Oranir's eyebrow is still up and a puzzled but interested look comes across his features, nevertheless he produces his crumpled stained parchment and quill once again, taking notes "Mbala... Orolunga... I hope I'm spelling those right..." he keeps the item at the ready as he takes a step to approach Eshek as he recovers, "Eshek? A pleasure, my friend, hope you are able to catch your breath for a few questions?" followed by an awkward and creepy smile, "You say you just had to find someone who looked like Vladimir here, since you woke up? Do you feel anything else about that? Does it happen often? These places... have you been to them? Do you know a man by the name of..." he checks his notes briefly, "Grandfather Zitembe? We may want to have a word with him... and maybe you as well."
Eshek shrugs helplessly. "I do not know. I cannot remember. I--I feel alright now, though. I cannot say this has ever happened before. And no, I have never been to Mbala or Camp Vengeance. I have only spoken with others who tell about them. I know that the Order of the Gauntlet first established a base camp at Camp Righteous, on the River Soshenstar to the southwest. They set up around an ancient Chultan shrine, which local guides call the House of the Crocodile. But their defenses were too weak, and just a couple of months ago they were overrun by undead swarms from the jungle. Nearly everyone was killed. Their new camp is called Camp Vengeance, further downstream from the first."
"Grandfather Zitembe! Yes! He is head priest of our Temple to Great Savras. Most favored by Savras in all of Chult! He is inside the temple, here..."
Vladimir responds, “Thank you for the information; it is very valuable to us. Now let’s get you in the shade. I’m glad you are feeling better, but I don’t want you to faint again.” He leads Eshek to the temple he indicated, offering Eshek some water as well.
Oranir puts away his quill and parchment, "Brilliant. Let's share in your Grandfather's wisdom, then." he steps in to accompany Vladimir and Eshek, "Let's see what fortune do these diviners have in store for us. I'll wager it involves pain in some form..." he eyes Vladimir for a moment, "... and filth."
As he leads you into the old but grand temple, Eshek explains. "Savras is a deity devoted to revealing the truth might seem to have a weak draw in a city of merchants, but Savras was widely worshiped in Chult long before the Spellplague. In those years, Savras’s clergy were valued because they could keep tabs on the activities of the inscrutable yuan-ti. Nowadays, the clergy of Savras scries into more mundane matters: portents around business affairs, the outlook for newborn children, and affairs of the heart. Ah, there is Grandfather Zitembe!"
The head priest of the temple, Grandfather Zitembe, is surrounded by three human men. They are in the midst of a heated conversation. One of them holds an enormous ruby, waving it toward Zitembe. "...worth five hundred gold piece, and all we want is Cimber's location! What he's planning... Stodgy old man!" Zitembe is clearly annoyed and shoos the men away. One looks as though he might draw a weapon on the old priest but, spying your group standing nearby, hesitates, turns on his heel, and storms away. All three bear scowls on their faces. Zitembe looks relieved. "Ah, Eshek. Wonderful timing, as predicted! How may Grandfather Zitembe help?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As Merrick and the others approach the Sticky Mermaid, Merrick asks for yet another moment in private as he steps behind some nearby crates amid the bustle of the area. He clasps and rubs his hands together, pinches his nose, pops his ears, and gives a short whistle as he feels his senses heighten to perceive the unperceivable. His eyesight becomes every so slightly milky, giving him the familiar indication that he is now detecting magic.
He comes back from behind the crates with a red face and grin, then struts with somewhat believable swagger to the interior of the pub. He let's his eyes adjust to the dimmer light from outside and looks around for anything that may be amiss.
Perception check for anything in general that seems dangerous or out of the ordinary in this room: 18 // Passive Score = 15
Afterwards, he spots the individual that K'lahu described and notes their impressive physique. Not sure yet of an overall plan, he casually strides over to the barkeep. "Erm... Hullo friend tavern master." He takes some coins and tries to jingle them in a manner that Laderan had done earlier, but ends up dropping them onto the ground. He bend over and scoops then back into his hands before standing back up to regard the barkeep with an embarassed grin.
As they walk up to the priest and watch as the others scramble away, a small growl escapes from Sayax's lips, but he is silent by the time they reach the man. "Grandfather Zitembe? Might I ask, who were those men? Are you in any sort of danger? Will they return once we have left you? Please, tell me how I can help." Sayax looks to the head priest, but also keeps looking to the retreating men with a frown on his face. People trying to shake down a head priest? What is going on in Chult? This will not do!
Oranir approaches and bows respectfully to the elder man, serenely commening on something Eshek spoke as they entered the temple "And still I'd value a truth revealed more than anything I might find in the pockets of these princes." he sneers at the last word. "Grandfather Zitembe. I assume we haven't interrupted anything important." the elf smirks, "We've recently arrived, as it may seem obvious, and already we've heard of your wisdom on two occasions."
On the walk over to Executioner's row, Laderan shares the information he obtained from the bookie. "... So I think we have a few questions to hit Wakanga with now. From the sounds of it, the merchant princes are so deeply intertwined with the races that maybe these upsets are intended to hurt the princes. We should see what he knows about the trainer and jockey as well, they both seem likely to benefit from their horse... Err dinosaur, winning." For a moment he was back in the Feywild, remembering when he had run the bookie scam, taking people's wagers for the races, winning some, losing some. Though he always dealt in hard coin, none of this collecting coin after the race. Then at the last race of the day he'd offer favourable odds against the front runners and take in a wealth of bets before the race started; of course as soon as the race began so to did Laderan's exit strategy. He'd gotten away with that one twice, the problem was that it relied on taking money from a lot of people, which meant that you had to get your face far, far away from many sets of eyes.
His reverie fades as the Sticky Mermaid comes into view. Laderan wanders in with Merrick and Ashtear, his ears twitching this way and that as he listens to the familiar sound of tavern murmurs. So many things about this city still calm him, and the horrible experience of Baldurs Gate seems only a fleeting memory. Maybe, just maybe the genie didn't screw him quite as vadly as he'd first thought... Then he looked at the hulking figure which they were about to ask for payment from. No, Laderan definitely got a raw deal.
Helping Merrick to pick up some of the coins, Laderan verbally sweeps in with the barkeep - Merrick was certainly useful for grabbing attention, the poor fellow just needed some practise at talking to people, especially when he wanted something. The big firbolg was a gentle soul inside and it seemed like he was genuinely worried about other people's opi ions of him... Laderan filed that away for later. "By 'good' my polite friend here means we'll take three cold alcoholic drinks and a plate of something we can share between three. If you've got dinosaur on the menu, our friend would love to try some?" He gestures to Ashtear indicating their third. "Say, is that big fella Taban? Didn't he used to fight in the coliseum?"
"Preferably smaller chunks of dino, or a large steak. I'll toss in a few to the coffer of group snackages. I'd like a variety of preperations for sampling." Ashtear similiarly makes a follow up request to Laderan's order. Finidng different preperations and how they taste is apt considering she may well be cooking some of these creatures in the not distant future.
Grandfather Zitembe smiles. "Greetings visitors. Of course your arrival has been foreseen! That? No, nothing important. Just riffraff from the Zhentarim come to pester me with their perpetual quest for personal gain. How can I assist you?"
Ashtear, Laderan, Merrick:
"Fishjack!" bellows the barkeep, who sports an eyepatch over her left eye. "A particularly potent spirit you'll find only here. Two copper each! " The barkeep places three well-used cups before her and from a large pitcher pours a murkey, astringent spirit garnished with fermented fish eggs. "Eggs of Soshenstar River koi!" she says proudly. "Brace yourselves!"
"As for meat, I got ankylosaur bacon and salted egg." She slams a plate down and tops it with huge slabs of cured dino bacon and an enormous egg the size of a purse. "Dino egg! Hah! Ya know that don't come easy." She points to her eyepatch, which has moved over to the right eye. "5 silver for the food."
She glances over toward the hulking figure. "Aye, it is. Looking for an autograph?"
Oranir's features twist sligthly at the mention, "Of course the black network would extend its muddy fingers all the way here, we have our fair share of experience with them on the borders of Cormanthor. Usually not the most pleasant folk to deal with, I must say, even though it's hard to deny their effectiveness." he shakes his head and sighs as he takes another step forward, "Grandfather, me and my companions here have come from Baldur's Gate. Although our personal quests initially had varied reasons, our purpose united after a peculiar chain of events around this... Death Curse, with which I'm sure you are familiar. Being direct, we have evidence to believe that the root of that lies within the jungles of Chult and we came here to find it." he motions to Eshek and Vladimir, "We initially came here to seek some divine guidance on our quest, but it seems it found its way to us first? In essence, we would greatly appreciate any counsel you could offer us in this matter... Have you heard of this Soulmonger? Or of anyone else who might have?"
Laderan glances over to the former gladiator as the barkeep pours their drinks in front of them... Well, it is sort of a drink, though somehow sounded like the sort of trick you'd play on grokels who were looking for an 'authentic Chult' experience and not likely to come back. With his attention firmly on the drink, and consciously avoiding the thought that this might be for sipping, the leporine grabs his cup and declares "Bottoms up, eggs down!" as he tilts his head back with the beverage, aiming to pour it down his throat rather than drink the vile looking stuff. As the fish eggs slide across his tongue - he'd really been trying to avoid that - his throat contracts slightly and there is a moment where he starts to heave. Fortunately for those in the immediate proximity, the eggs finish their journey into his gullet and Laderan can take a calming breath rather than the messier alternative.
The taste was on a wholly different level to what Laderan was uses to, it was a little sweet, with one giant dino foot of a kick that set his innards ablaze seeming to burn from his stomach back down the entry route, and culminating in a pleasant, tingly warmth on his tongue. Maybe Ashtear could make more sense of it, she seemed keen on working out different flavours and how they worked together. If the earlier Tej was anything to go by, Merrick would be most of the way through the barkeep's pitcher before they left.. Watching the other two, he waita for them to take a swig. "That'll get your attention alright! So, Merrick, with a little more of that liquid strength in you, what do you think your chances are in a fist fight with Taban?"
As Oranir addresses the man, Sayax keeps watch. The men disturbed him and now he was looking out for their return as well as any other scallywags out there. Otherwise he takes in the atmosphere of the temple, relishing being inside one once again - it had been too long. Looking back to the priest and his declaration that their arrival has been foreseen, he feels a bit skeptical about the whole thing.
Grandfather Zitembe chuckles and pats Oranir's shoulder. "Indeed! The Merchant Princes hire Zhentarim guards to defend the city walls and Zhentarim mercenaries to protect hunting, lumbering, and mining operations in the jungle and foothills. They are everywhere it seems. And as though I have not enough things on my mind, bah! But this death curse, you say? Why, why should it have anything to do with Chult? Ours is a holy land enriched by the grace of the gods. How could such a thing exist here?"
Sayax's keen eyes follow the Zhentarim as they exit the temple and seem to disappear into the crowd in the street.
Ashtear, Laderan, Merrick:
When Laderan starts to heave, the barkeep cackles and picks up a piece of chalk, turning to a dusty old chalkboard filled with a series of tally marks. After Laderan manages to gulp down the fishjack, she frowns with obvious disappointment and puts the chalk down. "Ya better be really good," she says ominously, sizing up you newcomers. "Taban sure is."
Oranir smiles, "I do not put in question the blessings of your land, Grandfather. I've seen the jungles from afar, and I admire their beauty greatly despite the dangers I've heard lie inside." the elf follows Sayax's sight to the entrance and around, lowering his voice, "However, we, along with those who Harp at Twilight, have recently taken part in the assault on a lich's doom. Long story that one, but the information we gathered in there assured us that the souls of the dead of this Material Plane are being swallowed by something hidden in the jungles of Chult. Something the lich herself called the Soulmonger. That is why we came to your temple, seeking whatever blessings and insight you might have."
As Laderan looks to Merrick with his question about a potential brawl, he sees the Firbolg staring at the drink up and fishing out some of the roe. He scoops some of the caviar out with his index finger and rubs it between his thumb. "Erm... How do you think they get these bubbles to, ummm... not pop?"he asks quizzically before realizing the stares from the others and the barkeep. Merrick gives an embarrassed nod, and in an effort to try and fit in, he scoops the rest of the "bubbles" off of the top of the drink and onto the plate of bacon and eggs before downing the drink in one gulp.
He coughs almost instantly as his eyes water from the pungent flavor. The taste of fermented fish works it way all up through his nostrils before subsiding with a somewhat pleasant and savory flavor lingering in his throat. If he had any advice to give the barkeep, he thought, it would be that the aftertaste would benefit from some sort of salty addition to the flavor profile to mellow out the extreme shock of the fish upfront. Maybe he'll let her know later of his recommendation.
He wipes his eyes and picks up a piece of the ankylosaur bacon. Taking a bite to clean his palette, he regards Laderan's question, "Erm... well, I think I can fight pretty well considering..."Not wanting to draw attention by speaking of their previous experience aloud, Merrick begins to pantomime the scenario instead. He sways back and forth to represent the boat ride to the tower, tilts his head to one side and silently groans to represent the ghouls, and caps off the performance with a few quick and restrained martial arts blows. He raises his eyebrows proudly towards Laderan and Ashtear to assess whether they understand what he's referring to.
He sees both Laderan and Ashtear look between him and Taban, and the realization of what the leporine intended suddenly dawned on the Firbolg. Merrick's eyes go wide as he asks in a now cracking voice, "Erm... Are you sure we do not want to... Maybe we can ummm... would it not be better to, uhhh... speak with him first?"
Grandfather Zitembe strokes his great, gray beard, his dark eyes narrowed in thought. "A lich! Liches are devious creatures. I would not be surprised if this lich has lied to you, and the source of trouble is on the other end of Faerun. Nonetheless, it is worthy of our contemplation. I will consult the guides. But, this will take time. Return to me here tomorrow at this time, and I will tell you what I have learned."
Oranir shrugs, "I'd say the methods and circumstances under which this information was taken from the lich were... reliable. None speak truer words than those fearing for their lives... or unlives. Our sponsor seems inclined to put her chips in that bet, and she does have a lot to lose herself." the elf sighs and tries a smile to soften the tone, "Still, what better time to find out that is not the case than before venturing into the jungle for a fruitless quest, eh?" bowing respectfully once again, he continues "We thank you in advance, Grandfather. Regardless of what you see in the future for us, I'm sure we can try to pull some strings with the friends of our sponsor and arrange for some support to your temple. We will return tomorrow." and turns and waits for the others to head out.
"Lovely, seems like we've got a lot done for a day. Vladimir, you wanted to check other lodging for the night, I believe?"
Oranir's eyebrow is still up and a puzzled but interested look comes across his features, nevertheless he produces his crumpled stained parchment and quill once again, taking notes "Mbala... Orolunga... I hope I'm spelling those right..." he keeps the item at the ready as he takes a step to approach Eshek as he recovers, "Eshek? A pleasure, my friend, hope you are able to catch your breath for a few questions?" followed by an awkward and creepy smile, "You say you just had to find someone who looked like Vladimir here, since you woke up? Do you feel anything else about that? Does it happen often? These places... have you been to them? Do you know a man by the name of..." he checks his notes briefly, "Grandfather Zitembe? We may want to have a word with him... and maybe you as well."
Art Portfolio
Vladimir supports Eshek around the shoulder, saying, “Let’s get you back to the temple. What do you know about Camp Vengeance?”
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
Oranir, Sayax, Vladimir:
Eshek shrugs helplessly. "I do not know. I cannot remember. I--I feel alright now, though. I cannot say this has ever happened before. And no, I have never been to Mbala or Camp Vengeance. I have only spoken with others who tell about them. I know that the Order of the Gauntlet first established a base camp at Camp Righteous, on the River Soshenstar to the southwest. They set up around an ancient Chultan shrine, which local guides call the House of the Crocodile. But their defenses were too weak, and just a couple of months ago they were overrun by undead swarms from the jungle. Nearly everyone was killed. Their new camp is called Camp Vengeance, further downstream from the first."
"Grandfather Zitembe! Yes! He is head priest of our Temple to Great Savras. Most favored by Savras in all of Chult! He is inside the temple, here..."
"
Vladimir responds, “Thank you for the information; it is very valuable to us. Now let’s get you in the shade. I’m glad you are feeling better, but I don’t want you to faint again.” He leads Eshek to the temple he indicated, offering Eshek some water as well.
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
Oranir puts away his quill and parchment, "Brilliant. Let's share in your Grandfather's wisdom, then." he steps in to accompany Vladimir and Eshek, "Let's see what fortune do these diviners have in store for us. I'll wager it involves pain in some form..." he eyes Vladimir for a moment, "... and filth."
Art Portfolio
Oranir, Sayax, Vladimir:
As he leads you into the old but grand temple, Eshek explains. "Savras is a deity devoted to revealing the truth might seem to have a weak draw in a city of merchants, but Savras was widely worshiped in Chult long before the Spellplague. In those years, Savras’s clergy were valued because they could keep tabs on the activities of the inscrutable yuan-ti. Nowadays, the clergy of Savras scries into more mundane matters: portents around business affairs, the outlook for newborn children, and affairs of the heart. Ah, there is Grandfather Zitembe!"
The head priest of the temple, Grandfather Zitembe, is surrounded by three human men. They are in the midst of a heated conversation. One of them holds an enormous ruby, waving it toward Zitembe. "...worth five hundred gold piece, and all we want is Cimber's location! What he's planning... Stodgy old man!" Zitembe is clearly annoyed and shoos the men away. One looks as though he might draw a weapon on the old priest but, spying your group standing nearby, hesitates, turns on his heel, and storms away. All three bear scowls on their faces. Zitembe looks relieved. "Ah, Eshek. Wonderful timing, as predicted! How may Grandfather Zitembe help?"
As Merrick and the others approach the Sticky Mermaid, Merrick asks for yet another moment in private as he steps behind some nearby crates amid the bustle of the area. He clasps and rubs his hands together, pinches his nose, pops his ears, and gives a short whistle as he feels his senses heighten to perceive the unperceivable. His eyesight becomes every so slightly milky, giving him the familiar indication that he is now detecting magic.
He comes back from behind the crates with a red face and grin, then struts with somewhat believable swagger to the interior of the pub. He let's his eyes adjust to the dimmer light from outside and looks around for anything that may be amiss.
Perception check for anything in general that seems dangerous or out of the ordinary in this room: 18 // Passive Score = 15
Afterwards, he spots the individual that K'lahu described and notes their impressive physique. Not sure yet of an overall plan, he casually strides over to the barkeep. "Erm... Hullo friend tavern master." He takes some coins and tries to jingle them in a manner that Laderan had done earlier, but ends up dropping them onto the ground. He bend over and scoops then back into his hands before standing back up to regard the barkeep with an embarassed grin.
"What's are you, ummm... serving that's good?"
As they walk up to the priest and watch as the others scramble away, a small growl escapes from Sayax's lips, but he is silent by the time they reach the man. "Grandfather Zitembe? Might I ask, who were those men? Are you in any sort of danger? Will they return once we have left you? Please, tell me how I can help." Sayax looks to the head priest, but also keeps looking to the retreating men with a frown on his face. People trying to shake down a head priest? What is going on in Chult? This will not do!
Oranir approaches and bows respectfully to the elder man, serenely commening on something Eshek spoke as they entered the temple "And still I'd value a truth revealed more than anything I might find in the pockets of these princes." he sneers at the last word. "Grandfather Zitembe. I assume we haven't interrupted anything important." the elf smirks, "We've recently arrived, as it may seem obvious, and already we've heard of your wisdom on two occasions."
Art Portfolio
On the walk over to Executioner's row, Laderan shares the information he obtained from the bookie. "... So I think we have a few questions to hit Wakanga with now. From the sounds of it, the merchant princes are so deeply intertwined with the races that maybe these upsets are intended to hurt the princes. We should see what he knows about the trainer and jockey as well, they both seem likely to benefit from their horse... Err dinosaur, winning." For a moment he was back in the Feywild, remembering when he had run the bookie scam, taking people's wagers for the races, winning some, losing some. Though he always dealt in hard coin, none of this collecting coin after the race. Then at the last race of the day he'd offer favourable odds against the front runners and take in a wealth of bets before the race started; of course as soon as the race began so to did Laderan's exit strategy. He'd gotten away with that one twice, the problem was that it relied on taking money from a lot of people, which meant that you had to get your face far, far away from many sets of eyes.
His reverie fades as the Sticky Mermaid comes into view. Laderan wanders in with Merrick and Ashtear, his ears twitching this way and that as he listens to the familiar sound of tavern murmurs. So many things about this city still calm him, and the horrible experience of Baldurs Gate seems only a fleeting memory. Maybe, just maybe the genie didn't screw him quite as vadly as he'd first thought... Then he looked at the hulking figure which they were about to ask for payment from. No, Laderan definitely got a raw deal.
Helping Merrick to pick up some of the coins, Laderan verbally sweeps in with the barkeep - Merrick was certainly useful for grabbing attention, the poor fellow just needed some practise at talking to people, especially when he wanted something. The big firbolg was a gentle soul inside and it seemed like he was genuinely worried about other people's opi ions of him... Laderan filed that away for later. "By 'good' my polite friend here means we'll take three cold alcoholic drinks and a plate of something we can share between three. If you've got dinosaur on the menu, our friend would love to try some?" He gestures to Ashtear indicating their third. "Say, is that big fella Taban? Didn't he used to fight in the coliseum?"
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
"Preferably smaller chunks of dino, or a large steak. I'll toss in a few to the coffer of group snackages. I'd like a variety of preperations for sampling." Ashtear similiarly makes a follow up request to Laderan's order. Finidng different preperations and how they taste is apt considering she may well be cooking some of these creatures in the not distant future.
Oranir, Sayax, Vladimir:
Grandfather Zitembe smiles. "Greetings visitors. Of course your arrival has been foreseen! That? No, nothing important. Just riffraff from the Zhentarim come to pester me with their perpetual quest for personal gain. How can I assist you?"
Ashtear, Laderan, Merrick:
"Fishjack!" bellows the barkeep, who sports an eyepatch over her left eye. "A particularly potent spirit you'll find only here. Two copper each! " The barkeep places three well-used cups before her and from a large pitcher pours a murkey, astringent spirit garnished with fermented fish eggs. "Eggs of Soshenstar River koi!" she says proudly. "Brace yourselves!"
"As for meat, I got ankylosaur bacon and salted egg." She slams a plate down and tops it with huge slabs of cured dino bacon and an enormous egg the size of a purse. "Dino egg! Hah! Ya know that don't come easy." She points to her eyepatch, which has moved over to the right eye. "5 silver for the food."
She glances over toward the hulking figure. "Aye, it is. Looking for an autograph?"
Oranir's features twist sligthly at the mention, "Of course the black network would extend its muddy fingers all the way here, we have our fair share of experience with them on the borders of Cormanthor. Usually not the most pleasant folk to deal with, I must say, even though it's hard to deny their effectiveness." he shakes his head and sighs as he takes another step forward, "Grandfather, me and my companions here have come from Baldur's Gate. Although our personal quests initially had varied reasons, our purpose united after a peculiar chain of events around this... Death Curse, with which I'm sure you are familiar. Being direct, we have evidence to believe that the root of that lies within the jungles of Chult and we came here to find it." he motions to Eshek and Vladimir, "We initially came here to seek some divine guidance on our quest, but it seems it found its way to us first? In essence, we would greatly appreciate any counsel you could offer us in this matter... Have you heard of this Soulmonger? Or of anyone else who might have?"
Art Portfolio
Laderan glances over to the former gladiator as the barkeep pours their drinks in front of them... Well, it is sort of a drink, though somehow sounded like the sort of trick you'd play on grokels who were looking for an 'authentic Chult' experience and not likely to come back. With his attention firmly on the drink, and consciously avoiding the thought that this might be for sipping, the leporine grabs his cup and declares "Bottoms up, eggs down!" as he tilts his head back with the beverage, aiming to pour it down his throat rather than drink the vile looking stuff. As the fish eggs slide across his tongue - he'd really been trying to avoid that - his throat contracts slightly and there is a moment where he starts to heave. Fortunately for those in the immediate proximity, the eggs finish their journey into his gullet and Laderan can take a calming breath rather than the messier alternative.
The taste was on a wholly different level to what Laderan was uses to, it was a little sweet, with one giant dino foot of a kick that set his innards ablaze seeming to burn from his stomach back down the entry route, and culminating in a pleasant, tingly warmth on his tongue. Maybe Ashtear could make more sense of it, she seemed keen on working out different flavours and how they worked together. If the earlier Tej was anything to go by, Merrick would be most of the way through the barkeep's pitcher before they left.. Watching the other two, he waita for them to take a swig. "That'll get your attention alright! So, Merrick, with a little more of that liquid strength in you, what do you think your chances are in a fist fight with Taban?"
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
As Oranir addresses the man, Sayax keeps watch. The men disturbed him and now he was looking out for their return as well as any other scallywags out there. Otherwise he takes in the atmosphere of the temple, relishing being inside one once again - it had been too long. Looking back to the priest and his declaration that their arrival has been foreseen, he feels a bit skeptical about the whole thing.
Oranir, Sayax, Vladimir:
Grandfather Zitembe chuckles and pats Oranir's shoulder. "Indeed! The Merchant Princes hire Zhentarim guards to defend the city walls and Zhentarim mercenaries to protect hunting, lumbering, and mining operations in the jungle and foothills. They are everywhere it seems. And as though I have not enough things on my mind, bah! But this death curse, you say? Why, why should it have anything to do with Chult? Ours is a holy land enriched by the grace of the gods. How could such a thing exist here?"
Sayax's keen eyes follow the Zhentarim as they exit the temple and seem to disappear into the crowd in the street.
Ashtear, Laderan, Merrick:
When Laderan starts to heave, the barkeep cackles and picks up a piece of chalk, turning to a dusty old chalkboard filled with a series of tally marks. After Laderan manages to gulp down the fishjack, she frowns with obvious disappointment and puts the chalk down. "Ya better be really good," she says ominously, sizing up you newcomers. "Taban sure is."
Oranir smiles, "I do not put in question the blessings of your land, Grandfather. I've seen the jungles from afar, and I admire their beauty greatly despite the dangers I've heard lie inside." the elf follows Sayax's sight to the entrance and around, lowering his voice, "However, we, along with those who Harp at Twilight, have recently taken part in the assault on a lich's doom. Long story that one, but the information we gathered in there assured us that the souls of the dead of this Material Plane are being swallowed by something hidden in the jungles of Chult. Something the lich herself called the Soulmonger. That is why we came to your temple, seeking whatever blessings and insight you might have."
Art Portfolio
As Laderan looks to Merrick with his question about a potential brawl, he sees the Firbolg staring at the drink up and fishing out some of the roe. He scoops some of the caviar out with his index finger and rubs it between his thumb. "Erm... How do you think they get these bubbles to, ummm... not pop?" he asks quizzically before realizing the stares from the others and the barkeep. Merrick gives an embarrassed nod, and in an effort to try and fit in, he scoops the rest of the "bubbles" off of the top of the drink and onto the plate of bacon and eggs before downing the drink in one gulp.
He coughs almost instantly as his eyes water from the pungent flavor. The taste of fermented fish works it way all up through his nostrils before subsiding with a somewhat pleasant and savory flavor lingering in his throat. If he had any advice to give the barkeep, he thought, it would be that the aftertaste would benefit from some sort of salty addition to the flavor profile to mellow out the extreme shock of the fish upfront. Maybe he'll let her know later of his recommendation.
He wipes his eyes and picks up a piece of the ankylosaur bacon. Taking a bite to clean his palette, he regards Laderan's question, "Erm... well, I think I can fight pretty well considering..." Not wanting to draw attention by speaking of their previous experience aloud, Merrick begins to pantomime the scenario instead. He sways back and forth to represent the boat ride to the tower, tilts his head to one side and silently groans to represent the ghouls, and caps off the performance with a few quick and restrained martial arts blows. He raises his eyebrows proudly towards Laderan and Ashtear to assess whether they understand what he's referring to.
He sees both Laderan and Ashtear look between him and Taban, and the realization of what the leporine intended suddenly dawned on the Firbolg. Merrick's eyes go wide as he asks in a now cracking voice, "Erm... Are you sure we do not want to... Maybe we can ummm... would it not be better to, uhhh... speak with him first?"
Oranir, Sayax, Vladimir:
Grandfather Zitembe strokes his great, gray beard, his dark eyes narrowed in thought. "A lich! Liches are devious creatures. I would not be surprised if this lich has lied to you, and the source of trouble is on the other end of Faerun. Nonetheless, it is worthy of our contemplation. I will consult the guides. But, this will take time. Return to me here tomorrow at this time, and I will tell you what I have learned."
Oranir shrugs, "I'd say the methods and circumstances under which this information was taken from the lich were... reliable. None speak truer words than those fearing for their lives... or unlives. Our sponsor seems inclined to put her chips in that bet, and she does have a lot to lose herself." the elf sighs and tries a smile to soften the tone, "Still, what better time to find out that is not the case than before venturing into the jungle for a fruitless quest, eh?" bowing respectfully once again, he continues "We thank you in advance, Grandfather. Regardless of what you see in the future for us, I'm sure we can try to pull some strings with the friends of our sponsor and arrange for some support to your temple. We will return tomorrow." and turns and waits for the others to head out.
"Lovely, seems like we've got a lot done for a day. Vladimir, you wanted to check other lodging for the night, I believe?"
Art Portfolio