Cohorts!

[Kain_Tempest]

Hail, the conquering hero comes,
Surrounded by a bunch of bums
- George E. Phair

Booze and Boards

It was a very sweet gesture for your fearless leaders to let you stay in the back garden of the estate while your shares were processed. Stone benches, a nice looking fountain with several exotic plants would have given the late afternoon some semblance of peace and the release of stress. Of course, how were they supposed to know that inclement weather was going to get in the way? Another clap of thunder gives way to another heavy downpour as your toes feel like deep sea divers in your boots and your sandals snorkel in the cobblestone puddles.

There few overhangs in the garden, not even the 'shed', an attachment to the house akin to a mudroom, gave shelter beneath it's eaves and the strong, sturdy door was always locked until you were allowed in. What few places there are to get out of the rain are seriously crowded. Just like the weather, it seems to have been a perfect time for both Azure Dragon groups to show up at the same time. Were it not for your friendly associates, you'd probably have enough room beneath a statue for your whole coterie to avoid pneumonia. However, the cold's you'll inevitably get will be a real damper for the evening. What's worse is the startling crash of the chicken market last month has taken both the stocks and the broth to a record high. Some merchant has probably been strung up for that joke, but at least he doesn't have to be concerned with being cold and wet, down in the broiling underworld he now inhabits.

Up on a second story of the stately house, you see the warm glow of a healthy fire, but little of the conversation comes through. No doubt the wheeling and dealing of the Order of the Azure Dragon as the two groups compare their loot, argue over items to keep, and have their matron pick off all the cool stuff that you could fight each other for, especially if it's a cure disease potion. Between fungal caves and ancient crypts, someone is going to find something funky from last week's expedition.

A loud 'thunk' and the creak of the back door of the estate bids your entrance. A gray-feathered raven peers at you from the door frame, making a cooing sound before hopping away and flapping up to the table in the dark mudroom. Not much for shelter, this modest attachment to the house is at least tells you no longer have to stand outside in the rain.

Along the wall next to the only window of the shed are rough stone countertops and a wash basin, a few dirty rags and towels are piled there, still unwashed and unattended for several weeks. A small iron stove sits in the corner, a meagre pile of twigs sitting in a bin as fuel for the damned thing. At the opposite corner of the shed, a large slate board as been propped up, gray smears and cracks revealing the wear of the ages upon it's surface. Scrawled on the slate is a simple message: "Long meeting with boss today, will be getting off late tonight. No debrief. Enjoy your shares." One would wonder if there are many merchants who treat their children the same way with their children.

Wooden stools circle around the table where the gray raven sits amongst several burlap bags about the size of a human fist. These are your shares for the last excursion, thirty gold coins each. The raven watches quietly as you collect your shares and then absently fiddles with a small piece of chalk that had been left by the messenger.

And so the tradition continues once again like every week before, a bunch of miserable would-be adventurers sitting in a shed during a storm, counting their pay to ensure no bronze coins got slipped in, and to argue about where to go to celebrate survival of another harrowing mission, discuss plans for the week, and to condemn your bosses away from the eyes and ears of that feathered tattle-tale on the table.

[Jokes]

Edward

Edward sits on a stool and reaches a cold, blue hand to one of the bags and hefts it toward him. More content with being out of the rain than the pay, Edward is in no hurry to leave, so he takes his time counting his coins. Finally satisfied that he wasted enough time doing that, he turns to the others assembled. "Boy, how about this weather, huh?" he reaches for some conversation starter.

[Townopolis]

Finspor

A little gnome, soaked head to foot, clambers onto a stool and stands atop it to reach his bag of loot. He counts the coins, then deposits the whole thing into one of the many pouches at his waist and drops the bag back on the table.

"Perfect weather to go pubbing, eh? It'll keep the color indoors. And you know, dreary weather always makes people grateful to get away from it all. Good times, good times."

He adjusts the leather strap holding a round leather case to his back. Inside is his bodhran, a flat drum to be played with fingers or a small, bone drumstick.

"Hey, you know what, I could really use a new cloak, eh? Storm season's starting and these rains'll just keep coming and coming and coming. Who wants to hit the shops then hit the pugs, huh? It'll be great fun."

[pingcode20]

Meekin the Kobold
Thivlax (That's Meekin's real name, for those of you who haven't been paying attention) sat in his usual spot, dividing up his share into a couple of distinct piles before sweeping them into his pockets with a smile. He was well on his way to repaying his M.O.O.K.S. adventure breakout debt. His uniform for this job was a heavy mauve robe with a thick leather apron sort of bit over the front, back, and shoulders - not exactly the best thing for rain, it must be admitted.

"Could be worse." he shrugged. "Could be stuck listening to a vampire whine about how much life 'thucks'."

He snapped a finger and started drying himself off with a little spell he'd picked up.

Ibble Obble Black Bubble Ibble Obble Out

As he sang the little rhyme in just the right way, his heavy robe quickly dried itself out.

"Besides, we are getting paid, are we not? Most minions do not get anything, so we should be thankful."

[Dreamshifter]

Milly

After a few full body shivers, Milly grabbed her coins, and gave them a quick once over. "Worse? Yup, I dare say it could, but then, it almost always can, really." The coins disappeared into her clothes.

She pulled out a leather string and tied her soaking wet hair back. "Still, I won't be complaining about getting paid. And I think I could go for something warm, whether it gets me drunk or not. Unless someone has something better to offer, I'm all for the pub."

[DJDeMiko]

Gilligan aka Gill aka Lil

Gill drops his coins into his pouch and says "Eh, its bad now, but its only temporary. One of these days Brock and I are going to start our own adventuring team!" He sighs dejectidly, as if a small part of him knows the truth, that his brother will never treat him as an equal and says "But that's then and this is now and it's time to drink."

[FatJose]

Will Myroak

Will examined each and every coin, his green eyes followed every line of the face and back of the gold pieces and every ridge, scrape and flaw in it's production. He would then rub his thumb over the coin and carefully place it in a pouch on his belt. He did this with every coin and it was a ritual everyone was familiar with by now.

He mumbles to himself as he looks at the next coin with some suspicion, "I think I'll need a new robe too... Master Cardamet looked a bit chilly so I gave him mine...uh..he took mine, actually..." He puts away the coin and begins examining the next.

[Jokes]

Edward

"I'm up for a shop, Yiro wants me to start doing those fancy borders when I write about his 'exploits,' so I need to find some coloured inks. And a good cloak is always handy." He closes his eyes as he starts to sneeze, but with an almost anguished look he holds it back. "And a warming ale is just what we need."

[Townopolis]

Finspor

The gnome hops down from his stool and makes his way to the door.

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Everyone in the market party, let's for a marching order and move out!"

He accompanies these words by thrusting his arm forward, index finger extended, as if ordering legions to march. Then, he opens the door and hustles out into the storm, making for the markets.

[DJDeMiko]

Gill

Gill hops down from his own stool and follows the gnome out into the storm, pausing only to pull his hood up to try, ineffectually, and stay dry.

[pingcode20]

Meekin the Kobold

"So it's settled. Let's go!"

Thivlax pocketed his money and headed out with the others, letting his clothes get soaked again. He'd had worse.

[Dreamshifter]

Milly

"Shopping is also good!" She scrambled down from her seat and out the door, trying to keep pace with the others.

[Jokes]

Edward

Smiling at the gnomes bravado, Edward picks up his gold and follows. "I'll take centre then, once more into the breach!"

[pingcode20]

Meekin the Kobold

Thivlax laughed. "We're off duty, guys. No need to line up to see who gets killed first!"

[FatJose]

Will Myroak

He looks around, noticing that everybody was leaving with haste. "Everyone is in a hurry, today." He hesitates with the coin in his hand and places it back inside of his loot pouch. He straps it to his belt opposite of his coin pouch, the counted and examined coins and the "suspect" coins. He gets up and begins tidying up his shirt, focused on smoothing out every last wrinkle. Will wipes the wet blond bangs off his face and behind his ears. He picks up a large tome from the table and turns to the door.

[Townopolis]

Finspor

Finspor skips and scampers happily along the city streets, glad to be free of the toilsome waiting, and cheered by the thought of a warm fire beside him and a toasty beer inside... or is the fire toasty? Anyway, he even splashes a few puddles along the way, getting himself even wetter, if such a thing is possible, and a bit dirtier.

Upon arriving at the market he raises his hands dramatically to call a halt.

"Well, friends, it would seem we have many paths before us. I suggest we split into scouting parties and make a brief foray in a few directions. If anyone doesn't report back in five minutes, we'll know he's found trouble."

As he speaks, he does his best Sir Robynn impression, then his voice returns to its normal tenor.

"Five minutes, then the pub!"

With that, he skips off to purchase a nice winter cloak.

[Dreamshifter]

Milly wandered off to check out the market, but since she didn't need anything at the moment, gets back to the pub before the five minutes are up. She considers hanging around outside, waiting for the others, but the rain gets the better of her, and she goes inside to warm up. And dry out, at least on the outside.

[Kain_Tempest]

The first of the month is often a rather dreary time, moreso today wha with the downpour, but also because it was a common time for the Council of Usher's to commence, which also meant fewer guards out roaming the streets. Pehaps the most you've seen today were a trio standing outside a storefront, discussing something with a merchant whose store appears to have been ransacked.

Although it was be a stretch to call them such, you also see a small column of Hell-knights, the ten soldiers marched in two perfect lines, shields and spears at their side. This was a token patrol to remind the citizens of Magnimar who was busy keeping an eye on them, as well as a way of weeding out the miserable from the ranks of the vicious warriors. The practice was like bleeding blood from a stone because no one has ever seen a Knight of the Nail falter when out on patrol.

The market iself lacks some of the usual colour on the warmer days. A lul in the number of ships in port reduced the number of sellers and goods to be out on trade. Various people of every creed and race hunker down beneath soggy tents, rubbing hands chilled by the air. Few had the energy to advertise their wares, with the few pounding voices getting beaten down by the rain and the drum of idle, dour chatter. Even those merchants who openly hated having to compete with one another didn't want to fight today, settling instead with dirty glances accross the flooded cobblestones and various wares.

Finspor's journey takes him to the tent of a dwarven fur trader from Nosterloch. Various iron implements adorn the counters along with fine furs of bears, deer, wolves, and the occassional giant rabbit, all worked into various kinds of apparel, from vests and cloaks, to infamous hats for the neutrals and thongs for the barbarians. The bearded one watches Findspor under shaggy eyebrows, trying to hide the irritation of having his on-the-job supper of gravy soup interrupted by the freakish little man.

With the economy the way it is, the popularity of adventurers ebbs and flows in the eyes ofthe common people, and being that they are the most common of clientele, some tavern keepers are very particular about who they let enter their doors. For some, money is the criteria, or a lack of arms and armour, other times it can be just the look about you. In either case, there is often a tough of some kind at the door with the best interests of his watering hole, reading to refuse anyone who doesn't fit the bill.
For the Warrior's Lid, their famous guardian is nothing more than a solid oak placard over the door, with the image of an everflowing stein with a horned can similar to the moronic get up of big-boned sopranos and hairy sea shore raiders.
Chips M'Quarry was certainly not a discriminating person as to what ship came to find safe harbour, or the crew that came with it. Wooden teeth and scars that would make an orc blush told all of the long work history of the tavern's owner. Plus, many of his clients also doubled as the impromptu security of the establishment, often because it was the one place that they were never permanentoly barred from, but more importantly, Chips was a retired adventurer.
Aside from the common folk who didn't mind being in an establishment built for 'privateer shenanigans', the more colourful clients were sparse. The Bootstrap Bandits lounged in their corner, nursing their tankdards of ale; Lenora continued to brow-beat her airheaded apprentice over a bundle of scrolls and a bottle of wine; and Germaine, the barmaid-with-a-heart-of-gold, waved off a tall newcomer after serving him his beer.
Late afternoons at the Warrior's Lid were never big business and was often the quiet time for Chips, his staff, and his regulars. Germaine was the first to notice Milly's arrival, a wide grin on her face as she approached with a pro-offered towel to sop up the wet stuff.
"Good t'see you survived, m'dear." The barmaid chimed. "You seat'n yerself or there more on the way?"

[Dreamshifter]

Milly dour expression turns into a quite genuine smile. "Survived I did, though it was a near thing. And as to seating, why, there is a veritable horde of us coming! At least five or six! Assuming no one gets lost in the rain." She takes the towel, and is shortly dry. Well, drier. And being a halfling, she is shortly everything.

However, somehow, her hair has come out of the storm, if not intact, then at least still looking good. "You know what? I'll seat myself anyway. I'm sure the others will be along when they get here."

[Townopolis]

Finspor

Finspor pokes around the various fur until he finds a suitable piece of apparel, a wolf-fur cloak and mantle close enough to his size to work. Holding up the article, he places five crowns on the counter and quirks an eyebrow at the dwarf, waiting for the shopkeep's response, be it verbal or not.

After a brief bit of haggling, he dons the cloak and scampers off to the Warrior's Lid, laughing and twirling his new cloak about the whole way there.

After entering the pub, Finspor checks to be sure no one is behind him, then puffs up his chest and steeples his fingers. He then grabs the hem of the cloak and bows with a flourish, sending all the accumulated moisture out the door in a magnificent spray. Having prestidigitated himself clean, dry, and less cold, he finds a spot by the fire to sit down.

He orders a mug of cider and a plate of food from Germaine, then unpacks his bodhran, using his prestidigitation and a mending spell if needed to ensure that it is in top condition. With that taken care of, he rests the drum beside himself and waits for his meal.

Spoiler

Show

OOC: In retrospect, a full cold weather outfit would be best, changed his initial offer to gold instead of silver, hopefully a heavy fur cloak and mantle can count as a full outfit for the wee lad.

copying Jokes below and buying a the outfit for 8 gp

[Jokes]

Edward

Edward follows Finspor as far as the fur trader. He studies some of the garments and settles on buying a set, rather than just a cloak. Heading back into the rain, he searches around for an inkseller, but failing to find one, he heads to the tavern. He spots Milly and Finspor and hurries over to the table. "I know what will hit the spot on a day like today." He waves down the waitress and orders a plate of food as well as a mug of warm spiced wine, something his father used to make. He smiles, "Warms the hands and the heart."

Spoiler

Show

Buying Cold Weather Outfit for 8gp. And boy, coloured inks are expensive...

[DJDeMiko]

Gill

Gill walks in and shakes himself off like a small rat.

In an instinctual move learned from years of torture by his brothers he takes a moment to carefully inspect the tavern, looking for danger and profit.

He spies Milly and heads over to her, pulling up a tall stool and climbing up it.

"I swear," he begins, "if it was raining any harder out there I would have been swept away."

[FatJose]

Will Myroak

After having purchased a bear fur coat off the trader from Nosterloch, Will finds his way to the Warrior's Lid. He looked like a barbarian with his bear cloak wrapped around him and menacing bear head pulled over his head as a hood. He quietly sits down at an empty table and opens the thick wizard's book. He sets down an inkpot and quill and flips over to an empty page. Unfurling a dusty old scroll they had found on their last mission, Will begins examining and scribing the magic document into Rozim's book.

[Kain_Tempest]

Ever the one with an optimisitic eye, Gill cases M'Quarry's haunt. All of the regulars at the business are highly resistant to getting their drinking funds lifted. Knowing that more than half of the patrons could be desperately in need of coin has sobered them up.
Even then, many of them would respond to any sort of skull duggery with an equal amount of violent force. Especially those who seem the least equipped for a fight. In particular the two adventuring duos on the far side of the tavern, the Bootstrap Badits and Lenora's Divers. Of these two groups, neither of their worse halves looked like they wanted to take a piece out of bottom run of the Azure Dragon, though many a time that would have been the case, when personal funds were on the line.
Gills eyes quickly traced the 'quiet' scene and visually brushed across the eyes of the tall man, who, just a few minutes before was talking with Germaine. The man's angular jaw was clenched and he watched the procession of misfits intently between sips of his dark brew. He was definately a newcomer to the Warrior's Lid.

Germaine ducked behind the curtain leader to the kitchen where the smell of pork, grease, and vegetables wafted into the common room, having given up at hollering orders from the front. Too polite to assume, Germaine was never satisfied with trying to detect the range of tones in the chef's universal sound of incomprehension.
Soon after, she returned to the bar, collecting beverages and dancing around Chips as he carefully scrawled notes with a ratty, gray quill. Finished with the parchement, he marched over to a large plank of cork board next to the bar where layers of pamphlets, notes, ads, and contracts became white and yellow wallpaper. Chips stabbed the paper into the middle of the board and stepped back a moment to review his 'artful' masterpiece.
The wooden toothed gnome was not so much a patron of the arts as he was a lover of parody. Many a foolish minstrel had wandered in with the belief that he could earn his keep with another tired elven hymn, which was responded to be barbed remarks and an red cheeked anectdote about the maiden in question and who would argue with a former adventurer about it?

Aside from being a personal joy of 'constructive-destruction', the board was also a draw for would-be adventurers to find contracts for various jobs around the city that needed to be done. Some were just standard house painting, however, occassionally, an honest plea for help could be found on the bulletin, which was far more reliable than an old man wandering in speaking of princesses and dragons. Far too often Elmer from the insane asylum would show up and send a dumb warrior on a merry goose chase with the promise of bags of gold and lacy underoos.

Germaine arrives and places your drinks on the table.

[FatJose]

Will Myroak

He shuffled through a series of dirty parchments, stacking them neatly to his left. On his right, a bundle of rolled up scrolls. In front of him was Rozim's book, opened to a blank page. Will hunched over the book and began writing. His eyes darted from the open parchemnt to the his writing.

[DJDeMiko]

Gill

Gill looks at Will and says "Stop working and get drunk with me." He climbs off the school to find booze and stop by the help wanted notices.

[Dreamshifter]

Milly

Milly sips her drink, looking at the nice warm fire. She sees Gill checking out the notices and asks "Anything interesting on the board today? They always put the good stuff up out of reach..."

[Kain_Tempest]

Bitter words and exclamations are answered by mousey replies as Lenora continues to berate her apprentice. Finally, the dark-haired halfling spies quiet will at his table. She points and grumbles something to the elven lass she sits next to. The apprentice looks quizzically at her master and a curt shooing motion is the answer, before the girl's senior returns to her alcohol.
Cautiously, the elf crosses the common room, keeping her eyes away from the other patrons and towards her clasped hands.
She seats herself opposite to Will at the table, uninvited.
"H-hello." She greets the scribe in a voice that comes out barely as a squeak.

"Work of art ain't it, Gillian my boy." Chips chuckles, coming up to the halfling as he looks at the board. "And methinks Lenora'd be lonely if'n she's playing match maker with her lackey. Am I right?" He moves to rib his patron, but ends up prodding Gill's shoulder with his elbow.

The most recent additions to the wallpaper are the first to catch Gill's eye.

• Gargoyle's Low End is looking for street cleaners. Having lost funding after the sewage explosion caused by Larry the Snitch, the street and surrounding neighbourhoods need some assistance in dealing with the excess refuse. Price negotiable, no resume required.
• Baker Street's infamous pie thief is still at large and has since struck at Aunt Yoma's cafe, perloining a quintuplet of peach pies. This puts the running total to over twenty-nine desserts from seven different establishments. With the Wild-Grass festival on the horizon, many of the Baker Street merchants and formed a sizable bounty for anyone who catches the criminal.
• Bartely Lane continues to have noise complaints for the past ten days. Sonic polluters have been operating at night and city guard have been able to do nothing about it. Both guard and residents would be grateful for any information that leads to the end of the noise problem.
• Outsorced from the Exterminator's Guild: Walter Gormoka has been complaining about a vermin problem in his home at the Pointe. Believed to be a large group of rats of the dire variety. No further detail's provided.
• Outsorced from the Exterminator's Guild: One Armuro Winchelly seeks the removal of garden pest. No further details provided.
• Seeking private detectives for the location of a mising person. Details withheld until meeting and contractual write up.
• Seeking negotiators for peace talks. Speak to Misses Huleriss on Kraken Avenue for more details.
• Third assault on shopkeeper this week. Guard has placed the bounty for the arrest of Jargedden and Perkett, two adventurers blamed for the recent attacks.
• Bootstrap Bandits looking for buyers and traders for rare documents and books acquired from Nosterloch expedition.
• Single, human, male; Seeking adventuring party to journey to the Sunken Queen. Talk to Mercutio at the Warrior's Lid.
• Brawler's tournament to be held at the Whiskey Bear the day after tomorrow. Ten gold entry fee, winner recieves purse and set of magical gauntlets.
• One halfling wizard seeking apprentice. Speak to Lenora Divers at the Warrior's Lid for more details.
• Wanted: Actors for the new production, The King in Yellow. Auditions taking place and Toad Roar's Inn, half a days journey northeast on Sandpointe Road.

[Townopolis]

Finspor

Finishing his meal, Finspor moves away from the table to give the others room to hear each other. He takes his bodhran with him, then takes it in one hand and a small, double-headed bone drumstick in the other hand and begins tapping out a soft rhythm.

There are no words, and no melody either, he simply provides beat and rhythm and slight variation in pitch depending on where the beats land on the drum. The pieces are fast and vary much from minute to minute, music that you can lose yourself in, or forget entirely, depending on whether or not you're paying attention.

Spoiler

Show

perform - (1d20+11)[25]

[Jokes]

Edward

His hands warmed from the mulled wine, Edward taps on the table gently, trying to guess the next beat, often failing miserably. He gives up and just enjoys the performance.