This RP is between FreeJayFly, CrimsonKnight212, Netherweave, RedHeadedSamurai23, EN-09, and Miss. Until further notice, this is a closed RP to the public.
City of Neverwinter | Autumn | 22:00 | Clear
There was only a murmur of sound that lingered in the streets at this time of night. Many people had gone home, or people had taken time off at certain taverns around the area to take a load off from a stressful work day. It had been a few hours before the fog rolled in from the seas to obscure the docks and the shops, homes, and inn that were settled there at the shores of Neverwinter.
Following one of the small, late night crowds toward one of the buildings that was settled close to the docks, one has ended up at the Sunken Flagon with all the other patrons that were around. Usually, the place was not that full, and sometimes, the company was not even that welcome. In recent times, however, the Sunken Flagon saw its fair share of adventurers, bounty hunters, and even some scholars that had hired hands to protect them. It seemed a little odd at first, though with more people opening their mouths, and more rumours getting loose, almost everyone knew the reason why there was much more traffic coming into the Jewel of the North.
Even now, at these obscene hours into the night when most of everything should have been asleep, there were those few weary travellers that had made their appearance at one of the entrances to the city. Some travellers looked dog tired, and some seemed very excited. All in all, whenever someone opened the door to the Sunken Flagon in order to rest up for the evening, anyone passing by could have easily heard the murmur and chatter coming from within as many spoke about what they intended to do with the recent packs of werebeasts that started to come dangerously close to the Neverwinter borders.
The Sunken Flagon | Warm & Noisy | 22:10 | Excitable Atmosphere
Walking into the Sunken Flagon, every table seems to have one patron of one kind or another. There were even some customers that had taken to resting their heads on the table and falling asleep right there. It seemed that the owner of the tavern paid little to no mind to these band of adventurers that seemed to pile in, seeking refuge for the evening. In fact, this Elven man seemed content with getting drinks serviced, and empty or half-emptied mugs taken up and brought back to the back of the counter to get washed and cleaned up for another day of use.
Though the atmosphere of the place seemed rather jittery and excitable, there were few that seemed perturbed, or even outright disgusted with the turnout of the Sunken Flagon. There was one person in particular that seemed rather out of place -- she looked neither interested, nor did she seem too invested in the company of the people that were there. In fact, one might have even assumed that she might have been a local resident of Neverwinter. However, there were obvious features to this woman that sat by herself, isolated from the others, that set her apart.
For one thing, not many residents of Neverwinter bore the features of horns... or a tail... or spiked abrasions on one's face. In fact, most residents of Neverwinter were Humans with some variety mixed in with Halflings Half-Elves, Gnomes, Dwarves, and Elves also being prevalent within the city's walls. There were even Half-Orcs that roamed the city's streets on some occasions, though no one could really remember the last time a Tiefling walked through the cobbled roads of Neverwinter -- usually their kind was discriminated against for the most part. Mostly to do with their notorious troublesome habits.
However, this woman seemed to keep to herself, sipping from her pint every now and again. Her tail swished from side to side in slight discontent as her golden eyes seemed to glance around the room and keep an eye on just about anything and anyone. One thing was for certain, and that was that the white-haired Tiefling woman that sat by herself also seemed to be at the ready to draw her weapon at any given moment at the slightest hint of trouble that might involve her.
((For anyone that is interested in joining, I implore you to please look at this link first before posting to this thread. I have this set to open for the time being, but I'm looking for other players that will abide by the mechanics of game play that I have set in motion. Most of everything you will need to know, if you are interested, is outlined in the thread that is linked.
For anyone that is engaging in this role play, please abide by post order unless you cannot make a post that turn. If you cannot post for your turn, please let me and the poster after you know. You will still retain your turn spot in the order for future posts.))
City of Neverwinter | Autumn | 22:00 | Clear
There was only a murmur of sound that lingered in the streets at this time of night. Many people had gone home, or people had taken time off at certain taverns around the area to take a load off from a stressful work day. It had been a few hours before the fog rolled in from the seas to obscure the docks and the shops, homes, and inn that were settled there at the shores of Neverwinter.
Following one of the small, late night crowds toward one of the buildings that was settled close to the docks, one has ended up at the Sunken Flagon with all the other patrons that were around. Usually, the place was not that full, and sometimes, the company was not even that welcome. In recent times, however, the Sunken Flagon saw its fair share of adventurers, bounty hunters, and even some scholars that had hired hands to protect them. It seemed a little odd at first, though with more people opening their mouths, and more rumours getting loose, almost everyone knew the reason why there was much more traffic coming into the Jewel of the North.
Even now, at these obscene hours into the night when most of everything should have been asleep, there were those few weary travellers that had made their appearance at one of the entrances to the city. Some travellers looked dog tired, and some seemed very excited. All in all, whenever someone opened the door to the Sunken Flagon in order to rest up for the evening, anyone passing by could have easily heard the murmur and chatter coming from within as many spoke about what they intended to do with the recent packs of werebeasts that started to come dangerously close to the Neverwinter borders.
The Sunken Flagon | Warm & Noisy | 22:10 | Excitable Atmosphere
Walking into the Sunken Flagon, every table seems to have one patron of one kind or another. There were even some customers that had taken to resting their heads on the table and falling asleep right there. It seemed that the owner of the tavern paid little to no mind to these band of adventurers that seemed to pile in, seeking refuge for the evening. In fact, this Elven man seemed content with getting drinks serviced, and empty or half-emptied mugs taken up and brought back to the back of the counter to get washed and cleaned up for another day of use.
Though the atmosphere of the place seemed rather jittery and excitable, there were few that seemed perturbed, or even outright disgusted with the turnout of the Sunken Flagon. There was one person in particular that seemed rather out of place -- she looked neither interested, nor did she seem too invested in the company of the people that were there. In fact, one might have even assumed that she might have been a local resident of Neverwinter. However, there were obvious features to this woman that sat by herself, isolated from the others, that set her apart.
For one thing, not many residents of Neverwinter bore the features of horns... or a tail... or spiked abrasions on one's face. In fact, most residents of Neverwinter were Humans with some variety mixed in with Halflings Half-Elves, Gnomes, Dwarves, and Elves also being prevalent within the city's walls. There were even Half-Orcs that roamed the city's streets on some occasions, though no one could really remember the last time a Tiefling walked through the cobbled roads of Neverwinter -- usually their kind was discriminated against for the most part. Mostly to do with their notorious troublesome habits.
However, this woman seemed to keep to herself, sipping from her pint every now and again. Her tail swished from side to side in slight discontent as her golden eyes seemed to glance around the room and keep an eye on just about anything and anyone. One thing was for certain, and that was that the white-haired Tiefling woman that sat by herself also seemed to be at the ready to draw her weapon at any given moment at the slightest hint of trouble that might involve her.
((For anyone that is interested in joining, I implore you to please look at this link first before posting to this thread. I have this set to open for the time being, but I'm looking for other players that will abide by the mechanics of game play that I have set in motion. Most of everything you will need to know, if you are interested, is outlined in the thread that is linked.
For anyone that is engaging in this role play, please abide by post order unless you cannot make a post that turn. If you cannot post for your turn, please let me and the poster after you know. You will still retain your turn spot in the order for future posts.))
Saba's hand pushed the door to the tavern open, her radiant fur catching the light of the well-lit room. Her left arm featured a worn buckler, her armor a strange combination of white cloth and golden jewelry. Her hair was swept back from her face and her facial features were sharp. Giving a quiet sniff, her nose lifts and falls with the action. Saba's bare feet carried her inward, and her gaze drifts towards the door as her hand closes it.
Saba's nine-ringed broadsword lingered near her waist, a leather strap wrapped around her waist and through the small hole near within the hilt of the blade. A cord was attatched to it and wrapped securely around her wrist. Saba's bare feet carried her inwards and towards the Elven man, who was busily working, lifting a hand to tap upon his shoulder should he not be facing her, "Excuse me, brotherr. How is the hunt arround herre?"
Saba's nine-ringed broadsword lingered near her waist, a leather strap wrapped around her waist and through the small hole near within the hilt of the blade. A cord was attatched to it and wrapped securely around her wrist. Saba's bare feet carried her inwards and towards the Elven man, who was busily working, lifting a hand to tap upon his shoulder should he not be facing her, "Excuse me, brotherr. How is the hunt arround herre?"
The door to the Sunken Flagon opened with a rushy creek as yet another customer entered from the fog filled streets outside. the figure's features were kept hidden beneath the cowl of a dark, weather worn cloak. As it walked the form gave glimpses of a masculine form beneath. The color of pale skin, the vibrant red and black of the man's clothes beneath the cloak, and the glint of gilded metal upon the pommel of his weapon, the only thing that seemed to protrude from beneath the cloak.
The man pushed his way towards the Flagon's bar, sliding past a few of the other larger patrons. He spoke softly with the bartender, before sliding him a few coins from beneath his cloak, and after a few moments the bartender handed him a steaming pot of water. The man then made his way to an open seat in the Flagon and dropped his backpack to the ground, and pulled back his hood, revealing the face of a young man. His long red hair, pulled back in a ponytail, which he quickly brushed a few errant strands from his face aside allowing him to rummage through his pack for a small ceramic cup as well as a small wooden box. He opened the box and placed a small handful of ground up leaves into the bottom of his cup, and then poured the hot water from the teapot into his cup. The warm aroma of tea filling his nostrils and warming him to the bone.
The man pushed his way towards the Flagon's bar, sliding past a few of the other larger patrons. He spoke softly with the bartender, before sliding him a few coins from beneath his cloak, and after a few moments the bartender handed him a steaming pot of water. The man then made his way to an open seat in the Flagon and dropped his backpack to the ground, and pulled back his hood, revealing the face of a young man. His long red hair, pulled back in a ponytail, which he quickly brushed a few errant strands from his face aside allowing him to rummage through his pack for a small ceramic cup as well as a small wooden box. He opened the box and placed a small handful of ground up leaves into the bottom of his cup, and then poured the hot water from the teapot into his cup. The warm aroma of tea filling his nostrils and warming him to the bone.
One would think that the late hour would give a person enough peace and quiet to catch up on some paperwork. Unfortunately, it had not been the case, and Sylvia was caught between a wall and a snoring patron. Fortunately, the cacophony from hours ago settled to a dull roar and sufficed for decent background noise. It helped her focus on the drab paperwork; the topics range from the riveting 'tax collection' district reports to the thrilling 'residential homes construction' approval papers... In triplicate.
To see someone like Sylvia engrossed in paperwork is odd compared to the usual pencil pusher. Her amaranth eyes stared those words down and then some as she read paper to paper absorbing as much information possible. Her stern expression matched her prim visage, clear and clean, with a beauty mark on the left eye to boot. She kept her pink-streaked brunette hair in a loose side ponytail fashioned with a guilded hairpiece.
Sylvia's attire itself gave the impression of wealth; she wore a salsa, v-neck, frilled blouse. Around her neck was a gold necklace with a sizable emerald dead center. Brown breeches were her bottom of choice and knee-high boots, complete with spats, covered the rest. Sylvia's outfit was on-point with gold trim on each article. At her side was a fair-sized shield bearing vine engravings with a small symbol in the center, presumably her family's emblem. The shield seemed to sheath a spear with matching vine engravings and sported a distinctly large pommel.
As each paper was read, Sylvia's brows dipped slightly until her immediate vicinity clearly knew she was frustrated. It was a long day at the desk for Sylvia and the take-home work is never a good time. She ended up slamming her stack of papers onto the table, abruptly waking up the slumbering patron next to her. He startled Sylvia for an instant to which she promptly, sternly apologises for with her A+ people skills. The waking patron wants to tell her it's not a big issue that she woke him, but can't shake off the feeling that he's being lectured...
To see someone like Sylvia engrossed in paperwork is odd compared to the usual pencil pusher. Her amaranth eyes stared those words down and then some as she read paper to paper absorbing as much information possible. Her stern expression matched her prim visage, clear and clean, with a beauty mark on the left eye to boot. She kept her pink-streaked brunette hair in a loose side ponytail fashioned with a guilded hairpiece.
Sylvia's attire itself gave the impression of wealth; she wore a salsa, v-neck, frilled blouse. Around her neck was a gold necklace with a sizable emerald dead center. Brown breeches were her bottom of choice and knee-high boots, complete with spats, covered the rest. Sylvia's outfit was on-point with gold trim on each article. At her side was a fair-sized shield bearing vine engravings with a small symbol in the center, presumably her family's emblem. The shield seemed to sheath a spear with matching vine engravings and sported a distinctly large pommel.
As each paper was read, Sylvia's brows dipped slightly until her immediate vicinity clearly knew she was frustrated. It was a long day at the desk for Sylvia and the take-home work is never a good time. She ended up slamming her stack of papers onto the table, abruptly waking up the slumbering patron next to her. He startled Sylvia for an instant to which she promptly, sternly apologises for with her A+ people skills. The waking patron wants to tell her it's not a big issue that she woke him, but can't shake off the feeling that he's being lectured...
At the other end of the tavern, a young woman sat at a table to herself, the longsword leaning up against the chair next to her acting as a deterrent to anyone who might think to sit there. Most of the patrons assumed there was a man already sitting in that seat, not imagining that the large weapon could belong to her. She looked to be about eighteen years old, with long blonde hair that was worn in a loose braid over her left shoulder. Her bright violet eyes flickered over the pages of a book, and as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear, she revealed a small point on the end of it - the proof of the half of her heritage that was elven. The only thing about any of her features that was hard was a small, faint scar across her left cheek.
She shifted a bit uncomfortably in her seat, then sighed and set down her book, leaning back in her chair to gaze around the room with her striking eyes. She hated taverns, especially late at night. Drink always seemed to free up others' emotions, which wasn't pleasant for her. A wave of conflicting feelings hit her from every corner of the room, confusing her own feelings and thoughts. She breathed deeply, trying to focus and keep others' emotions out. When the feelings in the room seemed to have faded into the background, she picked her book back up, focusing her thoughts on learning the obscure language it held within it and picking at the loaf of bread on her table.
She shifted a bit uncomfortably in her seat, then sighed and set down her book, leaning back in her chair to gaze around the room with her striking eyes. She hated taverns, especially late at night. Drink always seemed to free up others' emotions, which wasn't pleasant for her. A wave of conflicting feelings hit her from every corner of the room, confusing her own feelings and thoughts. She breathed deeply, trying to focus and keep others' emotions out. When the feelings in the room seemed to have faded into the background, she picked her book back up, focusing her thoughts on learning the obscure language it held within it and picking at the loaf of bread on her table.
The Sunken Flagon | Warm & Noisy | 22:20 | Excitable Atmosphere
The Elven man who had been tending to many of the patrons had looked tired, though he had a smile on his face as he attempted to make sure that everyone was comfortable. The assortment of people there had certainly kept him both on his toes, and allowed him to be happy about the business that was suddenly coming in. With a glance to the other assistant workers that he had hired over time, the Elven man had waved one of them down to speak with them.
"Eidim, please make sure to lock the tavern doors once everything has settled and our dear patrons have dispersed to either the lodging here, or the inns elsewhere in the city," the Elven man had said, giving a soft smile as he had walked back behind the bar counter to start cleaning up the tankards and mugs that had been brought from the more vacant tables.
Turning his attention over to one of the patrons in the tavern, the Elven man had quirked a brow as he continued wiping down and cleaning up dishes. Setting down his materials after a moment, he had made his way to the Tiefling and had said to her, "isn't it getting a bit late for you, Tinnalia? You usually don't stay at the Flagon after dark settles."
The Tiefling, otherwise known as Tinnalia, had issued a drawn out sigh before raising her tankard for the Elven man to take, and she had held her tongue for a moment longer. After a few more seconds, and the Elven man about to leave back to his business, Tinnalia had said to him, "with all the excitement going around town, I'm not sure I really want to stay here much longer. The were are one thing, though I'm not too terribly in the right proper mood to deal with further travellers or foreigners making their way past the Neverwinter gates -- especially when my own is not too well tolerated in these parts."
"Ah... well, I certainly don't fault you for that. It would just certainly be unfortunate for someone that calls Neverwinter 'home' to suddenly leave because of this happening," the Elven man replied, offering Tinnalia a warm smile. "Though, it is your own life, and you are free to make your own choices."
With a shrug of her shoulders, Tinnalia had frowned and looked to the patrons, new and lingering, and then stood up from her rather empty table. Dropping a few silver pieces on the table, the Tiefling had then said, "well, thanks for everything, Duncan. I might see you tomorrow night if nothing impedes my schedule. Hopefully nothing does."
(Perception dice check (DC) 10 or higher to listen in on conversation if at all interested)
Saba's form moved to settle its rump upon a nearby empty table, her hands upon the edge of it, as her leg lifts over and settles itself upon the other idly. Her gaze drifts between the others about the tavern's area, her lips pulling into a soft smile, "Such a quiet place, but busy too." Saba's gaze drifts towards the elven man, watching him, before her gaze drifts towards the red-haired man. After a short, idle glance, her ears lift upwards and swivel in place. Saba's hands push off of the table's edge and her form is carried with an idle sway towards the elven man, her hands placing themselves upon an empty stool as she leans her weight upon it, "Yourr name is Duncan? I could not help but to overrhearr. I am wonderring if this place is not one for trravelerrs."
Saba's shoulders idly roll themselves, once, as her hands spread their fingers upon the stool's surface, "Not that I am deterrred. I am merrely currious. I would also like to know the prrice of housing myself herre."
Saba's shoulders idly roll themselves, once, as her hands spread their fingers upon the stool's surface, "Not that I am deterrred. I am merrely currious. I would also like to know the prrice of housing myself herre."
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 13. After the modifier of +5, got 18
Perception!
Zhouken had overheard the conversation from the comfortable spot at his table. He had seen how the streets had emptied at nightfall, and for such a large city found it to be rather odd. Now he knew the reason for it, as well as the reason for the influx of adventurers, as well as the increased garrison no doubt as well. Zhouken had noticed the tiefling woman as well, and from the way the bartender spoke with her she must have been one of the regulars, which took him a bit by surprise since tieflings always seemed to keep most at bay with the common stigma of the infernal blood that ran through their veins, no matter the individuals motivations. Zhouken rose to his feet a few moments after the elven man had turned his back to the conversation. He had a good mind to inquire a bit about the truth behind the rumors, and it seemed he was not the only one with the same mindset. He spied the catfolk woman's weapon before her actual features, the nine-ringed sword she carried meant she must have to some of the same lands he had hailed from. "Excuse me good sir?" Zhouken asked politely, interjecting himself into the conversation. "Could I possibly trouble you for a meal as well, and perhaps a bit more information. I'd like to see if perhaps you can shed some light on the rumors I have been hearing. Is it true their have been attacks by Were creatures recently?" he asked.
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 8. After the modifier of +6, got 14
Perception
The word of Were was like a beacon of interest in the monotonous night. Sylvia gathered all of her documents in haste and stumbled over to the growing company around the Elven man. There is an attempt at composure, but it was hard trying to keep papers and pens from falling.
"The Were are attacking the town?", Sylvia asked oblivious to the current conversation. Her face was full of curiosity, awareness, and panic as a few papers slipped through her butter finger grasp. "If it's a public danger to the people, then the authorities should be notified post haste."
Sylvia took a bit of time to breathe and pick up her drops. Now with clear sight, she realised her new company, particularly the Catfolk and Tiefling. The pink-streaked woman cleared her throat attempting to mask her tenseness.
"The Were are attacking the town?", Sylvia asked oblivious to the current conversation. Her face was full of curiosity, awareness, and panic as a few papers slipped through her butter finger grasp. "If it's a public danger to the people, then the authorities should be notified post haste."
Sylvia took a bit of time to breathe and pick up her drops. Now with clear sight, she realised her new company, particularly the Catfolk and Tiefling. The pink-streaked woman cleared her throat attempting to mask her tenseness.
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 12. After the modifier of +6, got 18
Alia felt Tinnalia's sigh rather than heard it and looked up again. Something was deeply troubling the tiefling, but Alia's focus shifted from her emotions to the conversation she was having. At the mention of the were, Alia tensed somewhat and completely set down her book.
There was a small group forming around the Elven man directly following the conversation - other patrons who had no doubt overheard. Alia opted to stay where she was and attempt to continue to listen, hoping she'd pick up on the statements of the three inquirers as well as the Elven man's - Duncan's - responses.
There was a small group forming around the Elven man directly following the conversation - other patrons who had no doubt overheard. Alia opted to stay where she was and attempt to continue to listen, hoping she'd pick up on the statements of the three inquirers as well as the Elven man's - Duncan's - responses.
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 9. After the modifier of +8, got 17
Of all the inns or taverns within the network of streets and trade in Neverwinter, this locale seemed to be the most relaxed by comparison. And it was far too late weighing options when the streets were dimly starlit and glowed with candle lamps outside. The darker corners and alleys of the city were always rife with seedier company than the Flagon he entered. Especially with rumours abound the hushed, loose lips of passerbys.
And so the door parted once more to allow one more patron to enter the tavern and inn.
An older gentleman of tanned complexion to symbolize the days spent traveling under the sun. His ginger-graying head of hair shrouded by the traveler's hood to insulate the warmth from the chilly nights. And his emerald gaze bearing outward by the worn and weary lines under the contours of his eyes. To be made evident the man continually wore the tired expression for the remainder of his days.
And tonight was no exception, as he had spent the good half of the day walking the trade roads. Travel garbs and backpack hauling only by the additional support of the walking stick, carved with intricate patterns and details. The man walked into the area with an eye to judge, and low scoff barely brushing past his bristled and unshaven face.
Every tavern in Neverwinter had been heavily occupied and without vacancy this night.
Well, no matter.
After parting with the lacquer of the front door, the man reached into his pockets and rummaged for coin. Slowly making way toward the popular Elven man under the roof. Either he was the innkeep, or knew where to point him in the right direction. The man simply had to wait quietly in line with the other patrons, and idling silently was more his preference.
And so the door parted once more to allow one more patron to enter the tavern and inn.
An older gentleman of tanned complexion to symbolize the days spent traveling under the sun. His ginger-graying head of hair shrouded by the traveler's hood to insulate the warmth from the chilly nights. And his emerald gaze bearing outward by the worn and weary lines under the contours of his eyes. To be made evident the man continually wore the tired expression for the remainder of his days.
And tonight was no exception, as he had spent the good half of the day walking the trade roads. Travel garbs and backpack hauling only by the additional support of the walking stick, carved with intricate patterns and details. The man walked into the area with an eye to judge, and low scoff barely brushing past his bristled and unshaven face.
Every tavern in Neverwinter had been heavily occupied and without vacancy this night.
Well, no matter.
After parting with the lacquer of the front door, the man reached into his pockets and rummaged for coin. Slowly making way toward the popular Elven man under the roof. Either he was the innkeep, or knew where to point him in the right direction. The man simply had to wait quietly in line with the other patrons, and idling silently was more his preference.
The Sunken Flagon | Warm & Noisy | 22:25 | Excitable Atmosphere
As Tinnalia passed the oncoming patrons to Duncan, she had sneered slightly before making her way toward the exit. Duncan had watched after her and then looked to the questioning customers with a tired smile upon his face. Clearing his throat, he did his best to listen to each one of them, though with a couple people asking things within quick succession of one another made it, admittedly, a tad difficult. However, years of running a business, and knowing just how difficult it was to keep track of paying customers at times had assisted in some aspect of discerning questions and separating them from one another to answer them in order.
Turning to the Catfolk that had addressed him first, Duncan had cheerily replied to her: "staying here for the night usually runs about five silver per night, though since business is a little congested and Neverwinter has picked up popularity fast, I've made it go to two silver per night. I know that accommodations for customers are... not the best, and I would hate to inconvenience many of you further. Ah... and speaking of which, many of the rooms have already been filled by people that have come in groups -- there is one room left that has four beds vacant for the evening."
Duncan's attention had quickly gone to both the red-haired individual, and the studious looking young woman that were also within the immediate area. Mulling over his response for a moment, he addressed the meal first thing: "meals here generally vary between what you would like to order, unfortunately, I cannot really offer too many discounts on that. Gotta restock every now and again, after all."
There was a chuckle at his words, though he prattled off what was available to the red-headed man:
With a sigh, Duncan then brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing it slightly at the thought of the were that had been sighted around Neverwinter. There were some other patrons that had overheard the woman exclaim her question, and it had made for a pressure that Duncan had not really wanted. However, he had continued to give a generally positive disposition as he attempted to explain what he knew; "well... the rumours started up around two years ago. Back then, people thought it was just a passing thing, and hunters were sent out at the time. Now... were seem to come in droves at times. Farmers and traders have come into Neverwinter seeking solace away from the dangers that some of the were have been bringing.
"They don't venture too close to the city -- mostly they tear through the common folks' farms, hunting the livestock. Easy prey, and all. Unfortunately, some of the farmers that also take it upon themselves to defend their lands come back with gruesome, sometimes fatal wounds. Some of the folk that have been most significantly injured have been brought to the Hall of Justice -- our temple to Tyr -- to have their clerics help heal them. You might get more information about the were from them if they are willing to speak. All I know are merely rumours -- and since my tavern is next to one of the city's exits, I know that no were has dared come in through the south entrances."
Saba's gaze drifts towards the male, then elsewhere, "That is a rreasonable prrice, frriend. It did look busy in herre." Her hands push off of the stool, her gaze drifting about her own form, her right hand drawing the tied, coin pouch from her waist. Her fingers pry it apart, before her pointer finger and thumb pinch two silvers from it, placing them upon the counter, "A fairr trrade. Though, it seems therre is anotherr." Saba's eyebrows pinch forward, slightly, her gaze returning towards Duncan, "I will pay forr one of theirr bed's. Tonight, I will occupy the floorr."
Saba's curved lips curled upwards into a smile, that soon faded. Saba's gaze drifts towards the red-haired man, then towards Duncan, "A Werre crreaturre? And they arre attacking farrmerrs?" Saba's fist clenches, and her pointed, but not sharp teeth are shown in a snarl, "Tomorrrow, I will see to these farrmerrs' health. Motherr will not be pleased.." Saba's tail flicks back and forth, before slowling, her gaze drifting towards the others near her. Her hand lifts upward, palm upward, "If you wish to purrchase a rroom herre, you may have my bed. We may be strrangerrs, but I do would not want you to sleep outside. It is cold, frriends."
Saba's curved lips curled upwards into a smile, that soon faded. Saba's gaze drifts towards the red-haired man, then towards Duncan, "A Werre crreaturre? And they arre attacking farrmerrs?" Saba's fist clenches, and her pointed, but not sharp teeth are shown in a snarl, "Tomorrrow, I will see to these farrmerrs' health. Motherr will not be pleased.." Saba's tail flicks back and forth, before slowling, her gaze drifting towards the others near her. Her hand lifts upward, palm upward, "If you wish to purrchase a rroom herre, you may have my bed. We may be strrangerrs, but I do would not want you to sleep outside. It is cold, frriends."
Zhouken listened to the elf's tale about truth of the were creature attacks. It definitely explained some of the wariness of the locals during his travels. Anyone who traveled as he did would surely raise alarm, or at least a bit of concern. Zhouken dug into the folds of his clothing and pulled a few coins out to pay for a meal, as well as a room for the night.
"One more question then good sir. Do you know of an apothecary where I could purchase some quicksilver? I think I'll be looking into lending my services available to these farmers you spoke of." He replied after slipping the coins into Duncan's hand.
Zhouken was never one to let the weak go defenseless, and he guessed that the guards would do very little to aid those not within the city walls, especially if they were already busy with keeping this cities occupants safe. Once the money had exchanged hands Zhouken bowed out of the conversation and headed back to his table, he assumed Duncan would bring his meal once he had finished with the rest of the patrons questions.
"One more question then good sir. Do you know of an apothecary where I could purchase some quicksilver? I think I'll be looking into lending my services available to these farmers you spoke of." He replied after slipping the coins into Duncan's hand.
Zhouken was never one to let the weak go defenseless, and he guessed that the guards would do very little to aid those not within the city walls, especially if they were already busy with keeping this cities occupants safe. Once the money had exchanged hands Zhouken bowed out of the conversation and headed back to his table, he assumed Duncan would bring his meal once he had finished with the rest of the patrons questions.
Sylvia faced the red-haired man as he did business with Duncan. As Duncan left for the man's order, she saw an opening to make contact. The pink-streaked woman put down the stack of papers on the bar table and rested her hands on it.
"I do hope you don't mean to combat the Were with just yourselves," Sylvia began in an airy tone, "Not to denounce your capabilities as I'm sure you both are, but it would be better see this matter as a group..." Sylvia shifts her gaze back and forth from the red-haired man and the Catfolk. "I myself would like to partake. It is a shame of what happened to the farmers... but the potential knowledge this endeavor holds may prove useful to the public as so it not happen again..."
Sylvia listened intently to the Elven man, jotting down key points of his explanation. The Hall of Justice seemed like the next available lead along with testimony from the farmers. The last thing would be to investigate the Southern Gate if it had anything particular of it with Were. Sylvia compiled the list of spots in her notes, and thanked Duncan for his input.
As the door to the tavern creaked open, Sylvia flipped around to the hooded Tiefling making way outside. "Miss!" She calls out, "It's dangerous outside at this time of night, especially with the Were possibly on the prowl... I'd like to return home as well, but it would be best if we stay the night.. I'm willing to cover your room."
"I do hope you don't mean to combat the Were with just yourselves," Sylvia began in an airy tone, "Not to denounce your capabilities as I'm sure you both are, but it would be better see this matter as a group..." Sylvia shifts her gaze back and forth from the red-haired man and the Catfolk. "I myself would like to partake. It is a shame of what happened to the farmers... but the potential knowledge this endeavor holds may prove useful to the public as so it not happen again..."
Sylvia listened intently to the Elven man, jotting down key points of his explanation. The Hall of Justice seemed like the next available lead along with testimony from the farmers. The last thing would be to investigate the Southern Gate if it had anything particular of it with Were. Sylvia compiled the list of spots in her notes, and thanked Duncan for his input.
As the door to the tavern creaked open, Sylvia flipped around to the hooded Tiefling making way outside. "Miss!" She calls out, "It's dangerous outside at this time of night, especially with the Were possibly on the prowl... I'd like to return home as well, but it would be best if we stay the night.. I'm willing to cover your room."
The half-elf listened intently to the discussion, her eyes raking over the small group congregated at the bar. They all looked as if they could handle themselves in a fight - well, all perhaps maybe the woman who just spoke, but she knew better than to judge anyone else's ability on their sex or appearance. She sensed an air of determination from the woman, an attribute she admired.
Making her decision, she stood up, put her book into her backpack, and picked up her longsword, all of her movements fairly quick. A few nearby patrons cast her curious looks, particularly when she seized her sword, but none of them seemed that interested and soon returned to their previous activities. Leaving her unfinished loaf of bread on the table behind her, Alia made her way through the crowd to the bar and eased into a stool next to the group.
"I'll take your offer of a bed," she said casually. Her remark was directed towards the Catfolk, but she wasn't looking at her or anyone else - she was looking straight ahead of her. "And I think this woman's right - a group would have much more success combating creatures of this type than any individual alone. But barging through the countryside with swords and shields will do little good without a further understanding of the problem. Perhaps the best course to take would be to visit this temple - the Hall of Justice - and speak to the clerics to gather any information they may be able to provide."
Only once she'd finished speaking her thoughts did she turn in the stool to face the others before her. She was aware that her abrupt appearance might be startling - she had been eavesdropping, after all - but there was an air of confidence and efficiency around her that she thought would compensate for any surprise.
Making her decision, she stood up, put her book into her backpack, and picked up her longsword, all of her movements fairly quick. A few nearby patrons cast her curious looks, particularly when she seized her sword, but none of them seemed that interested and soon returned to their previous activities. Leaving her unfinished loaf of bread on the table behind her, Alia made her way through the crowd to the bar and eased into a stool next to the group.
"I'll take your offer of a bed," she said casually. Her remark was directed towards the Catfolk, but she wasn't looking at her or anyone else - she was looking straight ahead of her. "And I think this woman's right - a group would have much more success combating creatures of this type than any individual alone. But barging through the countryside with swords and shields will do little good without a further understanding of the problem. Perhaps the best course to take would be to visit this temple - the Hall of Justice - and speak to the clerics to gather any information they may be able to provide."
Only once she'd finished speaking her thoughts did she turn in the stool to face the others before her. She was aware that her abrupt appearance might be startling - she had been eavesdropping, after all - but there was an air of confidence and efficiency around her that she thought would compensate for any surprise.
Talk of heightened interest to combat these blighted Were fiends were certainly inspired from a distance. As the older gentleman could not help but listen to the commotion of the gathering band of combatants for the ravages of dark creatures.
And the older gent was no stranger to the tales of knowledgeable wealth shared by the fellowship of adventurers traveling the lands. Not to mention. The financial wealth that was also recovered by these bands of sellswords or do-gooders.
As he rubbed a few silver pieces together in his coin purse and considered how little his finances remained. Each of these adventurers seemed somewhat capable to handle their own in the midst of combat. Aside from the scholarly woman who appeared more appropriate for the desk job, with what paperwork she stood from. He could only assume that the confidence in their words were not misplaced.
With a small band of them forming under this roof, perhaps this would be an excellent, and easy, opportunity to seek some fast gold to line his pockets.
Two silver retrieved from his sleeves and a hurried pace in his wooden staff. The older gentleman scratched the bristles of his chin before clearing his throat and looking to the Elven innkeep.
"Excuse me, innkeeper. If you'd be so kind, I'll hope not all the vacancies are taken for the night? I'd wish to have a warm bed before the morn... I, too, have business at the temple, and to address this Were blight," he said in his gravelly voice.
And the older gent was no stranger to the tales of knowledgeable wealth shared by the fellowship of adventurers traveling the lands. Not to mention. The financial wealth that was also recovered by these bands of sellswords or do-gooders.
As he rubbed a few silver pieces together in his coin purse and considered how little his finances remained. Each of these adventurers seemed somewhat capable to handle their own in the midst of combat. Aside from the scholarly woman who appeared more appropriate for the desk job, with what paperwork she stood from. He could only assume that the confidence in their words were not misplaced.
With a small band of them forming under this roof, perhaps this would be an excellent, and easy, opportunity to seek some fast gold to line his pockets.
Two silver retrieved from his sleeves and a hurried pace in his wooden staff. The older gentleman scratched the bristles of his chin before clearing his throat and looking to the Elven innkeep.
"Excuse me, innkeeper. If you'd be so kind, I'll hope not all the vacancies are taken for the night? I'd wish to have a warm bed before the morn... I, too, have business at the temple, and to address this Were blight," he said in his gravelly voice.
The Sunken Flagon | Warm & Noisy | 22:32 | Semi-Excitable Atmosphere
"That would be quite an admirable thing to do. Just don't cause too much trouble with the clerics of Tyr, and any others that might be there for their families," Duncan said in regards to the Catfolk. His cheerful expression turned into a slightly indifferent one for the time being as he glanced about the tavern and noticed that there were a couple others that seemed to have been listening in on the conversation.
Clearing his throat and looking to the red-headed man, Duncan addressed his question after accepting the payment.
"Ahhh... Sand's sho-- ahem... Fion's shop is just across from here. She specialises in magic and alchemical reagents. She's a little short tempered, however -- just a word of caution."
Once the scholarly type of the group that crowded around Duncan had piped up, Tinnalia had stopped in her tracks and looked back to the woman that called out to her. Her expression seemed as if it was locked into a permanent scowl as she gave a drawn out sigh in regards to the proposition that had been made. Pursing her lips together for a brief time, Tinnalia had waved her hand, and said (hopefully) loud enough to hear: "don't you worry about me. My home in Neverwinter isn't far from here. I'll be fine."
With that, the tiefling had passed the elder looking gent that had just made his appearance and exited the building, closing the door behind her.
Within the cluster, Duncan had put on a smile once more, looking to the group around him. Clapping his hands together, he was about to say something before the words of the gentleman walking toward them had spoken up. With the half-elven man's attention on the new face, he cheerily greeted him.
"Ah, welcome to the Sunken Flagon, friend! To answer your question, there is an available bed, but..." Duncan's attention had wavered as he looked to the Catfolk. "You would have to take it up with this young woman about that. The last room has just been bought up by her, and it has four beds. Ah... I suppose I should also apologise for imposing, my good feline friend. At this rate, I would hate to have to recommend a different tavern -- especially when you would have to walk quite a ways in the night to get there."
Saba's gaze drifts towards the door, her tufted ears rotating subtly. Her hand drifts towards her coinpurse, her fingers pinching two silvers. Placing them upon the counter, her head dips lightly, "Forr the rroom." Her gaze returns to Duncan, her tail curling to the side, "It is not my business to trrouble otherr worrshiperrs." Saba's curved lips curled into a faint smile, before her gaze drifts towards the older gentleman, "I am sorrry, frriend, but therre arre no morre rrooms. It is verry busy tonight." Saba's curved lips curled into a feline smile, "But you arre welcome to a bed, in my rroom."
Saba's gaze drifts towards Duncan, her hand brushing the words away, "Apology accepted. It is not a prroblem." Saba's gaze drifts towards the other two, "I will rretirre. Do not make too much noise, when you enterr. This is all I ask." Saba's form would leave the room and move towards the purchased room. Her hand would push the door open, her gaze drifting about. Her hands would lift upwards, her thumbs catching her backpack's strings. Lowering the pack to the ground, her right hand grasps the rolled-up bedroll. Moving in-between the two spaces of the further two beds, her hands grasp one end of the bedroll, her hands flicking it outward. Her form moves towards the pack, lifting it upward, and placing it beside the bedroll. She curls upon it and closes her eyes.
Saba's gaze drifts towards Duncan, her hand brushing the words away, "Apology accepted. It is not a prroblem." Saba's gaze drifts towards the other two, "I will rretirre. Do not make too much noise, when you enterr. This is all I ask." Saba's form would leave the room and move towards the purchased room. Her hand would push the door open, her gaze drifting about. Her hands would lift upwards, her thumbs catching her backpack's strings. Lowering the pack to the ground, her right hand grasps the rolled-up bedroll. Moving in-between the two spaces of the further two beds, her hands grasp one end of the bedroll, her hands flicking it outward. Her form moves towards the pack, lifting it upward, and placing it beside the bedroll. She curls upon it and closes her eyes.
"Well, since that Miss has offered to pay for one of the beds, I'm also willing to pay any remaining bed for those among this party partaking in tomorrow's escapade." Sylvia said in Duncan's direction, but broad enough for the immediate vicinity. She passed her gaze over those that have spoken; from the book reader, to the Eastern-looking man, to the now-departed Catfolk, to the newly-arrived man... a really good look at that man. Peering really hard. maybe. Yes, this could work.
"Everyone should be fed, and get some rest when they can. I have some remaining matters to attend to..." Sylvia spoke once more as she laid a hand on that fat stack of parchment and headed for an empty table.
The grim expression the Tiefling gave Sylvia was not one that could easily be replied to. She recomposes herself from the declination, with an audible clearing of the throat.
"Ah- well... do best to keep well then. Will you be joining us tomorrow for the... investigation? Or do your services require compensation?"
"Everyone should be fed, and get some rest when they can. I have some remaining matters to attend to..." Sylvia spoke once more as she laid a hand on that fat stack of parchment and headed for an empty table.
The grim expression the Tiefling gave Sylvia was not one that could easily be replied to. She recomposes herself from the declination, with an audible clearing of the throat.
"Ah- well... do best to keep well then. Will you be joining us tomorrow for the... investigation? Or do your services require compensation?"
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