The small city of Thadys, settled at the northeast border of the Karrnwood, near the Iceflow river in Karrnath, is bursting in activity after the caravan from Atur, far in the west, had arrived yesterday.
Despite being still summer, the weather is rather cold than warm and some grey clouds that lingers in the sky menance rain. But after the long wait for the caravan with supplies that will help the city to endure the approaching, and short, autumm, it seems that everyone in the city wants to take a look at the goods the bold merchants that had braved the long and dangerous road to their far place in the world.
Last years, with the War still raging on had been hard on the city, that had seen their once prosperous city start to decay season after season. Now with the Mark Wark ended and the Quori threat seemingly put to rest, the twonsfolk, as the rest of the proud Kingdom of Karrnath, looks with some measure of hope to the future. And the arrival of the caravan to the city has only made this feeling grow.
Therefore the innkeeper and staff of the "Muddy Pig", the inn where some of the guards of the caravan, a rather big one consisting in more than twenty wagons, had decided to rest, are more than happy to host them, treating them almost as heroes.
Despite its name, the inn is actually a cozy and clean stablishment regetned by a man that his actual resemblance to a smiling pig surely inspired the name of the inn in wich sign is a happy pig taking a mud bath in a wooden tub.
With most of the people at the market, not far from where the inn is located, the common room is almost empty, save for the three or four staff members that are attending the tables, cleaning and getting ready for the meal hour that is not far away.
(Where do you want to be and what do you want to be doing in this fine morning? )
As you can see in the tag we are recruiting!! If you want to join just send me a PM! 7
Vox, a fashionably, yet androgynously, dressed female half elf with shoulder length black hair, copper skin and lavender eyes, lounges comfortably, off in the corner of the common room, strumming her lute. Eventually, she saunters up to the least reputable looking employee and asks, "So... You seem sharp... Anyone looking to hire one of the greatest bards to flow through this lively town? I trade, as well, in information."
His paperwork complete, the gnome waves his pen and the stack of forms shuffle themselves and file themselves into a messenger bag obviously too small to contain them. He snaps the bag shut with a large buckle that is obviously the cockatrice of House Sivis.
He then brings out several pieces of square parchment. After a small adjustment to the goggles he wears, Genbo begins to carefully mark the papers with a series of lightly glowing sigils. Setting the ornate pen aside, he begins deftly folding the papers with almost blinding speed and accuracy. Joining the papers together in a complex origami sculpture of a bird. With a few more deft marks of his pen, he taps the bird once...twice...thrice and the sigils glow briefly and the bird takes flight. As it hovers above his shoulder, Genbo adjust his goggles again.
Vox in the middle of conversation with the least reputable looking employee in this tavern, turns her eyes down to the gnome and replies, "Ah, a fan! Well, it's a plucked string instrument with a neck, either fretted or unfretted, but fretted in this case, and a deep round back enclosing a hollow cavity, usually, as is the case with this one, with a sound hole or opening in the body."
"Now," Vox continues, "if you'd excuse me, I had been talking with this gentlemen. Perhaps it's best if any further questions wait until after my next performance." She returns to her conversation with the tavern staff.
"What an...interesting conceptualization. In one sense,...your worst enemy is slain each and every day. But...of course, another one...is right around the corner. So to speak. The question wouldthenbedoesthiscauseasenseofperpetualvictoryorperpetualdefeat?"
Leto, a, more demonic in appearance than most, tiefling walks down the stairs in the morning, flexing his right hand, and gripping a long pale staff, which contains a long thing ancient tooth of some kind embedded in it, in his left. He seems to be very in his own head, paying little attention to much around him, as he walks towards the bar, with a raven on his shoulder. At the bar he says rather brusquely "wine." Once it gets to him he waves a hand over it cooling it with prestidigitation, takes a big sip, and starts to stare at the back of his right hand. After a moment of thought he looks up again to the bartender and asks "The caravan came in recently yeah? Do you know who's leading it? Or to where it's headed?"
"My apologies. Zillian is a very fast...paced language. When an idea...gets away from me...I sometimes forget...that I need to...slow down...in other languages. I said: 'The question would then be...does this cause a sense...of perpetual victory...or perpetual defeat?'"
"Neither. It just means that I'm not a morning person and that I need a cup of coffee, something that is taking it's sweet-ass time getting here." Carrick turns away from Genbo for a second and looks at the bartender, clearly wondering why his coffee is taking so long.
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