You are in the City of Neverwinter at a Taver called "the Beached Leviathan". It is a rough kind of place; you find yourself in *the hold*, the lowest floor of three and where the main kitchen and bar area is. The room is decorated with various bits of nautical equipment, sahuagin skulls and weapons, preserved shark fins and a giant crab's carapace. There are barrels for tables, rough stools and sawdust on the floor which has several suspicious dark stains engrained in it; this has a well known reputation as a brawlers tavern and a place where business, both legal and illegal, takes place. The brawls here are purely recreational mind you, where the worst you'll leave with is a lost tooth or a black eye.
A huge and (relatively) friendly Half-Orc works the door. All weapons have to be placed in the armoury (which you have done) upon entry and your chosen God help anyone pulling a weapon, as they are likely to end up as a corpse in the Neverwinter River after being not so gently removed by the Half Orc.
This reputation tends to keep the fights civilised and everybody fair.
"The Leviathan" also has a reputation as a place where down on their luck mercanaries can pick up a bit of work. Caravans and travellers are always on the lookout for protection on the roads of the Sword Coast and "the Leviathan" sits at the budget end of the spectrum.
Each of you has picked up on a call for adventurers by a Dwarven prospector called Gundren Rockseeker , who is looking for a group to escort supplies to a town called Phandalin in the Sword Mountains (around 80-90 miles from Neverwinter), and that his representative will be present in "the Leviathan" this evening.
The tavern is fairly empty this evening as you arrive, save for a halfling perched on a barrel in the furthest corner talking to three very well dressed humans, better dressed than is usually found in a place like this anyway! Another human sits in the opposite corner nursing a drink, placed so he can watch everything that goes on in "the hold". By his garb, each of you will realise that this man was once a warrior of some sort, though he is starting to get on in years. With the place fairly empty, there is one maid on duty and the barman.
As each of you enter "the Leviathan" you will notice a sign outside declaring "The best Pies in Neverwinter", under a picture of a goblin sporting a chefs hat worn at a jaunty angle. The half orc at the door cheerily take your weapons from you and upon entering the main room there is a man behind the bar busy cleaning the counter surface with a rag. "Well me Lubbers. Can I get summit for you to pass through yer scupper this 'een. We be a bit in the doldrums just now," he says looking round the nearly empty room, "'tis most unusual. Ale or Rum is the usual fayre?" He gestures to some barrels behind the bar. "Got some rare good pies here too," and he gestures to a door near the end of the bar where the sounds of a working kitchen can be heard.
As you look around the place, a spiral stair winds it's way round the mast in the centre of the room, a small sign pointing up the way to "quarters" and "deck". With nothing else going on it's easy to tell that the conversation between the humans and the halfling seems quite animated. Otherwise everything is calm and quiet....
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Mulligan adjusts her leather jerkin and straightens herself. She is a fairly attractive young woman, with long, red hair and a freckled face. "Rum would do me well, perhaps with an ale to wash it down, eh? And I think I'll try one o' your pies as well." With that, she goes and sets up at one of the "tables," keeping a keen ear out for any interesting news. She pays particular attention to the lively conversation between the halfling and the humans, as there isn't much else going on in the Leviathan.
“That’ll be eight coppers then lass,” replies the barman going to draw the drinks. “Best prices as well as best pies in town,” he says with a grin. He plonks the glasses down on the counter. “Take a seat’n Willow’ll bring yer food out in a minute”. He gestures towards the kitchen.
The heated conversation seems to be turning into some sort of argument. From what Mulligan can tell, a bit of a one sided one at that.
A freakishly tall and ash-pale man with long gray blue-tinted hair and short beard makes his way down the stairs and into 'the Hold', dressed in noble-looking clothes but in a pose somewhat curved due to the room's ceiling, he eyes the room for a moment before making his way to the counter, greeting the keeper with a friendly nod, the dark circles below his eyes clearly denouncing a questionable sleep schedule. "No kaeth? No mead? Ach..." he smiles, meaning no offense, his colored paint-stained fingers run across his mustache as he leans on the counter with an elbow and eyes around the tables again, "I'll have the rum, friend, any that may warm my belly." he says to the barman, while looking over at the halfling fellow, then adds "Can't those fellas pick on someone their size?".
The barman deftly pours out some rum and places it lightly on to the counter. “Two copper, matey,” he says and then gives a sour look to the group haranguing the halfling, who has a half finished bowl of soup in front of him.
“Those wags ain’t my usual clientele, if you catch me drift. Neither’s the flash packet there,” he shrugs, meaning the halfling. “None o’my business anyway, unless one o’them pulls a knife. Then it’s Feng’s business,” he nods towards the half-orc on the door. “Reckon they’re now’t but albatrosses, specially the fancy ones.”
He calls in a loud voice to the group. “‘ ‘Ere. You lot going to buy something, or ye just harassing my customer.” One of the well dressed men just raises a dismissive hand, and the argument seems to die down a little.
A young woman appears from the kitchen carrying something that could be described as a pie, vaguely. She drops the plate in front of Mulligan, along with some pretty sturdy cutlery. “Enjoy!” Without another word she breezes off back to the kitchen. The object in front of Mulligan looks...well....solid?
Graeme steps into the tavern. As he looks around, he rubs the top of his head, mussing his slightly disheveled, short red hair. He notices a young woman with long red hair and makes a note to make introductions. Eyeing the bar, his face lights up. “Aye, now tha’s wha’ I’m talkin’ about!” And quickly heads in that direction. As he approaches the bar, he overhears the keep taking to a rather well dressed gentleman. “Ye got any whiskey, lad?” He asks with a scratchy, but cheerful voice.
His face takes a slightly colder expression as he turns and leans his back against the bar to watch the three men intently.
Matter of factly a dark skinned man walks in. A bit taken aback he should leave his "holy" mace behind, which he would most definitely not defile in something as stupid as a bar brawl (or at least that was what he said to the doorman).
Not wanting to waste to much time he seeks out this representative of Gundren. He will walk up to the bar and say to the barman: "Hello sir, I am looking for a representative of Gundren Rockseeker. Do you know if they arrived yet?"
A quite young cheerful lad steps in.He has long brown hair and green eyes that are quite playful.if someone looks more carefully he LL notice 2 pointed ears although he looks like from afar as human.he wears a turquoise robe and he holds a notebook of shorts.in his waist a small flute hangs on." Hello my big friend I most certainly want to o have some pie and probably I LL take the ale.a small mug please." And he goes in and tries to find an empty table.
As he looking for a table he is constantly thinking "look all those odd faces and to think about I had to entertain folks like them,oh well whatever...hope gundram LL show up really fast cause the stench of this place is quite strong..I started to smell like a fish!"
The barman serves each of you in turn. "No whiskey, friend," he says to Graeme almost apologetically. He gives a not so subtle look round the room. "Just Rum. N'ale. Two copper a drink. Which would you like?" He holds up a finger to the dark skinned man, as if to say 'one moment' and quickly pours a drink to the third newcomer. "Six copper for pie 'n' ale lad he says. Take a seat and Willow'll bring you it in a moment."
Once the others have been served he says, "don't know no Gundren, matey, but you might try yon fellow in the corner. Never seen 'im before," he shrugs, "might be he's who yer lookin' for. If not, yer welcome to pull up a seat and have a drink, or summit to eat?"
The man scowls as the argument between the halfling, still sat at the barrel, and the three men flares up again. The best dressed of the three, a man wearing very fine clothing indeed, grabs the halfling by his shirt collar and shakes him a little. In the opposite corner, the man the barman gestured to watches the argument with a mixture of curiosity and concern, not really paying the newcomers much attention.
Sylharice shrugs and finally says "fine by me I LL have then the pie and the rum.." and he is thinking" the sooner I finish the better".he finds a seat and he is waiting for gundram.
As soon as Sylharice hears this and sees pointing at the guy he sits up, straights his robe and with a steady pace moves to his table..he bows in a polite manner and greet him" excuse me sir and sorry if I interrupt u do you know although a fellow named gundram? "
The waitress appears from the kitchen again carrying a plate. "Who was it ordered the pie," she calls into the room with a sing song voice and looks around expectantly waiting for an answer.
The man approached by Sylharice draws his attention away from the argument across the room. He nods. "Are you here for the escort job then?" he asks. "Gundren asked me to come here and look out for interested parties." He looks Sylharice in the eye. "One's that are up to the job." Despite his age and slightly dishevelled look he speaks with a cultured voice. "What about the others?" He gestures to the other new arrivals in the room before letting his gaze settle back on the argument with a pensive frown.
The argument seems to be getting louder still. Apparently something about a debt, from what any of you can catch.
As Graeme approaches the argument the man speaking to Sylharice leans back in his seat to watch with interest. The middle of the three men (each richly dressed) haranguing the halfling turns with a sneer on his face. "Begone peasant," and he waves Graeme away dismissively with the back of his hand. "This is none of your concern." Without waiting for a response he turns back to the halfling. "Well, do you have the coin or not. I'm losing patience with you, my little friend."
Willow the waitress approaches Sylharice with the pie, an irritated look on her face. "This yours, is it?"
Mulligan cuts into her pie, and takes one bite. She immediately regrets it, and puts the fork and knife down. She drinks her rum, and makes her way over to the table with the heated conversation. "Why don't you leave the poor fellow alone and pick on someone your own size?"
Sylharice responds"let me introduce myself..I am sylharice halani a follower of the arcane arts...I am looking for master gundren as it happens to be friends to my mentor.i don't know anything about this escort but if it leads me to him I LL he glad to participate
Lost Mines of Phandelver
Prologue
Introduction
You are in the City of Neverwinter at a Taver called "the Beached Leviathan". It is a rough kind of place; you find yourself in *the hold*, the lowest floor of three and where the main kitchen and bar area is. The room is decorated with various bits of nautical equipment, sahuagin skulls and weapons, preserved shark fins and a giant crab's carapace. There are barrels for tables, rough stools and sawdust on the floor which has several suspicious dark stains engrained in it; this has a well known reputation as a brawlers tavern and a place where business, both legal and illegal, takes place. The brawls here are purely recreational mind you, where the worst you'll leave with is a lost tooth or a black eye.
A huge and (relatively) friendly Half-Orc works the door. All weapons have to be placed in the armoury (which you have done) upon entry and your chosen God help anyone pulling a weapon, as they are likely to end up as a corpse in the Neverwinter River after being not so gently removed by the Half Orc.
This reputation tends to keep the fights civilised and everybody fair.
"The Leviathan" also has a reputation as a place where down on their luck mercanaries can pick up a bit of work. Caravans and travellers are always on the lookout for protection on the roads of the Sword Coast and "the Leviathan" sits at the budget end of the spectrum.
Each of you has picked up on a call for adventurers by a Dwarven prospector called Gundren Rockseeker , who is looking for a group to escort supplies to a town called Phandalin in the Sword Mountains (around 80-90 miles from Neverwinter), and that his representative will be present in "the Leviathan" this evening.
The tavern is fairly empty this evening as you arrive, save for a halfling perched on a barrel in the furthest corner talking to three very well dressed humans, better dressed than is usually found in a place like this anyway! Another human sits in the opposite corner nursing a drink, placed so he can watch everything that goes on in "the hold". By his garb, each of you will realise that this man was once a warrior of some sort, though he is starting to get on in years. With the place fairly empty, there is one maid on duty and the barman.
As each of you enter "the Leviathan" you will notice a sign outside declaring "The best Pies in Neverwinter", under a picture of a goblin sporting a chefs hat worn at a jaunty angle. The half orc at the door cheerily take your weapons from you and upon entering the main room there is a man behind the bar busy cleaning the counter surface with a rag. "Well me Lubbers. Can I get summit for you to pass through yer scupper this 'een. We be a bit in the doldrums just now," he says looking round the nearly empty room, "'tis most unusual. Ale or Rum is the usual fayre?" He gestures to some barrels behind the bar. "Got some rare good pies here too," and he gestures to a door near the end of the bar where the sounds of a working kitchen can be heard.
As you look around the place, a spiral stair winds it's way round the mast in the centre of the room, a small sign pointing up the way to "quarters" and "deck". With nothing else going on it's easy to tell that the conversation between the humans and the halfling seems quite animated. Otherwise everything is calm and quiet....
Mulligan adjusts her leather jerkin and straightens herself. She is a fairly attractive young woman, with long, red hair and a freckled face. "Rum would do me well, perhaps with an ale to wash it down, eh? And I think I'll try one o' your pies as well." With that, she goes and sets up at one of the "tables," keeping a keen ear out for any interesting news. She pays particular attention to the lively conversation between the halfling and the humans, as there isn't much else going on in the Leviathan.
Perception: 6
DM:
Reign of Winter I Curse of the Crimson Throne
Hell's Vengeance | Giantslayer
Varisian Hexalogy: Rise of the Runelords
Player:
Lucille Underfoot, lv. 1 Halfling Storm Sorcerer | Janna Farooq, lv. 1 Human Celestial Warlock
I strive to post at least once per day on all my PbPs. I ask my players to do the same.
More active on weekdays than weekends.
Assume all of my characters are gay.
“That’ll be eight coppers then lass,” replies the barman going to draw the drinks. “Best prices as well as best pies in town,” he says with a grin. He plonks the glasses down on the counter. “Take a seat’n Willow’ll bring yer food out in a minute”. He gestures towards the kitchen.
The heated conversation seems to be turning into some sort of argument. From what Mulligan can tell, a bit of a one sided one at that.
A freakishly tall and ash-pale man with long gray blue-tinted hair and short beard makes his way down the stairs and into 'the Hold', dressed in noble-looking clothes but in a pose somewhat curved due to the room's ceiling, he eyes the room for a moment before making his way to the counter, greeting the keeper with a friendly nod, the dark circles below his eyes clearly denouncing a questionable sleep schedule. "No kaeth? No mead? Ach..." he smiles, meaning no offense, his colored paint-stained fingers run across his mustache as he leans on the counter with an elbow and eyes around the tables again, "I'll have the rum, friend, any that may warm my belly." he says to the barman, while looking over at the halfling fellow, then adds "Can't those fellas pick on someone their size?".
Art Portfolio
The barman deftly pours out some rum and places it lightly on to the counter. “Two copper, matey,” he says and then gives a sour look to the group haranguing the halfling, who has a half finished bowl of soup in front of him.
“Those wags ain’t my usual clientele, if you catch me drift. Neither’s the flash packet there,” he shrugs, meaning the halfling. “None o’my business anyway, unless one o’them pulls a knife. Then it’s Feng’s business,” he nods towards the half-orc on the door. “Reckon they’re now’t but albatrosses, specially the fancy ones.”
He calls in a loud voice to the group. “‘ ‘Ere. You lot going to buy something, or ye just harassing my customer.” One of the well dressed men just raises a dismissive hand, and the argument seems to die down a little.
A young woman appears from the kitchen carrying something that could be described as a pie, vaguely. She drops the plate in front of Mulligan, along with some pretty sturdy cutlery. “Enjoy!” Without another word she breezes off back to the kitchen. The object in front of Mulligan looks...well....solid?
Graeme steps into the tavern. As he looks around, he rubs the top of his head, mussing his slightly disheveled, short red hair. He notices a young woman with long red hair and makes a note to make introductions. Eyeing the bar, his face lights up. “Aye, now tha’s wha’ I’m talkin’ about!” And quickly heads in that direction. As he approaches the bar, he overhears the keep taking to a rather well dressed gentleman. “Ye got any whiskey, lad?” He asks with a scratchy, but cheerful voice.
His face takes a slightly colder expression as he turns and leans his back against the bar to watch the three men intently.
Matter of factly a dark skinned man walks in. A bit taken aback he should leave his "holy" mace behind, which he would most definitely not defile in something as stupid as a bar brawl (or at least that was what he said to the doorman).
Not wanting to waste to much time he seeks out this representative of Gundren. He will walk up to the bar and say to the barman: "Hello sir, I am looking for a representative of Gundren Rockseeker. Do you know if they arrived yet?"
A quite young cheerful lad steps in.He has long brown hair and green eyes that are quite playful.if someone looks more carefully he LL notice 2 pointed ears although he looks like from afar as human.he wears a turquoise robe and he holds a notebook of shorts.in his waist a small flute hangs on." Hello my big friend I most certainly want to o have some pie and probably I LL take the ale.a small mug please." And he goes in and tries to find an empty table.
As he looking for a table he is constantly thinking "look all those odd faces and to think about I had to entertain folks like them,oh well whatever...hope gundram LL show up really fast cause the stench of this place is quite strong..I started to smell like a fish!"
The barman serves each of you in turn. "No whiskey, friend," he says to Graeme almost apologetically. He gives a not so subtle look round the room. "Just Rum. N'ale. Two copper a drink. Which would you like?" He holds up a finger to the dark skinned man, as if to say 'one moment' and quickly pours a drink to the third newcomer. "Six copper for pie 'n' ale lad he says. Take a seat and Willow'll bring you it in a moment."
Once the others have been served he says, "don't know no Gundren, matey, but you might try yon fellow in the corner. Never seen 'im before," he shrugs, "might be he's who yer lookin' for. If not, yer welcome to pull up a seat and have a drink, or summit to eat?"
The man scowls as the argument between the halfling, still sat at the barrel, and the three men flares up again. The best dressed of the three, a man wearing very fine clothing indeed, grabs the halfling by his shirt collar and shakes him a little. In the opposite corner, the man the barman gestured to watches the argument with a mixture of curiosity and concern, not really paying the newcomers much attention.
Sylharice shrugs and finally says "fine by me I LL have then the pie and the rum.." and he is thinking" the sooner I finish the better".he finds a seat and he is waiting for gundram.
As soon as Sylharice hears this and sees pointing at the guy he sits up, straights his robe and with a steady pace moves to his table..he bows in a polite manner and greet him" excuse me sir and sorry if I interrupt u do you know although a fellow named gundram? "
The waitress appears from the kitchen again carrying a plate. "Who was it ordered the pie," she calls into the room with a sing song voice and looks around expectantly waiting for an answer.
The man approached by Sylharice draws his attention away from the argument across the room. He nods. "Are you here for the escort job then?" he asks. "Gundren asked me to come here and look out for interested parties." He looks Sylharice in the eye. "One's that are up to the job." Despite his age and slightly dishevelled look he speaks with a cultured voice. "What about the others?" He gestures to the other new arrivals in the room before letting his gaze settle back on the argument with a pensive frown.
The argument seems to be getting louder still. Apparently something about a debt, from what any of you can catch.
“I’ll pass, then. Thanks anyway, friend.” Graeme says, still eyeing the ongoing argument. Graeme examines the halfling.
“Well, I guess it’s going to be that kind of day.” And with that, Graeme casually walks over to the three men.
”Eh, excuse me lads!” He says with a warm smile.” I couldn’t help notice that there seems to be some kind of disagreement!”
As Graeme approaches the argument the man speaking to Sylharice leans back in his seat to watch with interest. The middle of the three men (each richly dressed) haranguing the halfling turns with a sneer on his face. "Begone peasant," and he waves Graeme away dismissively with the back of his hand. "This is none of your concern." Without waiting for a response he turns back to the halfling. "Well, do you have the coin or not. I'm losing patience with you, my little friend."
Willow the waitress approaches Sylharice with the pie, an irritated look on her face. "This yours, is it?"
Mulligan cuts into her pie, and takes one bite. She immediately regrets it, and puts the fork and knife down. She drinks her rum, and makes her way over to the table with the heated conversation. "Why don't you leave the poor fellow alone and pick on someone your own size?"
DM:
Reign of Winter I Curse of the Crimson Throne
Hell's Vengeance | Giantslayer
Varisian Hexalogy: Rise of the Runelords
Player:
Lucille Underfoot, lv. 1 Halfling Storm Sorcerer | Janna Farooq, lv. 1 Human Celestial Warlock
I strive to post at least once per day on all my PbPs. I ask my players to do the same.
More active on weekdays than weekends.
Assume all of my characters are gay.
Sylharice responds"let me introduce myself..I am sylharice halani a follower of the arcane arts...I am looking for master gundren as it happens to be friends to my mentor.i don't know anything about this escort but if it leads me to him I LL he glad to participate