Broch drank the ale that the barkeep had provided for his coin. Nothing special about it, certainly, but passable. The same as at any other of these... establishments. Why was it that humans seemed to just accept such mediocrity, he wondered. So few of them seek to be better, to bring honor to themselves and their kin. He sighed, and turned his attention back to the other patrons of the Plastered Dragon. 

The male bard. Broch frowned at the idea of such a frivolous occupation. Not very talented either, he thought as another harsh note issues forth. The man was watching the turtle creature as it moved to the fire and warmed itself, and then approached, drawn by the music perhaps. As the creature laid its head upon the bard's shoulder, Broch laughed. A loud, hearty laugh, drawing looks from around the room. The look of discomfort on the man's face was priceless, yet he seemed to just submit to it, and went back to playing. The tune was a silly one, but played more competently, though the words were meaningless to the hobgoblin. Perhaps this was something in his native tongue. 

Cued by his amusement,  Broch rose to his feet and stomoed to settle his clothing about him - sturdy, loose-fitting jerkin and pants, non-descript and functional. A heavy belt from which hung a longsword that appearedtohave an eyeball as its pommel, a pair of daggers, and an assortment of pouches, talismans and other tools of his art completed the outfit. He walked over to where the pair sat.  "May I join you," he asked. "I'm curious if you know anything about your... friend here. I've never seen the like of him before. It doesn't seem capable of speech. How do you think it communicates?"

As the tortle left Jhese's shoulder and sat at his feet, his smile became more genuine. Not the result I was expecting, but certainly what I wanted! He transitioned the song into something more upbeat and less somber, now that the tortle was no longer trying to sleep. If I keep playing, maybe it'll keep its distance. "You like music, huh? You have good taste, my new friend!" 

And then the stick-up-the-ass hobgoblin walked over.... again. It seemed to revel in Jhese's inner torment. Quickly judging its stride and hand motions, he deemed the hobgoblin as presently non-hostile, an idea only reinforced by the brute's question. "Join us? Of course!" he jubilantly explained, ceasing playing the cittern in order to pull up a chair for the hobgoblin to sit at near the fire. I'm in the middle of a freak show now. All I need is the kobold and it'll be a full circus.

"The tortle? Yes, I know a few things. Nobility pays well to educate. This here is a tortle. An aquatic race, they seem to stick to shorelines and islands, away from most of society. They naturally keep to themselves, but some brave souls of theirs strike out into the world to learn, grow, and experience life to its fullest. No doubt what this cute creature is doing. I don't know their natural tongue, but I was under the impression that most tortles are capable of speaking the common tongue as well... Perhaps I was mistaken, or this tortle is an even rarer oddity for its race. The gender is also hard to judge. I think one would have to get into the shell in order to truly find that out." He plucked at a few strings to finish off the lesson, smiling.

"If I may ask, your kind is strange to this region as well, no? Why are you in Masir?" he inquisitively asked, looking at the hobgoblin square in the eyes.

"Not so very strange, no. My people are common enough around Ledrith. There are those who come to seek their fortune for a time, serving as mercenaries or merely seeking adventure out among the ruins. For myself? Knowledge. Magic unlike that which is more common in our homeland."

It amused Broch that this minstrel seemed to offer challenge. He apparently knew something of hobgoblin culture, making a show of strength. Broch could appreciate that,  at least. Most dishonored themselves, showing fear and weakness by their submissive actions. 

As the "tortle" rose and moved close to make its examination, Broch sat motionless, following it with his eyes. It kept its distance, not trying to rest its head upon him. That was wise of it. When it sat back down, he returned his attention to the half-elf. "I am Broch'Tur, third son of Dannoch'Tur, Arcane Blade and Fist, late of the 6th Banner of the Azure Eagle. Would you give me honor of your name? And you, if you can speak it," he asks the tortle as well. "How are you called?"

The halfling took a few more sips of her drink, and was utterly slammed. Rummble looked at it. It was different than his. "Oy! Brod, how do I get one of those!" The poor little thing was laughing hysterically. Her words were horrendously slurred, but Rummble only found amusement in her unabashed demeanor. It reminded him of his crew, of his good life! He needed one of these drinks and party on with this girl! He pulls a gold coin from a small, begrudgingly light, pouch at his waist and slammed it on the table. "Brod, I need one of those! And this place, like any place, Aranala, can be great when you know what you're doing. And it looks like you do! That's why you're here!"

"YAS!" Aranala shouted, tried to stand, stumbled, and sloshed into the bar. "Oppsie," she mumbled and settled back down with a cackle. "Fun's'n'dink's'n'thngssss." Aranala leaned over toward the kobold and snickered lightly. "Nev'sen k'bld. Wy's here?" Didn't he have a group or something. Aranala almost fell off her chair with snicker as she swayed. She tried to take in another drink of sip, and ended up spilling quite a bit on herself. Aranala pouted. "Nooooo mine."

Jhese stands, laying the cittern on the chair and gives Broch a curt bow. Military-minded. Strict. Honor bound, by glory crowned. Those were the key points he had been taught while at Myth Alannon. "A Fist, you say? Most impressive. How glorious were the battles you led your soldiers into? Such tales I could sing of for decades. I am Jhese Surion, sole son and heir from the noble line of the Surion family, situated in the Artenilenbon Empire on the continent of Bridell." His gaze falls to the floor for a moment. "Or I was, at least." He looks back up to the hobgoblin. "But that tale is for another time."

He nods to the hobgoblin before taking a seat and resting his cittern over his lap. The tortle kept on looking at him. The thing probably wants to hear another song. But he had more important query to handle at the moment. Just as he was about to speak, there was a commotion at the bar, causing the tortle to leave. Praise Ilmater for -that- mercy. Returning his focus to Broch, he asks "To be given the title of Arcane Blade is prestigious in your society, no? It marks you as one who is capable and has a mind complex enough to grasp the arcane. And your attire... you're not from Ledrith. Dolennu, I presume?"

Damn, this girl was slammed. Brod eventually came by and traded the coin for this new tankard and some change. The human gave the kobold an eye. No doubt from the fact that Rummble's been eating for free and then suddenly has the coin for some good drink. Whatever. The kobold had what he needed! He heartily chugged it down, a practiced skill he's honed from his sailing years. With a loud, satisfied "Aaaahhh," he smeared his mouth with his scaly arm. Yeah, this halfing knew how to party. This was good.

And not a moment later, Rummble was just as sloshed as the halfling. It'd been waaaay too long since he had himself a time and drink like this. It hit his little reptilian body like a tidal wave. "I'm here 'cuz.. *hiccup* same 'cuz yur here. Fun's'n'dink's'n'thngs!" He smiled ridiculously. The tortle was here now, watching them. "And wuzzyur pro'lem? Oy! Don-you speak? *hiccup*" Rummble burps deeply into his closed fist. "Whooaaa.." He was swaying now, leaning against the side of the bar. Yup, waaaay too long.

(CON save 1)

"Nononono.. Ara-naaa. She's comin'with.. She's gotta com'with." Rummble attempted to reach for the halfling's hand several times but only scratched at her armor lightly. The kobold's voice hinted at refusal, but his body sunk into the tortles hands and he found himself being led elsewhere. This tortle still hadn't spoken! Maybe he needed at drink, too. "You'no.. youneeda drink! Then! We getchyou talkin'.." He put his arm around the tortle's neck for support as they walked together.

"Noooooooo," Aranala whined and leaned over heavily onto the kobold. She glared at the turtle creature and barred her teeth. "Mine! My'bald. Mine no'yer, no. Funthing half-size! Mine."  She tried to tug Rummble back with her and ended up flopped out of her seat, face first on the floor. Aranala whined. That hurt. "Dun'tke'm'bald," Aranala mumbled into the floor. Oh, now the floor felt nice. It swam and twisted but the rolling was kind of nice. Better than the chair. "Mmm."

The kobold stared at his new placement blankly, half dazed, but perked up as soon as his new friend was brought there, too. "Aran! Aranlalnalna.." He attempted to hug her but the table was in the way. "Where'jyou go?! We's havin' goo'time! Hak.. Tort.. Tortle! Why's'he no talk?" He slams the table, his little hand only making a slight thud, drunken determination solidifying his stature. "He's gon' talk. Yeh?" Rummble snorts. A moment later, his composure cracked down and he started chuckling nonstop, his head slowly falling to the table.

"Thank you very much for your story," the bard smiled at Kero, speaking again in giant. "All of the best stories are based in truth, I can tell your's is too. You look strong and capable, are you interested in creating a new story with me?" She looked over to Jhese and gave the other bard a nod, acknowledging another member of their shared trade. "I can promise you gold," she said, loudly and in common. "Gold and treasure beyond comprehension."

Brod was earnestly cleaning another tankard when Orilee tapped in his shoulder. "You can't be back here," he shooed them out from behind the bar. Noticing the unruly halfling and kobold, the human sighed. "I should have known wee folk like them couldn't hold their Riordan Red. Come now," Brod poured two large cups of water and motioned for the tortle to follow before walking over to Aranala and Rummble's table. "You two are cut off, you hear?" he said as he slammed the two waters down.

"Aye, Dolennu. Far from home these days, but I shall return in due time." Distracted by the commotion behind him, Broch turns to see tortle now dealing with the two smallfolk - halfling and kobold, both disgracefully drunken, here where anyone could observe their lack of constitution. He drank of course, all soldiers did, but to let oneself get to such a state...

"I was fortunate to be honored by my superiors with my rank,yes, after defeating an enemy mage in single combat. The Blades are placed with those Banners which have earned the right to fight with one in their midst, but we generally do not hold a position of command. We must stand apart, able to direct our power where we judge it best applied in the ebb and flow of a battle." Attention back on Jhese, Broch answers the bard's questions succinctly. "And you, Jhese Surion, sole son and heir. You are very far from your ancestral lands on Bridell. As heir, should you not be at your father's side, seeing to the duties of a noble house?"

Aranala giggled. "Floor'snice'an'thin," she cheered lightly and slouched onto Rummble. "Funs'n'thin." She gives him a grin, full of teeth, and at first doesn't notice when Brod came over. She noticed when he slammed down water. Her eyes snapped open wide, tears began to well in them.

"But, but, but," she wobbled. The drink was good and it was hers. "S'mine!" Her face twisted into a slight snarl. Why did the big folk always take away her things? Humans are evil, Aranala thought. She glared, and in her drunken haze reached for her mace. She'd take back what was hers, damn it all! No more stealing!

"No's mer'steelin'!" Aranala yelled.

Rummble hadn't even noticed when Brom came by with cups of water. What he did notice was his newfound companion's face when she reacted to whatever Brom had said. It started at sadness but quickly metamorphosed into rage as she reached for a weapon. Rummble knew what was about to occur. It happened all too often in his favored life. Adrenaline started coursing, his vacant expression turned into an anticipatory smirk. He stood up on his seat with his hands on the table. "S'yeah! Ish'wa she said!"

Kero could barely hear the bard's words over the ruckus the halfling and kobold were making. They were obviously out of line, and when he looked over at them he saw them threatening the bartender. One of them even went for a weapon. Kero stands and watches, waiting for someone to make the first move.

After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up loud enough for the whole room to hear, "This skald is offering gold and treasures to anyone willing to travel with her." He takes his time to think of the words. Replacing gil with gold and skat with treasure so others know what the meaning is. "If you are thrown from this tavern now... you lose out on this offer."

If this doesn't sway them to get their act together, they weren't worth the effort to join anyway.