While the men glower quite a bit, and stand with the threatening stance and bluster of typical bullies, none of them make any move to actually harass Kestrell. The observant navigator notices that none of the men are armoured or even armed, tiny belt knives aside. The one who leans in to whisper to his friend does so in plain view of the lip reading bard,'
"What the **** does he want? Bastards got us kicked from the Pirate and now they come here? Brannin will spit foam if he sees them."
'Kestrell, standing awkwardly in the street, makes a split second decision. Not wanting potential enemies at his back, he decides to confront the four thugs and walks right up to them and addresses the group:'
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hold no ill will towards you. Let me buy you a round of ale, and if there be no racist talk perhaps we can let old quarrels be buried? I am here on ships business. The Shore Sharks business. I'll take care of that and then be on my way." Persuasion: 21
[OOC]: If Kestrell sees a bar wench outside, he will motion to her and order 5 ales, without waiting for a response from the thugs. If not, he will gauge their response and if it looks favorable, say: "Very well, how do we order a pint around here?" Insight on the thugs reaction to his offer, and if they want to rumble right now, or may be happy with the proffered ale: 6
The one who whispered to his friend sneers at Kestrell's approach and words. Pushing his chest out as his lip curls up in a snarl, he seems about to say something antagonistic when the other three all nod their heads as one, brandishing their apparently empty tankards as the third one says,'
"Aye, we ain't got no problem with ye, nor with yer ship, Mr. Just refinery workers is all we are, an we don't make enough to be knockin back free drinks. Get over yerself, Brut. And as fer Brannin... he's a mean hearted arrogant son of whore most of the time, though I'd not say it to his face. Besides... didn't that Cover Warden tell him there'd be worse than lashes next time if he caused more trouble? Way I figure it, it's all water under the bridge now, or should be."
The speaker and two of the four lead the way into the tavern, though the man from the fight at the Pirate, Brut you'd assume, just glowers sullenly before eventually following the rest of you into the taproom.
Entering the dingey tavern, you note the lack of clean light, with oiley, smoke spewing torches and an equally smokey hearth providing heat and illumination. Four large ditry wooden tables grace the taproom, with a small bar in one corner. A number of doors lead off from the small taproom, which Kestrell estimates at barely a quarter the size of the Pirates. Regardless, the room is quite packed, with no completely empty tables, and only two free stools at the bar. While the navigator sees no waitresses, he does note three large, rough looking human men in aprons, one tending the hearth, one serving a dwarf at the bar and the third, older and even larger man, hoisting casks up onto a shelf behind the bar. Many of the drinkers in the room are cloaked, some have their cowls up and more than a few heads turn at Kestrell's entrance.
As the cocky bard calls out for drinks, the large man at the bar, who has a number of tatToos up one arm and a small scar below his left eye calls back,'
"You come to the bar and ******* order one... same as everybody else round here."
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
"Aye, we ain't got no problem with ye, nor with yer ship, Mr. Just refinery workers is all we are, an we don't make enough to be knockin back free drinks. Get over yerself, Brut. And as fer Brannin... he's a mean hearted arrogant son of whore most of the time, though I'd not say it to his face. Besides... didn't that Cover Warden tell him there'd be worse than lashes next time if he caused more trouble? Way I figure it, it's all water under the bridge now, or should be."
As the cocky bard calls out for drinks, the large man at the bar, who has a number of tatToos up one arm and a small scar below his left eye calls back,'
"You come to the bar and ******* order one... same as everybody else round here."
'Kestrell squints at the dim light as they enter the tavern, and sneezes after a couple of breaths of the smoky air. Kestrell glances around at the heads that turn to look at him, and then goes up to the bartender.'
"Who said anything about one, barkeep? I'll take five ales."
'Receiving the ales, Kestrell hands them to the four men, then raises his mug:' "To wide bridges and deep water under those bridges."
Orlys nods to E'strue and Drannick's questions. "As for what I've done, I been on the sea for twenty years, I can honestly say I'll not remember all that has happened before me eyes. I've ended lives, and stood shoulder to shoulder with murderers at the orders of masters or captains. But I ken tell ye, never have I taken a life what did cower or run. I've not killed in cold blood, though I've seen it done."
"T'were this last crew what set me on the path to ye. I'd been without a berth in Brownbones a while, when word reached me of a ship lookin' ta replace crew. It turned out to be the Shoalheart, Captain Sand's galley. I've not seen a more cruel pirate on all me life, les'n it be her first mate, but by then, there was no backing out. I'd not served but a short time, and with a crew o' blackhearts like I never did see, when we dropped anchor by Rumbottom, and were sent ashore. I was ta be the muscle, nothin' new to me that. But it went south, what with the damned forest coming alive, and the plants. I and another was backed into a cave, when the devil spiders got us. I've no idea how long I hung there before yer crew found me."
"As I said, I had some time ta reflect on me life, in them spiders' larder. I'll not dip what I done in sugar, no, but it is time ta make me dead mam think better o' me when we meet again."
Orlys' continuing admittance to his days of reaving and killing as a pirate brings grimaces from the three officers, though the Islander woman doesn't seem to bat an eyelid. However, the bugbear's continuing disclosure also seems to elicit nods of approval from both the first mate and the bosun, though the young captain doesn't seem to necessarily share this appreciation.
At the mention of Brownbones, small leather clad Islander woman with the piercings pipes up in a voice half cat's purr and half bird's chirp, saying,'
"Ha! Knew that I'd seen you before. The Jollie Brollie right? You were bouncin' heads for ol' Billey. That's where I layed eyes on you. Sorry, Bugsy... do continue."
When Orlys details his being taken aboard the ship and crew of Captain Sand, the bosun just shakes his head as though in wonder, while first mate E'strue actually shows a bit of suprise, going so far as to say,'
"Well, well, Orlys. Ye leave not one, but two captains of the Accord in yer wake it would seem. That slaver scum Brand is known in these waters, one of the few of that dread brotherhood to sail this far South or near the mainland. Captain Sand I'd heard prey'd mostly on ships around the Pins, the Teeth or the smaller island chains North and West of here, though I suppose that she like the others of that foul fellowship sail where they will. That ye've actually served aboard the Shoalheart... well, perhaps you might be of use to us after all.
An fer what it's worth, I find myself strangely believing yer tale of remorse... an yer lust fer revenge. Though of course, that might not matter much, fer the very thing that might make ye of use to us, will likely doom ye before the Cove Warden come the 'morrow."
Looking the bugbear square in the eye for a few heartbeats in a searching, but non-blustering or threatening fashion, the blue-eyed mate with the honestly earned crows feet finally turns to the captain and mutters something unintelligable to him as they step to one side. Orlys sees the back of the captains head shaking in the negative, even as the first mate pats his shoulder in a familiar fashion and continues to whisper into his ear.
As that conversation is taking place, the Islander woman is now sitting down on a crate, sharpening one of her daggers with a whetstone, openly grinning at the bugbear as she does so, while the dwarven bosun is still studying the gnarled goblinoid as though looking for something. Finally he says to Orlys as he apparently awaits the captain and first mate's decision on the matter,'
"Yer a curiosity to me, pirate. A life of bloody mayhem behind you... and all of a sudden ye seen the light, eh? Not that I'm callin ye a liar or nothin... well, not yet anyway. But it does seem a might covenient, though I suppose ye didn't have to be here at the end of the day... or did ye? Ye say ye came ashore with yer shipmates and got trapped. Mightn't yer crew an captain both be lookin for ye even now?"
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D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
'Kestrell squints at the dim light as they enter the tavern, and sneezes after a couple of breaths of the smoky air. Kestrell glances around at the heads that turn to look at him, and then goes up to the bartender.'
"Who said anything about one, barkeep? I'll take five ales."
'Receiving the ales, Kestrell hands them to the four men, then raises his mug:' "To wide bridges and deep water under those bridges."
As Kestrell and the four refinery workers approach the bar, another blunt face, familiar from the fight at the Pirate, that is sitting at one of the four tables looks up and noticing the bard with the group, calls to the one called Brut,'
"Crikey, Brut. You're wandering in with one the them after what happened to Gaut and Dank? You best not let Brannin catch you."
At the bar, the large man in the apron, who is easily six foot six inches in height and with a barrel chested frame to match, finishes serving the dwarf (who wears a leather cap with a small rack of stag antlers attached and smokes from a long, grey bone pipe), and nods at Kestrell's request for five ales, merely giving the navigator a steady once over before replying,'
"Fair enough. That'll be two silver."
As he pours and hands the drinks over the much gouged counter, the even larger man behind him finishes stacking casks and turns around. Despite the man's prodigious gut, he looks the sort who would gleefully wrestle bears in his spare time. A long, dropping handlebar mustache bisects a blunt face with a somewhat squashed and likely oft-broken nose. The man's cold grey-blue eyes glimmer over the puffs of pungent smoke arising from the thick cigar in his mouth. This larger man's resemblence to the two younger but almost equally large tavern workers looks to striking to be coincidental. As the dwarf moves to open a door which lets even more streams of smoke into the taproom, as well as the pungent smells of various tabaccos, the huge man calls out,'
"Make sure you save me a pouch of that Brokenhill, Harrl. Or i'll call your tab due, you rodent hunter!"
As Kestrell hands out the drinks and proposes a toast, all four men accept the drinks, but only three clank mugs with the navigator, while the one called Brut goes and sits with the man who'd called out to him a moment ago. Brut has a somewhat chastined and guilty look on his face.
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D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
'Kestrell pays the bartender three silver and tells him to "Keep the change."'.
After they clank mugs, Kestrell asks the three remaining men: "Why was that fellow, the dwoarf, wearing a hat with antlers on it? Does that have a special significance?"
Remembering the quarter masters words about visiting Horgoth's for supplies, Vaken walks South past both docked ships and small scatterings of sailors, most of whom seem either pleased at being newly into shore or excited at the thought of a pending voyage. The moutain born goliath had already thought the town exotic and strange with its relative throngs of people, but addition of yet more accents, colourful attire and unfamiliar faces along the wharf both interests and discomforts the usually quiet giantkin.
Reaching a long wharehouse like building, with an equally long pot-plant bedecked porch built on the front and weather faded-blue tarpolin awning running the length of the porch overhead, Vaken looks up at a colourfully painted sign in the shape of a galleon perched incogruously atop a stand of trees. The bold yellow and red lettering on the sign reads 'Horgoth's Stores and Salvage'. The porch is set-up with shelves and stands which are loaded with goods of all description - mostly pratical useful gear and equipment as might be useful to sailors, farmers, travellers and such, but also a number of curious trinkets and seemingly out-of-place items.
From inside the store you hear a man's deep, but seemingly cheerful voice laughing dismissively at something before countering with a comment that the goliath can't quite make out from the street at the front.
Vaken, knowing his size sometimes makes people uncomfortable, puts a smile on his face and walks into the store. Seeing the source of the deep voice the goliath walks near and waits for the proprietor to finish with his current conversation.
When acknowledged Vaken nods his head in way of greeting, "The name is Vaken and I'm the cook for the Shore Shark. I'd like to pick up a variety of spices and, if you have it, a barrel of coffee beans. Specifically, I'm looking for thyme, sage, rosemary, and black pepper. If you have it I'd also be interested in some mace and white pepper. Oh, and some cream to serve along with the coffee."
'Kestrell pays the bartender three silver and tells him to "Keep the change."'.
After they clank mugs, Kestrell asks the three remaining men: "Why was that fellow, the dwoarf, wearing a hat with antlers on it? Does that have a special significance?"
The large barman merely gives Kestrell a brief nod of acknowledgement at the tip, then turns to serve a lone cloaked figure who got up from the table behind the bard and his new drinking chums.
The man who had told Brut to relax and who had lead the others into the tavern with Kestrell, who is sightly older and shorter than the other two and has short curly red hair, cheers' with the bard, then after taking a drink of the strong, frothy ale says,'
"Ol' Harll? He's been trackin an huntin in these parts for before me dad and maybe me dad's dad was workin the refinery. The antlers? Can't rightly say, though he's been wearin 'em long as I can remember. I know he's takin down bigger game, so I doubt its a trophy hat. Fact is, half of them mounted heads in the smokin room are probably there on account of him.
So you're crewin on that ship that's been docked here for the last ten day or so, eh? What's that turnin out like?"
[OOC] Kestrell can make a insight check DC15 and read the spoiler below on a success:
To the trained bard who always had a knack for reading a room, some things in Crate readily become apparent. The three men he's drinking with seem genuine content to share a beer with the sailor. Brut who is now sitting and grumbling at a nearby table with another of the survivors of the tavern fight in the Pirate, while not being friendly towards Kestrell, seems like he wants no part of any further hostility. The barman is certainly less talkative and welcoming than the bard is used to, which Kestrell figures indicates that this is mainly a place for locals who soley drink here, or for outsiders who come for the particular 'charms' of the place. And the cloaked figure who grabs his drink from the bar with barely a word, before silently shuffling back to his table and chair by one of the dirty windows is clearly keeping a low profile.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
A'ro just stands back up and nods"Thanks for the information - may be a little light but if there was heavier information may have been more gold."he says smiling as he looks at the dwarf holding up two gold pieces"Sure that's all you know. before I head off?"
Vaken, knowing his size sometimes makes people uncomfortable, puts a smile on his face and walks into the store. Seeing the source of the deep voice the goliath walks near and waits for the proprietor to finish with his current conversation.
When acknowledged Vaken nods his head in way of greeting, "The name is Vaken and I'm the cook for the Shore Shark. I'd like to pick up a variety of spices and, if you have it, a barrel of coffee beans. Specifically, I'm looking for thyme, sage, rosemary, and black pepper. If you have it I'd also be interested in some mace and white pepper. Oh, and some cream to serve along with the coffee."
Walking up onto the porch and then into the stores and salvage shop beyond, Vaken notices two sticks of incense burning near the door... sandalwood, if the goliath is not mistaken. The next thing the cook spots is the large, multi-coloured stained glass panel set into the middle of the shop's ceiling, which even in the dimming late afternoon light, casts a kaleidoscope of shifting colours across the tables, stands and shelves the circle and run through the middle of the shop. Just past the entryway to the left runs a long counter made of three parallel and tightly-adjacent ships rails, each of a wood of different hue and grain, giving the counter a bumpy, textured character. A number of shelves run the length of the shop behind the bar, stacked with bottles, jars, boxes, pouches and other containers, some of which obviously contain foodstuff and spice samples to the food-savy goliath.
Standing behind the counter is the proprietor, Horgoth - a lanky human male with thick brown mutton chops and a balding pate, a friendly smile, and who wears an unusual patchwork vest made of stitched squares of different coloured cloth and fabrics. Horgoth is speaking with gesticulating hands to the flambouyantly dressed moonelf that you noticed outside of Boomptin's when you first re-entered Rumbottom. Standing attentively at the moonelf's side is the bald, drably dressed man of unfamiliar features, who again appears to be in the process of calmly haggling for something on behalf of the fine featured, fancily dressed elven gentleman. The item in question on the counter before the three men appears to be a tiny box made of solid smokey quartz.
Horgoth, just finishing his current business, smiles at Vaken and raises one ring bedecked hand in the goliath's direction in a forestalling gesture, saying,'
"A good evening to you, Vaken. Daegrin mentioned that you might be by, so feel free to look around while I finish up with these fine gentlemen. Spices and herbs I have aplenty, so I'm sure to be able to be of assistance shortly. Won't be but a few moments!"
As the proprietor goes back to enthusiastically haggling with the proxy negotiator opposite him, Vaken gets the distinct feeling that here is a man who loves the back and forth of barter... and is rather adept at it.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
A'ro just stands back up and nods"Thanks for the information - may be a little light but if there was heavier information may have been more gold."he says smiling as he looks at the dwarf holding up two gold pieces"Sure that's all you know. before I head off?"
The sly dwarf grins and reaches for the coins as he whispers in what is supposed to be a conspiratorial tone,'
"Now you're talking, Sailor. Well for some real coin like that, I can tell you that the one who got the chop after getting caught being for theft is being called Lefty now, but the leader's name is Nelson. Has five or six friends of his that came North with him. Still don't know if they're the ones responsible for these missing ships goods, but they're holding up... or down rather, in one of Barney's basement rooms. I wouldn't go causing any trouble in there neither - Barney and his two boys Buck and Earl don't much care for trouble makers.
Besides, from what I hear, both that old sly fox who runs the Pirate and Mrs. Sarta Danferit, the refinery manager, frequent the place some, and I wouldn't want to make an enemy of either of them, I'll tell you that for nothing... well, for two gold anyway. Ha!"
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
"Ol' Harll? He's been trackin an huntin in these parts for before me dad and maybe me dad's dad was workin the refinery. The antlers? Can't rightly say, though he's been wearin 'em long as I can remember. I know he's takin down bigger game, so I doubt its a trophy hat. Fact is, half of them mounted heads in the smokin room are probably there on account of him.
So you're crewin on that ship that's been docked here for the last ten day or so, eh? What's that turnin out like?"
"A hunter, huh? Maybe the antlers help him blend into the woods."
"Yep, the Shore Shark. I actually just started, and we haven't set sail yet, still getting supplies together and tying up loose ends. The captain and first officer are starting out just fine, they seem decent enough. And the crew is pretty new. We actually are still looking for a few crew members, if you know anybody? Or do you mostly know refinery folks. You said your dad and your grandpa worked at the refinery? That's some history right there."
'While they are talking, Kestrell casually surveys the room, looking to see if anyone takes particular notice in him and his mention of the Shore Shark.' Perception: 13
A'ro just smirks at the further information as he tosses the dwarf the two gold "That's worth money. Thanks mate." he says as he begins to walk off lifting up the hood of his shirt.
"A hunter, huh? Maybe the antlers help him blend into the woods."
"Yep, the Shore Shark. I actually just started, and we haven't set sail yet, still getting supplies together and tying up loose ends. The captain and first officer are starting out just fine, they seem decent enough. And the crew is pretty new. We actually are still looking for a few crew members, if you know anybody? Or do you mostly know refinery folks. You said your dad and your grandpa worked at the refinery? That's some history right there."
'While they are talking, Kestrell casually surveys the room, looking to see if anyone takes particular notice in him and his mention of the Shore Shark.' Perception: 21
Two of the men with the guy you've been talking to slap him on the back, with one saying,'
"What about you, Klain? You're strong enough and complain enough about conditions at the refinery. Maybe you should give the sailor's life a heave?"
The man called Klain just shakes his head as he drains the last of the ale from his tankard, replying,'
"Nah. Not me, lads. Nothing against the sea or those who sail it, but this fellow has the right of it. My family's got roots at that refinery. We're rum brewers three generations deep. That ain't for changing on my watch... no matter how much I complain about the way things are run these days.
Sorry... What was your name, friend? Regardless, I don't know anyone of the top of my head who might want to ship out, but I suppose that you might find someone here, at the Pirate maybe, or perhaps even over at Alice's place - The Apple Cart."
Looking around the Crate's taproom, Kestrell notes the cloaked and cowled figure sitting back down at the table behind him... and for a moment the man's cloak opens to reveal leather armour, a belt holding weapons and sheaths. The observant bard even catches a glimpse beneath the cowl, spotting unusual features... including a pair of horns atop the furtive man's head.
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D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Seeing the men go inside with Kestrell, Kay creeps closer and circles the building looking for an alternate entrance, or a place to peak in and eavesdrop.
Seeing the men go inside with Kestrell, Kay creeps closer and circles the building looking for an alternate entrance, or a place to peak in and eavesdrop.
Moving around the side and down the back of the larger building on the corner, Kay eventually crosses a small alley that stinks of old piss and fresher vomit the runs between the two buildings, before she continues along the palisade wall until she spots what looks like a back door to the tavern. Having encountered one or two windows along the way, the lithe rogue notices a large, apron clad man in what looks like a room next to the taproom. The tall, brawny individual picks up a couple of large glass flagons. The man stops before the rear facing window and glances out. Kay ducks quickly and quietly into the deepening shadows beneath the windowsill... and after a few moments hears the loud footsteps and closing door indicating the man's depature from the room.
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D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
"Yer a curiosity to me, pirate. A life of bloody mayhem behind you... and all of a sudden ye seen the light, eh? Not that I'm callin ye a liar or nothin... well, not yet anyway. But it does seem a might covenient, though I suppose ye didn't have to be here at the end of the day... or did ye? Ye say ye came ashore with yer shipmates and got trapped. Mightn't yer crew an captain both be lookin for ye even now?"
Orlys bows his head, "There be no sudden here. Fightin' is easy, I been doin' it all me life, with no though to the next day. This is hard... facing what I am, an' makin' a change."
"That brigand Sand drives her crew with fear and a knife ta the throat, not loyalty. When me and another managed ta fight our way to the cove where the Shoalheart was to be, she'd already sailed. That was when we tried for the shore, and were taken by the woods and the spiders. That other, I presume she be dead, and the world no poorer for it, she were a cruel and bloodthirsty one. It be her axe I brought aboard, found in those caves by yer own lass, Kay. An if you think me a spy, well, there's naught I ken tell ye that'll change that suspicion. Jus' me actions, if ye let me serve aboard."
He stumbles, and settles to the floor, sitting. "M'sorry, it's been a while since I had any rest."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Orlys bows his head, "There be no sudden here. Fightin' is easy, I been doin' it all me life, with no though to the next day. This is hard... facing what I am, an' makin' a change."
"That brigand Sand drives her crew with fear and a knife ta the throat, not loyalty. When me and another managed ta fight our way to the cove where the Shoalheart was to be, she'd already sailed. That was when we tried for the shore, and were taken by the woods and the spiders. That other, I presume she be dead, and the world no poorer for it, she were a cruel and bloodthirsty one. It be her axe I brought aboard, found in those caves by yer own lass, Kay. An if you think me a spy, well, there's naught I ken tell ye that'll change that suspicion. Jus' me actions, if ye let me serve aboard."
He stumbles, and settles to the floor, sitting. "M'sorry, it's been a while since I had any rest."
Rubbing his grey bearded chin with one hand thoughtfully as Orlys speaks, when the bosun sees just how exhausted and wobbly a state the bugbear is in, he merely nods and motions for young human sailor who had acted as escort to hand the prisoner his waterskin, which the lad reluctantly does as Drannick says,'
"No good ye passin out afore the captain makes his decision. Umberlee knows, as do I, that there ain't no dignity in being rolled into the brig asleep. While I don't yet know the whole truth of it, yer tale sits well with me, Orlys. Another dead pirate, and maybe another reason fer ye to jump ship... as the case may be. I thank ye for sharin it."
Taking a swig of the 'water' from the young lad's waterskin, Orlys is surprised to instead taste the rich, sweet flavour of rum. As the bugbear hands it back, the young sailor rubs his arm self-consciously, and looks down and to the side. The leather clad Islander woman with the piercings continues to watch Orlys with something approaching a pout on her face, before muttering,'
"Well, I didn't expect you to know me, fur bag, but acknowledgement would have been nice. Unless you're a different bugbear to the one I'm thinking of... but somehow I doubt that."
Finally, having conversed for almost two minutes, the captain and first mate return to stand before Orlys, the former with a slight frown marring his fair features, the latter with her usual hard, stoic face on. It is the captain who speaks first, saying with a slight shake of his head,'
"Well, Orlys. I won't lie to you... having heard of your connection to both captains Brand and Sand, I was inclined to refuse your request to join the crew. It is, I still believe, too great a risk for us to take. However, a smart captain knows when to take advice from his senior officers. Drannick, rather surprisingly, had already made his opinion known on the mattter and E'strue here has spent the last few minutes convingly detailing how you might be useful to us... so I am provisionally inclined to grant your request on two conditions.
The first is a practial concern, namely that you still be able to serve as crew following tomorrow's meeting with the Cove Warden. IF you survive and are free to join us, and IF doing so will not in anyway diminish the Shark's ability to carry out her mission... then you'll have my permission to sign on, pending my second requirement;
Which is... I'll require you to swear an oath tomorrow on all that you hold sacred that you'll serve truly and with honour, giving your all... and even your life if need be, at the orders of your officers and to ensure the survival and triumph of the Shore Shark.
How do these terms strike you?"
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D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
Orlys hands back the sailor's "water" skin with nary a comment.
To the dwarf, "I'd gladly takes a rest in the brig, rolled in or otherwise."
To the islander woman, "Aye, that be me then, in the Jollie Brollie. Pardon my not rememberin', it be a rougher town than this, an' there were many heads to bounce," he adds with what he hopes is an acceptable smile.
Orlys looks the Captain in the eye as he delivers his verdict, listening quietly. "Aye, these are honest terms, and a kindness to one such as me. Should the Warden see fit ta let me serve, and leave me able to do so, then I'll gladly swear upon the memory of me mam."
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ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Seeing the man exit the room, Kay will cautiously enter through the back door of the tavern, keeping an eye out for the stolen equipment, entrances to other rooms, alternative exits and the like, ears perked up trying to listen for approaching footsteps.
Sorry... What was your name, friend? Regardless, I don't know anyone of the top of my head who might want to ship out, but I suppose that you might find someone here, at the Pirate maybe, or perhaps even over at Alice's place - The Apple Cart."
Looking around the Crate's taproom, Kestrell notes the cloaked and cowled figure sitting back down at the table behind him... and for a moment the man's cloak opens to reveal leather armour, a belt holding weapons and sheaths. The observant bard even catches a glimpse beneath the cowl, spotting unusual features... including a pair of horns atop the furtive man's head.
"Kestrell Season, recently of the Shore Shark, and I take it you are Klain."
Kestrell offers his hand to Klain then says: "You mentioned that you complain about how the refinery is run these days. Has there been a recent change in ownership or something? And thanks, I'll keep the Apple Cart in mind."
'Kestrell motions to the bartender and asks for four more ales while he listens to Klains reply, using this as an excuse to rotate sideways so his back is not to the cloaked, horned figure and can keep an eye on him better.'
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The one who whispered to his friend sneers at Kestrell's approach and words. Pushing his chest out as his lip curls up in a snarl, he seems about to say something antagonistic when the other three all nod their heads as one, brandishing their apparently empty tankards as the third one says,'
"Aye, we ain't got no problem with ye, nor with yer ship, Mr. Just refinery workers is all we are, an we don't make enough to be knockin back free drinks. Get over yerself, Brut. And as fer Brannin... he's a mean hearted arrogant son of whore most of the time, though I'd not say it to his face. Besides... didn't that Cover Warden tell him there'd be worse than lashes next time if he caused more trouble? Way I figure it, it's all water under the bridge now, or should be."
The speaker and two of the four lead the way into the tavern, though the man from the fight at the Pirate, Brut you'd assume, just glowers sullenly before eventually following the rest of you into the taproom.
Entering the dingey tavern, you note the lack of clean light, with oiley, smoke spewing torches and an equally smokey hearth providing heat and illumination. Four large ditry wooden tables grace the taproom, with a small bar in one corner. A number of doors lead off from the small taproom, which Kestrell estimates at barely a quarter the size of the Pirates. Regardless, the room is quite packed, with no completely empty tables, and only two free stools at the bar. While the navigator sees no waitresses, he does note three large, rough looking human men in aprons, one tending the hearth, one serving a dwarf at the bar and the third, older and even larger man, hoisting casks up onto a shelf behind the bar. Many of the drinkers in the room are cloaked, some have their cowls up and more than a few heads turn at Kestrell's entrance.
As the cocky bard calls out for drinks, the large man at the bar, who has a number of tatToos up one arm and a small scar below his left eye calls back,'
"You come to the bar and ******* order one... same as everybody else round here."
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
"Right you are! Let's get those drinks!"
'Kestrell squints at the dim light as they enter the tavern, and sneezes after a couple of breaths of the smoky air. Kestrell glances around at the heads that turn to look at him, and then goes up to the bartender.'
"Who said anything about one, barkeep? I'll take five ales."
'Receiving the ales, Kestrell hands them to the four men, then raises his mug:' "To wide bridges and deep water under those bridges."
Orlys' continuing admittance to his days of reaving and killing as a pirate brings grimaces from the three officers, though the Islander woman doesn't seem to bat an eyelid. However, the bugbear's continuing disclosure also seems to elicit nods of approval from both the first mate and the bosun, though the young captain doesn't seem to necessarily share this appreciation.
At the mention of Brownbones, small leather clad Islander woman with the piercings pipes up in a voice half cat's purr and half bird's chirp, saying,'
"Ha! Knew that I'd seen you before. The Jollie Brollie right? You were bouncin' heads for ol' Billey. That's where I layed eyes on you. Sorry, Bugsy... do continue."
When Orlys details his being taken aboard the ship and crew of Captain Sand, the bosun just shakes his head as though in wonder, while first mate E'strue actually shows a bit of suprise, going so far as to say,'
"Well, well, Orlys. Ye leave not one, but two captains of the Accord in yer wake it would seem. That slaver scum Brand is known in these waters, one of the few of that dread brotherhood to sail this far South or near the mainland. Captain Sand I'd heard prey'd mostly on ships around the Pins, the Teeth or the smaller island chains North and West of here, though I suppose that she like the others of that foul fellowship sail where they will. That ye've actually served aboard the Shoalheart... well, perhaps you might be of use to us after all.
An fer what it's worth, I find myself strangely believing yer tale of remorse... an yer lust fer revenge. Though of course, that might not matter much, fer the very thing that might make ye of use to us, will likely doom ye before the Cove Warden come the 'morrow."
Looking the bugbear square in the eye for a few heartbeats in a searching, but non-blustering or threatening fashion, the blue-eyed mate with the honestly earned crows feet finally turns to the captain and mutters something unintelligable to him as they step to one side. Orlys sees the back of the captains head shaking in the negative, even as the first mate pats his shoulder in a familiar fashion and continues to whisper into his ear.
As that conversation is taking place, the Islander woman is now sitting down on a crate, sharpening one of her daggers with a whetstone, openly grinning at the bugbear as she does so, while the dwarven bosun is still studying the gnarled goblinoid as though looking for something. Finally he says to Orlys as he apparently awaits the captain and first mate's decision on the matter,'
"Yer a curiosity to me, pirate. A life of bloody mayhem behind you... and all of a sudden ye seen the light, eh? Not that I'm callin ye a liar or nothin... well, not yet anyway. But it does seem a might covenient, though I suppose ye didn't have to be here at the end of the day... or did ye? Ye say ye came ashore with yer shipmates and got trapped. Mightn't yer crew an captain both be lookin for ye even now?"
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
As Kestrell and the four refinery workers approach the bar, another blunt face, familiar from the fight at the Pirate, that is sitting at one of the four tables looks up and noticing the bard with the group, calls to the one called Brut,'
"Crikey, Brut. You're wandering in with one the them after what happened to Gaut and Dank? You best not let Brannin catch you."
At the bar, the large man in the apron, who is easily six foot six inches in height and with a barrel chested frame to match, finishes serving the dwarf (who wears a leather cap with a small rack of stag antlers attached and smokes from a long, grey bone pipe), and nods at Kestrell's request for five ales, merely giving the navigator a steady once over before replying,'
"Fair enough. That'll be two silver."
As he pours and hands the drinks over the much gouged counter, the even larger man behind him finishes stacking casks and turns around. Despite the man's prodigious gut, he looks the sort who would gleefully wrestle bears in his spare time. A long, dropping handlebar mustache bisects a blunt face with a somewhat squashed and likely oft-broken nose. The man's cold grey-blue eyes glimmer over the puffs of pungent smoke arising from the thick cigar in his mouth. This larger man's resemblence to the two younger but almost equally large tavern workers looks to striking to be coincidental. As the dwarf moves to open a door which lets even more streams of smoke into the taproom, as well as the pungent smells of various tabaccos, the huge man calls out,'
"Make sure you save me a pouch of that Brokenhill, Harrl. Or i'll call your tab due, you rodent hunter!"
As Kestrell hands out the drinks and proposes a toast, all four men accept the drinks, but only three clank mugs with the navigator, while the one called Brut goes and sits with the man who'd called out to him a moment ago. Brut has a somewhat chastined and guilty look on his face.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
'Kestrell pays the bartender three silver and tells him to "Keep the change."'.
After they clank mugs, Kestrell asks the three remaining men: "Why was that fellow, the dwoarf, wearing a hat with antlers on it? Does that have a special significance?"
Vaken, knowing his size sometimes makes people uncomfortable, puts a smile on his face and walks into the store. Seeing the source of the deep voice the goliath walks near and waits for the proprietor to finish with his current conversation.
When acknowledged Vaken nods his head in way of greeting, "The name is Vaken and I'm the cook for the Shore Shark. I'd like to pick up a variety of spices and, if you have it, a barrel of coffee beans. Specifically, I'm looking for thyme, sage, rosemary, and black pepper. If you have it I'd also be interested in some mace and white pepper. Oh, and some cream to serve along with the coffee."
Campaigns:
DM - Waterdeep Dragon Heist PbP
The large barman merely gives Kestrell a brief nod of acknowledgement at the tip, then turns to serve a lone cloaked figure who got up from the table behind the bard and his new drinking chums.
The man who had told Brut to relax and who had lead the others into the tavern with Kestrell, who is sightly older and shorter than the other two and has short curly red hair, cheers' with the bard, then after taking a drink of the strong, frothy ale says,'
"Ol' Harll? He's been trackin an huntin in these parts for before me dad and maybe me dad's dad was workin the refinery. The antlers? Can't rightly say, though he's been wearin 'em long as I can remember. I know he's takin down bigger game, so I doubt its a trophy hat. Fact is, half of them mounted heads in the smokin room are probably there on account of him.
So you're crewin on that ship that's been docked here for the last ten day or so, eh? What's that turnin out like?"
[OOC] Kestrell can make a insight check DC15 and read the spoiler below on a success:
To the trained bard who always had a knack for reading a room, some things in Crate readily become apparent. The three men he's drinking with seem genuine content to share a beer with the sailor. Brut who is now sitting and grumbling at a nearby table with another of the survivors of the tavern fight in the Pirate, while not being friendly towards Kestrell, seems like he wants no part of any further hostility. The barman is certainly less talkative and welcoming than the bard is used to, which Kestrell figures indicates that this is mainly a place for locals who soley drink here, or for outsiders who come for the particular 'charms' of the place. And the cloaked figure who grabs his drink from the bar with barely a word, before silently shuffling back to his table and chair by one of the dirty windows is clearly keeping a low profile.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
A'ro just stands back up and nods "Thanks for the information - may be a little light but if there was heavier information may have been more gold." he says smiling as he looks at the dwarf holding up two gold pieces "Sure that's all you know. before I head off?"
[OOC]
In case it is needed
persuasion check: 18
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9
Walking up onto the porch and then into the stores and salvage shop beyond, Vaken notices two sticks of incense burning near the door... sandalwood, if the goliath is not mistaken. The next thing the cook spots is the large, multi-coloured stained glass panel set into the middle of the shop's ceiling, which even in the dimming late afternoon light, casts a kaleidoscope of shifting colours across the tables, stands and shelves the circle and run through the middle of the shop. Just past the entryway to the left runs a long counter made of three parallel and tightly-adjacent ships rails, each of a wood of different hue and grain, giving the counter a bumpy, textured character. A number of shelves run the length of the shop behind the bar, stacked with bottles, jars, boxes, pouches and other containers, some of which obviously contain foodstuff and spice samples to the food-savy goliath.
Standing behind the counter is the proprietor, Horgoth - a lanky human male with thick brown mutton chops and a balding pate, a friendly smile, and who wears an unusual patchwork vest made of stitched squares of different coloured cloth and fabrics. Horgoth is speaking with gesticulating hands to the flambouyantly dressed moonelf that you noticed outside of Boomptin's when you first re-entered Rumbottom. Standing attentively at the moonelf's side is the bald, drably dressed man of unfamiliar features, who again appears to be in the process of calmly haggling for something on behalf of the fine featured, fancily dressed elven gentleman. The item in question on the counter before the three men appears to be a tiny box made of solid smokey quartz.
Horgoth, just finishing his current business, smiles at Vaken and raises one ring bedecked hand in the goliath's direction in a forestalling gesture, saying,'
"A good evening to you, Vaken. Daegrin mentioned that you might be by, so feel free to look around while I finish up with these fine gentlemen. Spices and herbs I have aplenty, so I'm sure to be able to be of assistance shortly. Won't be but a few moments!"
As the proprietor goes back to enthusiastically haggling with the proxy negotiator opposite him, Vaken gets the distinct feeling that here is a man who loves the back and forth of barter... and is rather adept at it.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
The sly dwarf grins and reaches for the coins as he whispers in what is supposed to be a conspiratorial tone,'
"Now you're talking, Sailor. Well for some real coin like that, I can tell you that the one who got the chop after getting caught being for theft is being called Lefty now, but the leader's name is Nelson. Has five or six friends of his that came North with him. Still don't know if they're the ones responsible for these missing ships goods, but they're holding up... or down rather, in one of Barney's basement rooms. I wouldn't go causing any trouble in there neither - Barney and his two boys Buck and Earl don't much care for trouble makers.
Besides, from what I hear, both that old sly fox who runs the Pirate and Mrs. Sarta Danferit, the refinery manager, frequent the place some, and I wouldn't want to make an enemy of either of them, I'll tell you that for nothing... well, for two gold anyway. Ha!"
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
"A hunter, huh? Maybe the antlers help him blend into the woods."
"Yep, the Shore Shark. I actually just started, and we haven't set sail yet, still getting supplies together and tying up loose ends. The captain and first officer are starting out just fine, they seem decent enough. And the crew is pretty new. We actually are still looking for a few crew members, if you know anybody? Or do you mostly know refinery folks. You said your dad and your grandpa worked at the refinery? That's some history right there."
'While they are talking, Kestrell casually surveys the room, looking to see if anyone takes particular notice in him and his mention of the Shore Shark.'
Perception: 13
A'ro just smirks at the further information as he tosses the dwarf the two gold "That's worth money. Thanks mate." he says as he begins to walk off lifting up the hood of his shirt.
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9
Two of the men with the guy you've been talking to slap him on the back, with one saying,'
"What about you, Klain? You're strong enough and complain enough about conditions at the refinery. Maybe you should give the sailor's life a heave?"
The man called Klain just shakes his head as he drains the last of the ale from his tankard, replying,'
"Nah. Not me, lads. Nothing against the sea or those who sail it, but this fellow has the right of it. My family's got roots at that refinery. We're rum brewers three generations deep. That ain't for changing on my watch... no matter how much I complain about the way things are run these days.
Sorry... What was your name, friend? Regardless, I don't know anyone of the top of my head who might want to ship out, but I suppose that you might find someone here, at the Pirate maybe, or perhaps even over at Alice's place - The Apple Cart."
Looking around the Crate's taproom, Kestrell notes the cloaked and cowled figure sitting back down at the table behind him... and for a moment the man's cloak opens to reveal leather armour, a belt holding weapons and sheaths. The observant bard even catches a glimpse beneath the cowl, spotting unusual features... including a pair of horns atop the furtive man's head.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
Seeing the men go inside with Kestrell, Kay creeps closer and circles the building looking for an alternate entrance, or a place to peak in and eavesdrop.
investigation : 24
~♡~
Moving around the side and down the back of the larger building on the corner, Kay eventually crosses a small alley that stinks of old piss and fresher vomit the runs between the two buildings, before she continues along the palisade wall until she spots what looks like a back door to the tavern. Having encountered one or two windows along the way, the lithe rogue notices a large, apron clad man in what looks like a room next to the taproom. The tall, brawny individual picks up a couple of large glass flagons. The man stops before the rear facing window and glances out. Kay ducks quickly and quietly into the deepening shadows beneath the windowsill... and after a few moments hears the loud footsteps and closing door indicating the man's depature from the room.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
Orlys bows his head, "There be no sudden here. Fightin' is easy, I been doin' it all me life, with no though to the next day. This is hard... facing what I am, an' makin' a change."
"That brigand Sand drives her crew with fear and a knife ta the throat, not loyalty. When me and another managed ta fight our way to the cove where the Shoalheart was to be, she'd already sailed. That was when we tried for the shore, and were taken by the woods and the spiders. That other, I presume she be dead, and the world no poorer for it, she were a cruel and bloodthirsty one. It be her axe I brought aboard, found in those caves by yer own lass, Kay. An if you think me a spy, well, there's naught I ken tell ye that'll change that suspicion. Jus' me actions, if ye let me serve aboard."
He stumbles, and settles to the floor, sitting. "M'sorry, it's been a while since I had any rest."
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Rubbing his grey bearded chin with one hand thoughtfully as Orlys speaks, when the bosun sees just how exhausted and wobbly a state the bugbear is in, he merely nods and motions for young human sailor who had acted as escort to hand the prisoner his waterskin, which the lad reluctantly does as Drannick says,'
"No good ye passin out afore the captain makes his decision. Umberlee knows, as do I, that there ain't no dignity in being rolled into the brig asleep. While I don't yet know the whole truth of it, yer tale sits well with me, Orlys. Another dead pirate, and maybe another reason fer ye to jump ship... as the case may be. I thank ye for sharin it."
Taking a swig of the 'water' from the young lad's waterskin, Orlys is surprised to instead taste the rich, sweet flavour of rum. As the bugbear hands it back, the young sailor rubs his arm self-consciously, and looks down and to the side. The leather clad Islander woman with the piercings continues to watch Orlys with something approaching a pout on her face, before muttering,'
"Well, I didn't expect you to know me, fur bag, but acknowledgement would have been nice. Unless you're a different bugbear to the one I'm thinking of... but somehow I doubt that."
Finally, having conversed for almost two minutes, the captain and first mate return to stand before Orlys, the former with a slight frown marring his fair features, the latter with her usual hard, stoic face on. It is the captain who speaks first, saying with a slight shake of his head,'
"Well, Orlys. I won't lie to you... having heard of your connection to both captains Brand and Sand, I was inclined to refuse your request to join the crew. It is, I still believe, too great a risk for us to take. However, a smart captain knows when to take advice from his senior officers. Drannick, rather surprisingly, had already made his opinion known on the mattter and E'strue here has spent the last few minutes convingly detailing how you might be useful to us... so I am provisionally inclined to grant your request on two conditions.
The first is a practial concern, namely that you still be able to serve as crew following tomorrow's meeting with the Cove Warden. IF you survive and are free to join us, and IF doing so will not in anyway diminish the Shark's ability to carry out her mission... then you'll have my permission to sign on, pending my second requirement;
Which is... I'll require you to swear an oath tomorrow on all that you hold sacred that you'll serve truly and with honour, giving your all... and even your life if need be, at the orders of your officers and to ensure the survival and triumph of the Shore Shark.
How do these terms strike you?"
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
Orlys hands back the sailor's "water" skin with nary a comment.
To the dwarf, "I'd gladly takes a rest in the brig, rolled in or otherwise."
To the islander woman, "Aye, that be me then, in the Jollie Brollie. Pardon my not rememberin', it be a rougher town than this, an' there were many heads to bounce," he adds with what he hopes is an acceptable smile.
Orlys looks the Captain in the eye as he delivers his verdict, listening quietly. "Aye, these are honest terms, and a kindness to one such as me. Should the Warden see fit ta let me serve, and leave me able to do so, then I'll gladly swear upon the memory of me mam."
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Seeing the man exit the room, Kay will cautiously enter through the back door of the tavern, keeping an eye out for the stolen equipment, entrances to other rooms, alternative exits and the like, ears perked up trying to listen for approaching footsteps.
perception : 5
investigation : 12
stealth : 3
~♡~
"Kestrell Season, recently of the Shore Shark, and I take it you are Klain."
Kestrell offers his hand to Klain then says: "You mentioned that you complain about how the refinery is run these days. Has there been a recent change in ownership or something? And thanks, I'll keep the Apple Cart in mind."
'Kestrell motions to the bartender and asks for four more ales while he listens to Klains reply, using this as an excuse to rotate sideways so his back is not to the cloaked, horned figure and can keep an eye on him better.'