Joren keeps his peace and but tries to emulate Ashley's attempt at positivity rather than Vilus' (perhaps justifiable) suspicion and paranoia.
For the rest of the day, when he isn't obsessively checking on the condition of his splint armor stowed below, he keeps his eyes the waters in case the kraken or some other threat returns to accost the ship. Though it shouldn't bother him as much as it does, his mind keeps coming back to the sailor he had saved, heaving him back onto the boat when the impact from the kraken had nearly flung him overboard, dangling from the rail. Like picking at an old scab.
Not so easy, I am knowing all too well, earning the trust of strangers. Still, I would be thinking something like that would be counting for something... but neither that, nor all of us saving the vessel from the kraken is seeming to signify much...
Over the rest of the day, the shore grows from a distant sliver to a strip of rolling hills. Nestled between two low mounds sits the small town of Demain. Single level wooden dwellings with thatched roofs separated by dirt paths and dotted with chickens. As the boat approaches the modest single dock, it passes by smaller two-person fishing boats whose occupants wave casually before returning their attention to their nets or rods.
The crew continues their work mostly in silence or hushed conversation, though nervous eyes flick over the members of the party from time to time. As the hull pulls up next to the sagging wooden timbers of the dock, the crew hastens to put out the gangplank. The captain walks up to the group, squaring up with Joren and deliberately making eye contact. "I am sorry we could not be getting you all the way to where you are needing to go. I..." he looks around and then leans in a bit. "I trust you understand."
He pulls out a small pouch and empties a handful of silver and copper bits out into his palm. "There's roughly 5 gold pieces worth here. Should see you some room and board, and travel to Madurst."
Samir watched quietly as the shoreline grew nearer and nearer. With his familiar bag hanging at his side and his worn, comfortable spectacles perched upon his nose, one could be forgiven for mistaking him for the same inexperienced scholar who had set off on a modest mission of trade and enterprise for his family's business. No, the changes wrought by the journey were of a more internal sort than the things one might notice by only seeing the superficial. In many ways, Samir had left home and vanished somewhere beneath the earth, or in the sewers of a great city, or in a small tavern in the middle of nowhere.
Samir's eyes flicked to the captain as he spoke to Joren, but really, he couldn't find it in him to be upset about the situation, or to blame the man and his crew. They were scared, forced to deal with something that no sane person should ever have to deal with. Ancient mythical sea monsters slapping your ship around like a child's plaything should be enough to give anyone pause and to cause them to rethink their life choices. Which, he supposed, said a lot about he and his friends.
No, Samir only gave the captain a tight smile and a nod before setting off down the gangplank. While he wasn't familiar with Demain itself, he had certainly seen similar places. Small villages whose day to day concerns were far less world shaking than doomsday cults and lost gods, but no less urgent and necessary for survival. Taking care to step over a recalcitrant chicken at the foot of the walkway, Samirt crossed onto solid ground and waited for the others, studying the village around them with undisguised impatience.
...The captain walks up to the group, squaring up with Joren and deliberately making eye contact. "I am sorry we could not be getting you all the way to where you are needing to go. I..." he looks around and then leans in a bit. "I trust you understand."
He pulls out a small pouch and empties a handful of silver and copper bits out into his palm. "There's roughly 5 gold pieces worth here. Should see you some room and board, and travel to Madurst."
Joren thinks of the kraken and its baleful eye. Its monstrous arms. He meets the Captain's gaze with a resigned expression.
"There is very little I am understanding these days, Captain, except to trust in my friends. As you are trusting in yours. Fair winds and following seas."
Not angrily, yet firmly, Joren closes he captain's hand over the offering of silver and copper, refusing the monetary gift. Stowing the Dunamis Blade behind his back, he turns and strides down the gangplank and onto the dock without a backward glance. He turns to Malachi and Samir.
"I am thinking you two are having a better chance of knowing this part of the coast better than the rest of us. Are you thinking we should be lodging here or traveling into the night and camping beneath the stars? If we are bringing danger anywhere we go, as the crew of that ship are seeming to believe, then perhaps we should not be endangering these innocent villagers by our very presence. Or is ignoring such superstition best?"
The day draws long and those of the crew on watch and at work do not see the tiefling in the crowd nest move, aside from a flicker as his visage is recast every hour or so. Vilus spends the day watching the horizon. Meditating from up on high a position that gives him comfort and calms his mind as he is able to observe and watch all that goes on below.
As the ship docks, Vilus casts his thoughts into the mind of the captain "mind how you go, there are plenty more beasts in the sea" but aside from that, wordlessly disembarks and takes stock of his possessions and what seems to be going on in the small town of Demain. "Whats our heading?" He mutters inspire of which way is north right now.
Ashley wishes the crew and the captain luck as she disembarks, noting Jorren's refusal of the monetary gift and smiles. The crew did what they could, and she doesn't blame them a bit for this. She just hopes they don't run into any more trouble. She does ask the captain, "How far is Madurst from here?"
The sight of the small village and the chickens that roam freely warm her. The casual waves from the strangers that do not know who they are gives her a fleeting notion of calm, but then dread seeps in as she worries they will experience the same fate as the crew upon the ship.
Turning to the others, she adds to Joren's thought, "Unless Mal or Samir disagree, I don't want to befall these people any terrors. Let's find some warm food and then head out and camp far from the town? At least, my thoughts anyways."
"I have to concur." Samir nodded in response to the others' concerns. "I would hate to see a repeat of what happened on the voyage over. I vote that we get what supplies we might need, perhaps see about grabbing a hot meal, and then begin heading towards Madurst as soon as we can."
She does ask the captain, "How far is Madurst from here?"
The captain points off at a road leaving the city straight between the two hills. "About one day by carriage. Some people walk it in two"
The captain nods a little resignedly to himself as Joren refuses the money. "Fair weather and guiding light," he responds. Then he turns and boards his ship once more. Now on shore, the group of heroes begin drawing some more interested stares. A couple of half-orc children chasing a chicken down the street with a stick turn their attention to the newcomers. They run over to the group, eyes wide. "Lady, why are you on fire?" one of them asks. He has dirt smeared on his forehead, and one of his tusks is not yet grown in. The other walks up beside Joren and begins tapping on the armour with his stick.
Vilus laughs uproariously at the child's curiousity and chides Ashley with a "yeahhhh answer the kid, why are you on fire huh?" As the group make their way further into the village he keeps his eyes out for a tavern or a shop where the group might find that hot meal they were looking for.
Joren smiles at the half-orc child's question to Ashley and Vilus' further instigation, but does not speak himself.
In response to the other child tapping his armor with a stick, Joren's smile deepens and he makes eye contact to make sure the kid knows that he takes no offense. Gently but firmly, as he might with a freshly-recruited private, he corrects the boy's stance and grip on the stick, as if it were a sword.
Otherwise, Joren follows the others, a stranger in a strange land, as ever.
One woman, hunched over in front of a house to pull up weeds turns and straightens with concern when she sees the half orc with Joren. But then, seeing no offense was taken nor harm done, she smiles and gets back to her pulling. The boy grins and practices a few swings before turning and whacking his friend in the shins with an eager strike. Yelling and hopping, the kid is distracted from his query and tackles the other boy in retaliation. The roll around for a minute, scuffling on the ground.
Down the road is, a larger building with smoke streaming from the chimney. Smells of simple food waft out. Fish, bread, and some kind of meaty stew. At a table out front, two dusty elves seem engaged in some kind of game of dice. Further along the road, the clanging of a hammer on metal can be heard. The sounds of a smithy. Past that is an opening in the fence that marks the border between the town and what lies beyond.
Malachi hangs back as they disembark from the ship, ensuring he is the last to leave. He grabs the coin purse that Joren refused, eyes glaring at the Captain. He didn’t need to look into the man’s mind to know why they were being kicked off of the ship. “We’ll take it, for travel, of course.”He huffs and follows the others onto the shore.
“I agree we should move on from here quickly and get on the road. These smaller villages don’t often have an inn, but the people will share everything they have with you, even when it is barely enough for their family. I would hate to impose upon them.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face as the young boy comes up to Joren and Ashley and with a quick sleight of hand, he conjures a piece of copper from behind the child’s ear and gives it to him while nodding toward Joren. "Watch out crossing swords with that one, lad. He's a trained warrior from the north. What's the news from around town? Is there a tavern or merchant nearby?"
Ashley grins as the youngster inquires about her flames. "Why, it's because I'm always cold! They keep me warm."and she winks at him before he runs off with his friends. She takes in a whiff of the scents in the air and her feet start moving towards the larger building, leaving Mal behind talking to the child.
Malachi looks up as Ashley heads towards the smell of food and grins. “Well, it seems she found the way to a meal. Thanks anyway, boy, off you go now with your friends.” He raises his voice and calls to Ashley “That’s using your nose. Wait for us!”
He hurries to catch up, following the familiar scents of baked bread and cooking fish.
Joren seems distracted. He shakes his head and smiles ruefully as the two half-orc lads commence tussling with each other, then begins to drift almost subconsciously to where the sounds of a hammer and anvil are emanating.
Not wanting to linger long and potentially endanger the villagers, but unable to avoid at least peeking into the (apparent) smithy.
As the group follow the smells of food Vilus can't help but to worry a little, "Aside from our overarcing problems that may or may nit follow us here, I'm very aware that being outside of the city, I personally am not going to be helpful in using contacts and such to get us around or get us resources, all in ll do we know how much money we have between us?" his eyes glance toward Mal and Samir specifically as their dress denotes more expensive tastes than he is used to, though samir's relies mostly upon a practicality it still seems to be expensive stuff. "I personally have a little over a full bag, if you know what I mean, something that'll tide me over for a while but I'm thinking I could do a nights work if we're low... I don't sleep anyways, so I may aswell be useful."
For those in the group who know the city vernacular, they might know or assume that a full bag would indicate 100gp to them.
The boy grins at the trick with the coin and immediately starts trying to replicate it, dropping it in the mud a couple of times in his enthusiasm. "If yer lookin for hot food, you'll find it just down the street. Avoid the stew though. It has too many vegetables for my taste. Besides that, nothing is happening around here. Nothing ever happens."
Another kid pipes up. "But callum, what about the ghosts you hear-"
"Shaddup Brim!" The kid named Callum starts chasing after the other with his stick. Brim cackles and runs away. Then they are off around the corner of a building.
Under the roof of the open smithy, Joren sees a rotund dwarf with a scraggly black beard the creeps up his cheeks almost all the way to the bottoms of his eyes. He has an anvil out before him with a strip of metal that is half way through being rounded into a horseshoe. The dwarf is taking a break to wipe his brow with callused, blackened hands. He looks up when he sees Joren approach, but only briefly. He sets his hammer in his grip and prepares to swing again before doing a double take. "Ho there stranger, tall though you may be, you've got a bit of a dwarfy look about you if'n I'm not mistaken. What brings you by these parts?"
Malachi and Ashley both follow her nose to the tavern, where the scent of fresh cooking wafts out through open windows. The two men playing dice look up from their game. One of them smiles at them, while the other glowers.
Then someone bumps into Malachi from behind. He turns to see a woman leaning away from a large bucket of water sloshing from side to side. "So sorry," she mutters breathlessly as she pushes past and through swinging doors of the inn
Under the roof of the open smithy, Joren sees a rotund dwarf with a scraggly black beard the creeps up his cheeks almost all the way to the bottoms of his eyes. He has an anvil out before him with a strip of metal that is half way through being rounded into a horseshoe. The dwarf is taking a break to wipe his brow with callused, blackened hands. He looks up when he sees Joren approach, but only briefly. He sets his hammer in his grip and prepares to swing again before doing a double take. "Ho there stranger, tall though you may be, you've got a bit of a dwarfy look about you if'n I'm not mistaken. What brings you by these parts?"
Joren's fingers drift to his own beard, well-trimmed by comparison to the blacksmith's. "On my father's side," he rumbles softly in Dwarvish.
Without introducing himself by name (at least at first), he grabs a pair of tongs and holds the horseshoe-to-be in place to facilitate the blacksmith's hammering. After a few moments, he responds further in his Dalmodh Plains-accented Khirian soldier's brogue (in Common).
"What is bringing me here, along with my companions outside, may be a tale too long in the telling. Most recently, a sea creature beset our ship, and though we were the ones fighting it off, the captain and his crew, perhaps understandably, feared we are bringing them ill luck, letting us off at the closest dock. That being here, your town of Demain. I am thinking we shall not be lingering long, most especially if we are truly bringing ill luck, not wanting to inflict it on the civilians here. Yet resisting the lure of a proper smithy not being my strong suit, I could not help myself."
He looks around more closely at the at the blacksmith's shop. "I am Joren. And more to the point, I am finding myself in need of a few handaxes or javelins. The ones hanging from my belt before were not doing me the kindness of returning there after I was done throwing them."
“I have about double that, counting the Captain's generous contribution when he cast us off”Malachi responds to Vilus with a wry grin. “Enough to get us back to civilization at any rate, and we can increase our stake in Mardurst. I’m sure we can come across more coin if we need it.”
He pauses a moment at the door to the presumed tavern, then staggers forward as he is jostled from behind. He spins to avoid whatever is sloshing around in the bucket. Hopefully just dirty dishwater.“Pardon me, ma’am.” His looks across the room and quickly finds the dice game. He arches an eyebrow at Vilus. “Speaking of coming across more coin.” He picks his way across the room toward the game. “Gentlemen! Fine day to you. What’s the game? Do you mind if I join?”
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Joren keeps his peace and but tries to emulate Ashley's attempt at positivity rather than Vilus' (perhaps justifiable) suspicion and paranoia.
For the rest of the day, when he isn't obsessively checking on the condition of his splint armor stowed below, he keeps his eyes the waters in case the kraken or some other threat returns to accost the ship. Though it shouldn't bother him as much as it does, his mind keeps coming back to the sailor he had saved, heaving him back onto the boat when the impact from the kraken had nearly flung him overboard, dangling from the rail. Like picking at an old scab.
Not so easy, I am knowing all too well, earning the trust of strangers. Still, I would be thinking something like that would be counting for something... but neither that, nor all of us saving the vessel from the kraken is seeming to signify much...
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(Sorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(Cleric3/Sorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Over the rest of the day, the shore grows from a distant sliver to a strip of rolling hills. Nestled between two low mounds sits the small town of Demain. Single level wooden dwellings with thatched roofs separated by dirt paths and dotted with chickens. As the boat approaches the modest single dock, it passes by smaller two-person fishing boats whose occupants wave casually before returning their attention to their nets or rods.
The crew continues their work mostly in silence or hushed conversation, though nervous eyes flick over the members of the party from time to time. As the hull pulls up next to the sagging wooden timbers of the dock, the crew hastens to put out the gangplank. The captain walks up to the group, squaring up with Joren and deliberately making eye contact. "I am sorry we could not be getting you all the way to where you are needing to go. I..." he looks around and then leans in a bit. "I trust you understand."
He pulls out a small pouch and empties a handful of silver and copper bits out into his palm. "There's roughly 5 gold pieces worth here. Should see you some room and board, and travel to Madurst."
Samir watched quietly as the shoreline grew nearer and nearer. With his familiar bag hanging at his side and his worn, comfortable spectacles perched upon his nose, one could be forgiven for mistaking him for the same inexperienced scholar who had set off on a modest mission of trade and enterprise for his family's business. No, the changes wrought by the journey were of a more internal sort than the things one might notice by only seeing the superficial. In many ways, Samir had left home and vanished somewhere beneath the earth, or in the sewers of a great city, or in a small tavern in the middle of nowhere.
Samir's eyes flicked to the captain as he spoke to Joren, but really, he couldn't find it in him to be upset about the situation, or to blame the man and his crew. They were scared, forced to deal with something that no sane person should ever have to deal with. Ancient mythical sea monsters slapping your ship around like a child's plaything should be enough to give anyone pause and to cause them to rethink their life choices. Which, he supposed, said a lot about he and his friends.
No, Samir only gave the captain a tight smile and a nod before setting off down the gangplank. While he wasn't familiar with Demain itself, he had certainly seen similar places. Small villages whose day to day concerns were far less world shaking than doomsday cults and lost gods, but no less urgent and necessary for survival. Taking care to step over a recalcitrant chicken at the foot of the walkway, Samirt crossed onto solid ground and waited for the others, studying the village around them with undisguised impatience.
Joren thinks of the kraken and its baleful eye. Its monstrous arms. He meets the Captain's gaze with a resigned expression.
"There is very little I am understanding these days, Captain, except to trust in my friends. As you are trusting in yours. Fair winds and following seas."
Not angrily, yet firmly, Joren closes he captain's hand over the offering of silver and copper, refusing the monetary gift. Stowing the Dunamis Blade behind his back, he turns and strides down the gangplank and onto the dock without a backward glance. He turns to Malachi and Samir.
"I am thinking you two are having a better chance of knowing this part of the coast better than the rest of us. Are you thinking we should be lodging here or traveling into the night and camping beneath the stars? If we are bringing danger anywhere we go, as the crew of that ship are seeming to believe, then perhaps we should not be endangering these innocent villagers by our very presence. Or is ignoring such superstition best?"
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(Sorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(Cleric3/Sorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
The day draws long and those of the crew on watch and at work do not see the tiefling in the crowd nest move, aside from a flicker as his visage is recast every hour or so. Vilus spends the day watching the horizon. Meditating from up on high a position that gives him comfort and calms his mind as he is able to observe and watch all that goes on below.
As the ship docks, Vilus casts his thoughts into the mind of the captain "mind how you go, there are plenty more beasts in the sea" but aside from that, wordlessly disembarks and takes stock of his possessions and what seems to be going on in the small town of Demain. "Whats our heading?" He mutters inspire of which way is north right now.
Ashley wishes the crew and the captain luck as she disembarks, noting Jorren's refusal of the monetary gift and smiles. The crew did what they could, and she doesn't blame them a bit for this. She just hopes they don't run into any more trouble. She does ask the captain, "How far is Madurst from here?"
The sight of the small village and the chickens that roam freely warm her. The casual waves from the strangers that do not know who they are gives her a fleeting notion of calm, but then dread seeps in as she worries they will experience the same fate as the crew upon the ship.
Turning to the others, she adds to Joren's thought, "Unless Mal or Samir disagree, I don't want to befall these people any terrors. Let's find some warm food and then head out and camp far from the town? At least, my thoughts anyways."
"I have to concur." Samir nodded in response to the others' concerns. "I would hate to see a repeat of what happened on the voyage over. I vote that we get what supplies we might need, perhaps see about grabbing a hot meal, and then begin heading towards Madurst as soon as we can."
The captain points off at a road leaving the city straight between the two hills. "About one day by carriage. Some people walk it in two"
The captain nods a little resignedly to himself as Joren refuses the money. "Fair weather and guiding light," he responds. Then he turns and boards his ship once more. Now on shore, the group of heroes begin drawing some more interested stares. A couple of half-orc children chasing a chicken down the street with a stick turn their attention to the newcomers. They run over to the group, eyes wide. "Lady, why are you on fire?" one of them asks. He has dirt smeared on his forehead, and one of his tusks is not yet grown in. The other walks up beside Joren and begins tapping on the armour with his stick.
Vilus laughs uproariously at the child's curiousity and chides Ashley with a "yeahhhh answer the kid, why are you on fire huh?" As the group make their way further into the village he keeps his eyes out for a tavern or a shop where the group might find that hot meal they were looking for.
Joren smiles at the half-orc child's question to Ashley and Vilus' further instigation, but does not speak himself.
In response to the other child tapping his armor with a stick, Joren's smile deepens and he makes eye contact to make sure the kid knows that he takes no offense. Gently but firmly, as he might with a freshly-recruited private, he corrects the boy's stance and grip on the stick, as if it were a sword.
Otherwise, Joren follows the others, a stranger in a strange land, as ever.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(Sorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(Cleric3/Sorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
One woman, hunched over in front of a house to pull up weeds turns and straightens with concern when she sees the half orc with Joren. But then, seeing no offense was taken nor harm done, she smiles and gets back to her pulling. The boy grins and practices a few swings before turning and whacking his friend in the shins with an eager strike. Yelling and hopping, the kid is distracted from his query and tackles the other boy in retaliation. The roll around for a minute, scuffling on the ground.
Down the road is, a larger building with smoke streaming from the chimney. Smells of simple food waft out. Fish, bread, and some kind of meaty stew. At a table out front, two dusty elves seem engaged in some kind of game of dice. Further along the road, the clanging of a hammer on metal can be heard. The sounds of a smithy. Past that is an opening in the fence that marks the border between the town and what lies beyond.
Malachi hangs back as they disembark from the ship, ensuring he is the last to leave. He grabs the coin purse that Joren refused, eyes glaring at the Captain. He didn’t need to look into the man’s mind to know why they were being kicked off of the ship. “We’ll take it, for travel, of course.” He huffs and follows the others onto the shore.
“I agree we should move on from here quickly and get on the road. These smaller villages don’t often have an inn, but the people will share everything they have with you, even when it is barely enough for their family. I would hate to impose upon them.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face as the young boy comes up to Joren and Ashley and with a quick sleight of hand, he conjures a piece of copper from behind the child’s ear and gives it to him while nodding toward Joren. "Watch out crossing swords with that one, lad. He's a trained warrior from the north. What's the news from around town? Is there a tavern or merchant nearby?"
Ashley grins as the youngster inquires about her flames. "Why, it's because I'm always cold! They keep me warm." and she winks at him before he runs off with his friends. She takes in a whiff of the scents in the air and her feet start moving towards the larger building, leaving Mal behind talking to the child.
Malachi looks up as Ashley heads towards the smell of food and grins. “Well, it seems she found the way to a meal. Thanks anyway, boy, off you go now with your friends.” He raises his voice and calls to Ashley “That’s using your nose. Wait for us!”
He hurries to catch up, following the familiar scents of baked bread and cooking fish.
Joren seems distracted. He shakes his head and smiles ruefully as the two half-orc lads commence tussling with each other, then begins to drift almost subconsciously to where the sounds of a hammer and anvil are emanating.
Not wanting to linger long and potentially endanger the villagers, but unable to avoid at least peeking into the (apparent) smithy.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(Sorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(Cleric3/Sorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
As the group follow the smells of food Vilus can't help but to worry a little, "Aside from our overarcing problems that may or may nit follow us here, I'm very aware that being outside of the city, I personally am not going to be helpful in using contacts and such to get us around or get us resources, all in ll do we know how much money we have between us?" his eyes glance toward Mal and Samir specifically as their dress denotes more expensive tastes than he is used to, though samir's relies mostly upon a practicality it still seems to be expensive stuff. "I personally have a little over a full bag, if you know what I mean, something that'll tide me over for a while but I'm thinking I could do a nights work if we're low... I don't sleep anyways, so I may aswell be useful."
For those in the group who know the city vernacular, they might know or assume that a full bag would indicate 100gp to them.
The boy grins at the trick with the coin and immediately starts trying to replicate it, dropping it in the mud a couple of times in his enthusiasm. "If yer lookin for hot food, you'll find it just down the street. Avoid the stew though. It has too many vegetables for my taste. Besides that, nothing is happening around here. Nothing ever happens."
Another kid pipes up. "But callum, what about the ghosts you hear-"
"Shaddup Brim!" The kid named Callum starts chasing after the other with his stick. Brim cackles and runs away. Then they are off around the corner of a building.
Under the roof of the open smithy, Joren sees a rotund dwarf with a scraggly black beard the creeps up his cheeks almost all the way to the bottoms of his eyes. He has an anvil out before him with a strip of metal that is half way through being rounded into a horseshoe. The dwarf is taking a break to wipe his brow with callused, blackened hands. He looks up when he sees Joren approach, but only briefly. He sets his hammer in his grip and prepares to swing again before doing a double take. "Ho there stranger, tall though you may be, you've got a bit of a dwarfy look about you if'n I'm not mistaken. What brings you by these parts?"
Malachi and Ashley both follow her nose to the tavern, where the scent of fresh cooking wafts out through open windows. The two men playing dice look up from their game. One of them smiles at them, while the other glowers.
Then someone bumps into Malachi from behind. He turns to see a woman leaning away from a large bucket of water sloshing from side to side. "So sorry," she mutters breathlessly as she pushes past and through swinging doors of the inn
Joren's fingers drift to his own beard, well-trimmed by comparison to the blacksmith's. "On my father's side," he rumbles softly in Dwarvish.
Without introducing himself by name (at least at first), he grabs a pair of tongs and holds the horseshoe-to-be in place to facilitate the blacksmith's hammering. After a few moments, he responds further in his Dalmodh Plains-accented Khirian soldier's brogue (in Common).
"What is bringing me here, along with my companions outside, may be a tale too long in the telling. Most recently, a sea creature beset our ship, and though we were the ones fighting it off, the captain and his crew, perhaps understandably, feared we are bringing them ill luck, letting us off at the closest dock. That being here, your town of Demain. I am thinking we shall not be lingering long, most especially if we are truly bringing ill luck, not wanting to inflict it on the civilians here. Yet resisting the lure of a proper smithy not being my strong suit, I could not help myself."
He looks around more closely at the at the blacksmith's shop. "I am Joren. And more to the point, I am finding myself in need of a few handaxes or javelins. The ones hanging from my belt before were not doing me the kindness of returning there after I was done throwing them."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(Sorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(Cleric3/Sorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
“I have about double that, counting the Captain's generous contribution when he cast us off” Malachi responds to Vilus with a wry grin. “Enough to get us back to civilization at any rate, and we can increase our stake in Mardurst. I’m sure we can come across more coin if we need it.”
He pauses a moment at the door to the presumed tavern, then staggers forward as he is jostled from behind. He spins to avoid whatever is sloshing around in the bucket. Hopefully just dirty dishwater. “Pardon me, ma’am.” His looks across the room and quickly finds the dice game. He arches an eyebrow at Vilus. “Speaking of coming across more coin.” He picks his way across the room toward the game. “Gentlemen! Fine day to you. What’s the game? Do you mind if I join?”