Ongoing Games (In-Character)Play-by-post games are going on in this forum as we speak (well, read). All threads on this board are actual games, so please, only post on a thread if you are a player of that game.
You move across to a table and sit down next to a pair of male dark elves who promptly greet you , "Freedom and Honor". They look at you strangely as the greeting seems to further confuse you.
"You seem out of sorts M'Lady. Are you new to Gothmoor?" The goateed warror asks, slightly cocking his head, examining you now fully, checking for insignias or house symbols. He then turns to the other Dark Elf at the table.
The smooth faced one in robes seemed to inspect you visually and take a long sip from his goblet of wine. He placed the goblet down and swallowed slowly, matching you eye to eye as he pondered his question before asking it.
"My name is Rek'lyr. Rek'lyr of House Gothmoor if that statement suits you better. You are a priestess. Which god or goddess do you pray to?" The question seemed so basic to him, as if living in the underdark or under the regiem of the Spider queen was never known to this male.
Etsia tilted her head, watching the wolf for a moment. It looked well cared for and she nodded a little in approval. She looked up at the tall woman in armor again, remembering soup.
"Grab a table?" Her tone suggested that although she had figured out what it meant from the context, she found the image amusing. She gave the woman a little smile, perhaps an invitation to join her in grabbing the said table and then took a few steps and paused. Fistar's words finally registered from the screen of chirping and she blinked up at him.
"I'm Etsia." She answered the one question clear to her amidst the forest of words. She paused and frowned a little, trying to remember what else he had said, then nodded. "I want to find the library. But first soup." And with that she walked to an empty table closest to the people with the wolf and sat down, dangling her feet that didn't quite reach the floor from the human sized chair.
"I hadn't heard of this place until my companion and I were hired to guard a convoy, so, quite new, yes. Rek'lyr, The Dark Maiden, Eilistraee, guides my steps and has shown me a gentler path than my feet once followed."
"What is it that your companions mean when they greet Kelzir and I with "Freedom and Honor"? The greeting is foreign to me, though I find that I'm growing more fond of it."
Her expression lightened and warmed quite a bit as she spoke with them, growing more comfortable at their disposition.
"Ahh someone who is short and to the point, " looking gleefully at the wild elf, " Don't mind me, Etsia." sitting down on the chair next to the wild elf, "I've been told that I talk enough for two people. ", he chuckled then smiled. Fistar looked around the establisment, noting the wolf aprehensivily and its supposedly owners. He then waved his hand at a passing server, "Could we get some of that fine turtle soup?" , looking briefly at the wild elf, "And probably a pitcher of water, and some wine as well if you could. "
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
The paladin followed Etsia to the table, gaze flicking over the crowd and resting on Fistar as he approached. She pulled out a chair as the tiny druid spoke but did not sit yet, still regarding the chatty wood elf. As he plunked himself down at the table, she gave a little sigh and settled into her seat as well, reaching back to start unwrapping her braid from its coil.
"My name is Jessamyn Starwater," she said into the brief lull in his chatter. "And though I am not here to explore, I would be happy to show you the Temple of Torm within Gothmoor. Once I find it myself."
The same woman who stopped my the wild elf pops out of the kitchen as you knock on the door frame. He is holding a tray of five turtle sheels upside down, steaming hot with soup and the best smell you've ever smelt. A group of five glases and a bottle of wine also sits on her tray.
"This be fer you and yer party. If'n ye want to take this off my hands, feel free. Jus' bring the tray back, 'kay luv?"
She hands you the heavy wood tray and wipes her hands on her apron.
"Ah-ha, The Moon Maiden is greatly revered here in Gothmoor." Rek'lyr says rubbing his chin. He looks to his silent friend and he slightly nods. Rek'lyr looked back to Zarraema and smiles. "In case you haven't noticed, None of the Bitch Queen's spiders dare set foot in the blessed City of Shadows. Her son and the Moon maiden are two of the many Gods and Goddesses that Gothmoor Dark Elves have found a home with. The city itself has no Houses to speak of. There is but only one house. House Gothmoor." Rek'lyr takes a moment to sip his wine, licks his lips before continuing. His eyes never leaves yours.
"As for the greeting? Get used to saying it. All dark elves who left the Bug Queen's underground hiding hole, and sought a new life on the surface, find their way here. Those who did, cherish two things most in their new life here...."
The other dark elf whispers aloud, looking off into space, almost lost in bad memories. ".....Freedom....and Honor."
Rek'lyr looks back to you with a smile , seeing you now understand. "I take it you didn't give the greeting back to any dark elf who said it to you. This is the quickest way to find clerics of the Dirt Queen's clergy. If you do not repeat the greeting to a dark elf who offers it first, you commit as great an offense as slapping a noble in public...from old times. I would...suggest not toying with the idea of refusing the greeting. I could get...ugly." Rek'lyr tries to find the nicest way to say the warning without offending and yet, not being too vague.
A puzzled look crossed his face as the woman handed him the tray. The five bowls were much more than he intended to ask for, and certainly more than either he or his Mistress could possibly eat. Why ever had she handed him so many bowls?
"You and your party," she'd said.
He thought about it as his head tilted to one side for a moment. Could she possibly mean the mountain of metal, the scrawny twig and parrot? They had entered at nearly the same time. With a sigh, he maneuvered through the inhabitants to where some of the others had sat.
First the bowl to his Mistress, an eyebrow twitched in curiosity, "Mistress, it's still warm."
He then took the other bowls to where the rest of the group had plopped themselves down. Eyes cast down, he placed the bowls in front of the armored woman, druidess, and rogue. Then with a sigh, he returned to the table with the dark elves.
"My apologies, Mistress, it seems that I miscounted. I shall fetch another bowl for the last of your collegues." As he sat the last bowl down before the robed dark elf. Then turning with the empty tray back toward the kitchens.
"Wait, Kelzir..." The priestess eyed her bowl for a moment, enjoying the soup's smell and imagining how delightful it must taste, "I find that I'm not nearly so hungry. Please, sit and have mine, I'm sure the others are fine."
She turned her attention back to Rek'lyr as she pushed the bowl in the direction of her male companion, "Freedom and Honor, then. And, I can see how such things would be prized beyond life itself. I shall have to apologize if I meet one of those who offered the greeting before and received nothing in return."
Fistar's green eye's followed the Kelzir form, after he placed the bowls in front of him and the other's. "Quiet fella that one as well, " Picking up a spoon, he commenced to eat the piping hot soup, almost burning his lips.
He placed the spoon down, and reached for the bottle of wine and glasses, He poured out the wine in each of the glasses and placing them in front of the two. "There ya go, It seems tho that they forgot the water. " he shrugged, "Ohh well, wine is good for you, I always say, adds some flavour to your life. "
Smiling happily, he picked up the spoon, stirring the soup briefly and tasting it carefully this time as not to burn his mouth, "Mmmm very good soup. Best I've ever had." Fistar glanced around the room noting the occupants and seeing what kind of gold was flowing around.
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
"Thank you," said the paladin as the dark elf set a bowl before her, though her gaze followed him in puzzlement as she tried to figure out why he was delivering them instead of a tavern employee. The circumstances in this town were undoubtedly strange.
She watched him return to the female drow, at the table with all of the others. The big clusters of dark elves made her uneasy, but they did not seem to be doing anything nefarious...
So many questions for when she found the Temple.
She removed her gauntlets and set them aside, watching through the steam of her soup as Fistar merrily scalded himself. At the offer of wine, she held up a callused hand and shook her head. "Apologies. I do not drink."
"I drink." Etsia nodded determinedly and sipped the wine. It wasn't the berry wine she was used to, but good enough. The soup smelled very good and she set the glass down to take the spoon instead. Very soon she found out that the soup also tasted very good and she ate with great appetite, dangling her legs merrily as the warmth, food and drink greatly improved her state of mind.
"Of course Mistress, your generosity to my humble self is boundless. I have already tasted your meal, and I assure you there is nothing untoward within it. Perhaps if Mistress would but take a small sampling, she would find her appetite returned. But first I must return the tray and acquire a bowl for your other distinguished partner. My deepest apologies, Mistress for not having the intelligence and foresight to bring more bowls."
He bowed deeply to Zarraema, then the other two drow at the table before once again moving through the patrons. Again at the kitchen door, he utilized the means from his own experience and held up two fingers. Then while he listened to the noises of the room, he hummed to himself and patiently awaited two more bowls to appear.
Listen check: (1d20+4)(20) For general attitude of the inn.
Local History check: (1d20+2)(20) To gage if there's a specific type of music that would be offensive.
Perform check: (1d20+4)(19) While humming to himself.
The Priestess sighed and pulled the turtle shell bowl back to herself as she lowers her voice to one she hopes is only overheard by the two at her table, "Please forgive Kelzir's zeal, old habits are difficult to break."
With that, she lowered her head, whispering a quiet blessing over the meal, and waited for a response and Kelzir's return - she resolved to eat only when he had a bowl of his own.
You don't see anything out of the ordinary, except for the random groups of dark elves in a bar chatting and smiling with humans and half orcs.Strange times indeed. You do notice that no one goes near the small private booth to the left of the stage. You do spot the server girl get stopped by one of the wolf-tabled dark elves as he hopped up and stopped her, taking the tray from her and himself, turning and stepping into the curtained booth.
The general attitude in the inn is actually...merry. laughter can be heard over the general din of the taproom. chuckling and shouting humorous comments. The room is in a good mood, even with the weather outside. You happen to walk by a pair of seated darkelven males, one is quietly humming a familiar tune of a battle song of glory, non religious, that you know from down below. The male hears you humming and smiles to you through the humming. The other looks to you and says "Freedom and Honor" as you pass by.
The server girl is standing and watching you return with her tray, holding two more turtle soup shells. She looks to you quizzically. "Um...the 5 bowls were fer your table. These two be fer those men. But..eh, a bowl is a bowl is a bowl. Here, enjoy." She turns to head back into the kitchen and then spins around again. "Oi! if'n yer gonna sit with them, and not those ya entered with...shall I break apart the bill and put you and the lady with those men's?"
He nodded to the two drow, having heard snippets of the conversation the two with his Mistress had said. Smiling amiably as the words left his mouth. He after all didn't want to cause his Mistress any more trouble than he already had.
"Freedom and Honor," was his quiet reply. He considered it odd as he continued to the kitchen. Honor was something he understood. People lived and died by and for honor every day, even in serving his Mistress there was honor, perhaps a little more, but still there was honor in it.
Freedom, however, was baffling. What exactly was freedom? What did it mean? He'd heard the word and understood how it was defined, but he'd never known such a thing. It was a hollow word to him, something only to be repeated in litany to ensure his Mistress was untroubled.
He set the tray down before taking the two bowls, looking upward slightly to smile in return. Another large woman in comparison to his smallish frame. He looked slightly troubled at her remarks, unsure of how to reply at first.
"That is for my Mistress to decide. I was not told of arrangement of payment for the meal, and was unaware that those who had also entered were considered with us. I shall inform her immediately and see to the desires of the Mistress' convenience."
With that, he once again crossed the room to place one bowl in front of the other dark elf, careful not to spill it. Then adopted his typical station slightly behind her and to the left. Soup still in hand he leaned down to speak quietly in Zarraema's ear.
"Mistress, there seems to be a confusion as to the dispensation of the bill for the meal. They wish to know if we're to split the bill with those we'd entered with or perhaps with your two esteemed guests. Forgive me, for your humble slave did not have the proper answer to this question."
The whispered words caused her eyes to widen in surprise, not because of the bill, but because she had not thought of Kelzir as a slave since their escape from the Underdark - if anything, she considered him a close friend and her savior. Did he truly continue at her side because he thought she owned him, still?
Praying that neither of her companions heard the comment, she did her best to recover from the shock and shook her head, "I will take care of it, Kelzir. Please, sit and eat? Warm yourself and rest from the journey."
Dear Lady, forgive me for keeping him against his will, if he still believes I am his owner...was her only thought as she carefully rose to see about the bill.
(all barstools are taken except the one closest to the door)
table 1: Three dark elves M,M,F;two humans m,m
table 2: Empty
table 3: Your party
table 4: three dwarvesm,m;two halflings F,F
table 5: four male Elves
table 6: empty
table 7: Rek'lyr and his friend and Zarraema
table 8: Two elves M,F; two humans M,M = armed & armored
table 9: Three Halfing males, one elf robed and one human female
table 10: Four dark elves M,M,F,F
table 11: 5 humans 4 male,1 female = lightly Armored
table 12: Empty
table 13: Empty
Table 14: The five dark elves fully armored, with the wolf.
Booth 15: Empty
Booth 16: Curtains drawn, very very occupied.
Fistar study the curtain briefly to see if he can perchance glimpse the occupants as the curtain shifted when the Dark elf delivered the tray. He sat back and reached for his wine glass, taking a sip of it.
"Well, so there is a Festival of Summer's Blessing happening, I bet the city will become even more crowded," His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
He placed the wine glass back on the table, and finished up the turtle soup, Between mouthfuls of the soup, he chatted about how he found himself with the caravan and a bit about the baron's daughter, which sounds a bit outrageous, to anyone who was listening. As he talked he noticed Zarraema and Kelzir talking to the other Dark elves.
Soon he finished his soup, and glancing up a the two at the table he palmed the spoon and placed it into his pocket. "So what do you want at the Temple? Can't be much happening there except may a bunch of clerics exponding the god of Torm." The wood elf thought a moment, "Well, personally I would like to rent a room then look around the city, possibly buy that cloak, to keep the rain off. Maybe we should make a trip together, and possibly find that library that Etsia as well. " Glancing at the dark elves briefly again and motioning with his head, "I don't know what those two are up to, or if they may even be interested. Ahh well each to there own."
Spot: Curtain movement to glimpse within.
slight of hand: Palming spoon
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
As you all sit at the table, Kelzir and Zarraema sitting with other dark elves , and chatting, A tall, slender high elf walks up to your table near the fire.
"Excuse me miss, Did you ask for directions to a library?" The elff spoke and his voice sounded like whind chimes in the distance as he almost sung each word. His long straight gold hair was braided several places and held with silver endcaps, and his face held a pure perfect shape with small intricate tattoos of gold, barely visible on his cheeks. His long straight white and grey robe had many designs over it's surface, intricate weavings of gold ornamental frames around a silver or mithril gauntlet in several places.
He waited for a moment and took a free seat at the table, between the wild elf and the paladin, nodding once to the holy warrior. He smoothed his robes out as he sat, and you hear the faint sound of chain links adjust themselves under the robe. His big gold eyes look at the wild elf and he smiles.
"You spoke earier of wanting a Library, this is correct?" He looks around the table, offering a slight nod to Fistar as well. "This town is full of books. There are hundreds of libraries, both private and public. Many offer a small cross- section of topics, but if you're looking for the largest library in this ward, that is open to the public, it would be in the Temple of Torm, not 2 blocks from this spot. One block east and one block south, it will be on your left." The elf smile to her, happy he could be of service.
You have been watching the curtains for awhile, out of the corner of your eye and whenever the curtains do open to allow people in or out from the table below it, all you can see is darkness. At one time you thought you saw a person, but it was blurred, and colorless (like a black and white tv picture)
As you palm the length of the spoon and slide it up your sleeve, you casually look around the taproom, and the table near the curtained booth, the one with the heavily armored dark elves and the wolf, a female with a few badges on her plate mail looks to you and slightly shakes her head.."no".
Fistar frowned slightly, catching the eye of the dark elf, then put a look of innocence onto his face as he shook his hand and the spoon slide out from within his sleeves and clattered to the table top. "Now how did that get in there, " he softly exclaimed under his breath. He carefully placed the spoon into the empty bowl, watching it very carefully as if it will move again.
Glancing up at the elf who had joined them at the table, "Ahh well that solves the problem of splitting up, then. We can all head over to this Temple , " He grinned.
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
Etsia watched the shiny elf seriously as he approached and offered his information. She tilted her head and narrowed her green eyes a little, watching him like a particularly solemn little hawk, from the shoes all the way to the golden locks.
"Thank you." She nodded once. The advice sounded good, especially since the tall lady was apparently going to this temple as well. "I need to find an animal." She offered a piece of information of her own in return as a trade. "Maybe the books say where the animal lives."
Sense Motive on the Shiny Elf. Sense Motive - (1d20+2)
The gold elf seems honest and trustworthy as he stands, straightening his robes as the high elves tend to do. His golden eyes look to you and his sharp features smooth as he smiles to you.
"It is my pleasure to support my own library, My Lady of the wild." He bows slightly, half not having the room for a full bow and mainly not wanting to wrinkle his clothes.
He looks to Etsia as she explains her reason for the library. His head tilts a bit and he smiles agian. "It sounds as if your life has purpose and a goal to reach. I wish you luck in your endeavors. Once you arrive in the temple, please tell them Priest Sendilvahl sent you. You should be given access to the full library then. You have a pure soul, little one. I wish you and your friends luck on your travels." He nods deeply once and turns and returns to his table.
Seeming apparent that their companions had not overheard Kelzir speak his former title, the priestess let out a slow, calming breath and headed toward the kitchens to handle supper's cost. Since it was a point of contention, she would simply handle the cost of all seven meals; one small kindness she could give the three that seem to have become attached to them - at least in perceived association - and to the two who had graciously answered her questions - and to Kelzir... to Kelzir she owed more than a meal.
Now...where was that serving woman?
Search for Zarraema: (1d20)(4)
(NOTE: I am guessing on what to roll...sorry <sheepish newbie grin>)
The paladin smiled and bowed to the high elf, recognizing the gauntlet-pattern interwoven throughout his garment. A murmured "Holy Champion" was her greeting to him, as she could not discern his exact rank from the vestments. She did not interrupt his discussion with Etsia, though did set down her spoon--it would be impolite to continue eating at such a point. As he left, the young paladin again bowed her head respectfully.
Afterward she smiled at Etsia, almost beaming. "Good news indeed, that we are going the same way. With the Holy Champion's permission given, the Temple will certainly do its very best to assist you."
Turning her attention briefly to Fistar, she noted without rancor, "You see that there is plenty to be found at the holy temple, for faithful and visitors alike. We serve the good of the people."
((Just an OOC comment: Holy Champion was the most generic Tormite priest title I found. If it's wrong...pretend she said something else? >.>))
Fistar nodded to Jessamyn and smiled. "Well that's all and good, best to have an idea of where we want to go, Yes?" He grinned at Etsia, "I see you have something to look for in the library. Anyways, I guess we should pay for our food and find a place to store our gear, unless you feel comfortable carrying it around on your back. I certainly don't at the moment. "
Fistar looked around, the tavern trying to spot the owner, or that server.
Spot - (1d20+1)(14)
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
Rek'lyr sips his soup and scrunches his nose, never liking the taste of these shelled lizards. His red eyes look over to his silent friend, who has almost completely swallowed the entirty of his steaming hot bowl, not with a barbarian's rudeness, but of an elegant noble that was hungry. He looks up from wiping a bit of rye bread around the inside of the turtle shell and smirks before continueing wiping his shell bowl clean.
Rek'lyr looks back to you, Zarraema, and he wipes a bit of turtle soup that splashed onto his sleeve. "One last thing before you leave my table, surface newling." His yellow eyes look up at her sharply and his voice lowers to barely her ears and when her slave is not at the table. His ally at his side allows his non bread wielding hand to slip underneath the table as Rek'lyr talks.
"Those pales you entered with... If you trust them, Stay close to them. See them not as you would slaves from the underdark, but as allies that can watch your back and not stick a knife in it. Gothmoor is full of dark elves who left the Bug Queen's yolk behind, but many of them still hold their underhanded strive for dominance. Trust is rare with our peoples as it is. But on the surface, some will try to use your new trust to drive that hidden knife in your back. Stay alert, Moon Dancer. Keep those who you trust close until you acclimate yourself to the wild ways of the surface. Knights of the Shadow Dragon can be trusted, but few others."
He looks over to the table with the wolf at the lady's leg, the fully armored crew that seem to protect the shadowy few in the booth near them. All of them wearing badges of black detailess dragons on their breastplate. Still wishpering, but a bit more feral in his tone, Rek'lyr speaks low again.
"Now, to show you what I mean... Fly back to your pale friends, Priestess, so I may finish my meal without you at my table." His head dips lower, eyeing you from under his white brow as he fingers a ring on his middle finger. It is covered in mystic runes of a sorcerer's hand. You notice his silent friend has since broughts his hand back up to the table and laid a dagger in front of his body, but moved his hand off the handle, also eyeing you.
The new information unsettled her - she placed a hand on Kelzir's shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Kelzir, would you do me the pleasure of moving to the table with those we entered with? Please inform them that I will attend to the bill and would like to speak with them. ...but be cautious. Something is amiss."
With that, she dipped her head to both other Dark Elves and moved from the table, again, in search of the serving woman - time to take care of seven full meals...
Do I need to roll spot again? If so...
Spot the Serving Wench for Zarraema: (1d20)(10)
The appearance of weapons, and lowered voices hadn't escaped the keen ears of the bard. He did as his Mistress bid him and moved without any apparent concern to the table with the others. His eyes scanning everything quickly, looking for any indication that his Mistress might be in any danger.
Spot [rollv] 1d20+2 [/rollv]
Sense Motive [rollv] 1d20+2 [/rollv]