Brickhouse notes the differences between the different areas, wondering if this comes from a disregard for the state of the people, or as a deliberate attempt to send them a message about their station. She considers weather it would be prudent to try to get this information from the patrons in the tavern, but decides her lack of language skills would keep her from managing it in an appropriately subtle way. Their enemy knew they were on the ship, and might well think to be on the lookout here.
In their room she drops her things and weighs what to have ready on her person. The flail and armor's not even a consideration, but the shield bears a holy symbol and might be excused as an act of piety... No, still too martial for a night in the tavern. She tucks a knife into a pocket, feeling that could always be excused for the sake of utility, checks that she still has the knight pendent around her neck, and gets ready to head back downstairs.
If any of her companions are in the room with her as she does so, she'll ask, "Feeling the scythed eyes of outer walls, dead shops and interior walls, is Lord is just avoiding he charge, or do he say they are being to their order, say you?"
“I’m goin to guess common is not your first language... I think I get the gist though. I’d say the Lord here ignores his charge. Best not to say so loudly though. If the people aren’t angry, it’s more likely that... uh... ‘disloyalty’ is met with reprisals.”
Balm is as the bar, listening in to chatter, trying to chat up a patron or two, as well as the bartender, in an engaging but not memorable way. She tries to find the person who might be a regular to ask about Polin, explaining she has a business question for him.
Biri nods, considering this. "We have to prove it. If the Lord removes works, we must be able to awaken His people against Him. Look for quiet allies." then she adds, as an afterthought, "Yes Common barest ken to me. Draconic from cradle. Gnomish then."
In Draconic, “I can speak draconic if you prefer. Unless you are practicing your common. Just don’t be afraid you won’t be understood if you need to explain something difficult.”
Her face lightens up as she responds in Draconic, "Aye, thank the Red Lady, someone I can talk to without sounding like some concussed hayseed! I swear, speaking Common's like trying to jog in a vat of glue! How did that tortuous slough of tartle and obstruction become our intermediary tongue? And don't get me started on the spelling conventions, it's half way to spell casting. In fact I'd sooner encourage a child to spell casting then to bother to learn to spell in common. At least then they've got a trade. Never are trios of silent letters necessary. It's classism, I swear, show the gatekeeper you've spent the time on jumping through the superfluous hoops so you couldn't possibly have worked for a living. Gotta keep the rabble out. Am I rambling? I'm rambling. I feel like I just had my gag removed, sorry."
”You might be onto something. I’ve known enough contradictions of logic and character to know you aren’t wrong. But I’m glad to be a comfort. Now, let’s see how our friend does finding our contact.”
"Do you know what? I'm honestly not entirely clear! I get funny whispers from time to time, and often they don't make sense. That last one sort of walked the line between sense and nonsense. Anyhow,"and she leans in, whispering quietly into Whitley's ear, "I'm trying to listen in, get a lay of the rumormill land, and find a decent person to ask about Polin. Four ears are better than two. Want to help?"
"Sure. I'll keep my ears open. Say, did we get a description of that Polin fellow?", asks Whitley while scanning the area for anyone that could fit the description.
The chatter down by the bar is fairly subdued, mostly about the crops (not doing well, the Lord not holding up his end of the bargain to provide labor), the fact that the disappearing townsfolk have increased over the past few weeks (more than usual, not that they never disappeared, just that it's gone up, dramatically). Most of the buzz seems to be the upcoming week's executions. There's the usual, failing to pay your tithes, but rumor has it that there's a high profile spy that was caught up in the recent sting, and he'll be executed in front of the crowd in two days.
The barkeep mostly just grunts at Balm's questions, and the people, while semi-friendly, don't seem to enamoured with the outsiders...until the drinks start flowing, that is. They're more than happy to drink your beer, and answer some basic questions (Balm: roll Persuasion and Investigation to see how much you can wheedle out of them).
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Withley seems to take particular interest in the stories about the spy. He tries to eavesdrop on some of the patron’s conversations to catch as much information about that topic.
Perception: 17
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Brickhouse notes the differences between the different areas, wondering if this comes from a disregard for the state of the people, or as a deliberate attempt to send them a message about their station. She considers weather it would be prudent to try to get this information from the patrons in the tavern, but decides her lack of language skills would keep her from managing it in an appropriately subtle way. Their enemy knew they were on the ship, and might well think to be on the lookout here.
In their room she drops her things and weighs what to have ready on her person. The flail and armor's not even a consideration, but the shield bears a holy symbol and might be excused as an act of piety... No, still too martial for a night in the tavern. She tucks a knife into a pocket, feeling that could always be excused for the sake of utility, checks that she still has the knight pendent around her neck, and gets ready to head back downstairs.
If any of her companions are in the room with her as she does so, she'll ask, "Feeling the scythed eyes of outer walls, dead shops and interior walls, is Lord is just avoiding he charge, or do he say they are being to their order, say you?"
Hilliard blinks at Brick a few times.
“I’m goin to guess common is not your first language... I think I get the gist though. I’d say the Lord here ignores his charge. Best not to say so loudly though. If the people aren’t angry, it’s more likely that... uh... ‘disloyalty’ is met with reprisals.”
Paladin - warforged - orange
Balm is as the bar, listening in to chatter, trying to chat up a patron or two, as well as the bartender, in an engaging but not memorable way. She tries to find the person who might be a regular to ask about Polin, explaining she has a business question for him.
Biri nods, considering this. "We have to prove it. If the Lord removes works, we must be able to awaken His people against Him. Look for quiet allies." then she adds, as an afterthought, "Yes Common barest ken to me. Draconic from cradle. Gnomish then."
In Draconic, “I can speak draconic if you prefer. Unless you are practicing your common. Just don’t be afraid you won’t be understood if you need to explain something difficult.”
Paladin - warforged - orange
Her face lightens up as she responds in Draconic, "Aye, thank the Red Lady, someone I can talk to without sounding like some concussed hayseed! I swear, speaking Common's like trying to jog in a vat of glue! How did that tortuous slough of tartle and obstruction become our intermediary tongue? And don't get me started on the spelling conventions, it's half way to spell casting. In fact I'd sooner encourage a child to spell casting then to bother to learn to spell in common. At least then they've got a trade. Never are trios of silent letters necessary. It's classism, I swear, show the gatekeeper you've spent the time on jumping through the superfluous hoops so you couldn't possibly have worked for a living. Gotta keep the rabble out. Am I rambling? I'm rambling. I feel like I just had my gag removed, sorry."
Hilliard lets out a helpless giggle.
”You might be onto something. I’ve known enough contradictions of logic and character to know you aren’t wrong. But I’m glad to be a comfort. Now, let’s see how our friend does finding our contact.”
Paladin - warforged - orange
Balm, still down in the bar, chortles to herself without knowing the reason (after this exchange).
Whitley goes to sit at the bar with Balm. "What’s so funny?", he asks, seeing her laugh for no obvious reasons.
"Do you know what? I'm honestly not entirely clear! I get funny whispers from time to time, and often they don't make sense. That last one sort of walked the line between sense and nonsense. Anyhow," and she leans in, whispering quietly into Whitley's ear, "I'm trying to listen in, get a lay of the rumormill land, and find a decent person to ask about Polin. Four ears are better than two. Want to help?"
"Sure. I'll keep my ears open. Say, did we get a description of that Polin fellow?", asks Whitley while scanning the area for anyone that could fit the description.
The chatter down by the bar is fairly subdued, mostly about the crops (not doing well, the Lord not holding up his end of the bargain to provide labor), the fact that the disappearing townsfolk have increased over the past few weeks (more than usual, not that they never disappeared, just that it's gone up, dramatically). Most of the buzz seems to be the upcoming week's executions. There's the usual, failing to pay your tithes, but rumor has it that there's a high profile spy that was caught up in the recent sting, and he'll be executed in front of the crowd in two days.
The barkeep mostly just grunts at Balm's questions, and the people, while semi-friendly, don't seem to enamoured with the outsiders...until the drinks start flowing, that is. They're more than happy to drink your beer, and answer some basic questions (Balm: roll Persuasion and Investigation to see how much you can wheedle out of them).
******************************************************************************
As Hilliard and Biri chat away like magpies in their room upstairs, a small, folded, piece of paper is slipped under the door with a whispery noise.
Brickhouse rushes to the door and opens it, trying to see who slipped the note.
Persuasion: 14
Investigation: 2
Hilliard will pick up the note to read it.
Paladin - warforged - orange
Turning back to Hillard, Biri says "Missed them. What does it say? Good news or ill?"
Withley seems to take particular interest in the stories about the spy. He tries to eavesdrop on some of the patron’s conversations to catch as much information about that topic.
Perception: 17