The first performance of the Wizard's Jest took some time to spread across the room at first, most of the people in the room were absorbed in whatever loud conversations or activities they were enjoying the beginning of their nights with; but after some time and enough elbows to silence the particularly boisterous like the loud mouthed Gregor, the song became a focus of the room. The crowd let the song flow over them for the most part, but by the last chorus most of the sailor men were trying to sing along, pretty badly but with lots of enthusiasm.
By the time the second song of the night started flowing through, the crowds had divided into thankfully lowered voiced conversation to let the song be heard throughout the hold, and those that tried to sing along. At the proclamation of Sea Shanties, a loud chorus of resounding Yeses broke through the din of conversation, and some of the men got impromptu tools of pots and pans and spoons, along with some very beat up looking instruments from some of the men's personal collections.
Daniar heard the mother explaining to her children that sometimes older men like to sing nonsense songs, and that the kid's shouldn't repeat anything they heard tonight because of the curse of a sailors salty tongue may mean that they too be cursed to have sailing be their only possible job as grown ups. The younger daughter looks slightly perturbed and nods her head vigorously in understanding, but the human boy of about 7 who has a tuft of golden blonde hair, a missing front tooth, and a mischievous sparkle in his eye is looking at the singing crowd like it may not be the worst thing in the world to be doomed to be a sailor.
Gregor is among those who got improvised instruments and is singing a somewhat decent serenade to his female orcish companion with a pair of musical spoons.
Winni sits at the table of dwarves and introduces himself.
"Afternoon gentlemen. Names Winnifred Silentall. Winni to my friends."
He sits and listens to the two bards play, and then joins in when the Sea Shanties begin. He grabs a pot and two spoons and attempts to play along with the song.
The three dwarves introduce themselves as the Rockseeker brothers; Gundren, Tharden, and Nundro. They describe a disastrous attempt at breaking into the business world with a fantastical story of ‘The Lost Mines of Phandelver’ in a mining town on the Othello/Kashtal border which pretty much ended with a shady bunch of mercenaries and hired adventurers blowing themselves and the mines up in a dramatic battle that sounds like it came straight from one of those Othellian Adventure novels that are all the rage these days. Before the music starts to really pick up, they describe their dreams of making it big in the supposed bountiful gold mines that holds up a lot of Saint Tyrol’s economy.
At one of the tables where he has organized a quiet card game for coppers sits a well dressed half-elf, average height and weight, but handsome with shoulder length pure white hair and vivid green eyes. He is trying his best not to cheat these simple people, even though they make it so easy, and makes sure to lose a few hands to keep the coin moving around and keep everyone having fun. When the singing starts he gets completely distracted from the game, requiring several nudges to get him to focus, not by the songs so much as the singers, continuing to sneak glances at them after they finish and inquiring of his fellows, “Anyone happen to know anything about either of those fine lasses? A silver to whoever knows the most.” As the shanty starts up, he’ll cast minor illusion to create the sound of pipes playing along, coming from the singer’s lute.
Dressed in barbaric leathers and furs, with a wolf's pelt cloak over his head, the White Wolf was feeling a little self-conscious. He kept to himself for awhile, listening keenly to the first bard's song, then steering well clear of her after he'd made out the words, his face blushing beneath his cloak. Slowly, he makes his way to table holding the mother and children as well as the unadorned paladin. He bows his head and speaks softly, "May I join you?"
The mother and her children are somewhat startled at the White Wolves introduction, the mother and daughter had been clapping along to the Sea Shanties, and the boy had found his own set of plate and ladle to make house with. The two children glance in wonder at your outfit with muttered “wooooow”’s from both. The mother was slightly apprehensive about a Barbarian looking man standing at the table at first, but the combination of your short and assuming figure and non-hostility/manners has warned her up and she’s shooting you a warm motherly smile.
“Sure, sure, take a seat. I’m sure our new friend over there-” She points at Danair, “Won’t mind”
Once the White Wolf takes his seat, the mother will introduce herself as Wilfrenia, and her children as Roxie and Mathew respectively before inquiring for your name.
Moving things over to the gambling table, you can roll either a slight of hand or performance check to see exactly how much money you managed to swindle this night. When you ask your question, one of the random male sailors pipes up in a voice that sounds like sand paper and gravel decided to have a party in his throat- "Probably some no-name traveling bards or some backwater towns local 'sensations'. The air quotes are practically dripping with dismissive drunkenness."I've traveled more towns then any of these lot and once you've seen one pretty looking birdie you've practically seen 'em all. You know the story, they'll either burn out and become some gang's eye and "lance" candy, or settle down and become a normal person like the rest of us."
"Please show respect to the ladies." Michael rebuffs the sailor with a level look. He does not make more of it than that, moving over to the table with the mother and children as well. "Hello mylady and others." His eyes glance at the paladin and then the wolf-pelt man. "My name is Michael Dawn, a ranger and guide... Well a guide back where I came from, I hope to be a crafter and guide in this new world we travel to..." he nods to a chair. "May I take a seat as well?" As he does so his mechanical cat-construct settles down next to his chair, whirring and clanking slightly as it settles. The sound is soft, so is easily covered by the hubbub in the hold. Seeing glances directed to the cat-construct Michael nods to it. "This is my companion Guardian."
When the crowd starts to liven up, Tarkkin flinches and glances about, not sure where to look. He skitters to a seat close to the wall, giving Ashlin a compliment, "Yoursongwasreallypretty." Before skittering over to place himself against the wall, watching the dwarf (Gregor) singing to the orcish female. The last time he saw an orc be bothered, they punched someone through a door. He was curious if they were all that strong and short-tempered.
He makes sure his hood and cloak are still hiding most of his body and simply rocks his body along with the tunes around him, lightly humming, though it sounds closer to buzzing.
The White Wolf gives a grateful smile to the mother and settles down. He shifts awkwardly as Michael joins them, but gives him an acknowledging nod in greeting.
"I am called the White Wolf. It's a pleasure to meet you, Wilfrenia. And you, Mr. Dawn."
Tine smiled as she got the compliment and watched the men grab pots. She chuckled and looked at them as she began to stomp her feet and move through the crowd "I'm sure you lads and lasses know High Barbary then." she moved her lute to her back as she began to stomp and clap the beat. This time using her prestidigitation to create imagery and effects to go along with it to entertain the children on board as well.
There were two lofty ships From old England came Blow high, blow low And so sail we One was the Prince of Luther And the other Prince of Wales Cruisin' down the coast Of High Barbary
Aloft there, aloft Our jolly bosun cried Blow high, blow low And so sail we Look ahead, look astern, Look the weather look a-lee" Look down the coast Of High Barbary
There's naught upon the stern, There's naught upon our lee Blow high, blow low And so sail we But there's a lofty ship to wind'ard An' she's sailin' fast and free Down along the coast Of High Barbary
Oh hail her, oh hail her Our gallant captain cried Blow high, blow low And so sail we Are you a man-o-war A privateer, a merchant ship? cried he Cruisin' down the coast Of High Barbary
I am not a man-o-war, A privateer, " said he Blow…
When the song finished she just smiled and took one last bow "That's it for now - though feel free to keep the tunes coming." her stopping point had found her at the tall long haired woman's table. She smiled taking a seat and sip of her own mug "Pleasure to meet you, I enjoyed your song. I don't often get to hear such a rendition of the Wizard's Jest."She just smiled looking at the man that sat with her as well "Pleasure to meet you to good sir."
Dainar lifted his cup, first to the man in a wolf hide and next to the ranger, "The name is Dainar, pleasure to meet you both. It seems this expedition is full of interesting people hoping for a new home.
"I am interested to hear how you see your roles in this new land. Michael, you said you are hoping to be a guide and work in a shop? What kind of goods do you craft? And you sir, are just called White Wolf? How unusual."
"Are you familiar with any Goliaths?" He asks the table. "I traveled with some. They give nicknames to those they like - so I'm called the White Wolf because of the pelt I wear. It's the only name I've really used for a long time."
The small boy, Matthew, is watching the oddly dressed grownups with something resembling awe as he stares at your shiny and interesting garbs, accents, and features; while his sister is transfixed with Guardian, tentatively reaching out to try to pet it. When Matthew hears White Wolf's comments about Goliath's and nicknaming, he impulsively asks "Yeah, but what did your mommy and daddy name you?"
Dainar, the mother is making small talk with you about how her husband is the leader of the local abbey for a Orellian form of religion mainly centered around worshiping a pantheon of human saints that ascended to godhood dedicated in hopes of bestowing good luck on the villagers of the settlement and it's harvest and endeavors. She doesn't notice either her son or daughters behaviors at the moment.
Falros, due to the fun and festiveness you are pretty distracted and aren't at the top of your game. You manage to get the silver equivalent of piece of gold, most of which was from the sailor who was bad mouthing the bards.
(I'm not sure the Bard's and their on-lookers are directly interacting with any NPC's as of the moment, if I'm wrong feel free to correct me in the private chat.)
Gregor who is distinctly a manly man half-orc, not a dwarf (not sure if that was a typo from Tarkkin), seems to have caught his female orcish companion in a good mood, which is not to say he's getting lucky in any innuendo sense of the word, more so that she's amused by his antics enough not to punch his face in. In this version of my world Taigia, there is a sexual dimorphism in the orcish species where female orc's are bigger and nastier then their male counterparts and she seems to be nearly fully orc blooded compared to his half blood status, so she towers by a few heads from anybody else in the room.
The night is winding down, and the low murmur of chat is more prevalent now then songs. Some sailors take their leave to head to their sleeping quarters, while others enjoy last drinks and conversation.
The White Wolf struggles briefly over how to answer such a difficult question from a child. He settles for distraction. "I never use that old name. Matthew is a fine name, though - what do you think your nickname would be?"
Matthew gives a minor frown of annoyance at his name being called fine. He loudly proclaims “Matthew is a boring grown up name! All my friends back home called me Matt, but I guess I’ll need a new name for my new home... You said some big guy gave you your nickname, give me a nickname! Something cool like Land Shark or Wild Dog or something!” The boy flexes his meager 9 year old muscles to display his faux machoness.
Falros will rise from his table as the hand ends, moving over to sit near the two bards, sliding 3 silver to each, "Tips from your appreciative audience, more or less. Normally I'd ask what brings two such beauties to a place like this, but I think its best if we leave the past behind us now. So, what are your plans for once we land?"
Dainar follows along with the woman nodding in understanding. "I, too, am from Orellia. I am from a smaller city named Alikford, a fine peaceful city I dare say. I counted myself a member of the local Justicars, peacekeepers of the citizenry. We follow Saint Elwood, he who fought until his last breath defending the city he so loved."
Tine smiles looking at the stranger as she motions for him to sit next to her “No of course we don’t mind a little extra company.” She says grabbing his drink from his hand and taking a sip before handing him the mug back “A man who likes the strong stuff, don’t run into to many of those now-a-days. So are you a sailor? What’s your story?”
As the noise of the night dies down and the other half-elf comes to join she smiles taking a sip of her own mug “Oh well aren’t we some lucky lassies. Maybe we should form a band.” she says giving the other bard a smile and letting out a quick giggle as she looks around. It seemed like most where headed to bed which made her wonder what time it was.
The first performance of the Wizard's Jest took some time to spread across the room at first, most of the people in the room were absorbed in whatever loud conversations or activities they were enjoying the beginning of their nights with; but after some time and enough elbows to silence the particularly boisterous like the loud mouthed Gregor, the song became a focus of the room. The crowd let the song flow over them for the most part, but by the last chorus most of the sailor men were trying to sing along, pretty badly but with lots of enthusiasm.
By the time the second song of the night started flowing through, the crowds had divided into thankfully lowered voiced conversation to let the song be heard throughout the hold, and those that tried to sing along. At the proclamation of Sea Shanties, a loud chorus of resounding Yeses broke through the din of conversation, and some of the men got impromptu tools of pots and pans and spoons, along with some very beat up looking instruments from some of the men's personal collections.
Daniar heard the mother explaining to her children that sometimes older men like to sing nonsense songs, and that the kid's shouldn't repeat anything they heard tonight because of the curse of a sailors salty tongue may mean that they too be cursed to have sailing be their only possible job as grown ups. The younger daughter looks slightly perturbed and nods her head vigorously in understanding, but the human boy of about 7 who has a tuft of golden blonde hair, a missing front tooth, and a mischievous sparkle in his eye is looking at the singing crowd like it may not be the worst thing in the world to be doomed to be a sailor.
Gregor is among those who got improvised instruments and is singing a somewhat decent serenade to his female orcish companion with a pair of musical spoons.
Winni sits at the table of dwarves and introduces himself.
"Afternoon gentlemen. Names Winnifred Silentall. Winni to my friends."
He sits and listens to the two bards play, and then joins in when the Sea Shanties begin. He grabs a pot and two spoons and attempts to play along with the song.
The three dwarves introduce themselves as the Rockseeker brothers; Gundren, Tharden, and Nundro. They describe a disastrous attempt at breaking into the business world with a fantastical story of ‘The Lost Mines of Phandelver’ in a mining town on the Othello/Kashtal border which pretty much ended with a shady bunch of mercenaries and hired adventurers blowing themselves and the mines up in a dramatic battle that sounds like it came straight from one of those Othellian Adventure novels that are all the rage these days. Before the music starts to really pick up, they describe their dreams of making it big in the supposed bountiful gold mines that holds up a lot of Saint Tyrol’s economy.
At one of the tables where he has organized a quiet card game for coppers sits a well dressed half-elf, average height and weight, but handsome with shoulder length pure white hair and vivid green eyes. He is trying his best not to cheat these simple people, even though they make it so easy, and makes sure to lose a few hands to keep the coin moving around and keep everyone having fun. When the singing starts he gets completely distracted from the game, requiring several nudges to get him to focus, not by the songs so much as the singers, continuing to sneak glances at them after they finish and inquiring of his fellows, “Anyone happen to know anything about either of those fine lasses? A silver to whoever knows the most.” As the shanty starts up, he’ll cast minor illusion to create the sound of pipes playing along, coming from the singer’s lute.
Dressed in barbaric leathers and furs, with a wolf's pelt cloak over his head, the White Wolf was feeling a little self-conscious. He kept to himself for awhile, listening keenly to the first bard's song, then steering well clear of her after he'd made out the words, his face blushing beneath his cloak. Slowly, he makes his way to table holding the mother and children as well as the unadorned paladin. He bows his head and speaks softly, "May I join you?"
The mother and her children are somewhat startled at the White Wolves introduction, the mother and daughter had been clapping along to the Sea Shanties, and the boy had found his own set of plate and ladle to make house with. The two children glance in wonder at your outfit with muttered “wooooow”’s from both. The mother was slightly apprehensive about a Barbarian looking man standing at the table at first, but the combination of your short and assuming figure and non-hostility/manners has warned her up and she’s shooting you a warm motherly smile.
“Sure, sure, take a seat. I’m sure our new friend over there-” She points at Danair, “Won’t mind”
Once the White Wolf takes his seat, the mother will introduce herself as Wilfrenia, and her children as Roxie and Mathew respectively before inquiring for your name.
Moving things over to the gambling table, you can roll either a slight of hand or performance check to see exactly how much money you managed to swindle this night. When you ask your question, one of the random male sailors pipes up in a voice that sounds like sand paper and gravel decided to have a party in his throat- "Probably some no-name traveling bards or some backwater towns local 'sensations'. The air quotes are practically dripping with dismissive drunkenness. "I've traveled more towns then any of these lot and once you've seen one pretty looking birdie you've practically seen 'em all. You know the story, they'll either burn out and become some gang's eye and "lance" candy, or settle down and become a normal person like the rest of us."
"Please show respect to the ladies." Michael rebuffs the sailor with a level look. He does not make more of it than that, moving over to the table with the mother and children as well. "Hello mylady and others." His eyes glance at the paladin and then the wolf-pelt man. "My name is Michael Dawn, a ranger and guide... Well a guide back where I came from, I hope to be a crafter and guide in this new world we travel to..." he nods to a chair. "May I take a seat as well?" As he does so his mechanical cat-construct settles down next to his chair, whirring and clanking slightly as it settles. The sound is soft, so is easily covered by the hubbub in the hold. Seeing glances directed to the cat-construct Michael nods to it. "This is my companion Guardian."
When the crowd starts to liven up, Tarkkin flinches and glances about, not sure where to look. He skitters to a seat close to the wall, giving Ashlin a compliment, "Yoursongwasreallypretty." Before skittering over to place himself against the wall, watching the dwarf (Gregor) singing to the orcish female. The last time he saw an orc be bothered, they punched someone through a door. He was curious if they were all that strong and short-tempered.
He makes sure his hood and cloak are still hiding most of his body and simply rocks his body along with the tunes around him, lightly humming, though it sounds closer to buzzing.
(Sleight of hand: 19)
Falros will frown at the comments, but refrain from saying anything, just try and make sure they lose more often.
The White Wolf gives a grateful smile to the mother and settles down. He shifts awkwardly as Michael joins them, but gives him an acknowledging nod in greeting.
"I am called the White Wolf. It's a pleasure to meet you, Wilfrenia. And you, Mr. Dawn."
Tine smiled as she got the compliment and watched the men grab pots. She chuckled and looked at them as she began to stomp her feet and move through the crowd "I'm sure you lads and lasses know High Barbary then." she moved her lute to her back as she began to stomp and clap the beat. This time using her prestidigitation to create imagery and effects to go along with it to entertain the children on board as well.
From old England came
Blow high, blow low
And so sail we
One was the Prince of Luther
And the other Prince of Wales
Cruisin' down the coast
Of High Barbary
Our jolly bosun cried
Blow high, blow low
And so sail we
Look ahead, look astern,
Look the weather look a-lee"
Look down the coast
Of High Barbary
There's naught upon our lee
Blow high, blow low
And so sail we
But there's a lofty ship to wind'ard
An' she's sailin' fast and free
Down along the coast
Of High Barbary
Our gallant captain cried
Blow high, blow low
And so sail we
Are you a man-o-war
A privateer, a merchant ship? cried he
Cruisin' down the coast
Of High Barbary
A privateer, " said he
Blow…
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9
Dainar lifted his cup, first to the man in a wolf hide and next to the ranger, "The name is Dainar, pleasure to meet you both. It seems this expedition is full of interesting people hoping for a new home.
"I am interested to hear how you see your roles in this new land. Michael, you said you are hoping to be a guide and work in a shop? What kind of goods do you craft? And you sir, are just called White Wolf? How unusual."
The White Wolf smiles, apparently relaxing.
"Are you familiar with any Goliaths?" He asks the table. "I traveled with some. They give nicknames to those they like - so I'm called the White Wolf because of the pelt I wear. It's the only name I've really used for a long time."
The small boy, Matthew, is watching the oddly dressed grownups with something resembling awe as he stares at your shiny and interesting garbs, accents, and features; while his sister is transfixed with Guardian, tentatively reaching out to try to pet it. When Matthew hears White Wolf's comments about Goliath's and nicknaming, he impulsively asks "Yeah, but what did your mommy and daddy name you?"
Dainar, the mother is making small talk with you about how her husband is the leader of the local abbey for a Orellian form of religion mainly centered around worshiping a pantheon of human saints that ascended to godhood dedicated in hopes of bestowing good luck on the villagers of the settlement and it's harvest and endeavors. She doesn't notice either her son or daughters behaviors at the moment.
Falros, due to the fun and festiveness you are pretty distracted and aren't at the top of your game. You manage to get the silver equivalent of piece of gold, most of which was from the sailor who was bad mouthing the bards.
(I'm not sure the Bard's and their on-lookers are directly interacting with any NPC's as of the moment, if I'm wrong feel free to correct me in the private chat.)
Gregor who is distinctly a manly man half-orc, not a dwarf (not sure if that was a typo from Tarkkin), seems to have caught his female orcish companion in a good mood, which is not to say he's getting lucky in any innuendo sense of the word, more so that she's amused by his antics enough not to punch his face in. In this version of my world Taigia, there is a sexual dimorphism in the orcish species where female orc's are bigger and nastier then their male counterparts and she seems to be nearly fully orc blooded compared to his half blood status, so she towers by a few heads from anybody else in the room.
The night is winding down, and the low murmur of chat is more prevalent now then songs. Some sailors take their leave to head to their sleeping quarters, while others enjoy last drinks and conversation.
The White Wolf struggles briefly over how to answer such a difficult question from a child. He settles for distraction. "I never use that old name. Matthew is a fine name, though - what do you think your nickname would be?"
Matthew gives a minor frown of annoyance at his name being called fine. He loudly proclaims “Matthew is a boring grown up name! All my friends back home called me Matt, but I guess I’ll need a new name for my new home... You said some big guy gave you your nickname, give me a nickname! Something cool like Land Shark or Wild Dog or something!” The boy flexes his meager 9 year old muscles to display his faux machoness.
Falros will rise from his table as the hand ends, moving over to sit near the two bards, sliding 3 silver to each, "Tips from your appreciative audience, more or less. Normally I'd ask what brings two such beauties to a place like this, but I think its best if we leave the past behind us now. So, what are your plans for once we land?"
Dainar follows along with the woman nodding in understanding. "I, too, am from Orellia. I am from a smaller city named Alikford, a fine peaceful city I dare say. I counted myself a member of the local Justicars, peacekeepers of the citizenry. We follow Saint Elwood, he who fought until his last breath defending the city he so loved."
Tine smiles looking at the stranger as she motions for him to sit next to her “No of course we don’t mind a little extra company.” She says grabbing his drink from his hand and taking a sip before handing him the mug back “A man who likes the strong stuff, don’t run into to many of those now-a-days. So are you a sailor? What’s your story?”
As the noise of the night dies down and the other half-elf comes to join she smiles taking a sip of her own mug “Oh well aren’t we some lucky lassies. Maybe we should form a band.” she says giving the other bard a smile and letting out a quick giggle as she looks around. It seemed like most where headed to bed which made her wonder what time it was.
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9