Rubies of Eventide IC Thread (D&D 5e)

[Psychie]

Athaclenna stays in her seat, eating her meal quickly, having the feeling that this meeting will be happening sooner rather than later. She returns Jalana's smile with one of her own (she is a friendly lady, after all) as she eats, then looks over at Toryk. "Yes, we can't forget how much you like your gold. Shall we investigate this offer of work? It may not pan out into something of interest to us, but who knows? We may find something that will answer to our needs."

 

[D. Rex]

Athaclenna stays in her seat, eating her meal quickly, having the feeling that this meeting will be happening sooner rather than later. She returns Jalana's smile with one of her own (she is a friendly lady, after all) as she eats, then looks over at Toryk. "Yes, we can't forget how much you like your gold. Shall we investigate this offer of work? It may not pan out into something of interest to us, but who knows? We may find something that will answer to our needs."

Toryk leaned down, "No need." He said in a lower voice than his usual boisterous loudness.

"I be knowing what he is here for. Heard his spiel myself a good while back." He explained, though his voice was getting a bit sour at this point.

"His boss do be good for the money. I promise ye that. Me Captain and me crew, we had all signed on. We did well to... until we ran into some... complications." He explained. The tone in his voice getting bitter, bitter and sad. He shook it off quickly by drowning the feeling with a throat full of drink. Athaclenna would be aware that they had all died not too long before he had met her. And his journey inland was related to that catastrophe.

Wiping his mouth he gestured to the gnome. "But it do be good he is here. Very good. He will need to know what happened. And he will have a good idea of where me next heading will be."

 

[Thanny]

The servant looked towards the gnoll incredulously, his wide eyes scanning Toryk for any reason why he was here. This was not his previous entourage, and the last he recalled of him was in a seafaring city. What was it? Waterdeep? Neverwinter? Luskan? He shook his head, unable to fully remember, but his face seemed so unsettlingly familiar that he could not forget it if he tried. Then again, with recent events, perhaps it did not need too much explaining why he was here.

"It's Gorbo," he responded to Toryk, feeling hurt by the insulting -- at least in Gnomish tongue -- name of "Garbo." Mother should have realised that his name was similar. He looked about at the group of adventurers and not just the gnoll, seeing interest among most if not all of them. He did catch sight of Ychera, though, and winced at her bitter eye.

The bartender made his rounds, pouring out the desired liquids in tankards fitting for the size of the beings he was serving. Warm ale, malted beer, fine Neverwinter and Central fruit wines, fire ale, and even some barley brews from Amn all made their way onto the proper tables as callouts were answered one by one. Hubert Bloodoak smelled of cinnamon and ground nut spice as he wafted by, a byproduct from his adventure years after running into a beholder, and the cause of an exoticness he honestly did not crave but could not wash off. Chef Slab also came to the group and delivered a few plates and bowls at a time, foods of little need for warming and piping hot stew. The seafood special will have to take a little while longer to cook.

Back to Gorbo. The servant licked his lips at the gnoll's offer, but politely refused, saying, "Apologies, good sir, but I am unable to drink on the job besides tea. What I can do, however, is allow you to finish your meals and drinks, or meet you outside in an hour's time, whichever you would like. I can take a place afar or close, but"--he looks at Brazamal while he continued--"you will unfortunately find me tight-lipped when it comes to my master. Suffice it to say that he has the coin to request for things too expensive for my tastes, and the willingness to give it out to fine adventurers who can assist him. When you all have decided, let me know. I did not expect such activity or eagerness in this . . . not wholly desirable establishment."

This comment earned him a grimace and a tossed mug from the bartender before he continued serving rounds, but the mug nor the drink struck him as he ducked beneath the whole of it in an uncanny movement. The deep gnome's muscles were primed and ready, and if people were keen-eyed they could see the spine and trappings of a spellbook tucked away within the frocks of his coat, able to be gleaned while his coat was unfurled before he adjusted them.

Hubert grinned and voiced, "Lucky dodge."

"Yes, lucky like a halfling," admitted Gorbo, a small unfiltered smile on his lips. "I will pay for the drink spilled." Two flicks of silver between him and the bartender and all was called good between them. Gorbo turned toward the gnoll, curious about the commentary of complications on his trip, but said nothing about it. Instead he continued to everyone with, "Let me know."

Sherwood

For your roll of 20 regarding the Wall, I will give all of the information.
Smallmouth was referring to the Wall of the Faithless, a destructive force of moss-eaten souls where unclaimed godless souls and the greatest of affronts to the gods of D&D were once sent to. Being without faith to a god was a horrible thing back in the day because when you were sent to the wall, your soul is slowly absorbed into the wall until you are completely and utterly destroyed. This almost never happens elsewhere, and so it was an affront to many mortals and even devils and demons. Two Betrayer's Crusades, one led by a godeater, and an exchange of gods have come and gone, and in the end the Wall was destroyed. Godless people are sent elsewhere, but no longer are they subjected to such torment and annihilation.

 

[Sherwood]

Brazamal nods. "I understand the need to keep certain things close to your chest, and I will say that I will at least accompany you to this meeting. It will serve to answer my budding curiosity."

 

[D. Rex]

The servant looked towards the gnoll incredulously, his wide eyes scanning Toryk for any reason why he was here. This was not his previous entourage, and the last he recalled of him was in a seafaring city. What was it? Waterdeep? Neverwinter? Luskan? He shook his head, unable to fully remember, but his face seemed so unsettlingly familiar that he could not forget it if he tried. Then again, with recent events, perhaps it did not need too much explaining why he was here.

"It's Gorbo," he responded to Toryk, feeling hurt by the insulting -- at least in Gnomish tongue -- name of "Garbo." Mother should have realised that his name was similar. He looked about at the group of adventurers and not just the gnoll, seeing interest among most if not all of them. He did catch sight of Ychera, though, and winced at her bitter eye.

The bartender made his rounds, pouring out the desired liquids in tankards fitting for the size of the beings he was serving. Warm ale, malted beer, fine Neverwinter and Central fruit wines, fire ale, and even some barley brews from Amn all made their way onto the proper tables as callouts were answered one by one. Hubert Bloodoak smelled of cinnamon and ground nut spice as he wafted by, a byproduct from his adventure years after running into a beholder, and the cause of an exoticness he honestly did not crave but could not wash off. Chef Slab also came to the group and delivered a few plates and bowls at a time, foods of little need for warming and piping hot stew. The seafood special will have to take a little while longer to cook.

Back to Gorbo. The servant licked his lips at the gnoll's offer, but politely refused, saying, "Apologies, good sir, but I am unable to drink on the job besides tea. What I can do, however, is allow you to finish your meals and drinks, or meet you outside in an hour's time, whichever you would like. I can take a place afar or close, but"--he looks at Brazamal while he continued--"you will unfortunately find me tight-lipped when it comes to my master. Suffice it to say that he has the coin to request for things too expensive for my tastes, and the willingness to give it out to fine adventurers who can assist him. When you all have decided, let me know. I did not expect such activity or eagerness in this . . . not wholly desirable establishment."

This comment earned him a grimace and a tossed mug from the bartender before he continued serving rounds, but the mug nor the drink struck him as he ducked beneath the whole of it in an uncanny movement. The deep gnome's muscles were primed and ready, and if people were keen-eyed they could see the spine and trappings of a spellbook tucked away within the frocks of his coat, able to be gleaned while his coat was unfurled before he adjusted them.

Hubert grinned and voiced, "Lucky dodge."

"Yes, lucky like a halfling," admitted Gorbo, a small unfiltered smile on his lips. "I will pay for the drink spilled." Two flicks of silver between him and the bartender and all was called good between them. Gorbo turned toward the gnoll, curious about the commentary of complications on his trip, but said nothing about it. Instead he continued to everyone with, "Let me know."

Sherwood

For your roll of 20 regarding the Wall, I will give all of the information.
Smallmouth was referring to the Wall of the Faithless, a destructive force of moss-eaten souls where unclaimed godless souls and the greatest of affronts to the gods of D&D were once sent to. Being without faith to a god was a horrible thing back in the day because when you were sent to the wall, your soul is slowly absorbed into the wall until you are completely and utterly destroyed. This almost never happens elsewhere, and so it was an affront to many mortals and even devils and demons. Two Betrayer's Crusades, one led by a godeater, and an exchange of gods have come and gone, and in the end the Wall was destroyed. Godless people are sent elsewhere, but no longer are they subjected to such torment and annihilation.

"Gorbo! Right!" The gnoll said with enthusiastic clarification. "Well a shame it be that you won't be partaking. I promise to drink one for you and the boss. So that at least in spirt ye won't be left out."



While he was a bit disappointed that his food wasn't out yet, and his look at Atha's stew was covetous to say the least. He did feel a good bit of cheer returning to him.

Tapping a claw on the wooden table, he thought quickly. This could be the breakthrough he needed. With the Gordo here meant resources and information from the collector. And... fresh recruits for the job. The gnoll was confident. And now assured. Let's see if he could help along the sale a bit.


He looked at the gathering group of adventurers, "Aye, like me pint sized grey friend, I won't spill the beans on the boss. But I will tell you all that he do be good on his pay. Me and me last crew made small fortunes just by tracking stuff down alone. Easy money." He confided.


"But, ye all do all be in good luck with me here today." The gnoll grinned and tapped his furry skull. "I be knowing things, you see. This not be the place to get into details, but I can tell you that anybody who signs on, that we would be leagues ahead of other teams. You could not be hoping for a better start than this."


A team, he thought. That was just what he needed. And with the Collectors backing, that withering-sucking scab-licker would be as good as dead. Thats right, Toryk was coming to gut you like a fish.

Speaking of fish.

"Come now! Don't be starving the gnoll!" He shouted jestingly at the bartender, "We get rowdy on empty stomachs. We break mugs and make crude jokes and lick the tables for crumbs." The last threat being particularly vile if anybody knew how hard it was to clean up gnoll slobber.

 

[jaydude]

By this point, Jalana actually had to stifle a chuckle at Toryk and his manner of speaking.

"'Aye, like me pint sized grey friend'? 'Me and me last crew'? 'I be knowing things'? What are you, some kind of pirate?" she teased.

 

[D. Rex]

By this point, Jalana actually had to stifle a chuckle at Toryk and his manner of speaking.

"'Aye, like me pint sized grey friend'? 'Me and me last crew'? 'I be knowing things'? What are you, some kind of pirate?" she teased

Toryk guffawed in boisterous laughter, "Yar harr harr! Nay lass! Well maybe. Kind of. In a manner of speaking. I mean, well the title certainly has been bandied about quite loosely. But for the sake of niceties, we like to call ourselves opportunistic, freedom-enjoying, booty-loving, silver-tongued, deathly-handsome privateers. And if we be going by those standards, who then here don't be a pirate?" His toothy grin widened with each word until it nearly split his face in half.

 

[jaydude]

Toryk guffawed in boisterous laughter, "Yar harr harr! Nay lass! Well maybe. Kind of. In a manner of speaking. I mean, well the title certainly has been bandied about quite loosely. But for the sake of niceties, we like to call ourselves opportunistic, freedom-enjoying, booty-loving, silver-tongued, deathly-handsome privateers. And if we go by those standards, who then here isn't a pirate?" His toothy grin widened with each word until it nearly split his face in half.

Jalana gave him a grin, even as her head started to ache a bit from following all the traits listed by Toryk. She had to admit that based on his description, pirates weren't that different from the typical mercenary. Aside from collecting their own pay, of course.

"And just how does a gnoll end up in a crew of...privateers?" she asked, unwilling to try and repeat his full description lest she as good as tear her brain in half. "Not to judge, but I always got the impression that your kind were akin to murderous barbarians, not interested in the comforts of civilization..."

Hopefully that didn't come off as too offensive. 'Murderous barbarians' could be applied to many of the humans Jalana had fought with in the past, after all.

 

[D. Rex]

Jalana gave him a grin, even as her head started to ache a bit from following all the traits listed by Toryk. She had to admit that based on his description, pirates weren't that different from the typical mercenary. Aside from collecting their own pay, of course.

"And just how does a gnoll end up in a crew of...privateers?" she asked, unwilling to try and repeat his full description lest she as good as tear her brain in half. "Not to judge, but I always got the impression that your kind were akin to murderous barbarians, not interested in the comforts of civilization..."

Hopefully that didn't come off as too offensive. Many of the 'murderous barbarians' Jalana had encountered were human, after all.

"Aye, you don't be wrong there. Most folks be knowing gnolls from our fouler brethren, the butchers brood. Understandable, as it be they that be making the most waves with the civilized folk."

"You see, you can boil us gnolls down into two camps. The first being the butchers brood. Feral and wild. Any and all of the tribes who suck on the teets of demon lord Yeenoghu. He be a bad one. The divine patron of the gnolls. Murder for the sake of it, senseless and cruel, and a wanton destruction of civilization and any of its fruits. That do be the way of him. Ah, the horror stories I could tell. Things even i wouldn't want to be hearing about when eating. Best to avoid em if you don't be a gnoll yourself, or kill em on sight."

"Then we be gotten the second kind of gnolls. We who be wanting nothing to do with that feverish insanity. Aye, we do love a good fight and nary a gnoll is sight could turn down a good hunt. But we see Yeenoghu for what he is and the madness he brings, and we want nothing to do with it. You will find tribes like us here and there, we keep to the wilderness, and keep to ourselves mostly. Not that we aren't 'mischievous', sometimes, but you know how it is."

"My tribe is that of the latter, kept to ourselves in the Desserin Valley. Trying to build ourselves up into something, you see. The shaman said it was something we needed to do, so we listened. Had to learn, we did, didn't know the first thing about settling down. I'd say we really spook the humans when they saw a pack of us just be watching them farm from afar. Good times."

"Alas, we all had our jobs to do. I was barely a pup of age when I was sent out to gather gold and resources. To work like you all did. Of course that didn't go over all that well for those of specific talents like ourselves."

"Luck have it then that we saw our destiny at the coast. Ships hiring just our sort of a bit of hunting and gathering. We couldn't say no to a job like that. Me and a few others found ourselves on the seas. Learning the ropes, in the literal meaning. A real adventure, it was, struck a chord in the soul."

"Quite the culture shock too. Never before did I see many strange creatures in me life. An eclectic collection of scoundrels, misfits, rapscallions, and ne'er-do-wells. Could barely speak a word of common at the time. But there we all were. Hoisting and hunting and partying like we had all plopped out of the same mother. Learned a great bit among the crews and ports we came across. Learned from every success and failure. All me brothers and sisters did. And when we had shore leave we returned to the tribe with tales and spoils. Then we meet back up at Waterdeep to set sail for another season along the Sword Coast. Been doing such for nearly half me life now. "

 

[jaydude]

Jalana nodded at Toryk, finding herself surprisingly fascinated by his story. "And somewhere along the line, you ended up meeting this one." she said, nodding towards Athaclenna. "Would either of you care to elaborate on that?"

Addressed: D. Rex Psychie

 

[Shadeofshade]

Religion Check on Bahumut: 1+5=6

 

[Shadeofshade]

Phectty smiled once again. Acknowledging the blessing from the Dragonborn Brazamal he replied, “Much appreciated Sir Brazamal.” His eyes darted down to look at the crest on Branzamal. He recognised it and continued, “And may the blessings of Bahumut be upon you. Unfortunately I do not know much about Bahumut but I would love to learn more, eventually.”

After that, Phectty addressed an adventurer and an Owlfolk, “Think nothing of it. I always look to make new friends and my brother once said that ‘Drink is always a good way to start a conversation and to make friends.’ So, I follow that advice as and when I can.”

After that he listened to what the Gnome had to say and responded with, “So join us for a drink of tea then.” Grabbing another gold coin, placing it onto the counter and then heading over to the table he claimed while saying, “With that said, please make an order. It’s on me.” Then directing what he said next to the bartender, “Don’t worry about the change.” With that he headed to the table, sat down and peered through the window to check up on his horses.

 

[Psychie]

Jalana nodded at Toryk, finding herself surprisingly fascinated by his story. "And somewhere along the line, you ended up meeting this one." she said, nodding towards Athaclenna. "Would either of you care to elaborate on that?"

Addressed: D. Rex Psychie

Athaclenna smiles a bit in remembrance of their meeting. "First off, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Athaclenna Gollana, a follower of Solonor, one of the elvish gods. When Toryk and I first met, it really wasn't that long ago. We were both traveling on the same road when the caravan we were in was beset upon by bandits. Toryk and I both stepped forward to help defend the people in the caravan, and in the process, we saved each other's lives, him with his martial skill, and me with my healing gifts from my God. We have since become friends, and I am trying to keep this scallywag from resorting to a life of banditry, showing him the benefits of living a good life."

She then places a friendly hand on his shoulder, saying, "It is still a work in progress, but my friend here does have a heart of gold, and that is good enough for me."

 

[D. Rex]

Toyk could not help but pat the sweet little elf's hand. "Come now Atha, you be making me grey skin the color pink. But as I keep, ye be gotten your work cut out for ya. I am hard in the habit of wagging my scallys at but a whim. Still, I do no be knowing what I'd be doing without her. We gnoll ain't meant to be alone. And be a light in me dark times."


"But may, I ain't being here for no banditry. The question be begged, I know. Aye it do be related to work. But there be more personal matters too. On a hunt I am. Details I do not be wishing to get into before I've eaten lest me anger get the better of me. A gnoll who did me wrong in the worst of ways, and who will pay in guts for what they did."

His voice was getting angry enough to border on a growl, but he stopped himself by clearing his throat. No need to lose his cool right now.


"Me pardons, if ye no mind."


Thanny [Using Theives Cant. To see if any of the patrons are informants and would have information on a ship that left port three days]

"Ey, keeper. I do be getting thristy over here. Three days parched, I'd be paying extra for you to pour me a Skipper, with a good head on it."

 

[Shadeofshade]

Roll to see if Phectty knows anything about the ship Toyk's talking about. Odd, Doesn't know anything. Even, does know something.

 

[Felis]

D. Rex , Psychie (mentioned)
Ivvie tilted her head as Jalana and Toryk had their back and forth. Fascinating! Why hadn't Ivvie ever thought of becoming a "privateer" herself? It sounded positively exciting! Then again, how much open sea did she really need to see in her lifetime? It was bound to look all the same after a while. If they did end up working together for a while, maybe Toryk could tell her a few tales instead, that would do.

What worried her more was that the elf seemed a bit... meddlesome. Ivvie wasn't a bandit or anything like it - as far as she was concerned, all the money she'd got had been freely given - but in her experience people like her didn't care about such distinctions. Well, if that mysterious employer paid as well as it sounded, Ivvie might have no need for additional income for a while, anyway.

Especially with someone affluent and generous coming along.

Shadeofshade
"Your brother sounds like a wise man, and the world would be a better place if more people thought like him," Ivvie smiled at Pheccty. "Allow me to drink to both his health and yours, then!" She'd made up her mind - befriending this man would definitely be the more worthwhile option. He paid for people's drinks before they even had a chance to ask!

Thanny
"A cup of mead, or cider, if you have a good one!" Ivvie called to the barkeeper. "And I'll have some of that stew as well, if you'd be so kind." It looked like there would be enough time to eat before they set out, and there was no chance she'd pass on a free meal.

 

[Thanny]

Sherwood D. Rex Psychie jaydude

Gorbo the gnome nodded in thanks towards the dragonborn, glad that at least some divulged information could be kept at least for the moment, not that he knew much about it to begin with. That was one of the better traits of the heroic champions of the gods, though which god he worshiped escaped him. The crest was known to him, however. Why did it not come to him? The gnoll Toryk too attracted his attention, luring out a smirk from the otherwise gruff face of the deep gnome, and he plopped down into a nearby smaller chair in the meantime, sitting in it with the just-large-enough back of the chair facing forward and propping up his chin and forearm.

He remained there, earnestly looking at the motley crew as he stoically remained on his perch. The life of an adventurer seemed like a good one. Unfortunately he was no longer under his own employ since . . . since . . . when? Some wizard he was, forgetting as much as he was. Then again, isn't that the curse of wizards established by Mystra herself? To forget? Even still, he was very interested in the gnoll and his story of where he was whelped and raised. He shuddered when the mention of Yeenoghu was brought up, the Prince of Gnolls, the Beast of Butchery, and other titles not often being brought up at civilisation's hearths except to scare little kids into being good. Demons and their ilk, according to Gorbo, were a nasty brood, but he had experiences with devils and demons once upon a time. At least, he thought he did.

The chef of the establishment came out with a steaming platter of this universe's equivalent of a tuna fish steak and well-buttered scampi on a skewer, all seemingly pretty fresh and well-seasoned by salt, garlic, and green herbs. A small dollop of a pungently aromatic white-red sauce was placed on the platter away from the meats, a blend of pickled horseradish and beets all finely chopped and blended with oil and vinegar, seemingly for the scampi. Chef Slab seemed especially proud of his foods . . . and his juice, which he also offered free of charge to Atheclenna and Toryk in a cup alongside the food.

"It makes anything go down easier, 'specially If you ever get to choking," he voiced with a wild grin before slipping off. "Tell your friends if you like it. There's plenty more where that came from. Hah!"

If the drink is checked, one might find a light purplish liquid that reminds of grape juice, but was an affront to the nostrils. If bibbed, though, the juice would be very tasty, like the tangy flavour of grape mingled with the sugary sweetness of caramel but better than possibly figured to tastebuds. Such was the power of durian fruits, harvested all the way from Chult, brought here candied and dried, and chopped so thin and fine that it was hardly noticeable on the bottom. Hardly. He was just glad that it came dried because the scent of durian was a pungent thing that would easily stink up the kitchen, and if there were two things that he cared for they were his nostrils and his job.

Shadeofshade Felis

Phectty smiled once again. Acknowledging the blessing from the Dragonborn Brazamal he replied, “Much appreciated Sir Brazamal.” His eyes darted down to look at the crest on Branzamal. He recognised it and continued, “And may the blessings of Bahumut be upon you. Unfortunately I do not know much about Bahumut but I would love to learn more, eventually.”

After that, Phectty addressed an adventurer and an Owlfolk, “Think nothing of it. I always look to make new friends and my brother once said that ‘Drink is always a good way to start a conversation and to make friends.’ So, I follow that advice as and when I can.”

After that he listened to what the Gnome had to say and responded with, “So join us for a drink of tea then.” Grabbing another gold coin, placing it onto the counter and then heading over to the table he claimed while saying, “With that said, please make an order. It’s on me.” Then directing what he said next to the bartender, “Don’t worry about the change.” With that he headed to the table, sat down and peered through the window to check up on his horses.

Gorbo looked up from his chair, eyes darting between Phectty and the bartender, who seemed to appreciate the extra gold from the philanthropic newcomer and seize it with a firm palm.

"Tea, eh? And an order? That can be done," Hubert Bloodoak spoke with an eye twinkle, though his expression did not change much. Food was cheap to buy and prepare here in Yartar, even though premiums came in for seafood due to its temperamental nature from the Sword Coast and up the river to Yartar. "What tea do you like, my short friend, and what food?"

Gorbo released himself from his comfortably uncomfortable seat and approached the counter, a little bow-legged from the encounter with that solid chair.

"Cold Blue Dragon tea if you have it, with a dish of softly grilled vegetables and rice. Carrots are a plus, if you have them."

"Oi, Slab, you have a new order. Did you hear it all?"

"Aye, that I did, and I will be right on it," mumbled the chef. This was soon after recommending the juice. "Burnie veg and grainies with sticks, and a nice, cold bluebee coming right up!" He looked over to the Owlfolk and frowned, unsure of the bubbly sentient being's age. The rest were more understandably older. Birdfolk not so much when they mature so fast. "Age, miss? And can I get you something?"

D. Rex

Thanny [Using Theives Cant. To see if any of the patrons are informants and would have information on a ship that left port three days]

"Ey, keeper. I do be getting thristy over here. Three days parched, I'd be paying extra for you to pour me a Skipper, with a good head on it."

The barkeep glanced over to the gnoll with confusion regarding his order, but instead of asking what he meant Hubert decided to pour him some dark-coloured ale aged with elderberry wine which seemed to be a hit. The drink was boat-themed, so maybe that was what he meant by a Skipper with a good head on it, and he brought it over in front of the gnoll before walking back.

Sapphique and Smallmouth, however, seemed to understand the obscure Thieves Cant that was spoken by the gnoll for what it was: a hidden message only understandable to those who were in the more clandestine lines of work. Smallmouth was the first to pounce upon the gnoll's table, rising from his brother's table and bringing a chair over. Sapphique shrugged and continued working on his drink, venturing to his own table.

Smallmouth lowered his usual boisterousness and spoke to Toryk, also in Thieves Cant, "Yeah, I know a guy. He works just north of here, the first alleyway to the left from the intersection of Hoarfrost Ave and Giant Way, up Giant Way. He sets up shop next to the docks, but be aware that you may need to grease a few palms, savvy?"

 

[jaydude]

Athaclenna smiles a bit in remembrance of their meeting. "First off, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Athaclenna Gollana, a follower of Solonor, one of the elvish gods. When Toryk and I first met, it really wasn't that long ago. We were both traveling on the same road when the caravan we were in was beset upon by bandits. Toryk and I both stepped forward to help defend the people in the caravan, and in the process, we saved each other's lives, him with his martial skill, and me with my healing gifts from my God. We have since become friends, and I am trying to keep this scallywag from resorting to a life of banditry, showing him the benefits of living a good life."

She then places a friendly hand on his shoulder, saying, "It is still a work in progress, but my friend here does have a heart of gold, and that is good enough for me."

Jalana nodded. She'd been far from familiar with the elven gods even before her head injury, and she wasn't going to hurt herself by trying to recall what exactly Solonor's domain was.

"I can't say I'm one for changing people's minds on how they want to live their lives. For one thing, trying to come up with good arguments isn't exactly pleasant for my brain these days." she said, indicating the large scar on the side of her head. "Still, I wish you luck in your endeavor. It's not my place to judge others here."

Toyk could not help but pat the sweet little elf's hand. "Come now Atha, you be making me grey skin the color pink. But as I keep, ye be gotten your work cut out for ya. I am hard in the habit of wagging my scallys at but a whim. Still, I do no be knowing what I'd be doing without her. We gnoll ain't meant to be alone. And be a light in me dark times."

"But may, I ain't being here for no banditry. The question be begged, I know. Aye it do be related to work. But there be more personal matters too. On a hunt I am. Details I do not be wishing to get into before I've eaten lest me anger get the better of me. A gnoll who did me wrong in the worst of ways, and who will pay in guts for what they did."

His voice was getting angry enough to border on a growl, but he stopped himself by clearing his throat. No need to lose his cool right now.


"Me pardons, if ye no mind."

The warrior raised an intrigued eyebrow at Toryk's mention of an enemy he was hunting down, but didn't try and press the matter, doubtful as she was that he'd be willing to speak about it right now.

 

[Felis]

He looked over to the Owlfolk and frowned, unsure of the bubbly sentient being's age. The rest were more understandably older. Birdfolk not so much when they mature so fast. "Age, miss? And can I get you something?"

After the initial surprise, Ivvie sighed. Ah yes, this did happen occasionally. If she had to convince someone of her age, though, Ivvie might as well have fun while doing it. She smoothed out her clothes, straightened herself, then gave the chef an engaging smile.

"That's an awfully blunt way of asking a lady that, but I appreciate your diligence in the matter, so I won't take offense," she bantered. "I'll admit that we owlfolk may not be the most common sight, so I'll let you in on a secret - you seem like you can keep it! It's quite easy to tell our young from the grown-ups, you know."

Ivvie hopped closer, leaned in and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's our feathers! When we're born, they're pure white, then they darken year by year as we age. I know, you'll say I still have some white in them, but I'm not quite a grandma yet, you see?"

She cleared her throat. "Now that that's cleared up, my order was a cup of cider and a bowl of stew, if you please," she reiterated politely, but firmly at her normal volume.

 

[Thanny]

Felis D. Rex

Chef Slab looked down at the little owlfolk, scratching his transitioning beard with a finger absent-mindedly and listening all the while. While he was loath to think that he was serving drink to a minor, the worry was no longera problem, as she did not want alcohol to begin with. Marveling over the idea that colour gave away the age of owlfolk, whether it was true or not, he managed a grin towards the lovely bird and answered, "Aye, it shall be right out. Those are easy to bring out. Now, to see if I can bring out the remainder of the orders. Those should be done soon too."

With a look of satisfaction, he slipped back into the kitchen and, after five to ten minutes of whipping everything together, brought out food trays containing delicious-looking, stick-to-your-rib foods for wild-eyed adventurers. Gorbo tossed a thankful look towards Phectty, blessed him and the meal, and got right to work, speedily gulping down his food as if raised to eat it in all haste before leaving it to wild animals, and in three minutes he had cleaned the dish of every grain of rice. The tea served as a finisher, sweet and pungent and sweet with only a hint of orange rind taste to it. Gorbo enjoyed that.

Sherwood Felis jaydude Psychie Shadeofshade D. Rex

Once things were settling down and people were well sated, Gorbo analysed the group one last time from the comfort of a chair before standing and waiting patiently by the bar table, letting the rest finish their meals, dialogues, and anything else they needed beforehand. His gaze fell on all of the crew who mentioned the possibility of joining to see the Collector, to ensure that they knew he was waiting on them.

Sapphique and Smallmouth withdrew to their typical tables, saying goodbyes, and Smallmouth issuing what could be the last smile for now towards his "silver brother." Ychera seemed to keep to herself, drinking her second tankard of Fire Ale and seemingly unaffected by the alcohol, a blue glow coming from her winding tattoos on her arms. Isayri passed out on the table, and the bartender was shaking his head at the downed gnome.

((When everyone is ready or three real-time days pass, I will get us started heading over to the Collector.))

 

[Sherwood]

With his meal and drink both finished, Brazamal looks to the others. "I am ready to leave when you are."

 

[jaydude]

"Likewise" said Jalana, the warrior woman taking a moment to look at the dragonborn. She hadn't paid him much notice earlier, what with his preoccupation with Smallmouth, but now she took notice of his platemail, the greatsword he carried and the holy symbol she possessed. Not that she could tell it was a representation of Bahamut, of course.

Mentions: Sherwood

 

[Psychie]

Athaclenna leans back in her seat after finishing her meal and gives Toryk a nod. "You ready to go, you salty sea dog? C'mon. Lets see what the future holds in store for us!" With that, she rises and gathers up her few things and looks to the rest of the group. "I'm all set."

 

[Felis]

Food and drink taste even better when in high spirits, and so Ivvie decided the tavern's selection was doubly delicious. Seeing as her little tale about her feathers went over quite well, maybe she should use it more often? But inventing new stories was fun too.

All the same, something even more exciting beckoned up ahead, and Ivvie did not want to be left behind because she had dawdled. She almost burned her tongue on the stew in her hurry, but she did finish her food in time, so it was all good.

"I'm ready, too," she called out, rising from her seat as well (or rather jumping down from it, given her height).

 

[Shadeofshade]

With the meal and drink finished, Phectty picked up his traveler’s cloak, put it on, walked over to where everyone was gathering and said, “I’m not quite ready yet. I need to go out back, switch my two current pulling horses, Samanthe and Dante, with my two reserve horses, Cassandra and Virgil, and I need to make sure I have enough space for everyone in my carriage. With that said he turned around, walked over to the door that he was sat next to, turned around and said while pointing in the direction of the fireplace, “My carriage is just out this door and that way. See you guy’s in a bit.” And with that, he left to go do everything he said he would do.