The barbarian woman turned from the barkeep for a moment as the soft man spoke to her, questioning the way she referred to him. She tilted her head at him again, her icy blue eyes sweeping up and down over his form, and then leaned in and sniffed the air like a wolf trying to catch wind of her prey. She pulled back then and gave a slow shrug. "You look, sound and smell of softness. Of being somebody who has never had to hunt down prey in order to fill their belly or clothe themselves. I believe even that loud one with the flute there has more steel in him than you. But perhaps you will prove me wrong. Or perhaps you will die of your softness. It does not matter to me either way.", she replied to him and then turned her attention back to the barkeep.
The words the tavern keeper had spoke put a gleam in Graceela's eyes and a predatory smile on her lips. Foul beasts that needed slaying? Now that was something for her. "Foul beasts, you say? Yes. I believe that is where I would be of more use. Thank you.", she said and then reached into the leather pouch upon her belt to retrieve a gold coin and place it on the bar for the man to take to show her gratitude.
Now Fanric has a glint in his eye, Strength is not defined by raw power madam. I am just as strong as you ... just not in quite the same way. Fanric decides that it would be most beneficial to have this woman on his side.
He also checks for a rodent in case the woman wants a demonstration.
Graceela again regarded the man and shook her head, the hint of a wolfish grin on her face. "You misunderstand. I did not say you lacked strength. I said you were soft, not weak. I do not judge a warrior weak until I see them in battle. But soft? Soft is a quality of a person. It is not a judgement of your strength. Just of who you are. Your words, words that fear death and abhor the lessons it brings. That proves you soft. Weak? Well, I would have to see for myself whether you are that or not."
The bard listens to the conversation intently. "Quite a topic. I've seen a soft and gentle priest repeatedly run into a burning orphanage to save the children. I watched as a soldier of great renown began to shake and wet himself at the sight of a harmless ghost. Our new friend here might not know what it's like to fight for survival in a warrior tribe like you or to scrape and scrap with neither food nor shelter in the alleys and gutters of the city like me, and I still think he took the crossbow showdown a bit seriously but I've a feeling that he's got the minerals. When he truly needs them, they'll show out!"
Fanric considers the words of the warrior-woman and the flute player with a quizzical look on his face. I do not think it soft to avoid unnecessary violence. And I certainly do not think death should be on parade, at least, not without a good reason. Anyway... Oh! I haven't introduced myself! Fanric gives an extravagant, and particularly over the top bow attempting to cover up the comment under his breath. Fanric Sternward, at your service. He leans in close to the other two. Be back this time tomorrow and i'll be givin' more free drinks.
Graceela regarded the bard when he spoke, looking to him thoughtfully as he spoke and then shrugged in response. "You may be correct. As I said, I do not judge one as weak until they have proven themselves to be so. Perhaps he will prove himself to be more than I think. Or perhaps he will not. Only time will tell, if we have opportunity to cross paths again.", she said, thinking that truly anything was possible. Perhaps the soft one would prove himself to be something more. Whether he did or not, though, mattered little to Graceela as she doubted their paths would cross again after this.
Almost as though to belie that thought, the soft one spoke again, defending his stance in one moment and then introducing himself the next. He also spoke almost conspiratorially of more free drinks to be had and the barbarian woman quirked her head to the side again to study him. He seemed free with his coin and ready to spend on others. That could be a sign of generosity...or it could be a sign of one seeking to curry favor with another for their own reasons. Graceela couldn't judge whether he was one type or the other and so she held her opinion on that regard...for now.
Instead, she inclined her head to the man and placed a hand curled into a fist to her chest, her hand solidly thumping against herself as she did. "Graceela of Clan Frostwind.", she said shortly, thinking there was little else to say for the moment. She had said her piece when it came to her opinions on the way the duel had gone and the practice of death-dealing and so felt no need to waste more words.
Sorry to be missing the action. For some reasons I wasn’t reciving notifications...
The tiefling, having been around the twon for a few minutes to learn a little bit about its layout, enters the tavern and take off his hat. He walks towards the bar, near the three that he previously saw at the street and ask for a drink.
“Here my good bartender, see what you can do to help this poor thirsty traveler “ he says producing a silver coin and leaving it at the bar.
Gavin shrugs slightly as the tiefling heads into the bar without really returning his handshake. "Always the same Gav. Put yourself out there a little bit more. Be more open. Only way you'll survive out here." he thinks to himself as he follows the tiefling into the bar.
"I'd take an ale as well, please." he says, laying one of his own dirt-streaked silver coins on the bartop.
The barkeep takes Gavin and Dekket's silver coins and supplies them with a particularly wide and tall glass of ale each. He then takes Graceela's offering and goes on.
"Aye. Every now and then they get brave enough to sneak into town at night and ransack a few houses on the edge of town, but they usually stick to the camps out in the plains. Some say the drow are responsible for some of the raids as well, but you know that's just hearsay. I've seen the gnoll raids with my own two eyes, and I wouldn't doubt goblins are tangled up in that mess too, but drow? I don't know about the drow. Speaking of goblins, though. I've heard a rumor that some of them are holed up in a old silver mine out in the hills to the west. Might be worth checking up on. I heard the blacksmith is looking for all the silver he can get to forge some silvered weaponry for some lycanthrope hunters up the river a little ways."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Graceela listens close to the barkeep's words, outlining the challenges that may face her if she were to walk the path she had been considering. As he does, her grin widens, her teeth gleaming white and giving her a predatory gleam. "It sounds like there are many challenges out there to face. Many beasts to be put down and many chances to prove my worth and earn glory. This is good.", she said and then considered for a moment, "Is there a leader out in those camps to speak to? Somebody of authority that I could talk to in order to find out more? And this blacksmith you speak of? Who is he? Where could I find him? I find the idea of group of lycanthrope hunters to be interesting and he would know more of this, yes?"
Gavin listens with rapt attention, perking up at the sound of the lycanthrope hunters. "I would be interested in joining you all, either in helping outfit these lycanthrope hunters or taking down raiders. Seems a good way to build a name for one's self, and make some coin at the same time." he says, taking a swig of the ale.
"I don't know about a camp leader. Just look for the tents and walk up to somebody and start talking. They should be able to point you in the right direction. As for the blacksmith, he's just down the road a little ways to the East. You should be able to locate him by sound pretty easily. He's always hammering away at something."
Graceela took a moment to look around at the people who seemed eager to invite themselves to the task that she had originally inquired about and shown interest in. She eyed each of them for a moment and, after that moment, she gave a soft grunt and shrug before looking back to the barkeep. She hadn’t been looking for companions for this, but neither was she fool enough to push aside the notion of cooperation. The best hunters worked in a pack, after all.
“I see. I thank you again. Your words were helpful.”, she told the barman and then pushed herself up from her seat and turned from the bar with purpose. She strode towards the door with a slow stride, her cloak of leather and fur falling around her tall, athletic form and swishing about her legs as she walked.
She seemed intent on walking right out of the room but paused when she reached the door. She stopped for a moment and shifted her weight from one leg to the other before looking over her shoulder to glance at the men that had been gathered there. Though she said nothing, the look in her eyes was clear enough to communicate a simple if somewhat begrudging question. That being, ‘Are you coming or not?’
After drinking in just one sip the drink he just ordered, Dekket moves his hand trying to catch the attention of Graceela.
" Sorry, excuse me " he says as he approaches her " Yes... here... sorry to hold you for a few moments but I was just... " he turns and points towards the place he was just a few seconds ago "... there. Kind of right next to you, and I couldn't help but overhear your interesting chat. I was wondering. " he stops for a second raising his head and smiling " Would you care to have a little bit more company?" he then opens his eyes as if he had remembered something important. "Oh oh, of course. Dekket Karkrow at your service " he says making a bow and a flourish movement with his hat. " But my friends call me Dek " he ends looking at her still bowing.
As Graceela stands Fanric says to her, I will catch up, but first some business must be attended to here.
With a smile on his face Fanric waits for the others to disperse and then turns to the barkeep once more.
I want you to give everyone in-store a free drink every day at this time until I return. Fanric then gives the man 20 gold pieces. If this runs out, start me a tab.
Fanric goes to leave and then stop and turns back, oh, and say its a gift form their good friend Fanric Sternward.
He then quickly hurries after anyone involved with Graceela.
The barbarian woman looked to the man who came up to her, fixing her gaze upon him intently as she does with most people or things. Intensity is usually in her eye in some way shape or form, the predatory gaze of a wolf comparable to that which she looks out upon the world with. She listens to him quietly, her lips downturned and her head quirked to the side a bit as she studies him. She seems to consider his words for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug, not bothering to return the bow with any gesture of welcome or greeting herself.
"Graceela of Clan Frostwind.", she said, returning his introduction with her own, "Dekket Karkrow, I care little whether you decide to come along or not. But it seems many have interests in slaying the things that prey on those that dwell on the outskirts and I will not stop any who wish to take part in bloodletting. A pack of wolves hunts better than a lone wolf, after all."
"Fantastic! " he says with a smile, putting on his hat again covering his horns. " Shall we go then? The sooner we start this, the sooner that creatures do not prey on this good people."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PbP Character: A few ;)
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The barbarian woman turned from the barkeep for a moment as the soft man spoke to her, questioning the way she referred to him. She tilted her head at him again, her icy blue eyes sweeping up and down over his form, and then leaned in and sniffed the air like a wolf trying to catch wind of her prey. She pulled back then and gave a slow shrug. "You look, sound and smell of softness. Of being somebody who has never had to hunt down prey in order to fill their belly or clothe themselves. I believe even that loud one with the flute there has more steel in him than you. But perhaps you will prove me wrong. Or perhaps you will die of your softness. It does not matter to me either way.", she replied to him and then turned her attention back to the barkeep.
The words the tavern keeper had spoke put a gleam in Graceela's eyes and a predatory smile on her lips. Foul beasts that needed slaying? Now that was something for her. "Foul beasts, you say? Yes. I believe that is where I would be of more use. Thank you.", she said and then reached into the leather pouch upon her belt to retrieve a gold coin and place it on the bar for the man to take to show her gratitude.
Now Fanric has a glint in his eye, Strength is not defined by raw power madam. I am just as strong as you ... just not in quite the same way. Fanric decides that it would be most beneficial to have this woman on his side.
He also checks for a rodent in case the woman wants a demonstration.
Graceela again regarded the man and shook her head, the hint of a wolfish grin on her face. "You misunderstand. I did not say you lacked strength. I said you were soft, not weak. I do not judge a warrior weak until I see them in battle. But soft? Soft is a quality of a person. It is not a judgement of your strength. Just of who you are. Your words, words that fear death and abhor the lessons it brings. That proves you soft. Weak? Well, I would have to see for myself whether you are that or not."
The bard listens to the conversation intently. "Quite a topic. I've seen a soft and gentle priest repeatedly run into a burning orphanage to save the children. I watched as a soldier of great renown began to shake and wet himself at the sight of a harmless ghost. Our new friend here might not know what it's like to fight for survival in a warrior tribe like you or to scrape and scrap with neither food nor shelter in the alleys and gutters of the city like me, and I still think he took the crossbow showdown a bit seriously but I've a feeling that he's got the minerals. When he truly needs them, they'll show out!"
DM: A JOURNEY ACROSS THE PLANES
PLAYER CHARACTER
SELLSWORDS ON THE ENDLESS PLAINS: CADE CRIMSON, BARD
Fanric considers the words of the warrior-woman and the flute player with a quizzical look on his face. I do not think it soft to avoid unnecessary violence. And I certainly do not think death should be on parade, at least, not without a good reason. Anyway... Oh! I haven't introduced myself! Fanric gives an extravagant, and particularly over the top bow attempting to cover up the comment under his breath. Fanric Sternward, at your service. He leans in close to the other two. Be back this time tomorrow and i'll be givin' more free drinks.
Graceela regarded the bard when he spoke, looking to him thoughtfully as he spoke and then shrugged in response. "You may be correct. As I said, I do not judge one as weak until they have proven themselves to be so. Perhaps he will prove himself to be more than I think. Or perhaps he will not. Only time will tell, if we have opportunity to cross paths again.", she said, thinking that truly anything was possible. Perhaps the soft one would prove himself to be something more. Whether he did or not, though, mattered little to Graceela as she doubted their paths would cross again after this.
Almost as though to belie that thought, the soft one spoke again, defending his stance in one moment and then introducing himself the next. He also spoke almost conspiratorially of more free drinks to be had and the barbarian woman quirked her head to the side again to study him. He seemed free with his coin and ready to spend on others. That could be a sign of generosity...or it could be a sign of one seeking to curry favor with another for their own reasons. Graceela couldn't judge whether he was one type or the other and so she held her opinion on that regard...for now.
Instead, she inclined her head to the man and placed a hand curled into a fist to her chest, her hand solidly thumping against herself as she did. "Graceela of Clan Frostwind.", she said shortly, thinking there was little else to say for the moment. She had said her piece when it came to her opinions on the way the duel had gone and the practice of death-dealing and so felt no need to waste more words.
Sorry to be missing the action. For some reasons I wasn’t reciving notifications...
The tiefling, having been around the twon for a few minutes to learn a little bit about its layout, enters the tavern and take off his hat. He walks towards the bar, near the three that he previously saw at the street and ask for a drink.
“Here my good bartender, see what you can do to help this poor thirsty traveler “ he says producing a silver coin and leaving it at the bar.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Gavin shrugs slightly as the tiefling heads into the bar without really returning his handshake. "Always the same Gav. Put yourself out there a little bit more. Be more open. Only way you'll survive out here." he thinks to himself as he follows the tiefling into the bar.
"I'd take an ale as well, please." he says, laying one of his own dirt-streaked silver coins on the bartop.
The barkeep takes Gavin and Dekket's silver coins and supplies them with a particularly wide and tall glass of ale each. He then takes Graceela's offering and goes on.
"Aye. Every now and then they get brave enough to sneak into town at night and ransack a few houses on the edge of town, but they usually stick to the camps out in the plains. Some say the drow are responsible for some of the raids as well, but you know that's just hearsay. I've seen the gnoll raids with my own two eyes, and I wouldn't doubt goblins are tangled up in that mess too, but drow? I don't know about the drow. Speaking of goblins, though. I've heard a rumor that some of them are holed up in a old silver mine out in the hills to the west. Might be worth checking up on. I heard the blacksmith is looking for all the silver he can get to forge some silvered weaponry for some lycanthrope hunters up the river a little ways."
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Player in: Dark Omens
Graceela listens close to the barkeep's words, outlining the challenges that may face her if she were to walk the path she had been considering. As he does, her grin widens, her teeth gleaming white and giving her a predatory gleam. "It sounds like there are many challenges out there to face. Many beasts to be put down and many chances to prove my worth and earn glory. This is good.", she said and then considered for a moment, "Is there a leader out in those camps to speak to? Somebody of authority that I could talk to in order to find out more? And this blacksmith you speak of? Who is he? Where could I find him? I find the idea of group of lycanthrope hunters to be interesting and he would know more of this, yes?"
Fanric listens to both the words of barkeep and Graceela, I need to involve myself with this, he thought to himself but for now he sat quietly.
Cade looks to Fanric. "Your conscience okay with sticking a few goblin for the sake of the greater causes of coin and glory?"
DM: A JOURNEY ACROSS THE PLANES
PLAYER CHARACTER
SELLSWORDS ON THE ENDLESS PLAINS: CADE CRIMSON, BARD
they condemned themselves when they stole from us... let's show them the error of their ways.
Gavin listens with rapt attention, perking up at the sound of the lycanthrope hunters. "I would be interested in joining you all, either in helping outfit these lycanthrope hunters or taking down raiders. Seems a good way to build a name for one's self, and make some coin at the same time." he says, taking a swig of the ale.
The barkeep replies to Graceela
"I don't know about a camp leader. Just look for the tents and walk up to somebody and start talking. They should be able to point you in the right direction. As for the blacksmith, he's just down the road a little ways to the East. You should be able to locate him by sound pretty easily. He's always hammering away at something."
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Player in: Dark Omens
Graceela took a moment to look around at the people who seemed eager to invite themselves to the task that she had originally inquired about and shown interest in. She eyed each of them for a moment and, after that moment, she gave a soft grunt and shrug before looking back to the barkeep. She hadn’t been looking for companions for this, but neither was she fool enough to push aside the notion of cooperation. The best hunters worked in a pack, after all.
“I see. I thank you again. Your words were helpful.”, she told the barman and then pushed herself up from her seat and turned from the bar with purpose. She strode towards the door with a slow stride, her cloak of leather and fur falling around her tall, athletic form and swishing about her legs as she walked.
She seemed intent on walking right out of the room but paused when she reached the door. She stopped for a moment and shifted her weight from one leg to the other before looking over her shoulder to glance at the men that had been gathered there. Though she said nothing, the look in her eyes was clear enough to communicate a simple if somewhat begrudging question. That being, ‘Are you coming or not?’
After drinking in just one sip the drink he just ordered, Dekket moves his hand trying to catch the attention of Graceela.
" Sorry, excuse me " he says as he approaches her " Yes... here... sorry to hold you for a few moments but I was just... " he turns and points towards the place he was just a few seconds ago "... there. Kind of right next to you, and I couldn't help but overhear your interesting chat. I was wondering. " he stops for a second raising his head and smiling " Would you care to have a little bit more company?" he then opens his eyes as if he had remembered something important. "Oh oh, of course. Dekket Karkrow at your service " he says making a bow and a flourish movement with his hat. " But my friends call me Dek " he ends looking at her still bowing.
PbP Character: A few ;)
As Graceela stands Fanric says to her, I will catch up, but first some business must be attended to here.
With a smile on his face Fanric waits for the others to disperse and then turns to the barkeep once more.
I want you to give everyone in-store a free drink every day at this time until I return. Fanric then gives the man 20 gold pieces. If this runs out, start me a tab.
Fanric goes to leave and then stop and turns back, oh, and say its a gift form their good friend Fanric Sternward.
He then quickly hurries after anyone involved with Graceela.
The barbarian woman looked to the man who came up to her, fixing her gaze upon him intently as she does with most people or things. Intensity is usually in her eye in some way shape or form, the predatory gaze of a wolf comparable to that which she looks out upon the world with. She listens to him quietly, her lips downturned and her head quirked to the side a bit as she studies him. She seems to consider his words for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug, not bothering to return the bow with any gesture of welcome or greeting herself.
"Graceela of Clan Frostwind.", she said, returning his introduction with her own, "Dekket Karkrow, I care little whether you decide to come along or not. But it seems many have interests in slaying the things that prey on those that dwell on the outskirts and I will not stop any who wish to take part in bloodletting. A pack of wolves hunts better than a lone wolf, after all."
"Fantastic! " he says with a smile, putting on his hat again covering his horns. " Shall we go then? The sooner we start this, the sooner that creatures do not prey on this good people."
PbP Character: A few ;)