the perceptive among you can see: (Passive Perception DC13)
That he starts to fidget with what appears to be a circular gold object, almost reminiscent of a gold coin, hanging from his neck and resting just at chest level.
Isaac rests his head in one of his hands while he waits for someone, or something to finally catch his interest.
Perched high atop a corner cabinet overlooking the tavern's bar strumming a melodic melody on her lute sat a Fairy Diva known by most simply as Mimzy. While others with a more poetic bent often affectionately referred to her as the Mermosan Marsh Flower. A half-consumed goblet of cheap Goblin ale next to her.
Growing up in the foreboding Mermosan Marsh under the twisted tutelage of her adoptive mother Griselda the swamp hag the Fairy had a reputation as being something of a wild thing. Her most striking feature was not her twin treasures as most might say but rather her short auburn-red hair. Worn in a tousled pixie cut, which contrasted beautifully with her pale, porcelain-like skin. Her elongated, delicate face framed by large, expressive pale blue eyes, fringed with long auburn lashes gives her an almost ethereal allure. Large, pointed-ears peek from behind her curly red locks, their tips slightly curved and emanating an iridescent glow. Silvery-white moth-like wings sprout majestically from her back, their shimmer catching the dappled sunlight filtering into the tavern proper. As in common with her race, Mimzy is extremely slender with a petite frame, standing just two feet tall and weighing around twenty pounds. Her limbs exceedingly long and graceful she moves with an innate poise.
The plunging neckline of her thin burnt-sienna-hued gossamer chemise is low-cut, accentuating her full and shapely bosom, cinched around her slim waist to highlight her trim figure. The fabric of her dress seems to glow with a warm, earthy aura, akin to the last rays of a setting sun or the fiery shades of autumn leaves. Her only adornment is a well-worn slender brown leather belt with a matching leather collar worn snuggly around her neck, from which dangles a small pendant in the shape of a songbird, hinting at her background as a Diva and songstress. Although her attire was simple it suited her, its lack of embellishment drawing more attention to her striking visage.
A portly Halfling in the crowd calls out her name as tosses her coin requesting a song which she begins to sing filling the tavern with her haunting Fairy voice.
Once her song came to a close Mimzy blew the crowd a kiss, grabbed her goblet of ale and flitted over to join her Goblin friend Mugwort at his table. Embracing him as she gave him a friendly Fairy kiss on the cheek 💋...
"Hey runt, where you been, I've been looking all over for you? Don't worry about that little misunderstanding with my mum, I got that all smoothed over and she promised me she won't eat you... not just yet anyway," the Fairy said with a saucy affectionate giggle.
Wondering between tables you see an almost teal colored kobold tugging the on pant legs and the dangling cloaks of the taverns patrons. He is barely taller than three feet and has an athletic build for a kobold. The tarnished brass scales covering Menders face and arms almost appear almost teal colored, as thought they had been weathered under countless hours of sun and sea spray. A worn brown leather hat with an old fishing lure dangling from the side sits upon his head, swaying slightly with every clawed footstep. Around his neck there is an ornate conch shell tied to a small rope that rests against his worn brown leather clothing. caked mud covers his clawed feet and leaves behind small footprints as he moves through the bar. Over one shoulder he carries a net full of freshly caught fish from the nearby surrounding swamp. On his other shoulder he carries a bag containing additional fishing equipment and a few basic supplies. He is clutching a large ornate book that is nearly 1/3 his height tightly in his free arm as he continues to try to get the attention of patrons. The book says "Filkiati Arytiss" across the top written in golden leaf and depicts a dragon circling an island on the front.
(book text is draconic)
"Are you sure you don't know about any magic portals in the middle of the swap? No? OK then..." The kobold would reply to the old man with a look of disappointment on his face. After making his way to most the tables at the bar he would find himself in front of a goblin and a fairy. His eyes would light up and he would struggle to open his book and quickly jot done some notes.. sending his net full of fish falling to the ground. After making his note he would scoop up his book and his net of fish and clear his throat. "Hello... My name is Mender. I am new... to... all of this... and umm.." He would pause a moment as he realized how ridiculous he sounded. "WelI was wondering if you knew where to find a magical portal in the middle of the swap? He would ask as he waited to be laughted at or dismissed like he had been by everyone else.
And so it begins. For better or for worse, your paths have now converged here at the Edge of the East...
For Isaac's ears...
Remaining attentive, you glance around the room. Check your DMs.
As for Fon...
A tap on your shoulder rouses you from your melancholy reminiscing. It is the barkeep himself. A short figure even for a gnome, he smiles kindly up at you. Check your DMs.
Mender, Mimzy and Mugwort, an unlikely but alliterative trio:
A bloated older man waddles up to you, who Mimzy vaguely recognizes. He is clearly drunk, with breath that reeks of alcohol and careless wine stains across his cotton tunic. His curly white hair is matted with sweat, and his bushy brow hides two deep-set, beady eyes, giving him the impression of a swine or similar creature. "Maestro Mimzy," he interjects humbly, with an accent one from a different realm might associate with a Greek or Turk, "my son, he is learning the art of song and dance. This will be his first public performance. Will you sing along with him?"
A crudely-scrawled sheet of lyrics is set down on Mugwort's table, before the man gestures expectantly to his youth - a small, scrawny child with an unkempt mop of black hair, standing patiently at the back of the tavern.
Mogwort cocks his head sideways and looks over at Mimzy, "Zee? Maestro Mim? Time to take on an apprentice, it is?" Ducks as a swat is directed his way.
*making post from phone, sorry for lack of bolding and formatting*
Mender would stumble a bit sideways as the man pushed past him to talk with the fairy , causing the kobold to struggle to keep his grip on his book and net. "Sorry.." He would grumble as he apologized for being in the man's way before moving towards one of the empty chairs at the table. "I hope you two don't mind if I sit here for a bit, he would shout up over the edge of the table. flinging his pack onto his chair, he would scramble up the side of the wooden seat and sit upon his bag, leaving the net full of fish draped over the back of the chair. Once seated, the kobold would Gove a toothy smile towards both the goblin and fairy. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm tired of getting stepped on.... So do either of you know anything about magic portals?" He would ask once more as he placed his book open in front of him.
Mender: with your willingness to approach several tables with such an unusual inquiry, you may have inadvertently garnered some attention. Roll a luck check (1d20, no modifiers).
Mender attention check! for better or worse... 6
Isaac suddenly bolts from his chair, as he dashes towards the exit leaving both his shield and warhammer behind. Hastily moving through the crowds of people and tables without caring for people and things around him, he reaches out to a dark robed figure about to seemingly exit the tavern. Attempting to place a single hand on their shoulder.
Although Mimzy cringes at the older man's use of the use of the word Maestro as an honorific title she lets it slide without comment and graciously responds, "Of course, it would be my honor." Looking upon the boy and beckoning him forward she pulls out her lute and begins to play, urging the boy the take the lead vocally and as he begins to sing she accompanies him with her own vocals to the the song presented to her.
Mugwort feels like he is juggling swamp pies. Smiling and nodding at his friend, Mimzy, as she encourages the young lad. Waving an open invitation to the struggling kobold as he climbs up to the table. And keeping an eye on the human that just sprinted across the room. "It is lively here tonight, no?", he says to no one in particular.
[Game Log roll --> Perception: 6 ]
With all the 'normal' activity at the Inn and trying to keep an eye on Mimzy and the table 'in general' Mugwort misses most of what is going on at any deeper level beside... sure is busy tonight.
Mimzy gently enhances the song with lute and vocal countermelody. The boy's voice is pretty but timorous, and it takes the first two verses to win any attention in the rowdy tavern. As a few patrons eventually turn their heads, each is enthralled... a soft pink light falls through the stained-glass window, spotlighting the duo's performance. It is a moment of grace and innocence several of the onlookers need, restoring a little lightheartedness exacted by their day-to-day toils. The final verse is sung, the final note struck... a moment of silence... before rapturous applause.
At the opposite end of the tavern, another interaction takes place largely unnoticed, drowned out by the roar of several hundred voices in conversation. The dark-cloaked figure spins around to face Isaac, unsheathing his dagger as quick as a flash and pulling down his hood. Now exposed to the light, the character's elongated ears and sharp features betray his elven lineage. Two bright blue eyes set into a pallid face glare at the cleric. "I recommend you state your business quickly and concisely, human... I have little patience for pestering."
For Mender...
And attention you receive... with a passive perception of 14, you are blissfully unaware of the dagger which slits open your pouch. Since we did not clarify this beforehand, I will allow you to make the call via PM - how much money, if any, do you carry by your side?
For Mug...
With a perception roll of 6, you cannot make out the details of Isaac's scuffle. At any rate, drunken squabbles are not out of the ordinary on lively nights like tonight, so the interaction is not overly interesting to you.
Scouring the room, Fon immediately becomes aware of the scuffle between Isaac and the cloaked figure, and a heated row over a game of Liar's Dice between a dwarf and an elf seated next to Mugwort.
While sitting upon his pack at the table, Mender would lean forward over his book and quickly review some of the draconic text within while occasionally making notes about the strange patrons around him. He would look up from his book and clap for the fairy when she was done performing before raising a clawed finger to call over a waitress. When one approached he would give her a smile and adjust his leather hat. "Hello, I'd like to order a drink... Do you have any rum?". As he asked the question he would reach towards his hip and grab his leather coin bag. Panic would spread across his face as he pulled the bag from his belt, quickly realizing it was empty. Holding the bag up he would look straight through it towards the waitress. "Damn... I guess I must have cut it on something out in the swamp..." he would mutter towards the waitress... feeling quite defeated. He would quickly look around while griping his ornate shell tightly and subtlying asking for guidance, just trying to spot any of the coins that had been in the bag in case they had fallen out in the tavern instead of the swamp... (Perception 11 + 3), The kobold knew that many of the coins in his bad did not look like the ones he saw being spent around the tavern. His coins were a collection of old dwarven, human, elven, and many other races coins that had been found in shipwrecks and traded on his island over the years. "I... Guess I'll have a glass of water? oh.. and would do you think there is room on the grill for a couple of these fish? You can keep some of the extra if you want if you are willing to cook it up for me for free?" (Persuasion to see if they will cook some of the fish for me to eat for free if he gives them the rest that are in his net... 21)
Isaac’s hand coils back as it slowly falls back to his side. “No need to be so tense, you just reminded me of someone that I knew, one that happened to have a very similar pendent to the one you have. Although… He wasn’t an elf, so I apologize for bothering you.” As he says this, he glances more directly at his body looking for where the scroll is located, and checking to see if there are any other notable characteristics or wax seals. (Perception: 11). And as Fon attempts to break the two of them a part, Isaac looks down at him saying “We were just talking. No need to worry about a fight, right?” He glances knowingly at the elf, with a slight grin.