You have all found yourself in The Southern Kingdom of Frell. The cities are all connected and all are bustling. If you haven't been to the south before you may be a bit awe inspired by the railway system. Large Carts on rails powered by steam and some smaller by hand can be seen zipping by just outside the city.
If you are familiar you know they only reach as far as the kingdom and stop once you get to the outlaw lands.
Perhaps the most famous part of the kingdom runs parallel with the Pleasant View Line. And the most famous and well regarded place to hang your hat and unwind is the Pleasant View Tavern.
The Pleasant View district is clean. Well organized and taken care of. Crown's guard roam the streets leisurely. All wearing the emblem of Rhazar Fireheart the Mage King of The Southern Kingdom.
There are universities, labs, magic shops, eateries, even places of passion for the right amount of gold. For whatever reason you made your travels to the south, this is where you are.
Welcome to Pleasant View City in The Southern Kingdom of Frell.
Please post your introduction, where are you? what are you doing? what do you look like? what pronouns does your character like to be addressed by? and any other additional information you'd like to establish
use spoiler tags if you wish -- if it is not addressed to you do your best not to read it and if you just HAVE TO KNOW then I hope you're good about keeping player and character knowledge separate.
Our fearless adventurers are: (please also give yourself a speech color)
At the tavern a human sized Warforged is sitting at a table by himself, a large map unfurled on the surface of the table. If someone looked over the map they would see several places either circled or crossed off. As he looks at the map his right hand is writing on a sheet of paper with a quill.
Whil he has no need for clothes he wears a simple shirt with a pair of good quality breeches that end at his ankles. He is made mostly of a dark wood that looks to be hardened through either a mixture of pertrification or perhaps the magic that had given him life in the first place. Around important oints he has metal that is polished and oiled. Over his shirt is a leather harness that has two sheathes for a pair of daggers and a loop that looks as though it would carry a hip quiver.
On his shoulder sits a crow that seems as though it is asleep, not moving other then occasionally puffing out its wings.
"If I can gather the proper funding we shall set out soon Malizath..."
The Raven is his imp familiar transformed into a crow to be less noticable.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Rixton Pendrift saunters through the streets of Pleasant View with an arguably permanent smirk on his face. His sharp, grey eyes contrast with his tousled dark hair and disheveled clothing. He looks content, satisfied, yet alert to everything around him. He seems to study each person who walks past, even if only for a moment. A copper coin twirls up and down, as if dancing on its own as he absently toys with it. Suddenly, his smirk turns to a grin and he tosses the coin at a passerby, who reflexively catches it. The man's eyes go wide.
"Oh shit," the man says.
"Hello, Dubbins," Rixtonsays, placing a firm grip on the woolen collar of the man's charcoal colored coat.
"I haven't seen 'im," Dubbins says, trying to pull away but Rixtonholds his grip firm.
The half-elf studies Dubbins carefully. "Who? My father?" Dubbins nods fearfully. "Yes you have. And recently, too. You've been to to the Glory Toad. That is, unless someone else has started selling that cheap knock-off they call Elven wine."
"So? It's cheap, like you said," Dubbins says, covering his mouth to hide his breath, albeit too late.
Rixtonwaggles his finger at the nervous man. "I know you, Dubbins. You were celebrating a pay day."
Dubbins sneers. "And? I told ya, I ain't seen your pa."
Rixtonrelaxes his grip on the collar, patting it smooth as Dubbins relaxes. Rixtonrubs his fingers together and smells them, causing Dubbins to stiffen again. "Coal dust," Rixtonsays. He looks up at the man, his smirk somehow becoming nastier. "Give me some credit, Dubs. I know you've burnt every bridge you ever built with an employer. Only my father ever takes you back. What's he doing at the foundry?"
"I uh," Dubbins says, then realizes that he isn't being held, especially by no half-elf upstart. "Yeah. You got me. You'll find your pa at the foundry. It's good to see ya again, kid. Let me buy you a drink some time."
Dubbins hurries past Rixton, blending into the crowd as quickly as he can manage. The half-elf watches him go, brushing the dust from his hands. ""You are a terrible liar, Dubbins," Rixtonsays, pulling a fresh copper coin from his pocket and flipping it as he turns and continues through the streets of Pleasant View.
Keen guitar strings pluck through the air of the warm tavern. There is a general buzz of conversation, glasses clinking, and laughter all riding under the expert tune of the house band. A pair of halflings saw masterfully at their fiddles, an elven woman gracefully plays cello to their side, and behind her dexterous gnome keeps the beat on some drums. Slightly off center from the main band a handsome human man sits with a small guitar in his hands. His dark brown hair is a little long but only stylishly unkempt. His beard is well groomed and kept very short coming to a rounded point past his chin. He wears fine traveling clothes with a deep blue cape pushed fully off his right shoulder to keep out of the way of his strumming. As the most recent song comes to an end a few tavern folk give applause and the band beams. Kai looks back at his temporary companions. "The Great Round Burn?" he asks and gets a few nods while the halflings give their instruments a quick tune. "1...2...3." (Link to a song via youtube)
The song is said to be written as a journey between five kingdoms. Each instrument representing passage through a different land and the speed representing the urgency of the war pushing at each nation. Kai has carried it with him for a while now and has become sort of his signature to a set. When the song finishes on its high he stands abruptly and puts his hand up to wave himself off. He turns to thank the house band for letting him share the stage for a while and makes his way towards the bar while slinging his guitar back into its case and over his shoulder. It is always best to hang around the bar for a little while after a set. That was the best time to find travelers going to the next town. The best way to continue a journey.
Sitting at a window table is a human woman and a halfling man, who has a ridiculous mustache and a carefree manner. He's speaking animatedly, using wide gestures with his entire small frame. The woman has stopped looking at him as the conversation, such as it is, has unfolded. She's staring out the window, not at the streets below, but at the sky. For anyone watching the conversation from the beginning, she's barely said a word, letting her companion fill the silences, which he does with gumption.
"So anyway, how did we even get to talking about griffon manure? I'm trying to remember.... it'll come to me. Back to the task at hand. This shipment."
For a moment, her grey eyes return to him. Her skin is brown and weathered, and the black hair on the side of her head is shaved close, while the black and white tangle on top is frazzled and almost moving around with static electricity.
"Like I said, the caravan we thought it was on, that it was supposed to be on, came in late," the halfling continues. "Just this morning. That's why I sent you the message to meet. But the thing is... the goods are not what we were expecting. Not bad, just, well, different. Not what the customer expected." He glances around and leans in. "Might even be better. Or not. Needs examination. Point is," and he wipes his hand across his face, "that boat we were going to send it out on today? The one you were maybe hoping to be on today? It's not leaving today. My colleague--"
"Boss," the woman interjects, probably the third word she's said since she sat down, including to the server. Her voice sounds unused to being used.
"Yes, well, he does technically run things. For now. But yes, Mr. Batavian wants to take another look at what's come in. To make sure the customer, and, of course, Kupow Enterprises, is happy. So the ship's staying in port until at least tomorrow."
A storm cloud passes across the woman's face. She shifts in her seat. She doesn't look completely out of place in the Pleasant View Tavern. Sure, her boots are worn down, and her cloak, draped over the chair next to her is dirtier than most things in the establishment. But they're fine enough quality. Her outer clothes, a rich shade of blue, barely cover the ends of chainmail that sit on her, head to toe. When she shifts her weight, she tugs at a few rings uncomfortably, as if it's been a while since she's worn it. Also in the chair next to her is a fully packed travel bag. She has a well-used crossbow, a savage, beat-up looking battleaxe, and an odd-looking piece of wood leaning against the back of the chair.
She looks down at her axe, and clenches her hands, her fingers cracking and eyes squeezing shut briefly, before opening once again, looking back out the window. Back to being bored out of her mind.
"N-n-n-no need to worry or get upset," the halfling says. "Kallak. Kallie?" he ventures with raised eyebrows. Her eyes dart back to his face, brows furrowing. "Ms. Kupow. I'll let you know as soon as we get word the ship's ready to set sail. You'll be on it. Tomorrow's only a day away! And again, as I'm sure Mr. Batavian has assured your uncle many times, we can handle shipment to the customer. You don't even need to be there. But-- BUT... if you really want to accompany the shipment, you have a berth on the Razorback. Now, I have to get back to my coll-- boss."
He stands up, sighs, tosses a few coins down on the table, and grabs his bag. He starts to say something but pauses and seems to think better of it, salutes Kallak, and heads for the exit.
She sighs, takes a sip from her drink, and pulls out a small sketchbook and begins scribbling furiously with a long piece of charcoal.
Shoulders hunched, wand tucked behind a battered and pierced ear, hair swept back and a little green pseudodragon snuggled in her hood to watch her back, Song skulks through the city, trying to keep to shadows and back alleys. Pleasant View is too clean, too manicured, too nice - all swept streets, flowers and fresh paint, she thinks to herself. Even if she wasn’t a scarred-up half-orc, she’d stand out in her battered leather jerkin, grimy trousers and old shitkicker boots, compared to the well-cut and colourful clothes of the locals. Even the railway workers (a railway! She’d been taken aback, breathless at the noise, the steam, the speed of the thing!) look refined, for all the soot and smoke of their work.
Of course, it could be worse - she could be back home with the driving grey sleet hitting her face, trudging through ankle-deep mud and horse leavings, dodging the Guild and Watch alike.
Hell, back home, this kind of timid, cowardly display would have been an invitation to a mugging. Even if the cobblestones are polished, there’s still probably someone with a cosh and a cash flow problem wanting to lighten her pockets - why else would there be all these guards? ‘Come on, girl, straighten up your spine’ she thinks to herself ‘anyone who has a problem with you can bring it to your door or whisper behind their hand - and who cares what the hell they think anyway?’
Squaring her shoulders, chin high, a confident air pasted on her face, Song pushes open the door to the Pleasant View Tavern.
On the streets near a warehouse stands a large wagon. The two horses in front of it getting fed by the driver. The wagon is being unloaded by a few men, one man towering above the others picks up the first crate and continues to carry it inside the warehouse. One of the humans stepping out of his way and continues to take the next crate alone but cant seem to lift the whole crate, he quickly looks around him to see if anyone noticed him failing to pick it up. Then tells the other human You take that side, we will carry it together and as said they each take a side to walk it inside.
The large man, a goliath walks out again empty handed. The people in the street can now get a good look at him as he obviously stands out. His bald head adorned with some tattoos on top, beardless with a stern look on his face. He wears fur covered armor, perhaps a bit warm for this climate. On his belt he has a few bags and on his left side some sort of horn attached to it, on the right side a loop where a warhammer hangs in. As the sun gleams over the head of the warhammer (looking like a onehanded maul for the man) a crude carving can be seen that has been made into the weapon. The carving resembles a flaming sword, a bit odd for a warhammer perhaps.
The symbol of the flaming sword is the symbol of the lord of fire giants called Surtur.
As the men continue to unload the wagon a fine dressed man stands watch coordinating where the crates are going. Take that one to the far back, and place that near my office.
The last crate gets taken into the warehouse as the large man approaches the fine dressed man. Thats the last one, you can check them if you like.
No that will be fine, I trust you Kravek he says and shakes the large man's hand to conclude there business without exchange of coin.
The large man then walks to the driver of the wagon taking of one of the bags from his belt and gives him one of the bags with a nod then turns to pick up the large shield he placed next to the wagon and puts it on his back covering it from shoulder to shoulder making it easier for him to carry. The shield is very plain looking but clearly shows another crudely engraved image, this one of some sort of stick bigger at the top then at the bottom.
For those that can make out the engraving, it is of a club. The club is the signature weapon (called dwarfcrusher) of Grolantor, a god of combat and patron of the Hill giants.
The goliath wipes some sweat of his brow then stands looking around for a moment then departs walking through a crowd of people. Many eager to step aside since he looks a bit out of place and more menacing then most around here.
He then walks into the tavern and straight for the bar, taking a seat there and ordering a drink.
The Pleasant View Tavern has a very pleasant staircase curving it's way up to a few rooms that most definitely have an even better view than the ground floor. A somewhat unpleasant sound comes from the stairs though - someone seems to have stumbled in this fine afternoon. They have not taken the care to stop their fall, but have decided to unceremoniously stumble, roll and fall all the way to the main room only to be stopped by a few legs, some possibly metal.
Surprisingly many moments pass before a groan is heard - the smell hits first, at least those unfortunate enough to sit nearby. The bundle grows a number of uncoordinated arms and legs to the sound of some more groans and profanities. After a few harsh words and glances were exchanged with the nearest chair it manages to overcome some internal confusion and decides to face the day as a bipedal specimen.
It climbs upright, vomits a bit on the paper on the table and wipes her mouth clear with the nearest and cleanest cloth object. After focusing her gaze a bit she stumbles backwards, hits another table and lands on a chair. "The **** is that?! Man made of wood and metal and talks?"
She shouts across the room, "WHAT KIND OF A ******* PISS DID YOU SERVE ME LAST NIGHT? I'm hallucinating still!!"
The barkeep and a couple of his coworkers rush towards the woman, calming the other patrons, "We apologize, this is Olive, she's trying to drink herself to death."
They herd her out and open additional windows to let the room air. One of the kitchen staff is checking what the commotion is and says over his shoulder, "Another breakfast, Olive woke up, the usual." Then he goes and sets up a table for one at one of the recently opened windows.
After the server sets up the table by the window, Kallak spins around in her seat (at the window table right next to Olive's), hoists a rough, heavy tankard that appears to be made entirely of rough stone to her lips and drains the last few sips noisily. She sets it down with a crack at the newly-set table, looks at Olive stumbling toward the table, nods with a bit of a smirk, and breathes a few quiet words over the tankard. The giant tankard fills all by itself with a rich, dark, dwarven ale, judging by the head that forms on top.
"Breakfast,"she says to the approaching hurricane.
Looking around at the slowly-forming expressions of horror that appear on the faces of some of the guests and serving staff as they see her giving the woman more booze, Kallak shrugs unabashedly.
Olive walks back in, wearing a clean loosely buttoned clean shirt and pants that very much resemble the ones worn by the barkeep.. who is nowhere to be seen.
She plops down at her table, notices the "breakfast" and nods her head towards Kallak, "M'am, much appreciated."
She picks up the tankard, notices people staring, whispers a quick arcane word and takes a looong and thirsty drink. As she slowly empties the tankard and the underside of it starts to become visible the spectators can see that something bright and pink has gotten stuck under it. As the drinking progresses it becomes apparent that it's actually a pink picture of a very clearly expressed back of a hand with the middle finger raised. (prestidigitation)
Kravek sits by the bar, tilts his head to the left then to right loosening his neck muscles. Finally being able to sit down after a long journey, taking a swig of ale.
Then the commotion starts behind him with Olive making alot of noise and causing the other guests to gossip amongst themselves. Kravek turns sideways to look what the fuss is about just in time to see her little magic trick with the tankard.
He frowns and mumbles to himself shaking his head Wizards..
Kravek then looks around the tavern looking at some of the guests standing out from the crowd, the warforged catching his eye in particular. Not seeing any signs of another person sitting with it, wondering what a warforged is doing here alone.
Brought out of the thoughts by the half orc coming up to order his thoughts are now about food, feeling his stomach growl just thinking about it.
Seeing another server move behind the bar Do you happen to have a rack of owlbear ribs, ill have some of that. And another tankard please. As one hand picks up the drink to finish it the other moves from under the bar to place a gold coin on the bar.
Kai is leaning back against the bar, his back arched slightly in a stretch with his elbows on the counter top as the druid 'emerges' from the upper level. He chuckles slightly to himself and leans towards the Goliath that had just recently walked in, "There's always one, right?"
The apparent Bard didn't expect a response from the brutish looking man. If anything he was just talking to himself. Mostly he was surveying the room for his next ride out of this town. Entertainer's traveled cheap and inconspicuously. There was a human woman, fairly well armed, and a jabbering halfling that were clearly into some kind of business. That might be a ticket.
The warforge in the corner was mostly talking to himself and writing. Strange creatures, especially ones that talk to themselves. The half-orc that just walked in is a little more promising. People with that kind of confidence had places to be typically. Probably also looking for work given the worn state of her garb. Not some noble, so hopefully fairly low profile.
The druid reappears from outside with new clothes. After an exchange with the woman from the window, she upends a tanker sporting 'a sigil of warding' on its base. Kai spit takes into his drink in a muffled laugh.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Rixton roll perception
Rixton is the first the notice the commotion as crown's guards race passed him.
"Danger is upon us! EVERYONE INSIDE! CLEAR THE STREETS! CLEAR THE STREETS!"
Some of the guards dart into the tavern where most of our adventurers have made acquaintance.
"ANYONE TRAVELS THAT MAKE USE OF STEEL OR MAGIC OR MIGHT, NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE YOUR NAMES KNOWN! THE CITY IS UNDER ATTACK!"
They don't wait for an answer and head right back out the door running East down the street out the the tavern doors. The public starts pouring into the door as one of the tavern worker heads toward the door. "HURRY UP EVERYONE GET IN GET IN! I CAN'T WAIT ALL DAY!" As the rush of people file into the tavern he looks back at the patrons who have already paid good money for food and drink.
"ANYONE GOING OUT? I'M BARRICADING US IN!"
[[anyone leaving the tavern may roll initiative, if you choose to remain in the tavern please state your inaction as well]]
You notice they guards aren't running from anything as you check your shoulder. Then as you look forward to where they are running you... they aren't running toward anything either. That's when you see in the distance popping into existence several bright flames in the shapes of people. The guards start fighting way off in the distance and thats when you start to hear a a hissing noise... and a sizzle... and crackling.
You look down the alley where most of the shop stalls are and you see 5 fire snakes
Kallak grabs her things and bolts for the door. She tries to heft her axe in a familiar way but it comes off a bit clunky for anyone looking. She straps on the jagged-looking piece of wood, which is amazingly a shield of some kind. She looks back at the stone tankard, and then at Olive, and says, "Bring."
Jumping past and over people streaming into the tavern, she tries to get a look at the commotion outside. If the city was under attack, that ship wasn't going anywhere - or maybe it was and she would rather be on it than not. Either way, the answer was outside, not in. She pushes three people behind her into the tavern, a look that approaches a smile spreading across her face as she darts outside.
There you go - that’s why there’s all these guards in such a nice place. Time to earn a bit of goodwill in this human city. Everyone likes someone who leaps to defend them when danger threatens.
She taps the tail of the Pseudodragon where it curls around her neck so that it dislodges and flies up to the rafters “Djoda, keep a watch out!” and grabbing her wand, darts through the door.
THE LAND OF THE FIVE MAGE KINGS
Map of Frell
You have all found yourself in The Southern Kingdom of Frell. The cities are all connected and all are bustling. If you haven't been to the south before you may be a bit awe inspired by the railway system. Large Carts on rails powered by steam and some smaller by hand can be seen zipping by just outside the city.
If you are familiar you know they only reach as far as the kingdom and stop once you get to the outlaw lands.
Perhaps the most famous part of the kingdom runs parallel with the Pleasant View Line. And the most famous and well regarded place to hang your hat and unwind is the Pleasant View Tavern.
The Pleasant View district is clean. Well organized and taken care of. Crown's guard roam the streets leisurely. All wearing the emblem of Rhazar Fireheart the Mage King of The Southern Kingdom.
There are universities, labs, magic shops, eateries, even places of passion for the right amount of gold. For whatever reason you made your travels to the south, this is where you are.
Welcome to Pleasant View City in The Southern Kingdom of Frell.
Please post your introduction, where are you? what are you doing? what do you look like? what pronouns does your character like to be addressed by? and any other additional information you'd like to establish
use spoiler tags if you wish -- if it is not addressed to you do your best not to read it and if you just HAVE TO KNOW then I hope you're good about keeping player and character knowledge separate.
Our fearless adventurers are: (please also give yourself a speech color)
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
At the tavern a human sized Warforged is sitting at a table by himself, a large map unfurled on the surface of the table. If someone looked over the map they would see several places either circled or crossed off. As he looks at the map his right hand is writing on a sheet of paper with a quill.
Whil he has no need for clothes he wears a simple shirt with a pair of good quality breeches that end at his ankles. He is made mostly of a dark wood that looks to be hardened through either a mixture of pertrification or perhaps the magic that had given him life in the first place. Around important oints he has metal that is polished and oiled. Over his shirt is a leather harness that has two sheathes for a pair of daggers and a loop that looks as though it would carry a hip quiver.
On his shoulder sits a crow that seems as though it is asleep, not moving other then occasionally puffing out its wings.
"If I can gather the proper funding we shall set out soon Malizath..."
The Raven is his imp familiar transformed into a crow to be less noticable.
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Rixton Pendrift saunters through the streets of Pleasant View with an arguably permanent smirk on his face. His sharp, grey eyes contrast with his tousled dark hair and disheveled clothing. He looks content, satisfied, yet alert to everything around him. He seems to study each person who walks past, even if only for a moment. A copper coin twirls up and down, as if dancing on its own as he absently toys with it. Suddenly, his smirk turns to a grin and he tosses the coin at a passerby, who reflexively catches it. The man's eyes go wide.
"Oh shit," the man says.
"Hello, Dubbins," Rixton says, placing a firm grip on the woolen collar of the man's charcoal colored coat.
"I haven't seen 'im," Dubbins says, trying to pull away but Rixton holds his grip firm.
The half-elf studies Dubbins carefully. "Who? My father?" Dubbins nods fearfully. "Yes you have. And recently, too. You've been to to the Glory Toad. That is, unless someone else has started selling that cheap knock-off they call Elven wine."
"So? It's cheap, like you said," Dubbins says, covering his mouth to hide his breath, albeit too late.
Rixton waggles his finger at the nervous man. "I know you, Dubbins. You were celebrating a pay day."
Dubbins sneers. "And? I told ya, I ain't seen your pa."
Rixton relaxes his grip on the collar, patting it smooth as Dubbins relaxes. Rixton rubs his fingers together and smells them, causing Dubbins to stiffen again. "Coal dust," Rixton says. He looks up at the man, his smirk somehow becoming nastier. "Give me some credit, Dubs. I know you've burnt every bridge you ever built with an employer. Only my father ever takes you back. What's he doing at the foundry?"
"I uh," Dubbins says, then realizes that he isn't being held, especially by no half-elf upstart. "Yeah. You got me. You'll find your pa at the foundry. It's good to see ya again, kid. Let me buy you a drink some time."
Dubbins hurries past Rixton, blending into the crowd as quickly as he can manage. The half-elf watches him go, brushing the dust from his hands. ""You are a terrible liar, Dubbins," Rixton says, pulling a fresh copper coin from his pocket and flipping it as he turns and continues through the streets of Pleasant View.
Keen guitar strings pluck through the air of the warm tavern. There is a general buzz of conversation, glasses clinking, and laughter all riding under the expert tune of the house band. A pair of halflings saw masterfully at their fiddles, an elven woman gracefully plays cello to their side, and behind her dexterous gnome keeps the beat on some drums. Slightly off center from the main band a handsome human man sits with a small guitar in his hands. His dark brown hair is a little long but only stylishly unkempt. His beard is well groomed and kept very short coming to a rounded point past his chin. He wears fine traveling clothes with a deep blue cape pushed fully off his right shoulder to keep out of the way of his strumming. As the most recent song comes to an end a few tavern folk give applause and the band beams. Kai looks back at his temporary companions. "The Great Round Burn?" he asks and gets a few nods while the halflings give their instruments a quick tune. "1...2...3." (Link to a song via youtube)
The song is said to be written as a journey between five kingdoms. Each instrument representing passage through a different land and the speed representing the urgency of the war pushing at each nation. Kai has carried it with him for a while now and has become sort of his signature to a set. When the song finishes on its high he stands abruptly and puts his hand up to wave himself off. He turns to thank the house band for letting him share the stage for a while and makes his way towards the bar while slinging his guitar back into its case and over his shoulder. It is always best to hang around the bar for a little while after a set. That was the best time to find travelers going to the next town. The best way to continue a journey.
Sitting at a window table is a human woman and a halfling man, who has a ridiculous mustache and a carefree manner. He's speaking animatedly, using wide gestures with his entire small frame. The woman has stopped looking at him as the conversation, such as it is, has unfolded. She's staring out the window, not at the streets below, but at the sky. For anyone watching the conversation from the beginning, she's barely said a word, letting her companion fill the silences, which he does with gumption.
"So anyway, how did we even get to talking about griffon manure? I'm trying to remember.... it'll come to me. Back to the task at hand. This shipment."
For a moment, her grey eyes return to him. Her skin is brown and weathered, and the black hair on the side of her head is shaved close, while the black and white tangle on top is frazzled and almost moving around with static electricity.
"Like I said, the caravan we thought it was on, that it was supposed to be on, came in late," the halfling continues. "Just this morning. That's why I sent you the message to meet. But the thing is... the goods are not what we were expecting. Not bad, just, well, different. Not what the customer expected." He glances around and leans in. "Might even be better. Or not. Needs examination. Point is," and he wipes his hand across his face, "that boat we were going to send it out on today? The one you were maybe hoping to be on today? It's not leaving today. My colleague--"
"Boss," the woman interjects, probably the third word she's said since she sat down, including to the server. Her voice sounds unused to being used.
"Yes, well, he does technically run things. For now. But yes, Mr. Batavian wants to take another look at what's come in. To make sure the customer, and, of course, Kupow Enterprises, is happy. So the ship's staying in port until at least tomorrow."
A storm cloud passes across the woman's face. She shifts in her seat. She doesn't look completely out of place in the Pleasant View Tavern. Sure, her boots are worn down, and her cloak, draped over the chair next to her is dirtier than most things in the establishment. But they're fine enough quality. Her outer clothes, a rich shade of blue, barely cover the ends of chainmail that sit on her, head to toe. When she shifts her weight, she tugs at a few rings uncomfortably, as if it's been a while since she's worn it. Also in the chair next to her is a fully packed travel bag. She has a well-used crossbow, a savage, beat-up looking battleaxe, and an odd-looking piece of wood leaning against the back of the chair.
She looks down at her axe, and clenches her hands, her fingers cracking and eyes squeezing shut briefly, before opening once again, looking back out the window. Back to being bored out of her mind.
"N-n-n-no need to worry or get upset," the halfling says. "Kallak. Kallie?" he ventures with raised eyebrows. Her eyes dart back to his face, brows furrowing. "Ms. Kupow. I'll let you know as soon as we get word the ship's ready to set sail. You'll be on it. Tomorrow's only a day away! And again, as I'm sure Mr. Batavian has assured your uncle many times, we can handle shipment to the customer. You don't even need to be there. But-- BUT... if you really want to accompany the shipment, you have a berth on the Razorback. Now, I have to get back to my coll-- boss."
He stands up, sighs, tosses a few coins down on the table, and grabs his bag. He starts to say something but pauses and seems to think better of it, salutes Kallak, and heads for the exit.
She sighs, takes a sip from her drink, and pulls out a small sketchbook and begins scribbling furiously with a long piece of charcoal.
Shoulders hunched, wand tucked behind a battered and pierced ear, hair swept back and a little green pseudodragon snuggled in her hood to watch her back, Song skulks through the city, trying to keep to shadows and back alleys. Pleasant View is too clean, too manicured, too nice - all swept streets, flowers and fresh paint, she thinks to herself. Even if she wasn’t a scarred-up half-orc, she’d stand out in her battered leather jerkin, grimy trousers and old shitkicker boots, compared to the well-cut and colourful clothes of the locals. Even the railway workers (a railway! She’d been taken aback, breathless at the noise, the steam, the speed of the thing!) look refined, for all the soot and smoke of their work.
Of course, it could be worse - she could be back home with the driving grey sleet hitting her face, trudging through ankle-deep mud and horse leavings, dodging the Guild and Watch alike.
Hell, back home, this kind of timid, cowardly display would have been an invitation to a mugging. Even if the cobblestones are polished, there’s still probably someone with a cosh and a cash flow problem wanting to lighten her pockets - why else would there be all these guards? ‘Come on, girl, straighten up your spine’ she thinks to herself ‘anyone who has a problem with you can bring it to your door or whisper behind their hand - and who cares what the hell they think anyway?’
Squaring her shoulders, chin high, a confident air pasted on her face, Song pushes open the door to the Pleasant View Tavern.
On the streets near a warehouse stands a large wagon. The two horses in front of it getting fed by the driver. The wagon is being unloaded by a few men, one man towering above the others picks up the first crate and continues to carry it inside the warehouse. One of the humans stepping out of his way and continues to take the next crate alone but cant seem to lift the whole crate, he quickly looks around him to see if anyone noticed him failing to pick it up. Then tells the other human You take that side, we will carry it together and as said they each take a side to walk it inside.
The large man, a goliath walks out again empty handed. The people in the street can now get a good look at him as he obviously stands out. His bald head adorned with some tattoos on top, beardless with a stern look on his face. He wears fur covered armor, perhaps a bit warm for this climate. On his belt he has a few bags and on his left side some sort of horn attached to it, on the right side a loop where a warhammer hangs in. As the sun gleams over the head of the warhammer (looking like a onehanded maul for the man) a crude carving can be seen that has been made into the weapon. The carving resembles a flaming sword, a bit odd for a warhammer perhaps.
The symbol of the flaming sword is the symbol of the lord of fire giants called Surtur.
As the men continue to unload the wagon a fine dressed man stands watch coordinating where the crates are going. Take that one to the far back, and place that near my office.
The last crate gets taken into the warehouse as the large man approaches the fine dressed man. Thats the last one, you can check them if you like.
No that will be fine, I trust you Kravek he says and shakes the large man's hand to conclude there business without exchange of coin.
The large man then walks to the driver of the wagon taking of one of the bags from his belt and gives him one of the bags with a nod then turns to pick up the large shield he placed next to the wagon and puts it on his back covering it from shoulder to shoulder making it easier for him to carry. The shield is very plain looking but clearly shows another crudely engraved image, this one of some sort of stick bigger at the top then at the bottom.
For those that can make out the engraving, it is of a club. The club is the signature weapon (called dwarfcrusher) of Grolantor, a god of combat and patron of the Hill giants.
The goliath wipes some sweat of his brow then stands looking around for a moment then departs walking through a crowd of people. Many eager to step aside since he looks a bit out of place and more menacing then most around here.
He then walks into the tavern and straight for the bar, taking a seat there and ordering a drink.
The Pleasant View Tavern has a very pleasant staircase curving it's way up to a few rooms that most definitely have an even better view than the ground floor. A somewhat unpleasant sound comes from the stairs though - someone seems to have stumbled in this fine afternoon. They have not taken the care to stop their fall, but have decided to unceremoniously stumble, roll and fall all the way to the main room only to be stopped by a few legs, some possibly metal.
Surprisingly many moments pass before a groan is heard - the smell hits first, at least those unfortunate enough to sit nearby. The bundle grows a number of uncoordinated arms and legs to the sound of some more groans and profanities. After a few harsh words and glances were exchanged with the nearest chair it manages to overcome some internal confusion and decides to face the day as a bipedal specimen.
It climbs upright, vomits a bit on the paper on the table and wipes her mouth clear with the nearest and cleanest cloth object. After focusing her gaze a bit she stumbles backwards, hits another table and lands on a chair. "The **** is that?! Man made of wood and metal and talks?"
She shouts across the room, "WHAT KIND OF A ******* PISS DID YOU SERVE ME LAST NIGHT? I'm hallucinating still!!"
The barkeep and a couple of his coworkers rush towards the woman, calming the other patrons, "We apologize, this is Olive, she's trying to drink herself to death."
They herd her out and open additional windows to let the room air. One of the kitchen staff is checking what the commotion is and says over his shoulder, "Another breakfast, Olive woke up, the usual." Then he goes and sets up a table for one at one of the recently opened windows.
After the server sets up the table by the window, Kallak spins around in her seat (at the window table right next to Olive's), hoists a rough, heavy tankard that appears to be made entirely of rough stone to her lips and drains the last few sips noisily. She sets it down with a crack at the newly-set table, looks at Olive stumbling toward the table, nods with a bit of a smirk, and breathes a few quiet words over the tankard. The giant tankard fills all by itself with a rich, dark, dwarven ale, judging by the head that forms on top.
"Breakfast," she says to the approaching hurricane.
Looking around at the slowly-forming expressions of horror that appear on the faces of some of the guests and serving staff as they see her giving the woman more booze, Kallak shrugs unabashedly.
"Bored," she says with a sigh.
Eventually, Song thinks with a grin, she’ll learn not to judge only by appearances - this is the kind of crowd she’s used to.
Heading up to the bar, she asks “Can I get a pint of whatever she was drinking last night? And a bacon sandwich to go with it”
Olive walks back in, wearing a clean loosely buttoned clean shirt and pants that very much resemble the ones worn by the barkeep.. who is nowhere to be seen.
She plops down at her table, notices the "breakfast" and nods her head towards Kallak, "M'am, much appreciated."
She picks up the tankard, notices people staring, whispers a quick arcane word and takes a looong and thirsty drink. As she slowly empties the tankard and the underside of it starts to become visible the spectators can see that something bright and pink has gotten stuck under it. As the drinking progresses it becomes apparent that it's actually a pink picture of a very clearly expressed back of a hand with the middle finger raised. (prestidigitation)
Kravek sits by the bar, tilts his head to the left then to right loosening his neck muscles. Finally being able to sit down after a long journey, taking a swig of ale.
Then the commotion starts behind him with Olive making alot of noise and causing the other guests to gossip amongst themselves. Kravek turns sideways to look what the fuss is about just in time to see her little magic trick with the tankard.
He frowns and mumbles to himself shaking his head Wizards..
Kravek then looks around the tavern looking at some of the guests standing out from the crowd, the warforged catching his eye in particular. Not seeing any signs of another person sitting with it, wondering what a warforged is doing here alone.
Brought out of the thoughts by the half orc coming up to order his thoughts are now about food, feeling his stomach growl just thinking about it.
Seeing another server move behind the bar Do you happen to have a rack of owlbear ribs, ill have some of that. And another tankard please. As one hand picks up the drink to finish it the other moves from under the bar to place a gold coin on the bar.
Kai is leaning back against the bar, his back arched slightly in a stretch with his elbows on the counter top as the druid 'emerges' from the upper level. He chuckles slightly to himself and leans towards the Goliath that had just recently walked in, "There's always one, right?"
The apparent Bard didn't expect a response from the brutish looking man. If anything he was just talking to himself. Mostly he was surveying the room for his next ride out of this town. Entertainer's traveled cheap and inconspicuously. There was a human woman, fairly well armed, and a jabbering halfling that were clearly into some kind of business. That might be a ticket.
The warforge in the corner was mostly talking to himself and writing. Strange creatures, especially ones that talk to themselves. The half-orc that just walked in is a little more promising. People with that kind of confidence had places to be typically. Probably also looking for work given the worn state of her garb. Not some noble, so hopefully fairly low profile.
The druid reappears from outside with new clothes. After an exchange with the woman from the window, she upends a tanker sporting 'a sigil of warding' on its base. Kai spit takes into his drink in a muffled laugh.
Rixton roll perception
Rixton is the first the notice the commotion as crown's guards race passed him.
"Danger is upon us! EVERYONE INSIDE! CLEAR THE STREETS! CLEAR THE STREETS!"
Some of the guards dart into the tavern where most of our adventurers have made acquaintance.
"ANYONE TRAVELS THAT MAKE USE OF STEEL OR MAGIC OR MIGHT, NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE YOUR NAMES KNOWN! THE CITY IS UNDER ATTACK!"
They don't wait for an answer and head right back out the door running East down the street out the the tavern doors. The public starts pouring into the door as one of the tavern worker heads toward the door. "HURRY UP EVERYONE GET IN GET IN! I CAN'T WAIT ALL DAY!" As the rush of people file into the tavern he looks back at the patrons who have already paid good money for food and drink.
"ANYONE GOING OUT? I'M BARRICADING US IN!"
[[anyone leaving the tavern may roll initiative, if you choose to remain in the tavern please state your inaction as well]]
Map:
DM Shield:
14 ,21 ,11 ,7 ,15
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
Rixton perception check: 24
Rixton
You notice they guards aren't running from anything as you check your shoulder. Then as you look forward to where they are running you... they aren't running toward anything either. That's when you see in the distance popping into existence several bright flames in the shapes of people. The guards start fighting way off in the distance and thats when you start to hear a a hissing noise... and a sizzle... and crackling.
You look down the alley where most of the shop stalls are and you see 5 fire snakes
Roll initiative.
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
Kallak grabs her things and bolts for the door. She tries to heft her axe in a familiar way but it comes off a bit clunky for anyone looking. She straps on the jagged-looking piece of wood, which is amazingly a shield of some kind. She looks back at the stone tankard, and then at Olive, and says, "Bring."
Jumping past and over people streaming into the tavern, she tries to get a look at the commotion outside. If the city was under attack, that ship wasn't going anywhere - or maybe it was and she would rather be on it than not. Either way, the answer was outside, not in. She pushes three people behind her into the tavern, a look that approaches a smile spreading across her face as she darts outside.
There you go - that’s why there’s all these guards in such a nice place. Time to earn a bit of goodwill in this human city. Everyone likes someone who leaps to defend them when danger threatens.
She taps the tail of the Pseudodragon where it curls around her neck so that it dislodges and flies up to the rafters “Djoda, keep a watch out!” and grabbing her wand, darts through the door.
Initiative: 16
Initiative: 20
Kallak initiative 6