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Groj settled Human down in his stall, set up his feed, and treated him to one of the last carrots in his pack. "Don't be joinin' me in that there tavern, ya got me?" The horse whinnied, seemingly content to be at rest. For now.
Groj then moseyed over to the varicorns, trying to appear casual. "Nice 'cornies, good 'cornies. Watchu beauts doin' here?" He further sweet-talked the animals, offering carrots to encourage them to allow him closer to inspect them.
'If I could get me one of these, I could sell it and come home with a sackload a stallions... heh, no kiddin'. Who needs guard duty?'
Groj eyed the animals to see if they had any loose gear he could "pick up," or identifying marks that would make selling them difficult, should he manage to liberate one from the stables. Amid his horse-whispering, Groj's blue eyes take in the entrance and rest of the stalls, checking for stablehands or other witnesses.
The Hart and Hare is a two story building with stone walls, a steep slate roof and shuttered windows. Inside, there are two long tables with benches near the bar, and a pair of round tables, which of each seat four, are closer to the fireplace at the other end of the room. Behind the bar, a set of stone steps leads into a basement.
To the left of the door is a small shrine with a bowl of coins set in front of it. An effigy of Tranchke making a welcoming gesture takes pride of place on the shrine.
Eight peasants are seated on one of the long trestles, drinking from leather tankards, and for a moment seem slightly perturbed at your arrival. They swiftly return to their hushed conversations in thick local dialect.
The merchant and his sons are seated at the other long table. Your employer is speaking to a short, heavily muscled man who is ladling some sort of soup into ten wooden bowls.
Around one of the circular tables sit three elves, dressed elegantly and speaking animatedly in Elvish while sipping wine from silver goblets. A large pewter flagon and a sizeable joint of meat sit unattended at the table.
Two tall goblinoids sit on chairs beside the fireplace. Their packs lie at their feet, and they seem to be deliberately ignoring goings-on around them and drinking in silence.
Groj
Everything portable seems to have been moved elsewhere. The varicorns don't seem unnerved by your presence, but seem quite comfortable staying put in their stalls. All three are purest white, with mottled markings on their foreheads differentiating them.
In the stall closest to the door, a long snake with brilliant green and yellow scales is dozing in the rafters, or at least gives the appearance of doing so.
Behlan bowed politely as he entered the building; noting, out of the corner of his eye, that the supercilious elf hadn't bothered.
"Not much of a people person, are you?" he muttered to the elf in question; feeling slightly better that his apparent animosity seemed directed at everyone and not just Behlan.
He didn't wait for a reply, however, and instead nodded, in a friendly manner, to men (the only ones they'd seemed to have disturbed) seated at the long table... not that they seemed all that interested. He turned to Vespe and tilted his head towards the merchant and the inviting bowls of soup.
"We should ask him where we're sleeping... if you still want to drop off your gear?" he asked, though he hadn't intended it to be a question. He didn't actually feel all that heavily armed, but then, he supposed, it was entirely possible that Vespe was used to a better class of alehouse than him.
Rafe walks up to the long table by the merchant and sits down. I assume you've got someone watching the wagons? Because he's got most of his stuff in one of them. He then turns to the shine and tries to see if he can find his god amongst the others.
__________________
Avi of Jason by Cealocanth.
Forumite cancels posting: interrupted by RL.
(the_JJ will be (mostly) AWOL for the foreseeable future.)
Vespe began to step through the door, but suddenly remembered to hold his hand on his heart, hold the other one up, and bow. Close one, he thought to himself. He took a glance at the shrine, pulled out a copper piece, and dropped it in the bowl. Thanks.
He turned to Behlan. "Hmm...well, I'm kind of hungry, and I don't think anyone will be that bothered if we keep our things on, do you?" He took a place at the merchant's table, taking a moment to think over the days events to himself, followed by wondering as to what kind of soup he was about to have.
Walking into the inn Derel saw one of the others place their hand over their chest. Remembering a traveller he had seen do the same thing he followed suit quickly enough so it looked like he had known about it in advance.
Deciding he was actually quite hungry Derel headed straight for the merchants table and sat down in front of one of the end bowls so that Braan could hop onto the table to share it. Placing his pack beneath the table and his staff resting against it he turned to the merchant and simply said "With your permission".
__________________
Zenith Caste Solarbold-Bard by Lord Raziere. | Backer #121 of the Giantitp Kickstarter | My homebrew
Quote:
Originally Posted by OverlordJ
New law: Obey me or you'll be crushed by a MOUNTAIN.
"Huh. Big yeller snake up 'ere, n' you don't say boo, but ya see tha tiniest spider n' ya try ta kick me off, how does that figger, Human?"
Groj kept his eye on the snake -- he's seen Langtier brownrattles play dead then jump out with a sudden, noxious bite -- dropped his pack onto a haystack, and released his ranseur from its straps. Holding the weapon out at its full length, he approached the snake's position carefully.
Inches away, it occurred to him that he should have gotten the stablehands to deal with the reptile. 'Ahh, Voids,' he thought as the head of the ranseur nudged the snake. "Please, please, please jes' git. Don't gimme no bitin', jes' git..."
Spoiler
What's a tropical animal doing in a place like this? Oh, please let me be wrong...
In case it's not clear, Groj is trying to encourage the animal to leave the stable -- he's not attacking it.
__________________ "Only he who attempts the absurd is capable of achieving the impossible." --Miguel de Unamuno
The merchant gestures for you to take a seat, and his friend greets you warmly. "So, your the fellows walkin' with old Voss, are you? Tuck in, then. He's always welcome round here, and so are you." The soup is thick and nourishing peasant fare, made of beans and lentils and flavoured with marrow. Accompanying it is a trencher of stale bread with dripping.
"I wouldn't worry about the wagons. Molic's putting that great old dog of his out in the yard before he looks up for the night. Great big thing, isn't it, Molic?"
"Oh, yes. They're safe with Mac keeping an eye on them, that's a surety."
Conversation shifts to sleeping arrangements. Due to the number of guests - Molic glances over at the elves seated nearby as he says this - the six of you will have to sleep in the one room, although extra pallets and blankets have been brought down from the attic. Molic seems embarrassed, and says he'll charge you a silver piece each for the stay. Voss seems pleased with this arrangement, and slides the remains of your day's pay down the table, then ushers his sons upstairs. "We leave at dawn tomorrow. Better get some sleep."
Rafe
The goddess depicted is Tranchke
Groj
The snake hisses in annoyance, and slithers higher up into the shadows of the rafters, out of reach.
The big ranger was surprised to find himself shaking slightly. "Voids -- I hate snakes. Why'd it have to be a snake?"
Eyeing the rafters as he gathered up his pack, Groj spoke over his shoulder to Human, "You ain't bothered by 'im? You c'n have 'im. Jes' don't bring 'im into my room, s'all I ask."
With that, Groj left the stable. If he sees a stablehand, he'll tell them about the snake. Otherwise, he heads into the tavern, realizing he had not found out where their rooms were going to be.
'Touch yer heart, show yer peace.' The native Langtier man made the standard gesture of goodwill inside the entrance. He'd always liked that traditional saying. He wondered idly if the crow-boy or the others had known about it, or if they just raised every kid badly down south.
Groj flipped a copper into Trachke's bowl, nodding to the proprietor as he did so. His cold blue eyes surveyed the rest of the room unflinchingly.
The elven trio looked like for all the world like a comedy troupe to him; he resisted asking for a 'nobleman pratfall' from them, though. The goblinoids were probably mercs looking for work amid the local troubles, and the peasants looked local enough. The latter group did not return his nod of greeting, which bothered him. Had he changed so much?
Recognizing the merchant's bulk and Vespe's lilting voice, Groj walked up to the group at their tables, where many of them were tucking into bowls of soup. From the pungent smell, he could tell it was a good old Langtier recipe, with a hint of some of those southern herbs he hadn't gotten used to while working the other side of the border. He almost smiled as he sat down, his pack making a heavy THUMP on the ground.
"Drinks?"
Spoiler
Since I already established Groj's background as being from Langtier, I figured he'd remember the tradition. Was just a question of whether he'd care. ;)
__________________ "Only he who attempts the absurd is capable of achieving the impossible." --Miguel de Unamuno
Behlan reached forward and took his share of their wage, stacking the coins next to his soup bowl as he took a spoonful. He smiled up at Malic. "This is good," he said with genuine pleasure as he tucked into the meal. "Never had this before," he continued around a large spoonful of soup.
It wasn't long before Groj arrived, reminding Behlan of his promise of a round.
"Drinks, indeed," he said in cheerful agreement before turning to Malic. "Could we get some ale to go with this hearty meal? he asked. "Five pints, I believe, unless..." He turned the bird supping the halfling's soup and asked "What would you like?"
"Just a little bit of red wine, in a bowl preferably, beaks a bit difficult to fit in a cup" Braan cawed back cheerfully to Behlan. Turning to Derel she said "I like him, not like ass face over there" motioning towards Groj.
"Much appreciated from both of us. Just the cheap stuffs fine for her" Derel called to Behlan, and turning to Groj he said "well, lets be honest I'm not sorry am I" smiling as he continued with his soup.
__________________
Zenith Caste Solarbold-Bard by Lord Raziere. | Backer #121 of the Giantitp Kickstarter | My homebrew
Quote:
Originally Posted by OverlordJ
New law: Obey me or you'll be crushed by a MOUNTAIN.
Grojimar smiled at Behlan's request to the innkeeper, then stood and raised his hand, catching Molic's attention. "Hey, 'keep, make it the good Langtier stuff, not that southern swill, right?" he asked the man, a hopeful note in his voice. "Thank ye kindly." He nodded and began to sit down, but was halted by a childlike insult tossed at him in a harsh voice.
He turned and stared down at the halfling at the far end of the table. Clearly the little man was throwing his words, trying to sound like his crow, but it was just absurd. After the incident with the snake, the conflict just felt trivial, so although Groj continued to hold his stare one full beat too long following Derel's non-apology, he simply turned his back and sat down again.
"Why ain't I surprised?" he said to Behlan and Rafe with a crooked smile. "Lemme guess, the boy didn't bother ta show his peace," he asked, repeating the gesture. He laughed, but his words were clearly not a question.
Groj slapped Behlan on the back. "Bet you did, though! You were pro'ly raised right, unlike 'im." He thrust his thumb back at the halfling. That was the entirety of the reaction he gave the spellcaster, turning the conversation towards Behlan's family and other topics.
"So, whatcher home like, Belly? Yer momma cook like this?" Groj took a big mouthful of the soup. 'Ah, yeah, slab a' bacon and this'd be perfect...' he thought. His eyebrows raised as the pints made their way to the table. 'And some good ale f'r once...'
__________________ "Only he who attempts the absurd is capable of achieving the impossible." --Miguel de Unamuno
Rafe just raises an eyebrow at the in party conflict, one of the habits he had picked up while training with all the second sons of nobility. He grabs his bowl, tosses his last silver down for his share of the ale (if there's change he'll take it) and sits down somewhere between Groj and the halfling. Honestly, I'd never see it before. He rolls his eyes I do hope it won't count as false worship. And then he begins to tear through his soup.
__________________
Avi of Jason by Cealocanth.
Forumite cancels posting: interrupted by RL.
(the_JJ will be (mostly) AWOL for the foreseeable future.)
Behlan nodded to Molic again and added the requested wine to their order. He turned his attention back to his meal, listening to the mocking comments of his companions with amusement as he ate. He'd be impressed if they all managed to get though this job without coming to blows, at this rate.
His thoughts were brought to a spluttering halt when Groj suddenly slapped him on the back. He smiled; Groj's enthusiasm was impressive, even if his choice of nickname was a little off.
He was about to answer Groj's question he saw Rafe put a coin on the table, presumably a contribution towards the drinks. He quickly reached forward, scooped up the coin and ran it deftly over the back of his hand.
"My treat," he said amicably, flipping the coin back to Rafe. "I don't invite people for a drink and then expect them to pay."
He looked to Groj. "And my mother's cooking is the best," he laughed. "But then there's nothing like home cooking, is there? Good, honest food; like this, but different flavours." He grinned as he tore at a piece of bread. "That doesn't really make sense, does it?"
Vespe tasted the soup tentatively."Hey, this stuff is really good." He then held the bowl to his lips, chugging the whole thing. "Mmmm...just like mom used to make!
Except my mom never cooked. And I've never had this kind of soup. But, you know what I mean. Right?" He snatched a tankard of ale off of the tray, and sipped it. "This is good stuff." He began to take larger sips, listening to the others chat.
A male half-elf comes softly down the stairs and places a flat square object and a small cloth bag on the elves' table, then bows. One of them whispers into his pointed ear, and motions at the bar. The half-elf approaches the bar and strikes up a conversation with Molic. Two of the elves start to set up take carved pieces of some greenish stone out of the bag and set up a game of some sort on the board while the third, a woman, looks boredly on.
One of the Hobgoblins stands up with an unintellegible grunt and strolls, stiff-legged, out the front door, leaving his pack on the floor. He casts an unambigously hostile glance over his shoulder at the elves as he leaves.
Spoiler
Map available here
Sorry if it all looks like BS, my eraseable grid mat thingy is in use at the moment.
To orient you all, you are seated at the northern long table (C4-6), the peasants are at the other one (F4-6), the elves are at the lower three seat on the F8 table, and the hobgoblins are around the fireplace (D10, C11). The shrine is at H2, and Molic the innkeeper (D1) is conversing with the half-elf (D3) across the bar. All make sense?
Groj downs his ale and smacks his lips with relish. "Yes! Thank you, Langtier! Barony may be going ta pot, but tha booze is still tha best you c'n get! Next round's on me, crew -- yeah, even for you n' yer crow, boy."
Groj doesn't care to leave a debt unpaid, and he'd certainly like to see if the lightfoot will pony up for a round himself...
Spoiler
Corrected link: http://www.rapidshare.com/files/144934775/H_Hmap1.gif
For those not familiar with this (such as myself), you have to click on the download link ("free user" no signups), wait for the download page to come up, then click the big blue DOWNLOAD button.
How much should I assume a round costs?
__________________ "Only he who attempts the absurd is capable of achieving the impossible." --Miguel de Unamuno
Behlan took the opportunity to look around the inn when the half-elf came down the stairs, though he his interest quickly returned to the people at his own table. Perhaps in other circumstances the hobgoblins, and their luggage, would have kept his attention a little longer, but not with the entertainment his present company were providing.
He had hardly made a dent in his ale and Groj was calling for more; not that he was going to object to another round. He raised his tankard and took another sip before speaking. "So, big guy, you're a local boy, then?" he asked Groj.
Groj thrusts his chin out with a grunting laugh; he just caught Vespe's joke about the soup. He's clearly delighted when the elf praises the ale. "Haven't known many o' yer kind ta like Langtier redthroat, meanin' no 'fense. Takes a strong man ta down three in his first hour... like we says at home, we says... yeah, I'm from Langtier, northern Langtier... up there we says, 'Three in one, free for all!'"
"'At means yer like ta git inna good ol' bar fight, n' win it, too, if ya drink long an' drink strong. First three are the best three!"
Groj grins at the thought, picturing Vespe and Behlan clearing out the entire tavern in a brawl. If there's no response beyond chuckles or laughter, he says, "So, Belly, Vessy, Rafie, where you fellas from?"
__________________ "Only he who attempts the absurd is capable of achieving the impossible." --Miguel de Unamuno
Rafe
Rafe shrugs, and for once speaks with out any pretense to a highborn accent, though it now has a distinct twang. Out east. I haven't been back in years though. I was going to go see my mother after I got out of the force but... well, I got hurt real bad right before that happened, and a cleric of Larusel saved me. It seemed like a nice thing to do, pay it forward you know? Went to a training monastery, they'd take anyone, but I guess I shoulda thought more about why they're all sons of the nobility. O' course, I know all about the whys of that now, lived through it and read about it.
__________________
Avi of Jason by Cealocanth.
Forumite cancels posting: interrupted by RL.
(the_JJ will be (mostly) AWOL for the foreseeable future.)
"Careful lightfoot, he seems to be the type of human who likes to prove he has a big meat-sword," Aliron remarks, preferring not to be in the proximity of angry, drunk, searing fireballs and stray lightning bolts at a crowded table.
"Me? I'm from out west, sort of on the border of the elven lands. Little human village. I liked it and all, but it's kind of disorienting to see your childhood friends have kids of their own while you're still growing up, you know? Er...I guess you wouldn't. Never mind.
My parents always used to tell me about all these adventures they had 'back in the day,' so I figured I'd get out and see the world while I'm still young. Maybe have an adventure or two of my own." He sipped the ale. "And here I am guarding a shipment of grain, of all things." He sighed.
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Re: Strange Rumblings in Langtier: Party No. 1
