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Sitting on coast on the southernmost part of the Mhair jungles lays a city shrouded in mystery. Forged atop ancient buried ruins of a splintered city, Gothmoor has the ocean to its back, mountainous hills to one side and the deadly Mhair jungle on it's other side and front. Getting to the city can be just as dangerous as living or visiting there.
Often rumored to be created as a favor from the gods themselves, Gothmoor has its shares of rumors and legends. One solid fact is the original city, no matter how it was formed, was ruled by the Von Luen family. Lord Sir Bruce Von Luen was the first ruler of Gothmoor and built the city up to what it is today. History has been recorded as Lord Von Luen creating the city along the shore of the Great Sea with the help of a local underground city of dwarves. The city of Gothmoor was built upon the ruins of another civilization that the Dwarves refused to tell Lord Sir Bruce about. To this day, no one who vocally admits it or speaks of it knows about the original city that once stood here.
Often called the Waterdeep of the South, those who find even Skullport too unruly and Waterdeep too constrictive, find themselves comfortable in the walls of Gothmoor. Originally used as a southern waterways trading port, the city has grown into something most don't even dare to dream. The last known recorded size overland of Gothmoor would fit Waterdeep and part of Baldur's Gate within. It is a huge sprawling town. The town originally was like any other town, with people crammed along cramped streets and living atop one another, multiple feet up with two and three story homes, but once the Southern city became noteworthy, people began to spread out. As more and more of the Mhair jungle's encroaching edge is cut back for firewood, building lumber and crop land, the size of the city is increasing.
The local inhabitants of the Mhair do not approve of this human encroachment and often attempt pitiful raids on the Northern wall. The City Watch, also known as The Keepers, keeps strong vigilance and rotates from wall duty to inner city patrols. Most regional patrols outside the city are done with paid conscripts (adventurers) accompanied by a Keeper Captain.
Many jobs can be had within Gothmoor's walls, from cooking and butchery, to armed guardsmen and even bouncers. The port keeps many bodies coming and going, as well as the constantly running earth of the city's graveyard. Jobs become available almost nightly. If you're quick, either with steel or wit, you can find a fortune, or at least a comfortable living within Gothmoor. The only thing that keeps the gravediggers busy year round, or the stockades full, is one thing, racial hatred. Anyone who is not tolerant of other races, or vocally or physically attacks another due to their race in Gothmoor is quickly punished and dealt with behind locked and barred iron doors.
Public executions are common. The local arena is where many work more vicious crimes off, to the enjoyment of others. Slavery is not unheard of in the Southern Jewel of Faerun. You will see a wood elf and a dark elf sipping tea in a parlor house, while a grey dwarf sings a drinking song alongside a shield dwarf with full mugs of grog in their hands. Does this mean everything is happy and compliant? On the surface, yes. But there are ways of getting rid of a hated enemy without getting caught, and that is yet another way one can find his fame and fortune in Gothmoor. Many will smile at your face, because a few minutes earlier, planned for your death. If Gothmoor's upside is as shiny as Waterdeep, Gothmoor's underbelly is twice as dark as Skullport's. Many a patron has drank with his most hated enemy, only to have a shank in his back before he wakes up, while his enemy is in public view with a complete alibi. Strangers must be wary their first few months in the big city. Things that may go bump in the night may just rip the flesh from your face and turn you into a mindless zombie for fun.
You've been traveling more and more south, seeking out a creature. THe urge continued to pull you south as the trees begin to become less and less deciduious and more and more tropical. The leaves became bladed and hard, and the trunks became more and more ropey. The underbrush covered ground becomes more squishy as your soft boots lead you further south. The sky has become clouded as the temperature has gotten hotter. You have not seen a elven or even human village for the last few days. You being to doubt your course until the jungle you've been trekking through breaks and you spot, what has to be, the hugest and most concentrated gathering of intelligent beings you've ever seen. Huge massive stone walls just up from the coast, and huge building sit snugly behind. A long thick road sits to your left about 300 feet away.
You've checked your pouches and your food is running low. You have heard of rumors of large libraries within these cities liek the one in the great oak tree in your home village. You decide the best place to find out about the local fauna in the area would be within this city..as long as you can keep yourself safe. You've been picked up just outside the walls by a caravan and followed it in.
Jessamyn:
Spoiler
You awoke thre weeks ago in the small temple of Torm on the outskirts of Lapalgard. It is the southernmost village of the Lapaliiya region. The spot is a strategic location for the region's Baron, hence why the temple was allowed to be built. Your studies have been concluded, and the growing information coming out from the Southern Gem of Faerun. Your master Cardinal has decreed your quest is to travel to a large mysterious city to the south, Gothmoor, and see to a temple within it's walls. The old temple of Torm has fallen, and they clerics have actually let go of the property and began to build a new temple. Rumors of Necromancers and undead have been coming from the south. You have joined up on a caravan with a strange pair of dark elves as a caravan guard and headed to Gothmoor.
Zarraema:
Spoiler
You have been skirting the edges of the Mhair jungle to the Northern edge around the outside of Sammaresh. The region of Lapaliiya seems to have a more understanding group of people and they seem to leave you alone as they acknowledge your presence and even have left you packages of food on their porch. The voluntary exile from the underdark left you ill prepared to survive on the surface, but the outskirt farms have been helping you. Your lack of coin and permanent housing situation has had you find work.
A strange human with strange gray skin had brought you and Kelzir both a pair of wineskins and a few packages of food. Upon talking to the man, who is a surface born half drow! He jingles a few bags of coins at you and hires you both to guard his caravan which is headed to a mysterious city to the south. The caravan master has filled both your ears and minds with talk and stories of a huge city, built by surface dwelling, Lloth hating dark elves. Without much discussion, you both take the man's coin and hop aboard toward this legendary city.
Kelzir:
Spoiler
Your travel on the surface has not been an easy one. You have been travelling with this feamle dark elven ex priestess for some time and the surface is much different that the underdark. It is much hotter on the surface for one and the food is much different. it's much harder to hunt when there is no roof above you. The hot jungles of Mhair has been your home for years but you always seem to be drawn to the human town of Sammaresh. They seem to have accepted you for a silent protector and guardian within the jungle. The coin is the only thing that's not flowing at this point.
A strange human with strange gray skin had brought you and Kelzir both a pair of wineskins and a few packages of food. Upon talking to the man, who is a surface born half drow! He jingles a few bags of coins at you and hires you both to guard his caravan which is headed to a mysterious city to the south. The caravan master has filled both your ears and minds with talk and stories of a huge city, built by surface dwelling, Lloth hating dark elves. Without much discussion, you both take the man's coin and hop aboard toward this legendary city.
Fistar:
Spoiler
You've done it again. You don't know how it happened but somehow you woke up with you in the Baron's daughter's bed. Somehow you made it outside and down the wall parapet but were cut off from the stairwell. Once well placed jump landed you in the back of a fabric filled wagon. The caravan master looked over his shoulder at you and told you "I hope you don't mind surface dark elves, because we're headed to Gothmoor. One wagon back, a female and a male dark elf ride as caravan guards in the line of five wagons on their way south.
Gothmoor has been told to you in stories sicne you were born. A mysterious city to the south where wood elves and white elves break bread together and smile at each other without bloodshed. A city of mysteries built upon a ruins of a city of mysteries built on an ancient ruins. The city itself begs to be inspected. You've never had the need to leave the city of Durgar, but now...with nowhere else to go...Gothmoor sounds good as any place.
The crack of the whip from the head wagon of the caravan, and a loud yell signals you of the stopping of the line of wagons. The wagon you're on urches to a stop, waking you up, or catching your attention from your current conversation. The Wagonmaster you've known as Daurvin hopped down from his lead wagon and stretched a bit before begining to shout orders to the caravan hands and you guards. His rat faced second in charge stepped down with a small chest and begins to hand out small bags of coin to the other caravan guards.The rat faced man sneers as you approach and tosses you your bag and immediately focus on who is behind you. Daurvin pats your shoulder and shakes your hand and wishes you the best of luck in the City of Mysteries... You've arrived in Gothmoor.
You stand around in a small group, looking at those you've seen a bit during the caravan trip. You look around to the huge four story tall buildings and temples and mansions made of stone and wood. The smell in here is not of sweat and cramped bodies, but of ozone...and commerce. The sky is full of black clouds rumbling overhead, as Daurvin mentions a good and safe inn called the Sleeping Centaur 3 blocks into town. (5 on map).
Etsia adjusted her backpack on her shoulders and then gripped the half-spear tighter. The town made her nervous. All these people made her nervous. She glared at the stone walls, the insanity of living in one spot and within dead materials grating against her nerves. Nevertheless, somewhere within this fake gigantic ant nest there was information. With luck, it would be the information she needed.
She glanced at the people standing nearby, wondering briefly how they had imagined to survive in the jungle in all that heavy armor and clothes. The thought that she was dressed in a strange way never crossed her mind -- the few criss-crossing leather straps and feathers on her mostly naked, tattooed, deep-tanned body were perfectly normal and easy to move in.
Her permanent glare changed into a smile for one brief moment as she heard the screech of a hawk from above. She responded to it with a similar call of her own, and the bird swooped down to perch on the top of her backpack, watching the surroundings with a distaste as obvious as his elf-friend's.
She sighed and glanced at the gathered people again. She needed information, and she rather asked the people that were so conveniently gathered than approach a stranger in the fake ant nest.
"Do you know where the library is?" She did not address anyone in particular, but she spoke loud enough with her feral forest accent to be heard by everyone nearby.
He stowed the few coins and pulled his lanky animal around. The light leather he wore creaking slightly as he checked the bags and saddle, ensuring it was secure. He watched the hustle and bustle going on around, and covertly shifted his coin purse to a more secure location.
The noise was odd, but not uncommon. There were places like this anywhere. His eyes continued to scan the area, seeking ink black skin and a baleful glare. In a place like this, one couldn't be too careful, there was no telling what one might stumble across.
He brought his horse around as he avoided the giantess in metal they'd been traveling with. She didn't seem to have much of a friendly streak for a warrior of the church. He stopped the steed so it stood next to the drow priestess.
"Mistress, your mount. And then shall we find our way to this inn, or perhaps something else first?"
Soft, violet eyes peered around the crowd as an old adage rippled past her memory; those who expect death from behind will meet it from the front. Those days were over, she told herself, the Dark Maiden had taught her to return kindness to those around her.
Kelzir's attentiveness brought a faint smile to her lips. It had been a long journey with a good number of scathing looks to which she returned a smile, "Thank you, Kelzir, perhaps we should see about the Inn." With a light hop, she pulled herself into the saddle and carefully stowed her payment in a belt pouch. Perhaps she could coax a song out of him once they arrived.
A strange accent caught her ears, "Do you know where the library is?" She searched the crowd for the voice's owner to, at least, offer the kindness of an answer - even if the answer was no.
Jessamyn straightened her traveler's surcoat with its embroidered Tormite gauntlet insignia, checked the long platinum braid coiled like a snake at the nape of her neck, then cast a cool look over her traveling comrades. The pair of drow had rarely left her scrutiny during the caravan trek, but this had given her little time to consider the other members.
The mostly-naked elf-woman's question caught her ear and she turned her attention there, giving the small lady an unreadable look before speaking up. Her voice was low, her tone clipped and precise. "An innkeeper should know, and with a storm impending, it would be best to seek shelter first and ask directions once there."
A snort and a nudge at her shoulder reminded her of her horse, and she half-turned to pat the dapple-grey's muzzle. "Yes, Ghost, I'll make sure it's comfortable."
Looking back to the tiny druid again, she gave a near-smile and said, "Would you like a ride?"
The wood elf looked around enjoying the bustle and sites of the city. He was dressed in his light leather armor with his rapier and and dagger strapped to his side. Lifting his backpack he put it on his shoulders. First thing is to find a place to stay, then to explore the city, he thought as he eyed the group around him. He noted the dark elves briefly and then hearing a hawk call, which startled him briefly, he glanced upwards and watch the hawk land on the almost naked tattoed elf.
"Do you know where the library is?" , seemingly addressing no one in particular.
Fistar smiled and noticed the others turn, "Not at all," he answered smiling, "But I'm willing to help you find one. I'm new to this city as well and wouldn't mind some company to explore it. First tho, I would rather find a place to stay, and store some of my gear. " he thought for a moment.. ".. thats if the place is reputable enough.."
Smiling and nodding to the half elf on the horse, "and she seems to have a good idea.. I wouldn't mind joining you as well.... "
__________________ Fistar
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
Last edited by Tsol : 06-23-2007 at 02:27 PM.
Reason: Just add what I missed in the other post.
Etsia moved past a few of the tall people in her line of sight to take a better look at the woman in armor. She peered up to see her features. The green elven eyes narrowed in estimation, then she gave her a nod.
"Storms don't bother me, but seems there's no cover except the-" She paused, almost as if the word was something distasteful. "-buildings. The tavern would be good, and if they know about the library, even better."
She patted the big horse admiringly, glancing around out of reflex, frowning slightly in the direction of the drow, then blinking up at the chattery wood elf.
General:
The city is thick with people merchants and nobles, walkers and riders, horses and wagons, Giant footpad lizards and giant wolves, saddled and muzzled. It is a strange sight indeed to see the broad range of races and people interacting. Dwarves trading with Gnolls, Orcs talking with Humans.
Huge hulking men the size of two humans tall walk down the street hefting a armfull of 20' long timbers under one arm and a huge axe with the head the size of two tower shields in the other! The city is constantly moving. Busy even through the rain as the skies open up and the downpour begins.
Most people begin moving faster but not many move out of the rain itself. It seems a very common occurance as many throw up a oil coated hooded cloak and continue on their way, protecting the thing they carry from the rain.
Two Dark elves walk past your small group headed down the street. They walk in full armor made from a strange black steel with glints throughout the metal as the female looks the two dark elves in your group and speaks:
"Freedom and Honor, Friends." They smile. a sight rarely seen on a dark elven face without a sneaky hidden motive. They say nothing more and move on.
Lightning plays across the sky sideways as many of the city guards pull out cloaks and begin to don their bad weather gear. One of the other caravan guards walks between your group and looks to you all, pulling up his hood.
"We're all going to the Sleeping Centaur. We hear they have rooms for rent and a great night buffet." The human male runs off to catch up to his small group.
Fistar, looked after the dark elves as they headed towards the inn. He shrugged his shoulders and raced off to catch up with them.
"My, that's a nice horse you have there. I really should consider getting my own. But that would be one more mouth to feed, " the wood elf sighed. "I can see the advantage tho," as he picked up his pace trying to keep up. "Darn this rain, I should also look into buying one of those cloaks that everyone seems to be wearing, at least it would keep me dry, " The wood elf looked out and about studying the crowd around him. "Ohh by the way, my name is Fistar, I have a longer name, but it is such a mouthful, that I just prefer to be called Fistar. " he chatted while continuing studying the crowd.
Spoiler
Spot:(1d20+1)[13](14)
__________________ Fistar
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
Jessamyn gave the tiny druid a boost up onto Ghost, and took note of how her feet reached nowhere near the stirrups. Reaching up, she patted the saddlehorn. "Hold onto that if it gets bumpy, but I don't think it's far."
Taking up Ghost's reins, she walked the horse after the rest of the group, green eyes skimming slowly over the crowd. The broad representation of races apparent in even a passing glance caused the paladin to frown slightly, more in thought than anything.
She caught the wood elf's chattering, but as it seemed directed toward the pair of dark elves from the caravan, she did no more than take note.
Quickly pulling a cloak from one of the saddlebags, he quickly tossed it around the female elf as he followed the others toward the inn.
"My apologies Mistress, the weather doesn't seem to be cooperating today. We'll soon have you a room where you'll be warm, dry and fed."
He looked back at the rogue, who was actually being amiable. The words of the passing drow still caught him off guard slightly. And it wasn't easy making their way through the throng.
"Well, Feestor, was it? The horse is Mistresses Zarraema's," indicating the drow woman in the saddle. "And so far as the cloak, I believe they would be easy to come by in this area, they seem numerous. My name is of no importance."
The leather-clad priestess readjusted herself in the saddle and gratefully accepted the cloak, "The weather suits my mood."
With a smile towards the Wood Elf, she sighed and pulled out another cloak, laying it over the male's shoulders as she leaned down from the horse, "His name is Kelzir and it is important enough to me, Finster."
The words spoken to them... Freedom and Honor, friends. Perhaps it was true that others could be accepting of those from the Underdark. The Dark Maiden had enticed her away from the dark, cruelty and shown her that she did not have to live in anger, hate, and fear, but to hear other Drow express such a welcome...The hope brought a warm smile to her black face.
Etsia patted the horse on the neck. She was not used to riding on animals, her tribe moved by foot in the forests too thick for such transport methods. Nevertheless, she rather liked it. The horse was well kept and seemed to like the woman in armor. The druid nodded in approval.
She looked up whenever someone said anything, listening to the chatter. Most of it went right over her head, except for the comments about the weather. Served the silly much-wearers right, getting uncomfortable. The cloth would soak up the rain and stay and turn cold, where as all she needed was a fire and she would be warm again in a heartbeat. "Shouldn't wear so much." She half-muttered the advice.
The horse's movement was steady and soothing and she had no trouble staying in the saddle, so she let go of her hold and leaned down a little. Soon she was braiding the horse's mane casually while listening and watching the people and the walls of the fake ant nest.
The would elf visably cringed and sound of his name being mispronounced, shrugged. "It's FISTAR, " he grumbled, "...anyways, it seems everyone is heading towards that Inn, I say lets move in that direction, " glancing at a weather worned sign that says "Mithril Maul". The wood elf briefly looked at the sky, the raindrops splattering on his face and he frowned. "I sure hope the weather turns better, " wiping his face with his hand, he then head down the road towards the inn, glancing at crowd as he went along with a keen eye.
__________________ Fistar
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
Jessamyn led the horse silently, occasionally glancing up to check that the wild elf was still perched comfortably in the saddle. The braids that were rapidly appearing in Ghost's mane made her pale eyebrows rise, but after a moment of thought she decided they suited him.
She slicked the drizzling rain from her face with one hand and grimaced, thinking of the oiling her armor would need. Proper all-weather gear was a must. Mentally she ticked off the necessary actions: stable and see to Ghost, armor upkeep, report to the Temple, look for a cloak. Maybe have dinner somewhere in there.
After Ghost's passenger was delivered safe to the inn, of course.
She stepped briskly along the wet road, the horse's hooves clattering in her wake.
Your trek down Mithril maul road has your eyes disbelieving the city around you. The town is still alive with activity as you move down the cobblestone road. Small children play in the raid and impede most people walking. They immediately move out of the way of your horses as you continue. The hot cobblestones steam as the cooling rain falls and makes the temperature within the city come down a few degrees almost immediately. Steam turns to fog as the clouds overhead cling to the area.
You do notice something that many of have never seen in a city this size. Color. It seems, that the townsfolk are preparing for some sort of festival. Colored parchments and fabrics are hung from storefront windows and doorways under eaves and dry from the rain. Even with the downpour, most people moving about with something to do smile at you as you pass. Alot of them give a greeting or watch you pass with a bright look on their faces. Every dark elf you pass, and you have passed at least a dozen since you entered, have all said the same thing in greeting. "Freedom and Honor." As you move past, their faces kind of screw up in a confused look as you reply with nothing.
You round the corner of the intersection and see it. The Sleeping Centaur. A huge gaudy sign hangs on the 2nd story of a centaur laying on it's side with a pillow of grass, and his.....equine member out and in full view. you notice the sign has marks on it, especially near the member of the horse part of the sign. You see children throwing rocks at the sign and a few daggers are thrown at the sign, many sticking, some falling to the cobbles. A man greets you outside in brown oiled leathers and a cloak, smiling at you from under a thick brown mustach that reaches his ears.
"Greetings and welcome to the Sleeping Centaur. I have rooms available, both upstairs and down." He looks to the dark elves when he says 'down'. "We have a stable around back and a boy who can take your horses to the stables for you. We offer the comfiest pillows this side of the Dragonreach Mountains, and a turtle stew, in the shell, to die fer!" What say you fine nobles?"
Spoiler
((do me a favor, when you post, put your character's name in the top line of the post..like THIS it's like 3 or 4 posts down but you'll see it. bold and black))
He smiled at the man. "I would prefer to get out of this rain myself, and that soup sounds like a good idea. ", Continuing to smile, he looked at the others, "I'm sure these others would like that as well. I hope you have a nice fireplace, I really need to dry out a bit. Do you happen to know of a place close by that supplies some cloaks, to help keep the rain off? " the wood elf continued talking not really waiting for an answer.. "... whats with all the colors parchment and banners hanging in the window.. I'm just amazed with it all, some kind of festival? Yes?" Fistar wiped his face, with his hand. "I'm sure there is plenty to do in this large city. I can't wait to explore, any place in particular of interest do you know of? " Fistar shut up, after he realized he's been running off with his mouth again.
__________________ Fistar
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
The human smiled wide and nodded as he called for two boys to come gather up your belongings. They carefully picked up the equipment and carried it inside to what is essentially a cloak room.
The man introduces himself as Thom and tells you to go inside and get warm by the fireplace.
"Indeed the soup is grand just caught today. And as for equipment and cloaks, My brother owns the shop next door. He sells a wide aray of cloaks and weather gear, as well as oil for armor and other general goods." Thom points over his shoulder to the store next to his Inn which has a sign outside that says, "The Haversack".
"If'n you find yourselves wanting a room for a night or longer, we have the nicest rooms in this section of the city."
Etsia had hopped down from the saddle and had patted the horse once more before moving in. She ceased to listen to the wood elf's rambling after two sentences, the sound of it a constant chirping in her mind, like an excited bird in the spring. Instead she concentrated on the word 'fireplace' and snuck in to grin at the fire. She rubbed her arms and fluffed her hair, letting the warmth seep in while the little that formed her outfit dried soon enough.
Then her mind recalled another important word from the human-chatter. Soup. She turned around to look at the surroundings, wondering where one fetched food in here. "I'd like the turtle soup." She spoke aloud tentatively. Perhaps one of the humans would tell her what to do. Or the armored woman with the nice horse. She tried to see if she had followed her into the tavern or not.
The paladin had started to turn Ghost toward the stable when the boys came out to collect belongings and see to the horses. As much as she preferred to see to her own steed, the boys did have a job and she felt quite drenched. She handed off the reins to a boy, along with a tip and a slight smile.
Later, once she felt sufficiently dry, she resolved to come back and make sure they had done a proper job.
For now, she headed into the inn with a nod and a quiet 'thank you' to the friendly proprietor. She scrutinized the interior before drifting toward the fire, tugging idly at the cords that kept her braid-coil in place. At Etsia's comment, she glanced over and smiled slightly. "It does sound good. I will have some as well."
Leaving the dark elves at the counter, Fistar drifted to the warmth of the fireplace. Steam rose from his wet leather armor as the heat of the fire started drying them. He glanced at the two, standing by the fire, noting the wild elf skimpy leather outfit and the half elf fiddling with her hair, standing beside her. At the comment of soup, he heard his stomach growled, he looked sheepish. "Soup would do wonders for me right about now," He smiled at the two females. "I never did catch your names, even thou I did see you in the that caravan we were traveling in. ", raising an eyebrow, "I'm new to this city and would clearly love to have company, in exploring. " he frowned slightly, "Of course if you prefer to explore on your own. thats quite alright."
__________________ Fistar
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
Taken aback by the kind and warm greeting they were given, the priestess slipped from Kelzir's horse and followed the others into the tavern. She hoped that her companion would follow as well, but it was difficult to tell with him - he retained a good deal of his subservience from their life in the Underdark; he could very easily decide to stay with the horse. She resolved to at least bring him something warm to eat, if he did.
The growing crowd around the fire drew her attention and she moved to join them, pushing her cloak back behind her shoulders to allow the leather she wore to begin the drying process. Carefully and with as little in the way of movement as she could manage, she began to take a look around the room. Were there any other Dark Elves here? Would they answer her questions about the peculiar behavior of the others they'd met? Why, in the Dark Maiden's name, did they give both she and Kelzir odd looks when they passed and spoke their greeting of "Freedom and Honor"?
The others, those that she recognized from the caravan, earned a polite smile that actually traveled to her violet eyes.
He waited until his Mistress had dismounted and removed herself from the sheeting rain, it still dripped down the back of his flowing slivery hair, slicking it to the top of his head. Without a word he led the horse around to the stable area. The words that he had been greeted with were puzzling, "Freedom and honor", they said, what did it mean? And what was the purpose of all the colorfully splayed decorations?
Once there, he looked around to find an empty stall. The horse nickered pleasantly, finally being out of the rain. Taking the animal into a stall, he removed the wet saddle, blanket, and saddlebags to begin brushing it down. It would never do for the Mistress' mount to be unkempt. He checked the hooves for stones and burrs, and then the legs for any signs of injury. Once satisfied that the beast was in as good of shape as he could keep it, he set the simple saddle on the side of the stall to dry and spread out the blanket near it for the same purpose.
He looked around, for a stable master or boy, intent on ensuring that the mount had everything it needed. Not finding anyone in direct evidence, he walked around the stable, noting the other animals penned within, and still hoping to find the keeper or some lackey.
"Ah, there you are. I have a mount that needs tending for the night, and I'd like it well kept. Perhaps we could speak of some way to repay the task of keeping this horse well?" he said in his rich barritone voice.
The owner stayed outside and allowed you pass into the huge warm tavern. Being this far down in the suptropical area of Faerun, you expected to be sweating outside and boiling indoors. but with this new weather, the cooling rain made it feel like the northern shores of the Sword coast. The inside of the tavern was warm and smelled of buttered bread with a hint of aged wood in the background. Thick heavy wood beams held the 2nd floor up and thick pillars made the room split into different sections.
A huge bar ran down the length of the west wall to your right. Ahead of you were dozens of tables and the room was thick with patrons. Along the east wall to your left was a wide straight staircase that rose up and disapeared into the ceiling above. You could see an archway under the uppermost part of the staircase, heading the opposite way down to the surmsed basement.
A long wide stage covered the back south wall with two private booths on either side of it. a door in the far right corner swung back and forth as wenches and servers brought steaming plates of food out. In the center of the room was a round fireplace, with it's chimney also dissapearing upstairs into the floor above. a seating bench skirted around the entire fireplace, and many of the bricks were covered with boots drying near the fire.
The scent of buttered bread and the spiced turtle soup hits your nose and almost immediately makes your mouth begin to water. the private booth to the right of the stage is empty (away from the fire), and three of the tables near the fire have room with no one sitting at them.
Etsia:
Spoiler
A woman walks by with three turtle shells upside down on a tray with three huge mugs of foaming ale. she looks down to youwith a sincere smile. "If'n ye want soup, grab a table and i'll be right over, miss." She gives a wink and moves off to deliver the food and drinks to a table.
You notice a large wolf, with glossy grey fur, laying at the feet of a dark elf who is sitting at a table with 4 others. The female dark elf is eating and dropping bits of turkey or some meat to the wolf who is taking it gingerly from her hand. The wolf looks over at you with huge yellow eyes, then looks back up to his owner awaiting another handout.
Jessamyn
Spoiler
The boys take your belongings and move them inside. The one elder lad took the reigns you offered and the coin and his eyes go wide but tries to hide it. "T-Thank ye M'Lady." he stammers. "I will make sure me uncle takes good care of yer steed. He has a pampered stall for noble horses i'll make sure he puts her there and only gets the best oats." The boy slowly leads your horse around back and you can hear him shout joy at the gold coin when he's out of eyeshot.
Once inside *see above*. You move beside the wild elf female who is busy drying herself near the fire. A woman walks by with three turtle shells upside down on a tray with three huge mugs of foaming ale. she looks down to the wild elf with a sincere smile. "If'n ye want soup, grab a table and i'll be right over, miss." She gives a wink and moves off to deliver the food and drinks to a table.
Fistar
Spoiler
Before you head indoors, the Owner outside stops you and tells you. " The festival is Summer's Blessing. It's our seasonal welcoming of summer and the marking of Gothmoor's Allegiance with the Wild Elves of Mhair. Lots of celebratin' ta be had. Go on in. Enjoy yerself, MLord."
Once inside..*See above*. You move to the center of the room, near the fire and find a table next to it with open chairs. You sit down and let the warmth of the fire begin to dry your oiled armor and your damp hair. The small wild elf says something about soup, and A woman walks by with three turtle shells upside down on a tray with three huge mugs of foaming ale. she looks down to the wild elf with a sincere smile. "If'n ye want soup, grab a table and i'll be right over, miss." She gives a wink and moves off to deliver the food and drinks to a table.
Zarraema
Spoiler
You slide off your horse and a small boy barely 12 in human years moves up to silently take the reigns. He keeps his head down and bows at the waist, as if known of Dark Elves his whole life. He silently looks to his father the owner, who nods to the boy. The lad slowly followed the male dark elf around the corner without a word and escorted him to the stables.
You move inside..*see above*. You find that there are indeed dark elves in this establishment. Many dark elves. Those in armor, those in silks and those in simple muslin. Sitting with humans, half orcs and even a few elves. there is a table closest to the right rear private booth with a group of heavily armored dark elves, males and females, drinking wine and mead and eyeing you back without trying to hide it. Their face, strangely is not the smiles that you have found riding here or even on the faces of the other dark elves in the tavern. They seem to remind you of a table of nobles from the Underdark.
One of the males at the table smirks out the side of his mouth as the female next to him whispers something to him and he raises his glass of wine at you and his smirk is joined with a nod of his head.
Zelkir
Spoiler
Once Zarraema dismounted, a small boy barely 12 in human years moves up to silently take the reigns. He keeps his head down and bows at the waist, as if known of Dark Elves his whole life. He silently looks to his father the owner, who nods to the boy. Seeing you approach and take the reigns, he removes his hand from them. The lad silently motions to the street and around the corner and silently walks with you around the corner without a word and escorts you to the stables.
Once at the stable, the boy dissapears and allows you to stable her horse without aid. You seem to look around and before your statement is finished, the silent tow-headed boy is standing in front of you looking at your shoes.
A large man, almost the owner's twin out front of the inn, walks up and is wiping his hands off. "Good Summer's Blessing to you, Noble sir. The name is Jake. I'll take good care of your horse, no need in threats or any type of warning, because i'll protect your horse as if it was the King of Gothmoor's personal Mare." His disarming smile did not fit on his huge frame, but you could tell he had some years adventuring under his belt. His hand went and petted the fine horse, and Zarraema's horse leaned over and nuzzled the man's chest and under his chin. A slight whinney from the horse make the man chuckle. He turned his brown eyes to you as did the horse and he smiled again. "She says you've come a long distance. I'll see to her. Allow my brother to see to you..." He turned to the horse for a moment then back to you. "..and your female companion." Jake moved the mare into a stall and more directed her than lead her. The horse turned to the side and Jake began taking the saddle off and brushing the horse.
The blonde headed boy looked up at you for a second and still stood by your side motioning back to the inn.
"I thank you sir in place of my Mistress, for your kindness to my Mistress' horse," he replied. "From the looks of things here, she'll be well cared for."
He looked at the young boy as he picked up the saddlebags, and bowed to the stable master. Back into the rain, he walked around the building and bowed to the proprietor as well before entering. Once inside he scanned the interior for his Mistress and slipped his way through to her side.
"Mistress, your horse is being tended, and shall be well cared for," he stated quietly with his head bowed.
Warily, though with a pleasant smile, the Priestess returned the nod and turned to find one of the more jovial Dark Elves; the others could wait for a kind greeting until she'd learned what she needed to know.
The first, smiling Dark Elf she located would be met with a barrage of gently-formed questions ranging from inquiries to their "Freedom and Honor" greeting, to the colorful decorations, to even the differing behavior of those in the booth. The behavior of the ones in the booth unsettled her and she could feel the Dark Maiden bidding her to greet them kindly and offer them Her teachings of hope.
Spoiler
Gather Information for Zarraema: (1d20)[2](2)
Kelzir's return gave her another smile, "Thank you, Kelzir, please get warm and find yourself something to eat?"
He made his way through the interior carefully, seeking the kitchen entrance. As he moved, he listened to the various conversations that he passed. Trying to judge the general attitude of the patrons, in case his Mistress called on him to entertain. It wouldn't do to tell a story or sing a song that may put her in jeopardy.
Spoiler
Kelzir listening to various conversations
Listen Check: (1d20+4)[3](7)
He stopped at the door of the kitchen, knocking on the frame to get the attention of somebody inside. The hustle and bustle of gathering meals for people would normally have been a loud cacophony. But his trained ears could hear subtle changes and it made a somewhat happy music to him.
"My Mistress wishes two bowls of this famed Turtle Soup," he let his voice carry over the interior din. "No need to serve, I'll take them to her myself."
RSS Feeds: 
Gothmoor IC (purple)
