Oh yes,Deet says to Cragmyre, I had a great view up from the attic window. What a strange kind of circus. Does that sort of thing happen a lot in the city? Or are you new too? He finds himself a seat next to Cragmyre at the long table, somewhere he has a clear view of the rashers which he watches intently. I could see more of them, on other streets, doing exactly the same thing. Maybe it's a... local tradition? Like a special day when everyone releases monsters under the city? Monster Day!
((What a dummy I am! Yes, that’s retroactively what Arden meant, he views everything as a performance and his clearing up after breakfast shall be a virtuoso one.))
Arden smiles at Mrs Fletcher and sketches a quick but perfect bow to her before popping back out the door. Tahta, luv, c’mon inside, just a small miscommunication is all. We’ve rashers for days in here. He gives her a quick smile and pops back in the boarding house to tuck into the breakfast spread.
Monster day? Maybe it is... but why? Aren’t sewers bad enough without monsters crawling around in em?
Mrs Fletcher chuckles. Monster Day! Well I never. No my dear Mr Deet, this is not an annual occurrence. Mrs Thatcherson from Grundle Street said it was something to do with that horrible sickness that took so many in the East District. But what that has to do with putting creatures under the city is beyond my ken. Don't be shy Luvs, tuck in.
You all can't help but notice that the rashes have been cooked on a sliding scale of crispiness, no doubt to try and accommodate everyone's preferences.
Tahta...certainly used to a bit of prejudice (red skin, horns and whatnot) hesitantly steps to the door. She pulls a big nappy bunch of hair out of her face and looks at Arden quizzically...
Ye sure? I don't want her in trouble with anyone. S'your name then?
Deet grabs the least cooked rasher, and starts to eat. That doesn't make any sense, but then not much does in the city. This place is amazing! says Deet for perhaps the tenth time already today. He looks over at Arden. Yeah, what's your name? And... what's a sewer?
Arden beckons Tahta in Quite sure, miss, quite sure. And my apologies, sir and madam! The names Arden Everready, called skald by some, bard by others, and itinerant lute-jockey on occasion, but regardless of what you call me I am at your service! Arden performs another bow to the group. You can catch my set bi-weekly at the Crow and Bucket! A sewer, old son, is a kind of underground labyrinth through which flows the refuse and excrement of the city to somewhere else, generally a river or the poorer part of said city.
"Mnnnch - You a performer?"wee miss Klee splutters around a crunchy mouthful of pig-flavoured charcoal. "write anything I mighta heard? Maybe you ave all yer tunes in yer ead, might need sommun to write em down for ye? Just for a copper or two. And materials..."
Tahta tears into rashers and bread with bravado. Keeping an ear to the conversation but mostly counting out to see who's had how many and how many sausages are hers to eat. Finally with a mouth full of food she tries to join the talk:
"Amazing indeed," he says in reply to Deet."Fun and company,"he smiles around at the group."I am Cragmyre, of the Ironseed.""I have been here a few good years," Cragmyre replies. "A couple bad ones too."((That's a good question, but based on Mrs. Fletchers comments I'm guessing Cragmyre hasn't seen anything like this before?)) "Strange traditions here."The genasi listens closely to Mrs. Fletcher's comments, nodding. "I heard about this. Many ill. A client was telling me."
He looks awkwardly around at the others chowing down on their meat and then at Mrs. Fletcher, as if he's unsure of whether to impose. "Have you anything earth-grown?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Incantis, half-elf warlock (great old one) 4/bard 1 ● Thorok Earthhand, hill dwarf mountain druid 6/grave cleric 2
Cragmyre Ironseed, earth genasi ancestral barbarian 3 ● Cyrus Natriallae, aquatic half-elf warlock of the deep 3
Yes indeed, wee miss! Known from Rashack Moor to Rashack Mire. While I do pride meself on committin all my poetry, prose, and song to memory if I evah decide to publish you’ll be the scribe I turn to!
Deet reaches over for the second least cooked rasher, and nabs it. As for me, well, I'm here for adventure, I think. Everybody was very clear that I should go out and seek adventure, so here I am. I haven't found it yet. I've found some men who like paper more than is really healthy, and a big royal palace that I'm not allowed into, and now some monsters that eat poo. Oh, and a bard. You tell stories about adventure, right? That might be the closest I've got yet!
Arden smiles at Deet and launches into a theatric monologue. Rousing tales of adventure, most certainly! And of horrors that would turn your hair white, romance to warm the coldest ’eart, and tragedies that would make a statue weep. Whatever the occasion, I’m your man, they do call me Everready, after all. Performing bi-weekly at the Crow and Bucket.
Cragmyre perks up when the others mention adventure, and listens closely to the responses as he reluctantly grabs the second crispiest rasher and pops it down whole, chewing mechanically. He smiles, idly letting Arden's words and Deet and Klee's conversation play out.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Incantis, half-elf warlock (great old one) 4/bard 1 ● Thorok Earthhand, hill dwarf mountain druid 6/grave cleric 2
Cragmyre Ironseed, earth genasi ancestral barbarian 3 ● Cyrus Natriallae, aquatic half-elf warlock of the deep 3
As the conversation goes round the table, Mrs Fletcher gets up from the table and quietly whispers to Cragmyre;
So sorry Luv, I totally forgot.
She attends to the kitchen and in quick order puts a generous platter of spiced potatoes on the table.
After the unanticipated breakfast you are all free to do what you wish with the day. Every manner of shop, tavern, bazaar and business can be found in this sprawling city.
Mrs Fletcher only has two rules at her boarding house. Respect others and if you're not back by the midnight toll, don't come in. The toll, which is more of a low rumble, comes from the large Mage Building in the north of the city. It strikes at midday and midnight every day and can be heard throughout the city.
Tahta isn't entirely sure who knows who or what everyone thinks so she hangs back and waits for invitations as opposed to trying to push an idea...
Everyone seems friendly enough and it doesn't seem like anyone is particularly untrustworthy looking. This is new territory. She will again try to understand the concept of free food by offering some coppers to Mrs. Fletcher, but not wanting to annoy her is high on the list of priorities...so just one last time.
"You have been welcoming,"Cragmyre replies to Mrs. Fletcher with a smile. "It is nothing; thank you."He eats the potatoes happily but similarly mechanically.
Noticing the young tielfing's difficulty with common, Cragmyre addresses her kindly. "What is your name, child? I have the day off from my labor, how will you all spend it?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Incantis, half-elf warlock (great old one) 4/bard 1 ● Thorok Earthhand, hill dwarf mountain druid 6/grave cleric 2
Cragmyre Ironseed, earth genasi ancestral barbarian 3 ● Cyrus Natriallae, aquatic half-elf warlock of the deep 3
It's not a word of this place. It is called Tahta Nota'man. The meaning is difficult...I am happy to join your group...if you wish... Dos xuat lor saph dos tah do'bauth rothen... to see what is to be found today. I haven't planned anything.
(But perfectly recognizable if you speak undercommon)
Her name translates to Scared Devil and her other statement is "you don't look like escaped-slave hunters"
Oh yes, Deet says to Cragmyre, I had a great view up from the attic window. What a strange kind of circus. Does that sort of thing happen a lot in the city? Or are you new too? He finds himself a seat next to Cragmyre at the long table, somewhere he has a clear view of the rashers which he watches intently. I could see more of them, on other streets, doing exactly the same thing. Maybe it's a... local tradition? Like a special day when everyone releases monsters under the city? Monster Day!
Klee scrawls "Monster Day" across the top of her sketch and notes. A sketch which turned out...
Performance : 4
...bloody awful. But she's proud of it, that's the main thing.
She beams and shows it around, and while people are looking at that a piece of bacon crawls from the serving dish to her plate.
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
((What a dummy I am! Yes, that’s retroactively what Arden meant, he views everything as a performance and his clearing up after breakfast shall be a virtuoso one.))
Arden smiles at Mrs Fletcher and sketches a quick but perfect bow to her before popping back out the door. Tahta, luv, c’mon inside, just a small miscommunication is all. We’ve rashers for days in here. He gives her a quick smile and pops back in the boarding house to tuck into the breakfast spread.
Monster day? Maybe it is... but why? Aren’t sewers bad enough without monsters crawling around in em?
Mrs Fletcher chuckles. Monster Day! Well I never. No my dear Mr Deet, this is not an annual occurrence. Mrs Thatcherson from Grundle Street said it was something to do with that horrible sickness that took so many in the East District. But what that has to do with putting creatures under the city is beyond my ken. Don't be shy Luvs, tuck in.
You all can't help but notice that the rashes have been cooked on a sliding scale of crispiness, no doubt to try and accommodate everyone's preferences.
Tahta...certainly used to a bit of prejudice (red skin, horns and whatnot) hesitantly steps to the door. She pulls a big nappy bunch of hair out of her face and looks at Arden quizzically...
Ye sure? I don't want her in trouble with anyone. S'your name then?
Deet grabs the least cooked rasher, and starts to eat. That doesn't make any sense, but then not much does in the city. This place is amazing! says Deet for perhaps the tenth time already today. He looks over at Arden. Yeah, what's your name? And... what's a sewer?
Arden beckons Tahta in Quite sure, miss, quite sure. And my apologies, sir and madam! The names Arden Everready, called skald by some, bard by others, and itinerant lute-jockey on occasion, but regardless of what you call me I am at your service! Arden performs another bow to the group. You can catch my set bi-weekly at the Crow and Bucket! A sewer, old son, is a kind of underground labyrinth through which flows the refuse and excrement of the city to somewhere else, generally a river or the poorer part of said city.
"Mnnnch - You a performer?" wee miss Klee splutters around a crunchy mouthful of pig-flavoured charcoal. "write anything I mighta heard? Maybe you ave all yer tunes in yer ead, might need sommun to write em down for ye? Just for a copper or two. And materials..."
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
Tahta tears into rashers and bread with bravado. Keeping an ear to the conversation but mostly counting out to see who's had how many and how many sausages are hers to eat. Finally with a mouth full of food she tries to join the talk:
SHIT she says profoundly and goes back to eating
"Amazing indeed," he says in reply to Deet. "Fun and company," he smiles around at the group. "I am Cragmyre, of the Ironseed.""I have been here a few good years," Cragmyre replies. "A couple bad ones too." ((That's a good question, but based on Mrs. Fletchers comments I'm guessing Cragmyre hasn't seen anything like this before?)) "Strange traditions here." The genasi listens closely to Mrs. Fletcher's comments, nodding. "I heard about this. Many ill. A client was telling me."
He looks awkwardly around at the others chowing down on their meat and then at Mrs. Fletcher, as if he's unsure of whether to impose. "Have you anything earth-grown?"
Incantis, half-elf warlock (great old one) 4/bard 1 ● Thorok Earthhand, hill dwarf mountain druid 6/grave cleric 2
Cragmyre Ironseed, earth genasi ancestral barbarian 3 ● Cyrus Natriallae, aquatic half-elf warlock of the deep 3
Yes indeed, wee miss! Known from Rashack Moor to Rashack Mire. While I do pride meself on committin all my poetry, prose, and song to memory if I evah decide to publish you’ll be the scribe I turn to!
Deet reaches over for the second least cooked rasher, and nabs it. As for me, well, I'm here for adventure, I think. Everybody was very clear that I should go out and seek adventure, so here I am. I haven't found it yet. I've found some men who like paper more than is really healthy, and a big royal palace that I'm not allowed into, and now some monsters that eat poo. Oh, and a bard. You tell stories about adventure, right? That might be the closest I've got yet!
Klee beams.
"Aye, right grand that'd be! Still lookin for me first posting since thems sent me to Moorside. Still can't believe size the place!"
Turning to Deet she asks "What kinda ventures? Beggin yer pardon but ye don't look like one who's much fee fightin"
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
Arden smiles at Deet and launches into a theatric monologue. Rousing tales of adventure, most certainly! And of horrors that would turn your hair white, romance to warm the coldest ’eart, and tragedies that would make a statue weep. Whatever the occasion, I’m your man, they do call me Everready, after all. Performing bi-weekly at the Crow and Bucket.
Cragmyre perks up when the others mention adventure, and listens closely to the responses as he reluctantly grabs the second crispiest rasher and pops it down whole, chewing mechanically. He smiles, idly letting Arden's words and Deet and Klee's conversation play out.
Incantis, half-elf warlock (great old one) 4/bard 1 ● Thorok Earthhand, hill dwarf mountain druid 6/grave cleric 2
Cragmyre Ironseed, earth genasi ancestral barbarian 3 ● Cyrus Natriallae, aquatic half-elf warlock of the deep 3
Tahta realizes her contribution to sewar conversation probably went unnoticed and picks up where she can with a mix and common and undercommon
Adventure...Lu'oh natha iwaotc neera natha khel...errr dangerous... but coin is good and Abbilen phu' medose ulu doer a taga ogglinnar...so is company
Translation: "adventure is how people become bodies" but "friends are harder to come by than enemies"
As the conversation goes round the table, Mrs Fletcher gets up from the table and quietly whispers to Cragmyre;
So sorry Luv, I totally forgot.
She attends to the kitchen and in quick order puts a generous platter of spiced potatoes on the table.
After the unanticipated breakfast you are all free to do what you wish with the day. Every manner of shop, tavern, bazaar and business can be found in this sprawling city.
Mrs Fletcher only has two rules at her boarding house. Respect others and if you're not back by the midnight toll, don't come in. The toll, which is more of a low rumble, comes from the large Mage Building in the north of the city. It strikes at midday and midnight every day and can be heard throughout the city.
Tahta isn't entirely sure who knows who or what everyone thinks so she hangs back and waits for invitations as opposed to trying to push an idea...
Everyone seems friendly enough and it doesn't seem like anyone is particularly untrustworthy looking. This is new territory. She will again try to understand the concept of free food by offering some coppers to Mrs. Fletcher, but not wanting to annoy her is high on the list of priorities...so just one last time.
"You have been welcoming," Cragmyre replies to Mrs. Fletcher with a smile. "It is nothing; thank you." He eats the potatoes happily but similarly mechanically.
Noticing the young tielfing's difficulty with common, Cragmyre addresses her kindly. "What is your name, child? I have the day off from my labor, how will you all spend it?"
Incantis, half-elf warlock (great old one) 4/bard 1 ● Thorok Earthhand, hill dwarf mountain druid 6/grave cleric 2
Cragmyre Ironseed, earth genasi ancestral barbarian 3 ● Cyrus Natriallae, aquatic half-elf warlock of the deep 3
Thank you, Crag...Mirror?
It's not a word of this place. It is called Tahta Nota'man. The meaning is difficult...I am happy to join your group...if you wish... Dos xuat lor saph dos tah do'bauth rothen... to see what is to be found today. I haven't planned anything.
(But perfectly recognizable if you speak undercommon)
Her name translates to Scared Devil and her other statement is "you don't look like escaped-slave hunters"