The small Port of Rentarn lies in the north-west corner of Allansia. A small fishing village, it is known to attract those seeking treasure. After the Trolltooth Wars, many uncovered ruins and mines were left behind or forgotten. This town would serve as a great place to find your path in this world, and perhaps your fortune.
Rentarn is a small fishing village in the typically cold northwest region of the Dragon Reaches. Closed three-quarters of the year due to the frigid temperatures, its people are mostly seasonal workers in the fishing, clamming, and crabbing trades, making their living with the 3 months a year when the ice in the bay melts enough for them to sail their many boats and harvest the many treasures the sea has to offer. To the north of the port lie the famed Icefinger Mountains, their snow-covered jagged peaks, like some ancient Titans fingers reaching to the skies. To the northwest, the rich mountain trading town of Silverton. Still further above the dragon reaches span the frigid Frozen Plateau and the Ice Wastes, where rumored huge white tigers, giants,trolls, and polar bears are all that can survive. As you have headed north, the summer nights have grown suprisingly cool, and off in the distance, you can still see snow on the peaks of the high Icefinger mountains. There is a high mountain pass that is only open to traders during the summer months between Rentarn and Silverton, creating a shorter route. The remainder of the year, it is far too treacherous and covered in snow and ice. Some years, it never opens at all.
After a long journey on roads that are not well cared for and a day of heavy rain, you enter the small fishing village of Rentarn. You are tired and hungry but you have the night to rest and recuperate. Although most of the buildings seem to be residences or processing plants for crabs and fish, as you approach the docks, you see the lit sign outside an establishment. A painted picture of a typical one-masted boat, and clearly the type of place you are looking for.
The Rudderless Galley is a small old tavern that has certainly had better times. It smells of fish, and the salt of the sea. The stale sweat of workers who have not bathed in weeks lingers, but…its warm and dry. The weather-worn furniture shows signs of heavy use and the scars of various brawls. A thin human female perhaps in her 50s with long black hair with streaks of gray, an oval weathered face, and rough sunburned skin is cleaning tankards behind the bar while chatting with a strange-looking dwarf man in the tavern's livery sitting on a barstool. A large stained apron tied in the back on his front side. He is a dwarf, but his arms and legs seem unusually long. He is hairy like a dwarf, but in all the wrong places. He is barefoot and has huge feet. And…he is…well, ugly, with a bulbous nose and sharp teeth. The sounds of cooking and the strong smell of hot creamy clam chowder come from the kitchen. At this time of night there are few guests, the fisherman exhausted from their 12-15 hour days, which typically begin at 4 in the morning. But it's not completely empty with some customers sitting quietly in various corners. It is quite clear who are guests, and who live and work in the town. The majority of the locals, particularly the fisherman, seem very unfriendly, making no eye contact and basically giving off the impression they want nothing to do with you. Still, there are some interesting sorts about. You are wet, tired, and hungry and have a rather busy day tomorrow.
Between you and the bartender is a small collection of wooden tables, to the right is a hearth with a dim bed of coals, and to the left is a steep staircase. The woman looks at you and smiles, "Welcome friend to the Rudderless Galley. Please, find a place to rest your weary feet. Heres a menu for ya."
The lanky dwarf gets up clearly looking somewhat disappointed that he has to do more cooking so late in the evening, and heads to the kitchen.
(OOC:, Yup, standard bar scene: You can already be in the bar or enter. Please feel free to describe your PC to the group and start interacting. Let us begin)
A bulky looking figure stepped into the Rudderless Galley. At first glance he seemed broad of shoulder with skin aglow and polished armour that glistened with the reflection of the tavern's lights. At second glance he seemed a bit more lanky. The broad shoulders were a result of the armour he wore that, despite being a good fit, seemed too heavy for someone his frame. The polished armour was in actuality damp with frost already starting to melt and his skin only seemed like it glowed because his black hair and pale face were as wet as the melting snow. Green eyes darted around the room before settling on an empty table close to the fire. His name was Iólinder. He was wet, cold, hungry and exhausted after a whirlwind journey of ten days crammed into eight.
He stomped his boots to get the remainder of the sludge off and get his feet working. The warmth of the tavern was a most welcome change and he was much looking forward to a warm meal and a warm bed. His backpack, heavy with both gear and rain, he dropped next to a table before taking a seat. Iólinder had barely a moment to relax when an older woman came up to him. She welcomed him to the tavern and handed him a menu.
'Chopped Onions and an Earthy Peach Ale, please.'Iólinder said after scanning the menu for a moment. With how everything around here smelled like fish, he was not in the mood to get some more of it on his plate.
The proprietor looks at the wet man, as his gear drips on her floor but says nothing. "Right then, I'd also recommend our Clam Chowdah, it's made fresh daily from the clams we catch in the bay. On the house when you get a meal and drink." She smiles at Iólinder, her mouth revealing missing teeth, then yells back to the kitchen, "Hey Yursor....one Onion and a Chowdah." From the kitchen, you hear an almost chalky deep guttural voice: "Yeah, yeah....he doesn't want de Tuna. How come no one eats my Tuna Elaina. It ain't that bad?"
The young elf sits alone, he seems to have purposely positioned himself at a table where everyone entering the tavern can see him and he can see anyone walking in. His dark grey skin seems even darker in contrast with the frosted tips of where his black hair fades to white. A weathered grey-black scarf hangs over the back of his chair where he'd hung it tor dry. Along with the scarf, a light pack also hangs from his chair, though he's positioned it to an easily accessible location. The rest of his attire looks just as worn, and just as dark. His cloths hang somewhat loosely over his lean, but toned body. Based on his build, if he were to stand he'd be a good deal taller than most other elves. He has a roguish look to him, and his constant scanning of the room with his deep red eyes, suggests that he's prepared for confrontation.
He's been in the tavern for nearly an hour now. When he'd first arrived, he'd told himself that he wasn't hungry. Initially, the smell of salt and fish wasn't all that appealing to him. However, hunger came for him swiftly after he'd dried off and had finished observing the locals, and now he's spent a good 20 mins staring at the menu. He's not sure how he feels about that lanky dwarf, the guy looks like he may be part orc or something. Though he's given him no reason to dislike him so he won't judge him to hard.
He sighs, trying to figure out what the best option would be. As he continues to stare at the menu he holds a small purse in his left hand, bouncing it lightly. He still feels a bit conflicted about accepting this 10 silver as well as that other gift. Though he knows Natalie would probably have objected if he'd tried to turn it down, and with her likeness to Nera she'd scold him if he decided saving it was better than staving his hunger. Grumbling to himself, he lifts his head to look for the black haired woman, she'd come over to him a several times now asking if he'd been ready to order. Of course now that he actually is she's somewhere else.
It doesn't take long for him to notice her, though he mentally kicks himself when he realizes he'd missed when this new visitor entered. He quickly scans over the man's armor, and notes his pointed ears. He scowls. Great, another elf. Over his years every time he'd come into contact with one there'd been trouble. That kind of trouble ranged from his being attacked, to he himself loosing his temper over snide comments. He sighs again, he's to tired to deal with anything like that right now. Though he blinks when the dwarf yells something about his Tuna not being that bad. That tuna was actually what he'd been intending to order as it was the cheapest thing aside from muscles that had actual meat. Taking this opportunity, waves at the woman, "Hey! I've decided I'll order that Fried Tuna with some grape ale." He glances again at the newcomer before looking back at the woman.
Shortly after Iolinder enters the room, another half-frozen figure pushes his way through the door. His grey skin looks silver thanks to the sheen given to him by the weather, his mostly-white hair is covered by a light dusting of snow which hides the small bit of blackish silver at the crown of his head. He brushes some snow off his shoulders and stomps his boots to rid them of the snow-stilts he'd gained during the last few miles of his long trek, leaving some dirty piles of ice on the doorstep, which he promptly kicks out of the way so no one slips on them. He shivers briefly, inadvertently shaking more snow out of his almost shoulder-length hair before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. When he turns to gauge the room, he first notices the dark elf sitting in clear view.
He frowns for a moment, standing in the doorway as if debating on whether or not to just turn around and leave. Then he shakes his head (dropping more snow on the doormat) before finding himself an unoccupied corner to sit in. As he moves to take a seat, he glances around and takes note of Iolinder as well... another elf, just what he needs. That's just wonderful. Well, so long as they mind their own business he doesn't really care. If they don't, well, then he'll deal with that too.
Leaning his glaive and pack against the wall before pulling back his chair, he lets out a long but quiet sigh and settles down into his seat. The warmth would feel better without the wet, but he can only ask for so much after all. He just has to be glad that he made it this far. After a moment of closing his eyes and leaning his head back, he sits up and looks the menu over. As he leans forward over the table, a silver amulet falls forward from under the collar of his linen shirt--its presence a stark contrast to the rest of his dark and worn clothing.
Bad Elf Brew? The name is mildly amusing, so perhaps he'll order that. He allows himself a small smile, though it quickly fades back to a somber expression. No, perhaps he won't order that. Whenever the woman comes to take his order he says softly, "Cucumber Goulash and Earthy Peach Ale." He hesitates for a moment, green-grey eyes scanning the menu again, wondering if perhaps he should order something with more substance instead, "No... replace the Goulash with... Oh, never mind. Just give me the Goulash."He shakes his head, thinking he'd almost spent more money. He has plenty at the moment but he knows that won't last long.
A moment after the ugly dwarf mentions the tuna, a young. Red headed elf woman speaks up. “ I will try the Pan Seared yellowfin good Sir, it sounds wonderful. Also I will take another glass of this black dragon wine to go with it” she waves down the serving girl.
She has clearly been in here for a bit, but no one seemed to have really noticed her. Her clothing is simple, yet surprisingly clean for this town, with not a speck of grime on it. It is obvious she did not take a hard road here. Her long red hair is tied back into a neat braid which drapes down over her green, sleeveless leather tunic, under which she is wearing a ruby red, long sleeved linen shirt. She seems in a pleasant mood as she attempts to mingle and meet people, most of which seem uninterested in conversation. That doesn’t keep her from trying. Seeing the wet elf who just entered, she sort of inches her way in his direction, always curious of fellow travelers stories…
The dark elf's red eyes shoot over to that Red headed elf woman right when she speaks up at nearly the same time he had to order nearly the exact same thing. He had noticed her earlier, she'd been here almost as long as he had, however he'd pretended not to notice her. He didn't intend to initiate conversation or confrontation when he'd first entered, he is quite exhausted, and is now quite hungry. His eyes change targets when yet another elf...is that...another dark elf? Or maybe one of those black elves? He scowls when the stranger looks at him. Part of him wants to stalk over there and ask him what his business is, but his better judgment keeps him in his chair. How many elves are even in this place? He scoffs closing his eyes for a moment and leaning back in his chair. So long as his order doesn't take longer he'll just ignore them for now.
"Hey Yursor! (who actually has more Troll/Dwarf characteristics than Orc), "I finally got you a Tuna!. Yep, and of course, we also include our Clam Chowda. I likes it with the stale gold fish crackers. Delish! I'll grab you the ale." You've seen other plates of food come and go, but no one has ordered the Tuna. "Finally!" When the order comes, it is huge and looks delicious. Maybe Yursor was being generous. When you're hungry, almost anything tastes great.!
To the redhead, "Yes, of course.....my dear!", Elaina says, winking at her, then noting yet another Elvin tourist. "My my, so many elves this Eve. Are you all here for the salmon bake or the Narwhale hunt?"
Paevira loosely notes the number of elven folk here tonight. Is there a festival she had forgotten about? She wonders what affect this might have on the local workers and fisher people…they seem to be a bit on the grumpy side
Two obvious fishermen sit alone at a table, watching the group. "Hey Bertie, I told ya none of em elves would order the widow maker." The other laughs, "Yep, doz of less constitution tend to go for the fruity mixes, don't have the stomach for it." They both laugh, and order another round, almost looking at all of the newcomers with disdain. You can tell they don't really care for tourists. The food is surprisingly good, but the locals are for the most part very off-putting. Now that your hunger is better and you've had a few drinks, maybe its time to meet the others you have something in common with before turning up for the night.
When his food finally finds his table, he momentarily forgets about everything around him. It's been AGES since he's seen this much food all at once. He starts wolfing it down immediately. However, he stiffens when he hears the two fishermen, then slowly turns to look at them. He has half a mind to order that liquor now, but the thought of spending coin on something that will most likely end up giving him a hangover doesn't sit well with him. He's just glad he didn't order the Bad Elf whatever, if he had and those bastards made some comment about that, he'd probably have stalked over there to give them a piece of his mind. Instead, he turns back to his meal, hunching over it like a dog guarding it's food bowl. That Orc...Troll/Dwarf...whatever he is may be ugly, but he sure can cook.
As he eats, he frequently glances between the three other elves in the room. Though at the moment he doesn't try to interact with them, he has no reason to leave his meal at the moment.
Lev, painfully aware of the redhead inching over towards his side of the room, nearly asks what it is she wants. However he is distracted by Elaina asking what all the elves are here for. "I haven't a clue why there are so many elves here. Personally I was hoping to meet an old acquaintance while in town, then I'll likely be looking for work."He glances at the two fishermen as they make what they must think is a demeaning comment. He shakes his head as he turns back to his table, saying under his breath, "Abstinence does not mean inability." He sighs, muttering wearily, "Then again, those of less intelligence tend not to realize they'd be better off saving money instead of giving their future selves hangovers, it takes a brain to realize that."
After thanking Elaina for the food he asks, "I heard that Natalie Storm, the archeologist, may be in town around this time. Would you happen to have heard of her whereabouts?"
Paevira will cautiously but optimistically approach Lolinder. Upon closer inspection of his clothing and features she realizes he is only half-elven, so not likely someone sent by her father to retrieve her.
” Hello there friend, mind if i join you for a bit for some company? The locals here are not very talkative and i do miss having a good conversation while i dine….”
She smiles warmly as she raises her plate and wine glass, eagerly awaiting an affirmative response.
Vydar nearly chokes on the remainder of his Clam Chowder. After taking a swig of his drink, he stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly across the tavern floor. Pausing only to swipe his belongings off the back of his chair as if he's expecting someone to steal them when he's not looking, He stalks over to Lev, ignoring Elaina. Placing both hands on the table, leans down and fixes the older elf with his red eyes. "What do you want with Natalie." He says, almost threateningly.
Paevira hears the name Natalie Storm and her smile grows. She wonders if these other two are going to fight…maybe a love triangle? How delicious..it seems she will have some company tomorrow after all.
Lev gives Vydar a flat look, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Part of him wonders why this dark elf is being threatening, though another part of him chalks it up to the guy being well, a dark elf. Still, judging by his reaction and the fact that he seems to be on a first name basis with Natalie, this drow knows the archeologist. "I met her years ago. I was hoping she'd be able to... help me out."His voice hasn't changed much since he came in, keeping to that tired and rather somber tone. He doesn't seem particularly worried about Vydar's threatening approach, seems he's dealt with a lot of this kind of thing and has just gotten tired of it.
There’s a loud bang in the kitchen and then some sort of swearing in a language you do not recognize but....some sort of Troll dialect. Then in common, "I'm good, don't worry bout good ol Yursor Morningfall. Just another finger....I gots more of em. Only need one hand for Deathtrap Dungeon anyway!"
"Oh stop being such a baby, you walked in here with 8 fingers the black haired lady yells back, shaking her head, and looking to any who will give her sympathy. "Hired help these days, it aint what it used to be." she mumbles to herself.
Some of the locals have left, probably having to wake very early for the fishing and crabbing boats. A difficult but lucrative three months. Still some visitors mill about.
A small gnomish woman walks in, "Hey you all, if yourrr lookin for some fun tomorrah, I've got some discount tickets for the Narwhale experience. Also, got two tics for salmon fishin at the river, and if he shows up on time, Yursor's cooking class. He's making Black Squid Stew tomorrow I believe." She holds out a clip board, "Signing up in advance will get you a 10% discount over purchasing at the event. Anyway, I'll be over buy the warm fire here." She orders a drink and sits by the fire. A few men go over and sign up for fishing.
Elaina looks at Lev and shrugs. “That crazy bearded lady that’s always talkin bout hidden mines, treasure, and gods leaving their magic and gold all over the place. Her followers call her professor storm or something. Well, she’s good for business, as her ranting of finding gold in the rivers from battles, lost dragon hoards, and her chasing myths and stories draws others hoping to find something. I haven’t seen here yet this year though. She’s probably lookin for Yeti or a magic silver cup or some such.” She smiles, “I always liked her donkey more than her.. He tried to bite off Yursors finger when he fed her a carrot or some such. Geez, old Freda Fearnwood, bless her soul, even made a business of sellin those ridiculous hats, whips, campin and wilderness gear off her stories.”
The small Port of Rentarn lies in the north-west corner of Allansia. A small fishing village, it is known to attract those seeking treasure. After the Trolltooth Wars, many uncovered ruins and mines were left behind or forgotten. This town would serve as a great place to find your path in this world, and perhaps your fortune.
Rentarn is a small fishing village in the typically cold northwest region of the Dragon Reaches. Closed three-quarters of the year due to the frigid temperatures, its people are mostly seasonal workers in the fishing, clamming, and crabbing trades, making their living with the 3 months a year when the ice in the bay melts enough for them to sail their many boats and harvest the many treasures the sea has to offer. To the north of the port lie the famed Icefinger Mountains, their snow-covered jagged peaks, like some ancient Titans fingers reaching to the skies. To the northwest, the rich mountain trading town of Silverton. Still further above the dragon reaches span the frigid Frozen Plateau and the Ice Wastes, where rumored huge white tigers, giants,trolls, and polar bears are all that can survive. As you have headed north, the summer nights have grown suprisingly cool, and off in the distance, you can still see snow on the peaks of the high Icefinger mountains. There is a high mountain pass that is only open to traders during the summer months between Rentarn and Silverton, creating a shorter route. The remainder of the year, it is far too treacherous and covered in snow and ice. Some years, it never opens at all.
After a long journey on roads that are not well cared for and a day of heavy rain, you enter the small fishing village of Rentarn. You are tired and hungry but you have the night to rest and recuperate. Although most of the buildings seem to be residences or processing plants for crabs and fish, as you approach the docks, you see the lit sign outside an establishment. A painted picture of a typical one-masted boat, and clearly the type of place you are looking for.
The Rudderless Galley is a small old tavern that has certainly had better times. It smells of fish, and the salt of the sea. The stale sweat of workers who have not bathed in weeks lingers, but…its warm and dry. The weather-worn furniture shows signs of heavy use and the scars of various brawls. A thin human female perhaps in her 50s with long black hair with streaks of gray, an oval weathered face, and rough sunburned skin is cleaning tankards behind the bar while chatting with a strange-looking dwarf man in the tavern's livery sitting on a barstool. A large stained apron tied in the back on his front side. He is a dwarf, but his arms and legs seem unusually long. He is hairy like a dwarf, but in all the wrong places. He is barefoot and has huge feet. And…he is…well, ugly, with a bulbous nose and sharp teeth. The sounds of cooking and the strong smell of hot creamy clam chowder come from the kitchen. At this time of night there are few guests, the fisherman exhausted from their 12-15 hour days, which typically begin at 4 in the morning. But it's not completely empty with some customers sitting quietly in various corners. It is quite clear who are guests, and who live and work in the town. The majority of the locals, particularly the fisherman, seem very unfriendly, making no eye contact and basically giving off the impression they want nothing to do with you. Still, there are some interesting sorts about. You are wet, tired, and hungry and have a rather busy day tomorrow.
Between you and the bartender is a small collection of wooden tables, to the right is a hearth with a dim bed of coals, and to the left is a steep staircase. The woman looks at you and smiles, "Welcome friend to the Rudderless Galley. Please, find a place to rest your weary feet. Heres a menu for ya."
The lanky dwarf gets up clearly looking somewhat disappointed that he has to do more cooking so late in the evening, and heads to the kitchen.
(OOC:, Yup, standard bar scene: You can already be in the bar or enter. Please feel free to describe your PC to the group and start interacting. Let us begin)
A bulky looking figure stepped into the Rudderless Galley. At first glance he seemed broad of shoulder with skin aglow and polished armour that glistened with the reflection of the tavern's lights. At second glance he seemed a bit more lanky. The broad shoulders were a result of the armour he wore that, despite being a good fit, seemed too heavy for someone his frame. The polished armour was in actuality damp with frost already starting to melt and his skin only seemed like it glowed because his black hair and pale face were as wet as the melting snow. Green eyes darted around the room before settling on an empty table close to the fire. His name was Iólinder. He was wet, cold, hungry and exhausted after a whirlwind journey of ten days crammed into eight.
He stomped his boots to get the remainder of the sludge off and get his feet working. The warmth of the tavern was a most welcome change and he was much looking forward to a warm meal and a warm bed. His backpack, heavy with both gear and rain, he dropped next to a table before taking a seat. Iólinder had barely a moment to relax when an older woman came up to him. She welcomed him to the tavern and handed him a menu.
'Chopped Onions and an Earthy Peach Ale, please.' Iólinder said after scanning the menu for a moment. With how everything around here smelled like fish, he was not in the mood to get some more of it on his plate.
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The proprietor looks at the wet man, as his gear drips on her floor but says nothing. "Right then, I'd also recommend our Clam Chowdah, it's made fresh daily from the clams we catch in the bay. On the house when you get a meal and drink." She smiles at Iólinder, her mouth revealing missing teeth, then yells back to the kitchen, "Hey Yursor....one Onion and a Chowdah." From the kitchen, you hear an almost chalky deep guttural voice: "Yeah, yeah....he doesn't want de Tuna. How come no one eats my Tuna Elaina. It ain't that bad?"
The young elf sits alone, he seems to have purposely positioned himself at a table where everyone entering the tavern can see him and he can see anyone walking in. His dark grey skin seems even darker in contrast with the frosted tips of where his black hair fades to white. A weathered grey-black scarf hangs over the back of his chair where he'd hung it tor dry. Along with the scarf, a light pack also hangs from his chair, though he's positioned it to an easily accessible location. The rest of his attire looks just as worn, and just as dark. His cloths hang somewhat loosely over his lean, but toned body. Based on his build, if he were to stand he'd be a good deal taller than most other elves. He has a roguish look to him, and his constant scanning of the room with his deep red eyes, suggests that he's prepared for confrontation.
He's been in the tavern for nearly an hour now. When he'd first arrived, he'd told himself that he wasn't hungry. Initially, the smell of salt and fish wasn't all that appealing to him. However, hunger came for him swiftly after he'd dried off and had finished observing the locals, and now he's spent a good 20 mins staring at the menu. He's not sure how he feels about that lanky dwarf, the guy looks like he may be part orc or something. Though he's given him no reason to dislike him so he won't judge him to hard.
He sighs, trying to figure out what the best option would be. As he continues to stare at the menu he holds a small purse in his left hand, bouncing it lightly. He still feels a bit conflicted about accepting this 10 silver as well as that other gift. Though he knows Natalie would probably have objected if he'd tried to turn it down, and with her likeness to Nera she'd scold him if he decided saving it was better than staving his hunger. Grumbling to himself, he lifts his head to look for the black haired woman, she'd come over to him a several times now asking if he'd been ready to order. Of course now that he actually is she's somewhere else.
It doesn't take long for him to notice her, though he mentally kicks himself when he realizes he'd missed when this new visitor entered. He quickly scans over the man's armor, and notes his pointed ears. He scowls. Great, another elf. Over his years every time he'd come into contact with one there'd been trouble. That kind of trouble ranged from his being attacked, to he himself loosing his temper over snide comments. He sighs again, he's to tired to deal with anything like that right now. Though he blinks when the dwarf yells something about his Tuna not being that bad. That tuna was actually what he'd been intending to order as it was the cheapest thing aside from muscles that had actual meat. Taking this opportunity, waves at the woman, "Hey! I've decided I'll order that Fried Tuna with some grape ale." He glances again at the newcomer before looking back at the woman.
Shortly after Iolinder enters the room, another half-frozen figure pushes his way through the door. His grey skin looks silver thanks to the sheen given to him by the weather, his mostly-white hair is covered by a light dusting of snow which hides the small bit of blackish silver at the crown of his head. He brushes some snow off his shoulders and stomps his boots to rid them of the snow-stilts he'd gained during the last few miles of his long trek, leaving some dirty piles of ice on the doorstep, which he promptly kicks out of the way so no one slips on them. He shivers briefly, inadvertently shaking more snow out of his almost shoulder-length hair before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. When he turns to gauge the room, he first notices the dark elf sitting in clear view.
He frowns for a moment, standing in the doorway as if debating on whether or not to just turn around and leave. Then he shakes his head (dropping more snow on the doormat) before finding himself an unoccupied corner to sit in. As he moves to take a seat, he glances around and takes note of Iolinder as well... another elf, just what he needs. That's just wonderful. Well, so long as they mind their own business he doesn't really care. If they don't, well, then he'll deal with that too.
Leaning his glaive and pack against the wall before pulling back his chair, he lets out a long but quiet sigh and settles down into his seat. The warmth would feel better without the wet, but he can only ask for so much after all. He just has to be glad that he made it this far. After a moment of closing his eyes and leaning his head back, he sits up and looks the menu over. As he leans forward over the table, a silver amulet falls forward from under the collar of his linen shirt--its presence a stark contrast to the rest of his dark and worn clothing.
Bad Elf Brew? The name is mildly amusing, so perhaps he'll order that. He allows himself a small smile, though it quickly fades back to a somber expression. No, perhaps he won't order that. Whenever the woman comes to take his order he says softly, "Cucumber Goulash and Earthy Peach Ale." He hesitates for a moment, green-grey eyes scanning the menu again, wondering if perhaps he should order something with more substance instead, "No... replace the Goulash with... Oh, never mind. Just give me the Goulash." He shakes his head, thinking he'd almost spent more money. He has plenty at the moment but he knows that won't last long.
A moment after the ugly dwarf mentions the tuna, a young. Red headed elf woman speaks up. “ I will try the Pan Seared yellowfin good Sir, it sounds wonderful. Also I will take another glass of this black dragon wine to go with it” she waves down the serving girl.
She has clearly been in here for a bit, but no one seemed to have really noticed her. Her clothing is simple, yet surprisingly clean for this town, with not a speck of grime on it. It is obvious she did not take a hard road here. Her long red hair is tied back into a neat braid which drapes down over her green, sleeveless leather tunic, under which she is wearing a ruby red, long sleeved linen shirt. She seems in a pleasant mood as she attempts to mingle and meet people, most of which seem uninterested in conversation. That doesn’t keep her from trying. Seeing the wet elf who just entered, she sort of inches her way in his direction, always curious of fellow travelers stories…
The dark elf's red eyes shoot over to that Red headed elf woman right when she speaks up at nearly the same time he had to order nearly the exact same thing. He had noticed her earlier, she'd been here almost as long as he had, however he'd pretended not to notice her. He didn't intend to initiate conversation or confrontation when he'd first entered, he is quite exhausted, and is now quite hungry. His eyes change targets when yet another elf...is that...another dark elf? Or maybe one of those black elves? He scowls when the stranger looks at him. Part of him wants to stalk over there and ask him what his business is, but his better judgment keeps him in his chair. How many elves are even in this place? He scoffs closing his eyes for a moment and leaning back in his chair. So long as his order doesn't take longer he'll just ignore them for now.
"Hey Yursor! (who actually has more Troll/Dwarf characteristics than Orc), "I finally got you a Tuna!. Yep, and of course, we also include our Clam Chowda. I likes it with the stale gold fish crackers. Delish! I'll grab you the ale." You've seen other plates of food come and go, but no one has ordered the Tuna. "Finally!" When the order comes, it is huge and looks delicious. Maybe Yursor was being generous. When you're hungry, almost anything tastes great.!
To the redhead, "Yes, of course.....my dear!", Elaina says, winking at her, then noting yet another Elvin tourist. "My my, so many elves this Eve. Are you all here for the salmon bake or the Narwhale hunt?"
Paevira loosely notes the number of elven folk here tonight. Is there a festival she had forgotten about? She wonders what affect this might have on the local workers and fisher people…they seem to be a bit on the grumpy side
Two obvious fishermen sit alone at a table, watching the group. "Hey Bertie, I told ya none of em elves would order the widow maker." The other laughs, "Yep, doz of less constitution tend to go for the fruity mixes, don't have the stomach for it." They both laugh, and order another round, almost looking at all of the newcomers with disdain. You can tell they don't really care for tourists. The food is surprisingly good, but the locals are for the most part very off-putting. Now that your hunger is better and you've had a few drinks, maybe its time to meet the others you have something in common with before turning up for the night.
When his food finally finds his table, he momentarily forgets about everything around him. It's been AGES since he's seen this much food all at once. He starts wolfing it down immediately. However, he stiffens when he hears the two fishermen, then slowly turns to look at them. He has half a mind to order that liquor now, but the thought of spending coin on something that will most likely end up giving him a hangover doesn't sit well with him. He's just glad he didn't order the Bad Elf whatever, if he had and those bastards made some comment about that, he'd probably have stalked over there to give them a piece of his mind. Instead, he turns back to his meal, hunching over it like a dog guarding it's food bowl. That Orc...Troll/Dwarf...whatever he is may be ugly, but he sure can cook.
As he eats, he frequently glances between the three other elves in the room. Though at the moment he doesn't try to interact with them, he has no reason to leave his meal at the moment.
Lev, painfully aware of the redhead inching over towards his side of the room, nearly asks what it is she wants. However he is distracted by Elaina asking what all the elves are here for. "I haven't a clue why there are so many elves here. Personally I was hoping to meet an old acquaintance while in town, then I'll likely be looking for work." He glances at the two fishermen as they make what they must think is a demeaning comment. He shakes his head as he turns back to his table, saying under his breath, "Abstinence does not mean inability." He sighs, muttering wearily, "Then again, those of less intelligence tend not to realize they'd be better off saving money instead of giving their future selves hangovers, it takes a brain to realize that."
After thanking Elaina for the food he asks, "I heard that Natalie Storm, the archeologist, may be in town around this time. Would you happen to have heard of her whereabouts?"
Paevira will cautiously but optimistically approach Lolinder. Upon closer inspection of his clothing and features she realizes he is only half-elven, so not likely someone sent by her father to retrieve her.
” Hello there friend, mind if i join you for a bit for some company? The locals here are not very talkative and i do miss having a good conversation while i dine….”
She smiles warmly as she raises her plate and wine glass, eagerly awaiting an affirmative response.
Vydar nearly chokes on the remainder of his Clam Chowder. After taking a swig of his drink, he stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly across the tavern floor. Pausing only to swipe his belongings off the back of his chair as if he's expecting someone to steal them when he's not looking, He stalks over to Lev, ignoring Elaina. Placing both hands on the table, leans down and fixes the older elf with his red eyes. "What do you want with Natalie." He says, almost threateningly.
Paevira hears the name Natalie Storm and her smile grows. She wonders if these other two are going to fight…maybe a love triangle? How delicious..it seems she will have some company tomorrow after all.
Lev gives Vydar a flat look, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Part of him wonders why this dark elf is being threatening, though another part of him chalks it up to the guy being well, a dark elf. Still, judging by his reaction and the fact that he seems to be on a first name basis with Natalie, this drow knows the archeologist. "I met her years ago. I was hoping she'd be able to... help me out." His voice hasn't changed much since he came in, keeping to that tired and rather somber tone. He doesn't seem particularly worried about Vydar's threatening approach, seems he's dealt with a lot of this kind of thing and has just gotten tired of it.
There’s a loud bang in the kitchen and then some sort of swearing in a language you do not recognize but....some sort of Troll dialect. Then in common, "I'm good, don't worry bout good ol Yursor Morningfall. Just another finger....I gots more of em. Only need one hand for Deathtrap Dungeon anyway!"
"Oh stop being such a baby, you walked in here with 8 fingers the black haired lady yells back, shaking her head, and looking to any who will give her sympathy. "Hired help these days, it aint what it used to be." she mumbles to herself.
Some of the locals have left, probably having to wake very early for the fishing and crabbing boats. A difficult but lucrative three months. Still some visitors mill about.
A small gnomish woman walks in, "Hey you all, if yourrr lookin for some fun tomorrah, I've got some discount tickets for the Narwhale experience. Also, got two tics for salmon fishin at the river, and if he shows up on time, Yursor's cooking class. He's making Black Squid Stew tomorrow I believe." She holds out a clip board, "Signing up in advance will get you a 10% discount over purchasing at the event. Anyway, I'll be over buy the warm fire here." She orders a drink and sits by the fire.
A few men go over and sign up for fishing.
Elaina looks at Lev and shrugs. “That crazy bearded lady that’s always talkin bout hidden mines, treasure, and gods leaving their magic and gold all over the place. Her followers call her professor storm or something. Well, she’s good for business, as her ranting of finding gold in the rivers from battles, lost dragon hoards, and her chasing myths and stories draws others hoping to find something. I haven’t seen here yet this year though. She’s probably lookin for Yeti or a magic silver cup or some such.” She smiles, “I always liked her donkey more than her.. He tried to bite off Yursors finger when he fed her a carrot or some such. Geez, old Freda Fearnwood, bless her soul, even made a business of sellin those ridiculous hats, whips, campin and wilderness gear off her stories.”