Luskan rests upon stone escarpments on either side of the icy River Mirar. Three bridges, named Upstream Span, Dalath’s Span, and Long Span, cross forty feet above the river to connect the two sides of the city. The Open Shore docks sit on the northernmost edge of the river, while Dragon Beach holds docks to the south. As they seek out Dran Enterprises’ secret headquarters, the characters start in the south and work their way to the Open Shore docks.
A key aspect of Luskan life is its rule by groups known as Ships. Five High Captains each rule a Ship made up of pirates and other Northlanders. Ship Kurth, under High Captain Beniago Kurth, is the First Ship, which controls the city’s docks and trade. Ship Baram is the Second Ship, operating the fishing industry. Third Ship Suljack leads piracy and raiding, handing down less-desirable opportunities to Fourth Ship Taerl. Fifth Ship Rethnor acts as the city’s guard — an unprofitable enough duty that many of its members look for other ways to earn coin.
The order of mages known as the Arcane Brotherhood is the other major power group in Luskan.
My friends. This place has many opportunities. I know our luck has not been great, but my faith and my heart tell me we are due for some good fortune. Let’s eat and drink for tomorrow balance will be restored.
At the bar, a man is seen eyeing the expensive wines and spirits. He must have the blood of the Reghedmen, by his square features and the mighty length of his frame -- he appears a haggard survivor, gaunt and weary, and within the thick folds of his faded blue cape, tucked away as if in shame, his right arm is bound to a splint, entirely wrapped in bandages all the way to the fingertips.
In the space below this straw-packed prosthetic, his true right arm secretly looses a small coin purse containing a mere 5 copper coins, muffled with a pinch of rice. The purse has a hook for ease of attachment to a rope belt. The man owns seven of these purses, six now hung on the inside of his trousers.
Bjorn Erlandson signals the barman. "A long and thirsty road I have traveled, though thankfully not in vain. Barman -- to celebrate my recent success, would you bring to my table a bottle of your finest red wine?" He conjures a friendly smile, and indicates the table with his left hand, with genuine clumsiness.
“Ah, friend Bjorn. I’m glad you have finally arrived.” Syr Sparhawk joined his new friend at the table. His chain mail muffled by his cloak. his protruding teeth and grey skin made it hard to disguise that he was a half orc. His steel blue eyes, 6 foot frame, and broken nose were less noticeable than his presence. cool calmness and confidence. A man at peace with himself, of conviction. “Barkeep,
Frangipani was currently amusing herself by animating her ale and having the tiny little liquid sealion gallumph around her cup at a rapid pace. She looked up and nodded to Bjorn and Syr but did not join them yet in case they wanted a private conversation.....she knew herself well enough that she did not have the best judgement as to what information was supposed to be private and what was supposed to be public.
She span about on the barstool as her ale jumped back into her cup and stretched out her stubby slightly webbed fingers, her seal-skin armour was rather battered but had been embroided with a number of dolphins and seahorses to cover the worst damage the soft gray leather contrasting with her deep navy-blue skin and damp midnight braids.
Her stomach grumbled a little when Syr mentioned steak and she realised that she had quite forgotten to eat today....that would explain the dizziness.....
" Three steak! Mine is rare, please.", she flashed a smile of slightly sharky teeth to the bartender.
A deeply tanned dwarf in scale armor joins the table and sets down his tankard of ale. “Ms. Sele, I believe I saw a live calf outside, if you’d just prefer that.”
As he takes a large drink from his tankard, the silver symbol around his neck shines. He sets his tankard down and calls for more. Turning his head back to the table, the large braid in the middle of his beard lands in his tankard, he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “The people in this this city are a bit more rough than I may be used to, but their ale is better than the piss-water I can usually get around here… Not much, but it’ll do.”
Sorsha smirks at the exchange between her crew members. Although they were fairly new acquaintances all of them and quite a motley crew they were also the closest thing to a crew she had now after the Furious Kraken had gone under. Taking a swig from her tankard the stunning platinum blonde half-elf leaves the bar after ordering a bloody steak of her own and joins the others, taking a seat at the end of the table. Her eyes are blue as the Sea of swords and she has a small scar, right under her right eye. She's wearing a rather worn cloak of the deepest blue over a form-fitted leather armor and a once white cotton shirt generously open at the top, dark linen pants and dark soft leather boots She has a bluish tentacle-shaped wand tucked into her belt. She dumps her gear by the chair, a backpack and a crossbow. Although of no great stature the others had already picked up she didn't suffer fools and was not to be trifled with. With her luck down she was now however ready to turn to any profitable endeavour, even one not at sea. Not one to engage in light conversation over weather she scans the tavern for any potential employers.
[haven’t played in a long time. I see this group will be fantastic! Fun colorful role playing with a strong sense of humor] with deep respect for her appetite, Sparhawk invites Frangipani to the table and tops off her ale. “Come little one. We have much to discuss.” Always on guard and always perceptive, he notes that that each of his friends has had some rather bad luck. He smiles to himself as the gods unfold his purpose to help the downtrodden. It’s good to be a Paladin!
[Should I use past tense or present? Aah, present is what I'm accustomed to.]
Trusting in Sparhawk's attentiveness, Bjorn lets the paladin's gaze guide him to the largest coin purse that can be seen in the room. Thankfully, it looks heavier than the one he had spotted from the bar, so he doesn't need to invent a reason to double back. As he brushes past its owner, Bjorn's nimble right hand hooks his own meager purse onto their person, leaving the larger purse untouched.
"I agree, much to discuss indeed. To begin with: it seems they take pride in their salmon, here, and yet, a juicy steak has never served me wrong in the past. What should I choose?"
[haven’t played in a long time. I see this group will be fantastic! Fun colorful role playing with a strong sense of humor] with deep respect for her appetite, Sparhawk invites Frangipani to the table and tops off her ale. “Come little one. We have much to discuss.” Always on guard and always perceptive, he notes that that each of his friends has had some rather bad luck. He smiles to himself as the gods unfold his purpose to help the downtrodden. It’s good to be a Paladin!
[Should I use past tense or present? Aah, present is what I'm accustomed to.]
Trusting in Sparhawk's attentiveness, Bjorn lets the paladin's gaze guide him to the largest coin purse that can be seen in the room. Thankfully, it looks heavier than the one he had spotted from the bar, so he doesn't need to invent a reason to double back. As he brushes past its owner, Bjorn's nimble right hand hooks his own meager purse onto their person, leaving the larger purse untouched.
"I agree, much to discuss indeed. To begin with: it seems they take pride in their salmon, here, and yet, a juicy steak has never served me wrong in the past. What should I choose?"
( if Bjorn is attempting to relieve fella of his hard earned cash in a tavern full for cutthroats, thieves and ner do wells, he need to roll a sleight if hand check.. if your not proficient in sleight of hand it will be at disadvantage.
The door to the inn swings open to reveal a hooded figure, his grey cloak fluttering ever so slightly as he steps inside. He carries a quiver filled with arrows on his back and a bow slung over his shoulder, but his cloak hides the two short swords hanging from his belt. He draws back his hood revealing dark brown hair and even darker eyes. He would have been handsome if not for the scowl upon his face, and the fresh bruise blossoming on one cheek. He pauses, eyeing the room as if searching for something. After a moment of scrutinizing everyone in the room, he makes his way up to the bar. As he walks, a small black stone swings from a leather cord around his neck. He nods curtly to Frangipani and Sorsha, before pulling his bow and quiver from his back, and twin swords from his belt. Taking a seat beside Bjorn he rests his weapons between his chair and the front of the bar, keeping one hand in his lap close to the hilt of one sword.
"Give me whatever my friends here have," Vars says to the barkeep. He turns to face Bjorn as if wanting to start a conversation, but his gaze is fixed on the door.
[Bjorn is planting a seed here that he will harvest when it's time to settle the tab. For the moment, he'll be without a coin purse, and this stranger will have two.]
"Vars! As grim as ever, I see. Any news of our alleged friend Mister Scarsguard? Come, let's have a seat at the table."
Vars chuckles, "Grim? Yes I suppose I am as of late..." He follows Bjorn to the table, still keeping his weapons close as he leans back in the chair. "No, I haven't heard from Scarsguard. Though I'd expected him to get here before I returned." He lets out a breath, and some of his earlier tension subsides. Then he waves to Sorsha and Frangipani, (assuming everyone else is at the table as well), "Why don't you two join us?"
(Ah, okay. He just said that to Frangipani then.) He gives a small smile as he asks Sorsha, "Have you heard from this...Scarsguard?" He absentmindedly touches his bruise as his gaze drifts to the door again. The seat he chose is facing the door so he can easily keep an eye on it.
"Only that he would see us here about a job. I'd expect he'll turn up soon." Sorsha says plainly, returning the small smile to Vars. "If the job takes us inland towards the Festival of High Harvestide I'd expect you to be a key crew member Vars, with your knowledge of the forests around here." She adds, taking another swig of her ale, then glancing at the door again. "So, did you run into trouble on your way here Vars?" She says, turning back to face Vars, indicating his bruise.
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Luskan, the city of sails.
Luskan rests upon stone escarpments on either side of the icy River Mirar. Three bridges, named Upstream Span, Dalath’s Span, and Long Span, cross forty feet above the river to connect the two sides of the city. The Open Shore docks sit on the northernmost edge of the river, while Dragon Beach holds docks to the south. As they seek out Dran Enterprises’ secret headquarters, the characters start in the south and work their way to the Open Shore docks.
A key aspect of Luskan life is its rule by groups known as Ships. Five High Captains each rule a Ship made up of pirates and other Northlanders. Ship Kurth, under High Captain Beniago Kurth, is the First Ship, which controls the city’s docks and trade. Ship Baram is the Second Ship, operating the fishing industry. Third Ship Suljack leads piracy and raiding, handing down less-desirable opportunities to Fourth Ship Taerl. Fifth Ship Rethnor acts as the city’s guard — an unprofitable enough duty that many of its members look for other ways to earn coin.
The order of mages known as the Arcane Brotherhood is the other major power group in Luskan.
My friends. This place has many opportunities. I know our luck has not been great, but my faith and my heart tell me we are due for some good fortune. Let’s eat and drink for tomorrow balance will be restored.
[What a pretty map!]
At the bar, a man is seen eyeing the expensive wines and spirits. He must have the blood of the Reghedmen, by his square features and the mighty length of his frame -- he appears a haggard survivor, gaunt and weary, and within the thick folds of his faded blue cape, tucked away as if in shame, his right arm is bound to a splint, entirely wrapped in bandages all the way to the fingertips.
In the space below this straw-packed prosthetic, his true right arm secretly looses a small coin purse containing a mere 5 copper coins, muffled with a pinch of rice. The purse has a hook for ease of attachment to a rope belt. The man owns seven of these purses, six now hung on the inside of his trousers.
Bjorn Erlandson signals the barman. "A long and thirsty road I have traveled, though thankfully not in vain. Barman -- to celebrate my recent success, would you bring to my table a bottle of your finest red wine?" He conjures a friendly smile, and indicates the table with his left hand, with genuine clumsiness.
“Ah, friend Bjorn. I’m glad you have finally arrived.” Syr Sparhawk joined his new friend at the table. His chain mail muffled by his cloak. his protruding teeth and grey skin made it hard to disguise that he was a half orc. His steel blue eyes, 6 foot frame, and broken nose were less noticeable than his presence. cool calmness and confidence. A man at peace with himself, of conviction. “Barkeep,
Frangipani was currently amusing herself by animating her ale and having the tiny little liquid sealion gallumph around her cup at a rapid pace. She looked up and nodded to Bjorn and Syr but did not join them yet in case they wanted a private conversation.....she knew herself well enough that she did not have the best judgement as to what information was supposed to be private and what was supposed to be public.
She span about on the barstool as her ale jumped back into her cup and stretched out her stubby slightly webbed fingers, her seal-skin armour was rather battered but had been embroided with a number of dolphins and seahorses to cover the worst damage the soft gray leather contrasting with her deep navy-blue skin and damp midnight braids.
Her stomach grumbled a little when Syr mentioned steak and she realised that she had quite forgotten to eat today....that would explain the dizziness.....
" Three steak! Mine is rare, please.", she flashed a smile of slightly sharky teeth to the bartender.
A deeply tanned dwarf in scale armor joins the table and sets down his tankard of ale. “Ms. Sele, I believe I saw a live calf outside, if you’d just prefer that.”
As he takes a large drink from his tankard, the silver symbol around his neck shines. He sets his tankard down and calls for more. Turning his head back to the table, the large braid in the middle of his beard lands in his tankard, he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “The people in this this city are a bit more rough than I may be used to, but their ale is better than the piss-water I can usually get around here… Not much, but it’ll do.”
Frangipani stuck her tongue out at Eberk.
Sorsha smirks at the exchange between her crew members. Although they were fairly new acquaintances all of them and quite a motley crew they were also the closest thing to a crew she had now after the Furious Kraken had gone under. Taking a swig from her tankard the stunning platinum blonde half-elf leaves the bar after ordering a bloody steak of her own and joins the others, taking a seat at the end of the table. Her eyes are blue as the Sea of swords and she has a small scar, right under her right eye. She's wearing a rather worn cloak of the deepest blue over a form-fitted leather armor and a once white cotton shirt generously open at the top, dark linen pants and dark soft leather boots She has a bluish tentacle-shaped wand tucked into her belt. She dumps her gear by the chair, a backpack and a crossbow. Although of no great stature the others had already picked up she didn't suffer fools and was not to be trifled with. With her luck down she was now however ready to turn to any profitable endeavour, even one not at sea. Not one to engage in light conversation over weather she scans the tavern for any potential employers.
[haven’t played in a long time. I see this group will be fantastic! Fun colorful role playing with a strong sense of humor]
with deep respect for her appetite, Sparhawk invites Frangipani to the table and tops off her ale. “Come little one. We have much to discuss.” Always on guard and always perceptive, he notes that that each of his friends has had some rather bad luck. He smiles to himself as the gods unfold his purpose to help the downtrodden. It’s good to be a Paladin!
[Should I use past tense or present? Aah, present is what I'm accustomed to.]
Trusting in Sparhawk's attentiveness, Bjorn lets the paladin's gaze guide him to the largest coin purse that can be seen in the room. Thankfully, it looks heavier than the one he had spotted from the bar, so he doesn't need to invent a reason to double back. As he brushes past its owner, Bjorn's nimble right hand hooks his own meager purse onto their person, leaving the larger purse untouched.
"I agree, much to discuss indeed. To begin with: it seems they take pride in their salmon, here, and yet, a juicy steak has never served me wrong in the past. What should I choose?"
Use present tense.
( after I get off work I will bring on the NPC, you will be expecting him, a Mr. Fist Scarsguard)
( if Bjorn is attempting to relieve fella of his hard earned cash in a tavern full for cutthroats, thieves and ner do wells, he need to roll a sleight if hand check.. if your not proficient in sleight of hand it will be at disadvantage.
The door to the inn swings open to reveal a hooded figure, his grey cloak fluttering ever so slightly as he steps inside. He carries a quiver filled with arrows on his back and a bow slung over his shoulder, but his cloak hides the two short swords hanging from his belt. He draws back his hood revealing dark brown hair and even darker eyes. He would have been handsome if not for the scowl upon his face, and the fresh bruise blossoming on one cheek. He pauses, eyeing the room as if searching for something. After a moment of scrutinizing everyone in the room, he makes his way up to the bar. As he walks, a small black stone swings from a leather cord around his neck. He nods curtly to Frangipani and Sorsha, before pulling his bow and quiver from his back, and twin swords from his belt. Taking a seat beside Bjorn he rests his weapons between his chair and the front of the bar, keeping one hand in his lap close to the hilt of one sword.
"Give me whatever my friends here have," Vars says to the barkeep. He turns to face Bjorn as if wanting to start a conversation, but his gaze is fixed on the door.
[He's going about it in kind of a roundabout way, but yes. I do have proficiency.] 20
[Bjorn is planting a seed here that he will harvest when it's time to settle the tab. For the moment, he'll be without a coin purse, and this stranger will have two.]
"Vars! As grim as ever, I see. Any news of our alleged friend Mister Scarsguard? Come, let's have a seat at the table."
Vars chuckles, "Grim? Yes I suppose I am as of late..." He follows Bjorn to the table, still keeping his weapons close as he leans back in the chair. "No, I haven't heard from Scarsguard. Though I'd expected him to get here before I returned." He lets out a breath, and some of his earlier tension subsides. Then he waves to Sorsha and Frangipani, (assuming everyone else is at the table as well), "Why don't you two join us?"
(Sorsha is already sitting at the end of the table ;-) She gives Vars a nod as he joins them though.)
(Ah, okay. He just said that to Frangipani then.) He gives a small smile as he asks Sorsha, "Have you heard from this...Scarsguard?" He absentmindedly touches his bruise as his gaze drifts to the door again. The seat he chose is facing the door so he can easily keep an eye on it.
"Only that he would see us here about a job. I'd expect he'll turn up soon." Sorsha says plainly, returning the small smile to Vars. "If the job takes us inland towards the Festival of High Harvestide I'd expect you to be a key crew member Vars, with your knowledge of the forests around here." She adds, taking another swig of her ale, then glancing at the door again. "So, did you run into trouble on your way here Vars?" She says, turning back to face Vars, indicating his bruise.