A heavy rain descends from the darkened night sky, and vengeful waves pound against the wooden dock of Passwater and the collection of fishing boats and lone whaling vessel anchored there. Passwater is a simple fishing village of a dozen or so buildings built of grey wood weathered by a thousand storms, inhabited by a rustic community of fishingfolk and their families. Several drenched figures shiver in the common room of The Hanged Man tavern, awaiting the arrival of Captain Jean Luc-Pierre. A woman with a tired countenence spoons stew from a pot bubbling over the fire into simple wooden bowls and passes them out to the gathered company of two dozen experienced seamen and weathered wanderers who comprise Luc-Pierre's crew, while her young son distributes mugs of ale. Laughter and shouting drowns out the rain pounding on the roof of the building, and a traveling bard sings a harrowing ballad of an undead pirate captain who eternally roams the Sea of Sorrows while listeners toss coins into the hat at his feet.
A pale, blonde-haired elf man walks into the tavern, leaning against the wall nearest to the bard. I pull out my double-bladed scimitar in my left hand and a dagger in the other, sharpening the blade. I'm wearing dark jeans, a dark-red draping shirt tucked into my pants, and a dark cowl covering my head.
I listen to the song. What does it say? I'm curious.
Skulk greedily ladles the soup into his mouth and, slightly more greedily, gulps down his ale. Mulling over the bard's tale, the half-orc says to no one in particular, "Dead or undead...it's all the same."
(Skulk is a brutish caliban--with overly-long arms; a short neck; a hunched back, greyish-green amphibian-like skin, an enormous nose, tiny ears, and eyes that will forever be bloodshot. Clad in chain mail, he carries a maul made of bone and steel.)
A female human with brownish-red hair sits with her back to the wall, shield sitting in front of her, and sword at her side. She wears chainmail and soaking dark clothes under it, drying off near the fire. She glances toward the sailors, then the card player, then the bard, as if she wanted to join them but couldn't.
To an attentive eye, the ‘card player’ is a somewhat young man. He has somewhat long hair and a short circle beard. He has a medium build, and is probably capable of holding his own in a bar fight. His height is a little hard to tell as he is sitting. His attire isn’t exactly what one would call anywhere near fancy, but he doesn’t really seem to be poor either. He has a 7ft long staff leaning on his chair, where it is easily reachable.
After listening to the song (I still want to know what it says), my character will push himself off the wall, and slowly, calmly, walk towards the female red-brown haired human wearing chain mail armor.
I lean on a post near her, holding my blade to my side, and looking at her, with my head facing down. I grunt under my breath, "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
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The woman looks up at him, shrugging. "Normal tavern things. Drying off. Might get a drink or some stew later. Waiting to meet someone. How about you, friend? What's your name?"
Skulk glances a few times at the long-haired human who has been shuffling a deck of cards for the past few minutes. He decides to join him. The Caliban is all too familiar with just how off-putting his appearance can be; so, as he typically does when interacting with a stranger, he does his best to seem affable. "I have a few coins I can afford to lose, stranger. Shall we play?"
The bard sings of a pirate captain named Drago who, in life, was the undisputed tyrant of the west coast of Mordent. He demanded that any ship that ventured into the Sea of Sorrows pay tribute to him, and hundreds of pirate captains in his employ saw to it that his tyrannical demands were enforced. But Drago's activities soon drew the attention of the lord of the Sea of Sorrows, the dread Pieter van Riese. His emissaries sank Drago's flagship, and with it his hoard of accumulated wealth. Rather than abandon his gold, Drago made a grim pact with van Riese: in exchange for undeath, he swore to serve van Riese for eternity. Van Riese accepted, and legend has it that Drago now shambles in the ruins of his flagship under the waves, endlessly counting his gold coins.
An elven figure sits alone in the dimmest corner of the room. His head is shaven, and his skin is deathly pale. He wears black leathers and traveling clothes, against which a violet crystal on a chain about his neck stands out in stark contrast. He surveys the room -- taking particular interest in a developing card game -- as he feeds a morsel of food to a charcoal grey pseudodragon resting comfortably on his shoulder.
As Skulk approaches, the man (I’ll continue to say man until his name is actually introduced) smiles and nods. Patting the side of the table opposite to him, he says, “Looks like you’re the only one that wants to enjoy himself during the rain.” He turns away for a quick moment and yells out to the barkeep, “Can you get my friend here a cup of ale?” He turns back to Skulk and gives him a brief nod. “On me.”
He begins shuffling, taking out a few cards to show Skulk. He pulls out a three and an eight. “Each number card has its own value, so this one is worth three points and the other one eight.” He puts them back in before swiftly sliding out a jack, queen, and king. “Each of these are worth 11 points.” Once again, the cards disappear into the shuffling deck, which quickly spits out an ace. “The aces are either one point or 11 points. You get to pick.” The ace merges with the deck. He speaks as he continues to shuffle. “The goal is to get a total of at most 21, but nothing over it. If you don’t have 21, but your total is higher than mine, you win.” He slams the cards down on the side of the table. He puts two cards down on Skulk’s side, with one facing up, then does the same for himself. “You may not look at the face down card unless you draw once. It’s something of a guessing game. How much coin are you willing to lose? I will match it.”
A moderately tall human with long brown hair and a clean shave stands near the door. He is wearing muted reds, leathers, and blues, and he leans against the wall, watching the various individuals he is soon to be working with. "Not a promising lot," he mutters to himself, "but you are their light in the darkness." He drinks his water, and just takes in the scene evolving around him.
The woman looks up at him, shrugging. "Normal tavern things. Drying off. Might get a drink or some stew later. Waiting to meet someone. How about you, friend? What's your name?"
"Your name first," I say, looking up a bit, "I meant, what is a pretty girl like you doing in a tavern, such as this one?"
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Skulk nods at the man, signifying his gratitude for the ale. He listens to the rules of the game, and says, "Aye, the rules I know. 'Tis one of my favorites."
He then tilts his head to the side slightly, trying to read just how honest skilled this other card player might be. "Three gold, stranger. That's the wager, and before you take my coins away from me you ought to know my name, eh? I'm Skulk. And by the way..." --the Caliban points to man's quarterstaff--"...it seems someone stole the blade off your polearm."
The door to the Hanging Man slams open, and a dapper gentleman in a blue tailcoat strides in, followed by a hunched figure in a stained cloak. The man surveys the gathered company, his stormy grey eyes missing nothing. He turns and whispers something to the cloaked figure at his side, who shakes its head.
"I am Jean Luc-Pierre, captain of The Candlelight whaling vessel." The man declares. "I'm prepared to pay ten silver pieces a day and a commission on each whale we harpoon to any man or woman with two arms and a pair of sea legs who will brave the perils of the stormy sea. What say you?"
His speech is met with a cheer by all assembled, who have traveled to Passwater for this very purpose. Luc-Pierre waits a moment for the applause to subside before continuing. "Very good. We will leave before first light tomorrow. Rest up now, and have another round on me."
He takes a seat at one of the tables as the common room breaks out into cheering once again, joined by the cloaked figure, who begins conversing with him in a low voice.
The pale elf seems to speak to nobody in particular, "I don't know anything about sailing or whaling, little one. But you're right. If there is any basis of truth in the bard's song, maybe we should give it a try."
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The cheering of the tavern’s patrons does not seem to affect the man’s focus. “Name’s Alex. A six gold jackpot, huh? Alright.”He eyes Skulk up and down, then begins playing. He quickly peeks at the back of the top card on the deck.
The woman raises an eyebrow, then turns as the Captain gives his speech. Once everyone settles down and chatter returns to normal, she turns back.
"That. I'm joining Captain Luc-Pierre's expedition. As to the question that I know you'll ask next, I'm joining it to try something different once in a while. Maybe I'll earn something sizable from the expedition as well."
She extends a hand to shake. "Nylia Vask. Pleasure to meet you."
The woman raises an eyebrow, then turns as the Captain gives his speech. Once everyone settles down and chatter returns to normal, she turns back.
"That. I'm joining Captain Luc-Pierre's expedition. As to the question that I know you'll ask next, I'm joining it to try something different once in a while. Maybe I'll earn something sizable from the expedition as well."
She extends a hand to shake. "Nylia Vask. Pleasure to meet you."
I grab her hand an move to kiss the backside off it, giving a slight bow, and then standing straight up, "Call me Ox. I'm joining whatever that whale-hunting trip is as well. I need a bit of whale blood. Pleasure to meet you, madam."
A heavy rain descends from the darkened night sky, and vengeful waves pound against the wooden dock of Passwater and the collection of fishing boats and lone whaling vessel anchored there. Passwater is a simple fishing village of a dozen or so buildings built of grey wood weathered by a thousand storms, inhabited by a rustic community of fishingfolk and their families. Several drenched figures shiver in the common room of The Hanged Man tavern, awaiting the arrival of Captain Jean Luc-Pierre. A woman with a tired countenence spoons stew from a pot bubbling over the fire into simple wooden bowls and passes them out to the gathered company of two dozen experienced seamen and weathered wanderers who comprise Luc-Pierre's crew, while her young son distributes mugs of ale. Laughter and shouting drowns out the rain pounding on the roof of the building, and a traveling bard sings a harrowing ballad of an undead pirate captain who eternally roams the Sea of Sorrows while listeners toss coins into the hat at his feet.
Thus our story begins.
A pale, blonde-haired elf man walks into the tavern, leaning against the wall nearest to the bard. I pull out my double-bladed scimitar in my left hand and a dagger in the other, sharpening the blade. I'm wearing dark jeans, a dark-red draping shirt tucked into my pants, and a dark cowl covering my head.
I listen to the song. What does it say? I'm curious.
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Spells, Monsters, Subclasses, Races, Arcknight Class, Occultist Class, World, Enigmatic Esoterica forms
A man is sitting at a table in a corner of The Hanged Man, trying to draw people into playing a card game, while drying himself off.
Skulk greedily ladles the soup into his mouth and, slightly more greedily, gulps down his ale. Mulling over the bard's tale, the half-orc says to no one in particular, "Dead or undead...it's all the same."
(Skulk is a brutish caliban--with overly-long arms; a short neck; a hunched back, greyish-green amphibian-like skin, an enormous nose, tiny ears, and eyes that will forever be bloodshot. Clad in chain mail, he carries a maul made of bone and steel.)
A female human with brownish-red hair sits with her back to the wall, shield sitting in front of her, and sword at her side. She wears chainmail and soaking dark clothes under it, drying off near the fire. She glances toward the sailors, then the card player, then the bard, as if she wanted to join them but couldn't.
Aruzhal - Lv 1 Tempest Cleric - Planescape: Lost
To an attentive eye, the ‘card player’ is a somewhat young man. He has somewhat long hair and a short circle beard. He has a medium build, and is probably capable of holding his own in a bar fight. His height is a little hard to tell as he is sitting. His attire isn’t exactly what one would call anywhere near fancy, but he doesn’t really seem to be poor either. He has a 7ft long staff leaning on his chair, where it is easily reachable.
After listening to the song (I still want to know what it says), my character will push himself off the wall, and slowly, calmly, walk towards the female red-brown haired human wearing chain mail armor.
I lean on a post near her, holding my blade to my side, and looking at her, with my head facing down. I grunt under my breath, "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Please check out my homebrew, I would appreciate feedback:
Spells, Monsters, Subclasses, Races, Arcknight Class, Occultist Class, World, Enigmatic Esoterica forms
The woman looks up at him, shrugging. "Normal tavern things. Drying off. Might get a drink or some stew later. Waiting to meet someone. How about you, friend? What's your name?"
Aruzhal - Lv 1 Tempest Cleric - Planescape: Lost
Skulk glances a few times at the long-haired human who has been shuffling a deck of cards for the past few minutes. He decides to join him. The Caliban is all too familiar with just how off-putting his appearance can be; so, as he typically does when interacting with a stranger, he does his best to seem affable. "I have a few coins I can afford to lose, stranger. Shall we play?"
The bard sings of a pirate captain named Drago who, in life, was the undisputed tyrant of the west coast of Mordent. He demanded that any ship that ventured into the Sea of Sorrows pay tribute to him, and hundreds of pirate captains in his employ saw to it that his tyrannical demands were enforced. But Drago's activities soon drew the attention of the lord of the Sea of Sorrows, the dread Pieter van Riese. His emissaries sank Drago's flagship, and with it his hoard of accumulated wealth. Rather than abandon his gold, Drago made a grim pact with van Riese: in exchange for undeath, he swore to serve van Riese for eternity. Van Riese accepted, and legend has it that Drago now shambles in the ruins of his flagship under the waves, endlessly counting his gold coins.
An elven figure sits alone in the dimmest corner of the room. His head is shaven, and his skin is deathly pale. He wears black leathers and traveling clothes, against which a violet crystal on a chain about his neck stands out in stark contrast. He surveys the room -- taking particular interest in a developing card game -- as he feeds a morsel of food to a charcoal grey pseudodragon resting comfortably on his shoulder.
As Skulk approaches, the man (I’ll continue to say man until his name is actually introduced) smiles and nods. Patting the side of the table opposite to him, he says, “Looks like you’re the only one that wants to enjoy himself during the rain.” He turns away for a quick moment and yells out to the barkeep, “Can you get my friend here a cup of ale?” He turns back to Skulk and gives him a brief nod. “On me.”
He begins shuffling, taking out a few cards to show Skulk. He pulls out a three and an eight. “Each number card has its own value, so this one is worth three points and the other one eight.” He puts them back in before swiftly sliding out a jack, queen, and king. “Each of these are worth 11 points.” Once again, the cards disappear into the shuffling deck, which quickly spits out an ace. “The aces are either one point or 11 points. You get to pick.” The ace merges with the deck. He speaks as he continues to shuffle. “The goal is to get a total of at most 21, but nothing over it. If you don’t have 21, but your total is higher than mine, you win.” He slams the cards down on the side of the table. He puts two cards down on Skulk’s side, with one facing up, then does the same for himself. “You may not look at the face down card unless you draw once. It’s something of a guessing game. How much coin are you willing to lose? I will match it.”
A moderately tall human with long brown hair and a clean shave stands near the door. He is wearing muted reds, leathers, and blues, and he leans against the wall, watching the various individuals he is soon to be working with. "Not a promising lot," he mutters to himself, "but you are their light in the darkness." He drinks his water, and just takes in the scene evolving around him.
Salazar - Human Warlock of the Fiend (1) - The Lucarcian Incident
Shepherd Torrent Brallern Water Genasi Druid (1) - Ekuepool
Celeste Belle - Air Genasi Mutant Blood Hunter (1) - Old West
DM for A Waterdhavian Heist
"Your name first," I say, looking up a bit, "I meant, what is a pretty girl like you doing in a tavern, such as this one?"
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Spells, Monsters, Subclasses, Races, Arcknight Class, Occultist Class, World, Enigmatic Esoterica forms
Skulk nods at the man, signifying his gratitude for the ale. He listens to the rules of the game, and says, "Aye, the rules I know. 'Tis one of my favorites."
He then tilts his head to the side slightly, trying to read just how
honestskilled this other card player might be. "Three gold, stranger. That's the wager, and before you take my coins away from me you ought to know my name, eh? I'm Skulk. And by the way..." --the Caliban points to man's quarterstaff--"...it seems someone stole the blade off your polearm."The door to the Hanging Man slams open, and a dapper gentleman in a blue tailcoat strides in, followed by a hunched figure in a stained cloak. The man surveys the gathered company, his stormy grey eyes missing nothing. He turns and whispers something to the cloaked figure at his side, who shakes its head.
"I am Jean Luc-Pierre, captain of The Candlelight whaling vessel." The man declares. "I'm prepared to pay ten silver pieces a day and a commission on each whale we harpoon to any man or woman with two arms and a pair of sea legs who will brave the perils of the stormy sea. What say you?"
His speech is met with a cheer by all assembled, who have traveled to Passwater for this very purpose. Luc-Pierre waits a moment for the applause to subside before continuing. "Very good. We will leave before first light tomorrow. Rest up now, and have another round on me."
He takes a seat at one of the tables as the common room breaks out into cheering once again, joined by the cloaked figure, who begins conversing with him in a low voice.
The pale elf seems to speak to nobody in particular, "I don't know anything about sailing or whaling, little one. But you're right. If there is any basis of truth in the bard's song, maybe we should give it a try."
The cheering of the tavern’s patrons does not seem to affect the man’s focus. “Name’s Alex. A six gold jackpot, huh? Alright.” He eyes Skulk up and down, then begins playing. He quickly peeks at the back of the top card on the deck.
Deception: 15
The woman raises an eyebrow, then turns as the Captain gives his speech. Once everyone settles down and chatter returns to normal, she turns back.
"That. I'm joining Captain Luc-Pierre's expedition. As to the question that I know you'll ask next, I'm joining it to try something different once in a while. Maybe I'll earn something sizable from the expedition as well."
She extends a hand to shake. "Nylia Vask. Pleasure to meet you."
Aruzhal - Lv 1 Tempest Cleric - Planescape: Lost
I grab her hand an move to kiss the backside off it, giving a slight bow, and then standing straight up, "Call me Ox. I'm joining whatever that whale-hunting trip is as well. I need a bit of whale blood. Pleasure to meet you, madam."
Please check out my homebrew, I would appreciate feedback:
Spells, Monsters, Subclasses, Races, Arcknight Class, Occultist Class, World, Enigmatic Esoterica forms