{Brona serves Kord and wears an amulet of that is dedicated to him. She keeps it tucked under her clothing and armor.}
Watching the guards beginning to question the others, Brona feels her shoulders tense slightly, but takes a slow breath and releases the tension. She straps her mace back onto her pack and moves when the guard motions her forward to speak. Answering his questions, she responds as truthfully as she can, not disclosing which deity she believed in and smiling an easy grin. She says that she's been working for Hargrim with her companions and that she's looking forward to the round he's promised. "I'm not, however, looking forward to buying a second round for the whole caravan. Apparently," and her eyes moved to stare daggers at Ashanti and Tristan, "I said I would. So if it's the same to you, I'd like to go make good on that promise."
Mobile- The guards finish talking to everyone, and the corporal waves at Hargrim, giving permission to move into the city. He then raps the youngest guard- who is still politely listening to Tristan with a glazed expression - on the helmet, and begins the process of barring the gates behind you.
Hargrim directs the convoy through the winding, muddy streets, always seeming to know the clearest route, and you eventually come to a stop in a yard outside the Righteous Brand compound. Through an archway you can see training fields, smithys and other workshops, storehouses- everything the home of the Dwendalian military could need.
What appears to be a group of recruits and their commander come jogging out, and begin the process of unloading. After a short conversation, Hargrim gives a chuckle and bellows “Got to love that military efficiency. Alright, get over here if you want your pay!” Producing a fat purse from somewhere on his person, he mutters, “seven days from Hupperdook, one gold a day plus a bonus for delivery on time- eight gold a head.” He counts out eight gold coins for each of you, then collects his bags from the lead wagon. “Alright you lot, good work. We’ll be in town a week or so, so come find me at the Brass Lantern if you want to sign on again. If not, take care of yourselves, and Moradin keep you. Now go spend your money.” And with that, he turns and heads off down one of the side streets, leaving his animals in the care of the soldiers.
You begin to wander through the streets of the city, accompanied by several of the drivers. The Streets are narrow and winding, seemingly almost deliberately confusing. Most of the buildings are made of the same grey stone as the walls, and the windows on the first floor are narrow, though they are warmly lit. The atmosphere seems to be of a hard outer shell, containing warmth and colour within. You also notice that the city has a large orcish population, with over half the people you pass being either half or full blooded orcs. They give you no trouble, seemingly more interested in closing their businesses for the evening than bothering with strangers.
Eventually the lane you're following opens up on a market square, with a large three-storey building on the north side. Above the door is a large sign depicting a boar rearing on its hind legs, wearing a plumed helmet. Already small knots of people are approaching, talking excitedly. Entering, you find a spacious saloon, with a long wooden bar, crowded with copper mugs, pewter tankards and glasses of all shapes and sizes, all reflecting the warm lamp light. Small scrubbed wooden tables and chairs are dotted around the floor, and a low stage takes up the far end of the room. Its a somewhat plain space, but welcoming and scrupulously clean. Behind the bar is a towering orc with fluffy sideburns, who you take to be the proprietor, Tormann.
"Well sure thing! This here'll put a shine on your scales. Name's Tormann, welcome to the Armoured Boar. You need food, drinks or lodging, just say the word to me or my boys. Two silver." He pulls a squat blue bottle off the shelf behind him and pours a healthy amount of amber liquid into a delicate round-bottomed glass.
Sinsil finds a quiet table at the far end of the room from the stage easily enough. The only nearby patron to you is a short male half-elf with a large walrus moustache, an eye-patch, and a hat pulled down low. He seems to be avoiding eye contact.
Mobile- Tormann nods his thanks and bustles off to serve other patrons. The tavern is starting to become crowded with the evening rush, servers moving back and forth with trays of food and drink. Kinnock, the young ginger driver comes around with tankards of deep brown ale and hands them out. "Baumbach trosts all round, thanks to Hargrim. Cheers!”
Brona grabs the tankard and nods her head at Kinnock, "Cheers indeed, come back when you're ready for that second round."
She raises it to her lips but halts, gaze moving from the brown ale to the ceiling of the inn. Closing her eyes she thought, Through strength and courage do I prove my worth. All I ask is the bravery to do what you'd have me do. To the glory of the storm.
Finishing her prayer she drank deeply, imbibing half of the contents of the tankard. She looks to where Sinsil has cloistered herself at the far end of the room, then at Tristan enjoying his drink. Brona takes another deep drink of the ale then shifts towards Ashanti, "Sharing is fine with me, used to it by now. There's the added benefit of saving what I have left after letting this lot have their fill of drink."
Mobile- The bar quickly fills up as the evening wears on. After a while, one of Tormann’s sons climbs up on the stage and shouts “Ladies and Gents, please welcome to the stage Dhorvank and Rilla in Tusk Love: The Musical!” A half orc lad in a purple dress glides onto the stage and begins to sing, joined soon after by a young human woman in a highwayman’s costume with a humorously well stuffed codpiece. The show is a bawdy affair full of double entendres and ribald jokes. The crowd are loving it.
Mobile~ Sinsil will scoff "It's uncivilized dribble meant to perpetuate the innkeeper's robbing you if your will earned coin." She'll say, having never looked up from the book she is writing.
Glancing over to Sinsil as she spoke, "Uncivilized though it may be, you can't deny the popularity," she shrugs, "To each their own."
She raises her flagon once again to her mouth and goes to take a swallow as Ashanti's bare feet appear before her on the table. Spluttering into her ale, she coughs slightly as a few rivulets of ale run down her chin. As the drivers crow for her promised round, she pushes back from the table, tankard in hand, "Well that's my cue. I'll ask about rooms while I'm getting their second round."
She finishes her drink as she makes her way over to the bar. Flagging down the first worker she sees, she sets her tankard down, "Evening! Could I get another round of Baumbach trosts? Also how much for a room for the night?"
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{Brona serves Kord and wears an amulet of that is dedicated to him. She keeps it tucked under her clothing and armor.}
Watching the guards beginning to question the others, Brona feels her shoulders tense slightly, but takes a slow breath and releases the tension. She straps her mace back onto her pack and moves when the guard motions her forward to speak. Answering his questions, she responds as truthfully as she can, not disclosing which deity she believed in and smiling an easy grin. She says that she's been working for Hargrim with her companions and that she's looking forward to the round he's promised. "I'm not, however, looking forward to buying a second round for the whole caravan. Apparently," and her eyes moved to stare daggers at Ashanti and Tristan, "I said I would. So if it's the same to you, I'd like to go make good on that promise."
Well, that promise minus two tankards.
Ashanti beamed at Brona.
When questioned she gave her name and pointed to the wagons.
Mobile- The guards finish talking to everyone, and the corporal waves at Hargrim, giving permission to move into the city. He then raps the youngest guard- who is still politely listening to Tristan with a glazed expression - on the helmet, and begins the process of barring the gates behind you.
Hargrim directs the convoy through the winding, muddy streets, always seeming to know the clearest route, and you eventually come to a stop in a yard outside the Righteous Brand compound. Through an archway you can see training fields, smithys and other workshops, storehouses- everything the home of the Dwendalian military could need.
What appears to be a group of recruits and their commander come jogging out, and begin the process of unloading. After a short conversation, Hargrim gives a chuckle and bellows “Got to love that military efficiency. Alright, get over here if you want your pay!” Producing a fat purse from somewhere on his person, he mutters, “seven days from Hupperdook, one gold a day plus a bonus for delivery on time- eight gold a head.” He counts out eight gold coins for each of you, then collects his bags from the lead wagon. “Alright you lot, good work. We’ll be in town a week or so, so come find me at the Brass Lantern if you want to sign on again. If not, take care of yourselves, and Moradin keep you. Now go spend your money.” And with that, he turns and heads off down one of the side streets, leaving his animals in the care of the soldiers.
DM- Chronicles of Wildemount Campaign.
Ashanti took her pay and headed to Brona handing over 4 gold, " Your gonna need it."
She shook her hair vigorously spraying everyone nearby with fine droplets of salt water.
" Armoured Boar Inn is supposed to be good. Lets head there."
Sinsil will have her unseen servant bring the gold to her. She will Simon summon a floating disk to place her equipment on to travel through town.
Brona accepts the offered gold with a wry smile, "Might as well make our way there then, there's well earned gold to be spent."
You begin to wander through the streets of the city, accompanied by several of the drivers. The Streets are narrow and winding, seemingly almost deliberately confusing. Most of the buildings are made of the same grey stone as the walls, and the windows on the first floor are narrow, though they are warmly lit. The atmosphere seems to be of a hard outer shell, containing warmth and colour within. You also notice that the city has a large orcish population, with over half the people you pass being either half or full blooded orcs. They give you no trouble, seemingly more interested in closing their businesses for the evening than bothering with strangers.
Eventually the lane you're following opens up on a market square, with a large three-storey building on the north side. Above the door is a large sign depicting a boar rearing on its hind legs, wearing a plumed helmet. Already small knots of people are approaching, talking excitedly. Entering, you find a spacious saloon, with a long wooden bar, crowded with copper mugs, pewter tankards and glasses of all shapes and sizes, all reflecting the warm lamp light. Small scrubbed wooden tables and chairs are dotted around the floor, and a low stage takes up the far end of the room. Its a somewhat plain space, but welcoming and scrupulously clean. Behind the bar is a towering orc with fluffy sideburns, who you take to be the proprietor, Tormann.
DM- Chronicles of Wildemount Campaign.
Tristan pockets the gold and thanks the man. "why hello there good sir. could I trouble you for a glass of whiskey to slake my thirst?"
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Sinsil will try and find a place away from a majority of the rabble.
"Well sure thing! This here'll put a shine on your scales. Name's Tormann, welcome to the Armoured Boar. You need food, drinks or lodging, just say the word to me or my boys. Two silver." He pulls a squat blue bottle off the shelf behind him and pours a healthy amount of amber liquid into a delicate round-bottomed glass.
Sinsil finds a quiet table at the far end of the room from the stage easily enough. The only nearby patron to you is a short male half-elf with a large walrus moustache, an eye-patch, and a hat pulled down low. He seems to be avoiding eye contact.
DM- Chronicles of Wildemount Campaign.
Tristan tosses him the silver, and an extra two copper, then tips his hat.
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Mobile- Tormann nods his thanks and bustles off to serve other patrons. The tavern is starting to become crowded with the evening rush, servers moving back and forth with trays of food and drink. Kinnock, the young ginger driver comes around with tankards of deep brown ale and hands them out. "Baumbach trosts all round, thanks to Hargrim. Cheers!”
DM- Chronicles of Wildemount Campaign.
" I need a room.", Ashanti said loudly.
" We all bunking in together?"
She snagged a trost off a tray and downed it....
Brona grabs the tankard and nods her head at Kinnock, "Cheers indeed, come back when you're ready for that second round."
She raises it to her lips but halts, gaze moving from the brown ale to the ceiling of the inn. Closing her eyes she thought, Through strength and courage do I prove my worth. All I ask is the bravery to do what you'd have me do. To the glory of the storm.
Finishing her prayer she drank deeply, imbibing half of the contents of the tankard. She looks to where Sinsil has cloistered herself at the far end of the room, then at Tristan enjoying his drink. Brona takes another deep drink of the ale then shifts towards Ashanti, "Sharing is fine with me, used to it by now. There's the added benefit of saving what I have left after letting this lot have their fill of drink."
Mobile- The bar quickly fills up as the evening wears on. After a while, one of Tormann’s sons climbs up on the stage and shouts “Ladies and Gents, please welcome to the stage Dhorvank and Rilla in Tusk Love: The Musical!” A half orc lad in a purple dress glides onto the stage and begins to sing, joined soon after by a young human woman in a highwayman’s costume with a humorously well stuffed codpiece. The show is a bawdy affair full of double entendres and ribald jokes. The crowd are loving it.
DM- Chronicles of Wildemount Campaign.
Ashanti is perched on her chair during the performance her mind actively recording every single line of the show.
Wide eyed she looked at the others, " This is awesome!"
Mobile~ Sinsil will scoff "It's uncivilized dribble meant to perpetuate the innkeeper's robbing you if your will earned coin." She'll say, having never looked up from the book she is writing.
Ashanti stuck her tongue out at Sinsil...who didn't look up from her book so therefore never saw it.
" So whose giving me a foot rub?", she said plonking her bare feet up on the table.
The drivers look around at each other. "Only one way to settle this- DRINKING CONTEST! Brona, lets get another round in".
DM- Chronicles of Wildemount Campaign.
Glancing over to Sinsil as she spoke, "Uncivilized though it may be, you can't deny the popularity," she shrugs, "To each their own."
She raises her flagon once again to her mouth and goes to take a swallow as Ashanti's bare feet appear before her on the table. Spluttering into her ale, she coughs slightly as a few rivulets of ale run down her chin. As the drivers crow for her promised round, she pushes back from the table, tankard in hand, "Well that's my cue. I'll ask about rooms while I'm getting their second round."
She finishes her drink as she makes her way over to the bar. Flagging down the first worker she sees, she sets her tankard down, "Evening! Could I get another round of Baumbach trosts? Also how much for a room for the night?"