Sea fog from the Bay of Spirits has been drifting slowly upriver for hours or, for all you can tell, weeks. But this is the River that Flows North and South; so for every clammy shroud of fog that settles its heaviness across your shoulders like the dull, cold whisper of Gyrk'vasa that numbs new-reaped souls to forgetfulness, the next is just as likely to be a sweet, soft, misty sigh from the southlands of Inveralwyn's bosom that melts the stone-hard land to soft earth once more and allow the seeds of rebirth to be sown.
All around you, as you sit waiting for the riverkin boatman that old sailor swore he knew well to frequent the ‘Hair’um the Bear’ here in Invergoedon, and whom he swore would gladly ferry you across the Bay of Spirits to Axbleford Port, you hear the eternal voice of the sea. From the rock-reaved fishing villages of the northern Aberstwyth coast to the strangely named ports in Koujala and Itzjoxaian well south of here, the whole region is lapped by the ocean your ancestors crossed only a few generations ago. The ocean whose waves foamed red and grey that night beside the settlers on the beach as they stood in numb horror as the haunting wails of flutes and muted trumpets ... the desolate music that has been heard here every year since on this night ... slowly droned to their sickened and bitterly guilt-seared minds that the eladrin they'd just murdered were not the treacherously beautiful servants of Asmodeus they'd taken them for in their terror at meeting beings of such unearthly beauty as they'd never before conceived of or imagined in their lives. They say the queen of the Feywild has accepted the festivals of atonement held along the shores every year since, but as you look about you wonder. Sometimes, between the terrible creatures of the Haunted Lands to the south and the often beautiful but always wildly strange and sometimes deadly ‘wonder’ of the formally ceded Feywild Countrie north along the river, it seems that the curse of Bonefire Island hangs heavier in the fog-shrouded salt air you are now breathing than any mythical forgiveness of the Eladrin Queen of Crows. And you are honest enough with yourself to admit that you only dare think in such free terms of the brooding power that lurks beneath Cricket Tor because you will … hopefully … soon be sailing, punting, poling, rowing, you don’t care, across a very large expanse of moving water AWAY from the strongholds of her power and domain. The fact that that water is haunted by so many horrible ghosts, ghouls, and ghastlies that the whispered rumor of the spectres of ancient illithid pirates, that legend paints as ruling these waters in the days of the giants, seems almost a pleasant child’s fancy; that fact doesn’t matter to you worth a damn in the slightest. (It also helps that you haven’t any more clear idea what the hell an illithid actually Is than the estimated cisibility in one of the thick shrouds of mist that constantly wrap and curl in from the bay.) And the very mortal, real, and dangerous reavers of Fjelve Vikkingstead who constantly intercept even the smallest of boats which try to cross the bay you now propose crossing seem like the meadbearers of their culture’s afterlife that swarm out in small boats to welcome the funeral longships of arriving heroes.
You pull out the oddly lettered scrap of parchment and gaze blearily at the name. ‘Leewamba.’ Strange handle for an admiral, much less an alderman, but you’ve heard stranger. Important part is, he was hiring for an expedition, or trade trip, or something of that kind, between Axbleford Port to the trade enclave around the headwaters of the Hvolstad River. All that shore was practically at the heart of the Bay of Spirits, but that meant it was on the southern bayshore. Hvolstad Enclave marked the boundary point between the Haunted Lands and the Edge of the Wild, on land anyway: Bonefire Island was well north of there, as were the ruins of Bhruleguia; and all the waters of the Bay of Spirits were considered touched by evil. Only where the brave settlers of Ulvsnesshjolm and Aberstwythm, and the free towns of Axbleford and Hvolstad, had managed to establish at least a semipermanent presence was that evil considered cleansed, Indeed, many believe that it is but transformed into more subtle and well-camouflaged forms that can infiltrate the crubling structures of civilization the way these curls of sea fog… you shake yourself. Such gloomy philosophers may or may not be right, but those who waste time and attention speculating on the matter overlong here in the frontier lands of far northern Sauvogia tend to have self-fulfilling expectations of imminent mortality that are depressingly predictable in their accuracy. On the other hand, those who are naive enough to assume that all who they deal with are honest, upright and safe just because they meet them in a town don’t tend to last long either. But Leewamba is well enough known to be chuckled at rather than feared for his differences, and has proven himself right often enough … as might be expected of a sharp-glanced river gnome … that even his opponents are more prone to ascribe him ridiculous powers of hand and mind that no one mortal could possibly possess at the same time, than to commit the opposite fault of underestimating his reach.
«﴾⸞≈∞⸎∞≈⸟﴿»
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Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
You look around cautiously from the small corner table you managed to secure (with a suitable ... ah ... display of evidence to the surly barkeep who had been pressed into doorcheck duty, that you had the means to be worth his time in potential tips throughout the evening) in one of the quieter corners the Hair'um the Bear has to offer. As you would expect with a name like that, that's not all that quiet. In fact, five total strangers seem to have had the same idea and bribed the bartender about as much as you did at just about the same moment. Naturally the canny fellow jumped at an opportunity like that at once; and since there really is only one corner in the place he could plausibly even pretend was quiet, he simply squeezed six small tables and chairs into it before grumblingly going back to door duty.
As you glance more carefully at the five strangers who share the corner with you, you note that by an amazing coincidence ;) you can see a corner of parchment peeking out of their ...whatever... that also seems to bear writing in the hand of this 'Leewamba' fellow. Might be worthwhile getting to know potential future allies ... or competition.
===========================
OOC: go ahead and spend a little while getting acquainted, order some drinks if you like. When you're ready to proceed, there's a small group of riverkin clustered around the end of the bar farthest from the entrance; several look like they would either be boatmen themselves or know them. You imagine at least one will be acquainted with the fellow you're looking for. The place is also crowded enough they had to institute a door check, so plenty of opportunities to RP here too first if anyone wants to)
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Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Nigel pulls a cloth from his lapel with a snap of his left hand as he gingerly removes the spectacles from the bridge of his nose with the right. The fledgling wizard first breaths a long, low, steady stream of hot air onto a lens before quickly polishing the fogged glass with the cloth. He repeats the process on the other lens before returning the apparatus to its rightful perch.
The sandy haired human proceeds to fuss with the book splayed out in front of him, adjusting the corners until it's position satisfied the nagging feeling that would haunt him if it wasn't just so. A ruffle of feathers from the owl perched on a near by chair draws his attention.
"Yes, Archie I see them." Says Nigel. He flips over the last half of the book in front of him revealing his own parchment piece. He places it on the table in front of him squaring it with the book. "What say we raise a flag and see who salutes." Nigel says as he gives the familiar a nodding wink.
Snickerz, a small light-brown haired Tabaxi, with dark-brown spotting along his bushy tail sits at his table reading over his parchment. The chair is a bit too big for him, making him seem more like a child to those that glance his direction. His small stature tends to make him hard to notice. But he is also a Tabaxi, and depending what town you are in, that tends to draw attention. He will wave a paw whenever he feels the eyes of a server are taking notice and order a tall mug of milk, or mead, or milk-mead if that is available.
"Leewamba", he mutters. "Ill sniff you out soon enough," he says while instinctually sniffing with his nose. Looking sideways to his periphery without moving his head he noticed others looking at him. He immediately stops sniffing, clears his throat," ahem" and gives a smile and a nod.
OOC: Can Snickerz hear music? He may attempt to earn a bit of coin if the gig has not already been taken.
Arden, a young man with his hood pulled up greets the others with soft, almost fleeting word, "Hello fellow travelers." Not implying anything out of disrespect, but more akin to melting into the environment.
Nigel raises a curious eyebrow when he catches sight of the Tabaxi. "Interesting. Rare to see a Tabaxi about."Nigel muses. "Should we enter this endeavour together, I shall have to introduce myself. They could have valuable information that could be crucial to my research."
Snickerz acknowledges the young man and returns a friendly "Hello." Then with a questioning look, "You not from around here either?"
Snickers will turn to the young man but will also have his eyes on the parchment in front of the man with the book. As he stares at the parchment, he loses himself in thought for a moment. "He has parchment. This place makes me a bit uncomfortable. It is busier than what I am used to. Thankfully this corner is quieter than the rest of the tavern. I've also never been this far from home. I wonder what is on his parchment?"
(He will snap out of his thoughtful stare when spoken to, and in his surprise say the last thing he was thinking of out loud "Parchment!")
Arden pulls out his parchment as well. "Aye. It would be better to travel in company. Looks like we have the begging of a party. My name is Arden."
He lays his bit of parchment down and looks at it and the others to see if they are the same or if there are differences. He also looks to see if they form a bigger picture when assembled.
Zania is a giant of a woman... one of the mountain born folk known as the Goliaths. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders, and she is armed with several axes. She has a tired, but determined, look in her eyes.
"So, travelling together, are we?" she says. "Then I suppose you should at least know my name. It is Zania."
Snickerz nods to Zania not having met a Goliath before. "I am Snickerz. Nice to meet you all." Snickers will share his parchment and look over the others to compare. "I didn't expect to meet others on the same mission, but apparently we have a common goal?" Snickers looks over at the young woman and other man sitting nearby who also have similar parchments. "You two as well?"
Snickerz recollects how he was given the parchment by his elders at the Mr'went Qao enclave and told that he was to assist this person to the best of his abilities. "Consider it a test of your developing abilities," they said. "Make us proud, remember your training, discipline your mind, body and soul. Return safe."
"It's nice to rest my paws for a bit after all that travelling. Anyone care for a drink?"
Among the others, an acrid scent of death and turned earth wafts from the one man who hasn't said anything yet. Hefty armour adorns his body, with motifs of skulls on his shoulders. Leaning against the table between his legs is a large scythe of blackened iron, set into a handle of delicate willow.
"I would certainly do with a... Refreshment."
The pause in his words is unsettling, creating an air of menace where there otherwise really should be none. His nasally, emotionless voice does not help to calm the nerves either. A thin lipped smile stretches across his face.
"My name is... Montgomery. It is most pleasurable to make your acquaintance."
He extends a greasy, poorly manicured hand to shake, not to anyone in particular, but moreso to whomever accepted first.
(sorry, just pulling out of your average everyday crabgrass-level holiday meltdown. ok now...)
The scraps of parchment you lay out on one of the tables before you aren't absolutely identical, but the differences are negligible enough to be explainable as the result of repeated hand-copying. Each piece is about the size of a pair of hands placed side by side, and says,
"Seeking guards, guides and caravan wranglers to protect and facilitate my trade ventures along the southern shore of the Bay of Sprits. Positions available on next trip from Axbleford to Hvolstad; departing Axbleford West Trade Gate at dawn on 5th Wynvas. Possibility of further employment with proven ability. Apply to my agent in the Axbleford Trade Hostel, next door to the customhouse on Axbleford quay, by 3rd Wynvas"
- Zanexi Zoppebis Leewamba
Tomorrow will be the first day of Wynvas, so you're right on time ... it shouldn't take more than a half-day boat ride or so to cross the bay. Plenty of time to get a drink from one of the three overworked bartenders ... a willowy, loam-colored riverkin woman whose wiry arms are never still; a corpulent dwarf man with a put-upon look on his face; or a young human boy who seems to spend most of his time alternately hero-worshipping the other two but occasionally remembers to get someone a glass or mug himself.
The parchments spread out on the table also begin to draw flickering side glances from those nearby. Those few comments you can hear seem about evenly divided between "Lucky bastards ... ," and half-drunken derision about where you can shove that kind of luck and fervent prayers for the speaker's misfortune to continue. "Either way, he's nuts!," is probably the most popular comment.
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Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Nigel continues to observe the other patrons seated at the 4 other tables as he makes notes in his book. He raises a questioning eyebrow as the tabaxi blurts out "Parchment" but makea no comment. He raises his chin in a slight nod of acknowledgment and approval as others produce similar parchments and place them next to his own. At the request for libations Nigel stands and casts his gaze over those assembled. A puzzled look crossing his face as his panning look pauses briefly on the out stretched hand of the seated Montgomery. Not sure if the gesture is meant for anyone specifically but since he is two tables away from Nigel, the scribe decides to ignore it and address the group.
"Well it would appear that way Zania, but only if you and Montgomery are also seeking passage to Axbleford via the riverkin known as Zanexi Leewamba." With this he signals their willingness to order to the riverkin waitress attending to other tavern goers. "Which I will assume is a common thread among those of us in possession of his advertisement."
Nigel indicates the similar papers splayed out in front of the others.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Snickerz will offer a fist bump to Montgomery, "This is how we do it at home." If Montgomery accepts and extends a fist, Snickerz will hit the top of Montgomery's fist, then the bottom, and finish with a knuckle explosion. Smiling at everyone he will suggest, "We could scoot a few of these tables together for some privacy if you like."
He looks relieved to see Nigel flagging down a server since he was not having much luck. He will order something light when a server responds, and if the riverkin server approaches he will ask what she knows about Leewamba as he orders a drink.
Until then he will begin softly strumming a small lute. Not playing a tune anyone knows but just picking a few notes and chords to provide some ambiance. Performance: 7
As Snickerz begins his improvised solo, he has the misfortune to catch the ragged edge where one of his claw sheaths is just beginning to shed under his instrument's highest string. The lute produces a rasping squeal that has all the patrons in earshot wincing. "Hey, amateur night ain't till ninth day before the ides!,"the overworked riverkin shouts across the room in the raucous voice of a bos'un's trumpet that's seen one too many storms. Some voices are raised in brutal laughter at the jest, since it's well known that only eight days precede the ides of any month before one gets to the kalends. She continues in a voice only slightly quieter while her flying arms completely ignore all of you and continue to serve patrons at or near the bar; anyone who thinks to observe the clues can see that most are being treated like long-familiar local customers by all three bartenders "Yer gonna have to pay for yer drinks. In advance, if ya line yer pocket with that tin ear. We got hard cider, mulberry gin, an' dwarf ale. Least that's what the dwarf tells me. Got metheglyn too, but ya don't want it 'less ya already made yer will. Bet ya could talk to that guy 'bout that." She points over at Montgomery. "Lemme know what ya want when you've all made up yer minds. Got too much ta do without runnin' back an' forth six, seven times."
Nigel acknowledges Snickerz suggestion by scooting his table so that it put his in line with two of the other tables then indicates that the two remaining should go into the gaps created by the first three.
Satisfied with the arrangement, Nigel sits back down, raises quill, and continues to write in his book. After a few moments he looks up and says,
"Oh, don't wait on me. I don't partake, but please feel free. Now it would appear that we shall have to procure passage to Axbleford. Does anyone have any suggestions, or perhaps access to a boat?"
Snickerz will wave his paws to the riverkin server, "It just needs a little tuning is all...heh...heh." He will sharpen his claws with his teeth, freeing any loose claw sheaf as he pulls his claws through the gaps in his teeth. He will keep playing lightly and shove his table into the appropriate space, guided by Nigel. "If anyone else is ordering I'll take a mulberry gin."
"I am not looking forward to a boat ride, but I thought I saw some riverkin up at the bar area we could talk to about that."
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Sea fog from the Bay of Spirits has been drifting slowly upriver for hours or, for all you can tell, weeks. But this is the River that Flows North and South; so for every clammy shroud of fog that settles its heaviness across your shoulders like the dull, cold whisper of Gyrk'vasa that numbs new-reaped souls to forgetfulness, the next is just as likely to be a sweet, soft, misty sigh from the southlands of Inveralwyn's bosom that melts the stone-hard land to soft earth once more and allow the seeds of rebirth to be sown.
All around you, as you sit waiting for the riverkin boatman that old sailor swore he knew well to frequent the ‘Hair’um the Bear’ here in Invergoedon, and whom he swore would gladly ferry you across the Bay of Spirits to Axbleford Port, you hear the eternal voice of the sea. From the rock-reaved fishing villages of the northern Aberstwyth coast to the strangely named ports in Koujala and Itzjoxaian well south of here, the whole region is lapped by the ocean your ancestors crossed only a few generations ago. The ocean whose waves foamed red and grey that night beside the settlers on the beach as they stood in numb horror as the haunting wails of flutes and muted trumpets ... the desolate music that has been heard here every year since on this night ... slowly droned to their sickened and bitterly guilt-seared minds that the eladrin they'd just murdered were not the treacherously beautiful servants of Asmodeus they'd taken them for in their terror at meeting beings of such unearthly beauty as they'd never before conceived of or imagined in their lives. They say the queen of the Feywild has accepted the festivals of atonement held along the shores every year since, but as you look about you wonder. Sometimes, between the terrible creatures of the Haunted Lands to the south and the often beautiful but always wildly strange and sometimes deadly ‘wonder’ of the formally ceded Feywild Countrie north along the river, it seems that the curse of Bonefire Island hangs heavier in the fog-shrouded salt air you are now breathing than any mythical forgiveness of the Eladrin Queen of Crows. And you are honest enough with yourself to admit that you only dare think in such free terms of the brooding power that lurks beneath Cricket Tor because you will … hopefully … soon be sailing, punting, poling, rowing, you don’t care, across a very large expanse of moving water AWAY from the strongholds of her power and domain. The fact that that water is haunted by so many horrible ghosts, ghouls, and ghastlies that the whispered rumor of the spectres of ancient illithid pirates, that legend paints as ruling these waters in the days of the giants, seems almost a pleasant child’s fancy; that fact doesn’t matter to you worth a damn in the slightest. (It also helps that you haven’t any more clear idea what the hell an illithid actually Is than the estimated cisibility in one of the thick shrouds of mist that constantly wrap and curl in from the bay.) And the very mortal, real, and dangerous reavers of Fjelve Vikkingstead who constantly intercept even the smallest of boats which try to cross the bay you now propose crossing seem like the meadbearers of their culture’s afterlife that swarm out in small boats to welcome the funeral longships of arriving heroes.
You pull out the oddly lettered scrap of parchment and gaze blearily at the name. ‘Leewamba.’ Strange handle for an admiral, much less an alderman, but you’ve heard stranger. Important part is, he was hiring for an expedition, or trade trip, or something of that kind, between Axbleford Port to the trade enclave around the headwaters of the Hvolstad River. All that shore was practically at the heart of the Bay of Spirits, but that meant it was on the southern bayshore. Hvolstad Enclave marked the boundary point between the Haunted Lands and the Edge of the Wild, on land anyway: Bonefire Island was well north of there, as were the ruins of Bhruleguia; and all the waters of the Bay of Spirits were considered touched by evil. Only where the brave settlers of Ulvsnesshjolm and Aberstwythm, and the free towns of Axbleford and Hvolstad, had managed to establish at least a semipermanent presence was that evil considered cleansed, Indeed, many believe that it is but transformed into more subtle and well-camouflaged forms that can infiltrate the crubling structures of civilization the way these curls of sea fog… you shake yourself. Such gloomy philosophers may or may not be right, but those who waste time and attention speculating on the matter overlong here in the frontier lands of far northern Sauvogia tend to have self-fulfilling expectations of imminent mortality that are depressingly predictable in their accuracy. On the other hand, those who are naive enough to assume that all who they deal with are honest, upright and safe just because they meet them in a town don’t tend to last long either. But Leewamba is well enough known to be chuckled at rather than feared for his differences, and has proven himself right often enough … as might be expected of a sharp-glanced river gnome … that even his opponents are more prone to ascribe him ridiculous powers of hand and mind that no one mortal could possibly possess at the same time, than to commit the opposite fault of underestimating his reach.
«﴾⸞≈∞⸎∞≈⸟﴿»
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
You look around cautiously from the small corner table you managed to secure (with a suitable ... ah ... display of evidence to the surly barkeep who had been pressed into doorcheck duty, that you had the means to be worth his time in potential tips throughout the evening) in one of the quieter corners the Hair'um the Bear has to offer. As you would expect with a name like that, that's not all that quiet. In fact, five total strangers seem to have had the same idea and bribed the bartender about as much as you did at just about the same moment. Naturally the canny fellow jumped at an opportunity like that at once; and since there really is only one corner in the place he could plausibly even pretend was quiet, he simply squeezed six small tables and chairs into it before grumblingly going back to door duty.
As you glance more carefully at the five strangers who share the corner with you, you note that by an amazing coincidence ;) you can see a corner of parchment peeking out of their ...whatever... that also seems to bear writing in the hand of this 'Leewamba' fellow. Might be worthwhile getting to know potential future allies ... or competition.
===========================
OOC: go ahead and spend a little while getting acquainted, order some drinks if you like. When you're ready to proceed, there's a small group of riverkin clustered around the end of the bar farthest from the entrance; several look like they would either be boatmen themselves or know them. You imagine at least one will be acquainted with the fellow you're looking for. The place is also crowded enough they had to institute a door check, so plenty of opportunities to RP here too first if anyone wants to)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Nigel pulls a cloth from his lapel with a snap of his left hand as he gingerly removes the spectacles from the bridge of his nose with the right. The fledgling wizard first breaths a long, low, steady stream of hot air onto a lens before quickly polishing the fogged glass with the cloth. He repeats the process on the other lens before returning the apparatus to its rightful perch.
The sandy haired human proceeds to fuss with the book splayed out in front of him, adjusting the corners until it's position satisfied the nagging feeling that would haunt him if it wasn't just so. A ruffle of feathers from the owl perched on a near by chair draws his attention.
"Yes, Archie I see them." Says Nigel. He flips over the last half of the book in front of him revealing his own parchment piece. He places it on the table in front of him squaring it with the book. "What say we raise a flag and see who salutes." Nigel says as he gives the familiar a nodding wink.
Rogue Quin Oberon /Mercer's Tavern
Ranger Rigel Foresyth /LMOP
Fighter Barnabus Ironheel /North lands campaign
Fighter Flynt McGraw /Stormraider
Snickerz, a small light-brown haired Tabaxi, with dark-brown spotting along his bushy tail sits at his table reading over his parchment. The chair is a bit too big for him, making him seem more like a child to those that glance his direction. His small stature tends to make him hard to notice. But he is also a Tabaxi, and depending what town you are in, that tends to draw attention. He will wave a paw whenever he feels the eyes of a server are taking notice and order a tall mug of milk, or mead, or milk-mead if that is available.
"Leewamba", he mutters. "Ill sniff you out soon enough," he says while instinctually sniffing with his nose. Looking sideways to his periphery without moving his head he noticed others looking at him. He immediately stops sniffing, clears his throat," ahem" and gives a smile and a nod.
OOC: Can Snickerz hear music? He may attempt to earn a bit of coin if the gig has not already been taken.
Arden, a young man with his hood pulled up greets the others with soft, almost fleeting word, "Hello fellow travelers." Not implying anything out of disrespect, but more akin to melting into the environment.
D&D since 1984
Nigel raises a curious eyebrow when he catches sight of the Tabaxi. "Interesting. Rare to see a Tabaxi about." Nigel muses. "Should we enter this endeavour together, I shall have to introduce myself. They could have valuable information that could be crucial to my research."
Rogue Quin Oberon /Mercer's Tavern
Ranger Rigel Foresyth /LMOP
Fighter Barnabus Ironheel /North lands campaign
Fighter Flynt McGraw /Stormraider
Perception check: 18
Snickerz acknowledges the young man and returns a friendly "Hello." Then with a questioning look, "You not from around here either?"
Snickers will turn to the young man but will also have his eyes on the parchment in front of the man with the book. As he stares at the parchment, he loses himself in thought for a moment. "He has parchment. This place makes me a bit uncomfortable. It is busier than what I am used to. Thankfully this corner is quieter than the rest of the tavern. I've also never been this far from home. I wonder what is on his parchment?"
(He will snap out of his thoughtful stare when spoken to, and in his surprise say the last thing he was thinking of out loud "Parchment!")
Arden pulls out his parchment as well. "Aye. It would be better to travel in company. Looks like we have the begging of a party. My name is Arden."
He lays his bit of parchment down and looks at it and the others to see if they are the same or if there are differences. He also looks to see if they form a bigger picture when assembled.
D&D since 1984
Zania is a giant of a woman... one of the mountain born folk known as the Goliaths. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders, and she is armed with several axes. She has a tired, but determined, look in her eyes.
"So, travelling together, are we?" she says. "Then I suppose you should at least know my name. It is Zania."
Snickerz nods to Zania not having met a Goliath before. "I am Snickerz. Nice to meet you all." Snickers will share his parchment and look over the others to compare. "I didn't expect to meet others on the same mission, but apparently we have a common goal?" Snickers looks over at the young woman and other man sitting nearby who also have similar parchments. "You two as well?"
Snickerz recollects how he was given the parchment by his elders at the Mr'went Qao enclave and told that he was to assist this person to the best of his abilities. "Consider it a test of your developing abilities," they said. "Make us proud, remember your training, discipline your mind, body and soul. Return safe."
"It's nice to rest my paws for a bit after all that travelling. Anyone care for a drink?"
Among the others, an acrid scent of death and turned earth wafts from the one man who hasn't said anything yet. Hefty armour adorns his body, with motifs of skulls on his shoulders. Leaning against the table between his legs is a large scythe of blackened iron, set into a handle of delicate willow.
"I would certainly do with a... Refreshment."
The pause in his words is unsettling, creating an air of menace where there otherwise really should be none. His nasally, emotionless voice does not help to calm the nerves either. A thin lipped smile stretches across his face.
"My name is... Montgomery. It is most pleasurable to make your acquaintance."
He extends a greasy, poorly manicured hand to shake, not to anyone in particular, but moreso to whomever accepted first.
(DM - I think right now we are awaiting the replies about the space and the parchment)
D&D since 1984
(sorry, just pulling out of your average everyday crabgrass-level holiday meltdown. ok now...)
The scraps of parchment you lay out on one of the tables before you aren't absolutely identical, but the differences are negligible enough to be explainable as the result of repeated hand-copying. Each piece is about the size of a pair of hands placed side by side, and says,
Tomorrow will be the first day of Wynvas, so you're right on time ... it shouldn't take more than a half-day boat ride or so to cross the bay. Plenty of time to get a drink from one of the three overworked bartenders ... a willowy, loam-colored riverkin woman whose wiry arms are never still; a corpulent dwarf man with a put-upon look on his face; or a young human boy who seems to spend most of his time alternately hero-worshipping the other two but occasionally remembers to get someone a glass or mug himself.
The parchments spread out on the table also begin to draw flickering side glances from those nearby. Those few comments you can hear seem about evenly divided between "Lucky bastards ... ," and half-drunken derision about where you can shove that kind of luck and fervent prayers for the speaker's misfortune to continue. "Either way, he's nuts!," is probably the most popular comment.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Nigel continues to observe the other patrons seated at the 4 other tables as he makes notes in his book. He raises a questioning eyebrow as the tabaxi blurts out "Parchment" but makea no comment. He raises his chin in a slight nod of acknowledgment and approval as others produce similar parchments and place them next to his own. At the request for libations Nigel stands and casts his gaze over those assembled. A puzzled look crossing his face as his panning look pauses briefly on the out stretched hand of the seated Montgomery. Not sure if the gesture is meant for anyone specifically but since he is two tables away from Nigel, the scribe decides to ignore it and address the group.
"Well it would appear that way Zania, but only if you and Montgomery are also seeking passage to Axbleford via the riverkin known as Zanexi Leewamba." With this he signals their willingness to order to the riverkin waitress attending to other tavern goers. "Which I will assume is a common thread among those of us in possession of his advertisement."
Nigel indicates the similar papers splayed out in front of the others.
Rogue Quin Oberon /Mercer's Tavern
Ranger Rigel Foresyth /LMOP
Fighter Barnabus Ironheel /North lands campaign
Fighter Flynt McGraw /Stormraider
Montgomery nods slightly, retracting his hand with seemingly no offence taken.
"Indeed."
Another thin lipped smile worms its way across his face, as though he was aware of something the others were not.
Snickerz will offer a fist bump to Montgomery, "This is how we do it at home." If Montgomery accepts and extends a fist, Snickerz will hit the top of Montgomery's fist, then the bottom, and finish with a knuckle explosion. Smiling at everyone he will suggest, "We could scoot a few of these tables together for some privacy if you like."
He looks relieved to see Nigel flagging down a server since he was not having much luck. He will order something light when a server responds, and if the riverkin server approaches he will ask what she knows about Leewamba as he orders a drink.
Until then he will begin softly strumming a small lute. Not playing a tune anyone knows but just picking a few notes and chords to provide some ambiance. Performance: 7
Zania nods.
"Yes, that's where I'm going as well." she says to Nigel. "I'm sure you already guessed that I'll be on guard duty."
As Snickerz begins his improvised solo, he has the misfortune to catch the ragged edge where one of his claw sheaths is just beginning to shed under his instrument's highest string. The lute produces a rasping squeal that has all the patrons in earshot wincing. "Hey, amateur night ain't till ninth day before the ides!," the overworked riverkin shouts across the room in the raucous voice of a bos'un's trumpet that's seen one too many storms. Some voices are raised in brutal laughter at the jest, since it's well known that only eight days precede the ides of any month before one gets to the kalends. She continues in a voice only slightly quieter while her flying arms completely ignore all of you and continue to serve patrons at or near the bar; anyone who thinks to observe the clues can see that most are being treated like long-familiar local customers by all three bartenders "Yer gonna have to pay for yer drinks. In advance, if ya line yer pocket with that tin ear. We got hard cider, mulberry gin, an' dwarf ale. Least that's what the dwarf tells me. Got metheglyn too, but ya don't want it 'less ya already made yer will. Bet ya could talk to that guy 'bout that." She points over at Montgomery. "Lemme know what ya want when you've all made up yer minds. Got too much ta do without runnin' back an' forth six, seven times."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Nigel acknowledges Snickerz suggestion by scooting his table so that it put his in line with two of the other tables then indicates that the two remaining should go into the gaps created by the first three.
Satisfied with the arrangement, Nigel sits back down, raises quill, and continues to write in his book. After a few moments he looks up and says,
"Oh, don't wait on me. I don't partake, but please feel free. Now it would appear that we shall have to procure passage to Axbleford. Does anyone have any suggestions, or perhaps access to a boat?"
Rogue Quin Oberon /Mercer's Tavern
Ranger Rigel Foresyth /LMOP
Fighter Barnabus Ironheel /North lands campaign
Fighter Flynt McGraw /Stormraider
Snickerz will wave his paws to the riverkin server, "It just needs a little tuning is all...heh...heh." He will sharpen his claws with his teeth, freeing any loose claw sheaf as he pulls his claws through the gaps in his teeth. He will keep playing lightly and shove his table into the appropriate space, guided by Nigel. "If anyone else is ordering I'll take a mulberry gin."
"I am not looking forward to a boat ride, but I thought I saw some riverkin up at the bar area we could talk to about that."