[Game Thread] Chapter I: Fires Over Brinestump

[Sassafrass]

30 Gozran, 4687 AR
Brinewall Castle
North Varisia

A storm was coming. Tsutamu felt it in his old bones, held tight by weathered skin and his ancient armor, an heirloom of his family, hanging from his body and ready to be passed down once more. If only Tsutamu had an heir.

"Foolish boy, foolish!" His master spoke in their native tongue, the tongue of the land of Minkai. The storm was coming from the north, a cool with from the Land of the Linnorm Kings. Tsutamu remembered not liking that place. It lacked honor. It lacked tact, respect. It was unconquerable. That last point, at least, was respectable. He looked back to his master, his face turned to grit and a flicker of fear. "I told you not to open the warding box! You had my orders, and what did you do, Lonjiku!? What did you do!?"

"It is my family heirloom, father!" His Minkaian, like his Tien, was broken, and needed refinement. Lonjiku Kaijitsu was not a scholarly boy, but he had an astute mind. "Am I not deserving of it? As deserving as you were, when you were my age!?" Rokuro Kaijitsu stepped forward, a head taller than his thin son. "When I was your age, I was not foolish enough to assume all that was my family's was mine to squander! You are reckless! And for your recklessness, we now face annihilation." The breeze seemed to pick up, and all three men noticed it; Rokuro looked to the wind, fearfully, as the water around them on the ship crashed. Rokuro looked to the other two ships in the fleet, Cheliaxian ships that were not quite so favorable as the Tien junks Tsutamu knew he missed. These winds, too, were not favorable, but the lord's words were law.

A storm was coming

"Listen to me, Lonjiku. Go to the flagship. Set the sail and head south, return to your mother. I will follow when I have confirmed the threat is not real or is dealt with." A man approached him, a Varisian-Taldane mixture dressed in plate armor, his hand on his longsword. "Master Rokuro," noted the man, taller than any of them, his face bearded, "I've begun preparing the fortifications. If what you say is true, we'll need to seal off the vault immediately." Rokuro nodded, and turned back to is son. "I am sorry I have not explained things to you, Lonjiku. There is much about our family you do not and cannot understand. But I will tell you everything. Now go, son." Lonjiku's face filled with pale rage. "But father—" Rokuro exploded. "GO, BOY!"

Lonjiku was gone in an instant, off to the flagship. When he was out of earshot, Rokuro at least turned his attention to his retainer. "Tsutamu, long have you served me, since I was but a boy-lord. Far have you traveled with me, protecting me and teaching me what you can of the ways I never knew. But I must ask you now to go ahead of me, and likely, without me. You cannot possibly understand the threat we face, but your survival—his survival—is key. I have not come this far to dishonor my ancestors by letting my family die here." Reaching into his coat, Chelish in fashion and not Minkaian at all, Rokuro pulled out a scroll, written in the classic characters of their homeland, tightly tied. Tsutamu took it and put it in his sleeve, to protect it from the oncoming rain. He would secure it on the ship.

"Give this letter to Lonjiku, should I not arrive within five days after you. It explains my wrath. Give my love to my wife, she will understand. She is to explain everything to Lonjiku. I grant you permission to sit with them, so that you, too, have understanding of why I must do this, and alone. Now go, and lead my retainers back to Sandpoint." Tsutamu nodded, bowing, and returned to the ship. He watched his lord head back to the castle with the Varisian, the two speaking heatedly in Taldane, the common tongue of this land. Tsutamu held the scroll to his hand, and went to the starboard side of the ship, speaking to the other captains.

"OUR LORD HAS BADE US LEAVE WITHOUT HIM, AND INTO THE STORM! WE ARE TO RETURN HOME TO SANDPOINT, WITH HASTE! DO NOT DELAY!" A cry of unison, his eyes falling to the bitter Lonjiku, who disappeared inside the cabin of the flagship, the Kaijitsu Wind. The sails came down, and soon, they were off, taking the wind blowing from the north as they headed southward, to Sandpoint. A young cabin boy walked by, one of the few young Tian boys left in their lord's service. "Kohaku." The boy stopped immediately, coming to attention. A good boy.

"Take this to the chest in my chambers. Secure it. And then return to me posthaste, we must talk of your future." He smiled at the boy, who smiled back; an orphan, with much spirit. The went without delay.

Moving to the head of the ship, he watched, and wondered how bad the storm would get.

[Sassafrass]

11 Gozran, 4711
Sandpoint
The Lost Coast, Varisia

Please stop to see yourself as we see you!

The Lost Coast Road runs north from Magnimar, the City of Monuments, twisting and turning through the farmlands of the western coastline of Varisia. As it twists north, turning through marsh and moor, it leads to the Windsong Abbey, a secluded home to pilgrims of all faiths for sanctuary and solitude. But somewhere in the center is a small town, a quaint place of little interest to anyone who has any sense. Under the protection of Magnimar, it has since seen its own heroes rise to power and save all of Varisia from an ancient evil. A port of merchants, a place of poppers, and a magnet to minstrels, the town has less than fifteen hundred in population at any given time, even during its famed Swallowtail Release festival. Its buildings are a mixture of Varisian simplicity and Chelish grandeur, made to stand the march of time and resist the saline assault of the sea, constructs of stone, of wood, and of clay. It is less than seventy years old and already the town is one of the most famous settlements in all of Avistan. As one comes up the Lost Coast Road and come to enter this place, a single sign hangs at its gatehouse, near the southern bridge, with a mirror beside it. It reads simply: “Welcome to Sandpoint! Please stop to see yourself as we see you!”

Sandpoint! Light of the Lost Coast, that shining jewel that spawned the Heroes of Sandpoint. Near four years ago, when Sandpoint was but a speck on the map, the Thistletop Goblins attacked her, and they fought. And when the conspiracy of the Runelord Karzoug revealed itself, they fought giant, dragon, and denizens of planes that should not be and won. And while the Heroes of Sandpoint were good for the productive side of Sandpoint, those living there are none too pleased at the stream of tourists and would-bes. Sandpoint's economy thrives under the rush of adventurers, troubadours, or celebrities come to see the home of such newly-minted legends.

But you are no such tourists. You aren't tourists at all. You're home: as close to home as you can be. Children of the road, citizens of no where, it is here that has collected you and claims you as its own. Or perhaps it is the friends you've made that keeps you here, in Sandpoint. The beacon of friendship is a hard one to ignore, and once lit, shines brighter than the sun and the stars of Desna. The town is quaint, at best, wrapped in moors to the south, marshes to the north, and directly to the east, the high-rising Devil's Platter, a plateau of some magnificence. The tourists come and go: you remain, and while the road may carry you away from time to time, you never cease to return to this place. It's gotten in you. It's infected you. At least, your friends have.

And today, like any other day, invites you to enjoy life. Your friends are in town, like you, and wish to celebrate the happenstance of mutual acquaintance. They've been on edge of late. The road bites their heels, and it is beginning to bite yours. Tonight calls you, and you have a feeling this will be no normal evening at the Rusty Dragon. This will be an evening to remember.

If your gut is any indication, anyway.

 

Out of Character Alright, we're off to the races, folks. Welcome to Jade Regent! Thus far, explain what you've been up to prior to this post, whether a few days or naw, and who you plan on meeting at the Rusty Dragon. I'll describe the Dragon itself once we get in, but right now, this is sparse enough that I'm going to make it work for now. The cut scene was too long and this was pre-written by me so it worked out, somehow. I've got some other stuff to check up on. Don't forget to post your character in the character thread, if you please. I'm excited about this. Let's get it on!

[PIG]

The halfling stands behind his chamber door, taking slow breaths. Through the door he hears the chatter of the tavern patrons talking, laughing, and drinking. Someone walks down the corridor in heavy boots, likely another guest who rented the room and was leaving, but Wesh held his breath anyhow until the human passed. The human customer walked with swagger and confidence, a sword or some other metal weapon clinking at his belt. Wesh paced his small, quaint room once again after the human had passed on by.

He's been staying at the Rusty Dragon for weeks, the vivid and lively town of Sandpoint a haven from the outside world. Not daring to leave the town but also not daring to live in it, this door has been his barrier, his protector, and his cell door altogether. But he's getting low on money and can't afford prepared inn meals anymore. He's going to have to start buying his own food. And perhaps he'll see Shalelu again!

He takes a seat on his bed and calms his self as Willow, his white cat, meows and walks over to curl next to him. He thinks back to that night when he dared to leave his inn room to pay rent. Wesh saw Shalelu in the crowds and found that the elf maiden frequented this establishment regularly, making him venture out more in hopes of bumping into her. She's always cooly polite, short of words, but always somehow knowing what to say when he's at a loss for words. Last time she saw him she claimed that there's been no one asking about him or snooping around town looking for a halfling. He needs to have a serious talk with her... but every time he tries his heart falters and drops into his stomach, stealing his speech. He needs to confess everything to her on what happened the night she saved his life in the forest.

"Okay Willow. Let's just check that we have everything." Willow meows back to him in response, more likely being that she thinks he's talking about her next meal than anything else.

He goes to the window overlooking Sandpoint, the bed springs groan from him sliding off. The arches of the neighbor's roof and chimneys meets his eyes as people on the street go about their business. The town is attractive and lovely, the cobble stones and bricked walls inviting and earthen. Everything has soft curves and his keen eye sees balance and unexpected turns at every architectural corner. Elegant hand crafted signs hang from doorsteps where merry shop owners greet locals and travelers alike with smiles and a knowing wave. His fingers glide along the window edges. He had rigged a bell to ring if the window opens and had a knotted rope ready and tied to the bed in case he needed a quick escape. Lined along the window seal are caltrops he placed for anyone sneaking in or chasing him out. Always the planner with a plan he was always thinking five steps ahead. It was his job before and it's his job now... only now his life is at stake. Certain everything is secure he goes over to the desk.

Wesh opens the fine wooden alchemist kit on the low desk made for gnome and halfling customers. The whole room is adjusted for small or medium customers, specially made. He slides out a thunderstone, a sack of alchemist's fire, and a vial of Expeditious Retreat and pockets them all. Not one for confrontation or direct combat, Wesh was always a novice alchemist and loved it more for it's solutions and science than for its explosive or disastrous utilities. But these days it's the only true weapon he has- that and his brain anyhow.

Willow purrs as he gives her one final pet, her back arching to meet his hand, his eyes sad and etched with concern. "See you in a moment" he promises and exits the door. Making sure not to think about it he unlocks the doors with the key, exits, and locks the door behind him as he walks to the downstairs tavern. The smell of ale and sizzling meat is in the air and someone is barking some story too loudly down the hall. Tightening the bright blue scarf wrapped around his neck, the halfling braces his self and walks to the bar to see the innkeeper about next week's rent.

[Blackfyre]

Weeks had passed since freeing the tiger. Weeks in which Ghosteye did not dare come close to any settlement for fear of her newfound companion considering some hapless inhabitant food. It had taken some time, but eventually she had managed to teach him a few simple commands. Or maybe, taking into account that he is a cat, it would be more accurate to say that they came to some mutual understandings. What started out merely as the attempt to release an animal back into the wilds, had, much to Ghosteye’s surprise, turned into a friendship. Even after such a short time she had gotten used to her furred companion.

During those weeks learning from each other she had finally found a name for him. One might well say it was not the most original of names, having been inspired by a birthmark on the tiger’s nose. It was, however, one that seemed to find the cat’s approval, which was all that mattered to the young woman. Not only the name seemed to agree with him, freedom and fresh prey did, too. His fur had started to regain its proper gleam and his frame had started to fill out once more. Only the strip of shorter fur around his neck still spoke of his imprisonment.

The last few days had finally seen Ghosteye confident enough of her understanding with Black Moon to venture close to and even into a settlement again. Ultimately she intended her steps to take her homewards to her Quah once more, but for now she would seek out Shalelu. After all she owed her live to the other woman and her honor demanded that she did not just pass by Sandpoint, seeing how close she was.

Long strides took her into town, tiger close by her side, one hand lightly on his back to have a good idea about his mood. They had hunted earlier, so he would not be hungry. That did not go for herself, though, and the enticing smell soon led her to the Rusty Dragon. She eyed the tavern for a moment, her stomach grumbling. Black Moon’s ears twitched this way and that as he took in the many strange and exciting smells and sights. "<Stay close now,>" Ghosteye told her companion in Shoanti before she opened the door.

[Jarl11]

Praeta sighed wistfully as she walked calmly down the street lost in thought. Her sturdy, metal banded armor rippled and moved with a steady rhythm, matched by the soft clanging of a scale strapped to her pack and complimented by the heavy tap of the haft of the exotic waraxe she used as a walking stick. The weapon was one favored by her kind; dwarves used them in battle with many clans but here in the outskirts of Varisia it would be rare to find such a thing. Her thoughts were not on the good waraxe however.

She had come to Sandpoint to visit her family but hadn't found them at the Cathedral or her foster mother's old home. The trip hadn't been overly difficult since she assisted with a trade caravan and worked for her food. However it was troublesome to come all that way and not know where they could be found now that she was here. And this was what captured the young dwarf's thoughts as she strode along the main road towards the Rusty Dragon Inn. Perhaps Ameiko would know where Sandru and their mother had gone.

It had been a few years since having last been in town. Although she missed the familiar sights and frustrating family dealings, there was a wildness to the town on the edge of the modern world that made her desire to bring change to the place. There was a sheriff here, if Belor was still around, but law was not easily - or strictly - enforced in places like this. Another sigh.

Long auburn hair bounced around her shoulders as Praeta put a strong callused hand out to grip the handle on the door. Always stoic, the dwarf maiden pushed inside and set her steely gaze to sweeping the inhabitants in the common room. No wrinkles lined her face; neither smile lines or frown wrinkles on her forehead. There was, however, a dark tattoo that encompassed her left eye. It only added to the serious look she cast about, like a dark symbol that helped her vision peer into the deepest soul. She searched for someone familiar but let her eyes dwell unsettlingly on anything odd or that the representative of the gold colored key at her throat would think needed to be set in order. If anything, she looked like a terrible drinking companion.

[PopCultureBard]

The Ice Queen Cometh "Tventy Tree." The accent was heavy, chewing w's and spitting out v's as was common of Irriseni Skald speakers. Even their Taldane was sing-songy with clipped vowels. Katrina drops the coins into the hands of the eager merchant. Collecting the items into her basket, she casts the white-blond mane over her left shoulder with a twist of her head. It all still felt new to her. Handling money, negotiating price. Why exactly do coins have to be so heavy? And how can one man say his apples are worth two silver while another says his are worth three? Her lips form a narrow line as she considers the value of the produce she purchased. It wouldn't be as regrettable as the time she returned to Koya with an empty purse and a dozen carrots that she'd been assured were 'magically delicious'. ~The place bores me.~ Aldwulf was bitter today. He'd been silent most of the morning, and only taken time to complain about the music when she spent the afternoon in the market listening to minstrels. It was all so common and a part of her was shamed by it. Another part, though, had begun to enjoy this town and its people. She was an exile, after all, self-imposed though it might be. She wasn't a Jadwiga anymore but Aldwulf seemed disinterested in accepting that. ~Is there no trouble you can stir up?~ Katrina inhales slowly, the warmth of the air still unsettling. It had rained earlier in the day, as it often does during Gozran. Moisture in the air should turn to snow, on the ground it should be ice. This was a simple reality that this strange and foreign place refused to acknowledge. Even with the heat and the banality of it all, she'd found Sandpoint a pleasant place to live. A year away from her homeland had allowed her the time she'd needed to settle in. We don't have to cause trouble now. We can be different people here. She said it so often to Aldwulf that it was practically a mantra. He didn't remember things as clearly anymore, this phantom version of her lost love. Repetition was important for keeping him grounded. When he was aimless he began to see threats in everything. It took great effort to keep him bonded in those moments, to resist his protective instincts. She didn't want to learn what the populace of Sandpoint might make of someone who carried a vengeful ghost around in her soul. There are strange things and then there are strange things, and Aldwulf definitely fell into the later. Koya was aware, as was Ameko, but her secret didn't go beyond their ears. The Rusty Dragon. Ameiko's place. It had been Koya that brought her here, or at least Koya's familial reputation. But it had been Ameiko who first treated her kindly. Koya was like a mother, Ameiko like a sister. Katrina liked the girl immediately, and the fact that they were both marked by appearances that branded them outsiders had fed their friendship. She owes Ameiko a drink, which is odd given the girl owns the bar that serves them, but a bet is an obligation and Katrina doesn't shy from those. The scarred skin where her left ringfinger used to be itches as the phantom speaks again. ~How I miss the mead halls.~ She pauses in the doorway, studying the field of bodies before her. Was that...was there a tiger? That would certainly be a new development. Making her way toward the bar, she side eyes the animal once she has the safety of distance. "Two Knight mead, please." She checks to make sure she has the necessary coin. It wouldn't be the first time she'd forgotten that step in the process. Mead. It is what Aldwulf would want. She'd much prefer Irrisen Icewine but such a thing was impossible to find outside the borders. Besides, appeasing the ghost within wasn't a terrible way to start the evening.

[Sassafrass]

At the intersection of Market and Salmon Streets stands the oldest inn and tavern in all of Sandpoint. Older than its owner, the Rusty Dragon has passed hands a few times in its history, but most agree that the best tenure is the current mistress of the manor. The Rusty Dragon is a wooden building, with a faded red-shingled roof, its windows tinted with a vague orange-ish color, the finest quality. Above the door is the newest addition to the tavern is the sign, and it is here that the building departs from its otherwise Taldane frontier architectural style. For, hanging above the door is a red and green serpent, with a long spiky spine running down its scaly back, with four clawed arms sticking out at various points in its body. It is a dragon, but not one of the red or silver variety: this dragon has whiskers, and horns stemming from its head. In one hand, it holds a tankard of ale; in another, a strange stringed instrument. Beneath the dragon is the sign.

竜さび
The Rusty Dragon
Tavern and Inn
Est. 4673
A Taste of the Exotic

A wind blows it, but it a slight one, coming off of the Lost Coast, whose horizon turns orange as the sun begins to set. Inside, there is already the sound of a crowd gathering, and an ensemble stands on stage: an tattooed old man, beating a Shoanti drum; a young lad, playing string in his fanciful Taldane-Qadiran mixed dress; and finally, a sultry Halfling, her ears long beneath her perfect chestnut hair, dancing in Osirian dress and playing flute between songs. Several stop and listen to them, beside the bar, which has quite a few spare seats. But the woman behind the bar is often one of the main attractions of the entire tavern: she is Ameiko Kaijitsu, owner of the Rusty Dragon and master of Kaijitsu Manor.

A Taste of the Exotic

"Dance with me, Ameiko. Come on; you've not lost your touch in retirement, have you?" The man to whom she speaks is dark in hair and complexion, sun-tanned and Varisian, wearing a studded leather vest over traditional Varisian travel clothes, a long collared shirt and rapier at his hip, his boots high on his calves. His goatee is meticulous, his piercing exuberant, and his gaze sparkling. Ameiko is doing everything she can to keep up with the fellow, to whom she is well-acquainted. "It's not my touch that's lost losing, old man." The man grabs his heart, as if wounded, and moans. "You would me, Mei." He turns to the woman nearest him in the bar, a blond Elf with large green eyes, engulfing the entirety of the socket as she sips her ale. "Lu, do me the honor: dance with me." She sips her ale, loudly, and that is answer enough. He frowns, before turning to the old woman. "Save it, Sandru Vhiski. I am the best dancer in this room, and I would not wish to embarrass you." The Elf laughs, while the bartender turns her head to the opening door; she hears footsteps above her.

The Halfling is the first to arrive downstairs, striding over. "Master Gabor, welcome! Glad to see you out and about; what'll it be? Today's specials are Firebang Shrimp and Sashimi, and tonight's drink of choice is an Andoren stout, which is half off. I do thoroughly suggest it." Though Ameiko is the first to address him, Shalelu nods to him, pulling a seat closer to her. The entryway to the Rusty Dragon is darkened by a strange figure, with odd hair and symbols on their person, but that is not why they stare. They stare at the creature that comes along with her, the strange feline that looks about ready to maul any and everyone depending on its mood. Shalelu, looking from Wesh, eyes the tiger and then its master, smiling and scooting another seat closer to her, a clear indication and invitation for Ghosteye. Ameiko eyes the big cat, trying to assess if things are as truly safe as they seem to imply. Denizens of the Dragon seem nervous, but keep to themselves. They are, after all, adventurers.

"Welcome to the Rusty Dragon, ma'am, how may I help you? As I was just telling Master Gabor here, we have two specials tonight—" Before she can get too far, Sandru Vhiski interrupts her, holding his arms in the air and shouting. "Praeta! Varisian: It's been too long!A trecut prea mult timp! Koya had told me you were coming! I demand a dance: poor Mei here has denied me my right, and my pride is wounded. You wouldn't deny your frate a dance, would you?" He smiles widely, before Koya slaps him on the back of the head. "Quiet, copil. You must let a woman through the door before you give her your seat, especially if she is blood. I raised you better than that." She stands, as tall as Sandru, and strides to the Dwarf, leaning down to her daughter, kissing her on both cheeks before kissing her fingers and placing them on the Dwarf's forehead: a Varisian superstition on seeing someone after a long trip. "I have missed you, fiică. You must get up here more, an old woman needs her family." Koya is looking better than she did the last time Praeta saw her: that was the funeral.

Behind them, Ameiko looks between Ghosteye and Praeta, eyeing the Dwarf up as if she knows something about her, or is putting a face to the name. "Glad to finally meet you, Praeta. Assuming your family stops assaulting you, today's specials are—" Another face enters and heads straight to the bar, a few seats over from where Koya had been sitting, her Harrow deck on the bartop beside her glass of muscadine wine and the small black journal written in Varisian, an ancient ink pin of silver waiting to be returned. Koya places a hand on her daughter's shoulder and squeezes it. "Come, sit before you sweep your frate off his feet. I have someone I would like you to meet. Well, several someones, but all in due time." It is then that Praeta notes that Koya is wearing all black, still in mourning for the death of her mother, the old blind seer Madame Mvhasti. She was a wise old bat, that one, if cryptic and caught up in some kind of mysterious mind game with secret societies and whatnot. Koya heads to the bar, patting her adopted son on the shoulder as she passes him. "What have I become in my age, soră? Am I nothing more than aged liver, chopped and forgotten?"

... her Harrow deck on the bartop beside her glass of muscadine wine....

Koya places a hand on the newcomer's shoulder, as Ameiko approaches her. "Swear to Desna, this bartending gig used to be easier. Welcome to the Rusty Dra—" The newcomer orders, and Ameiko is taken aback. Then, she smiles. "Certainly. Love a lady who knows what she wants." She gets to work hitting up the tankards and the barrels on tap. Koya speaks to the newcomer. "Gott kvöld, Katrina. I am glad to see you this evening." As far as the Jadwiga knows, this is the extent of the Varisian woman's knowledge of Skald as a language, but it is enough. She can say good evening, good day, and good night. The two, while under normal circumstances foes, have made a strange friendship in the time they've known one another, and for her part, Koya has been discreet with what she knows, and what she doesn't know. Katrina is not clear on either. "Miss Ameiko, put Miss Eleksai's orders on my tab. And I do believe we will have two orders of that sashimi, for my friend and I."

Ameiko delivers the drink to the two, then calls back to the back room. "Bethana! Gimme two orders of sashimi, subayaku!" Wesh hears a voice cry back in Halfling, some strange series of curse words he daren't repeat; Ameiko is none the wiser. The Elf beside him smiles to him, as strongly as her ethereal smile can. "How are you adjusting?"

It's going to be a lively evening at the Rusty Dragon.

 

Out of Character And we're off! RP mode engage. Roleplay to your heart's content. This encounter will cost you nothing, most likely. Interact with the NPCs, I won't keep a main pace and will respond as the NPCs organically, as I need to. I figure by, let's say, next weekend, I'll advance the story along. In the meantime, enjoy and get to know the four NPCs Also, check out the OOC and the private threads.

[Blackfyre]

Ghosteye stepped into the common room, taking a deep breath, smelling as much as tasting the aromas permeating the air. The atmosphere was quite welcoming, not vastly different from a meeting of the quah in the evening hours, work done for the day. Where the latter would take place under the open sky, with the moon and the stars watching, and all the vastness of the Plateau stretching out around them, the inn felt cramped by comparison. The young woman was still deciding if she was entirely comfortable here, or if it might be a better idea to get comfortable with some food outside when she spotted the woman she had come here for in the first place. Shalelu.

Even though she had little experience in the social conventions of those folk in Varisia that had chosen to settle down and live in one place, probably for their entire life, the elf’s inviting gesture was easy enough to understand. Still keeping a hand on Black Moon’s shoulders, the two made their way over to the bar. The tiger looked about as sure about the place as his human companion, though he was torn between aversion to the enclosed space and pure curiosity at the many different scents and sights. It is no coincidence that a cat’s curiosity is infamous and together with Ghosteye’s reassuring presence it won the fight for dominance in the big cat.

"Shoanti: GreetingsKel-grish, Shalelu," she greeted the older woman, guiding Black Moon to sit between her and the bar. "I was hoping to find you in Sandpoint. How do you fare?" She smiled at the elf, the scar giving the smile a predatory touch.

In a free moment Ghosteye leaned across to Ameiko: "An ale and some of that shashimi, please." She had no idea what exactly shashimi was, but curiosity wasn’t foreign to her, either.

[Jarl11]

It was good to see her foster mother again. Koya was looking better than she had at the funeral. Grandmammy Mvhasti was a well-loved and well-traveled sort that her daughter had looked up to. In fact most that knew her had looked up to her. That had been a sad day. Praeta returned the superstitious greeting for her mother's sake - she had no faith in it but it never hurt to honor your mother's wishes in something so harmless. Perceptive as always, however, she gave the old woman a stern up-and-down to let her know without speaking that Praeta saw the attire. She held her tongue though.

"Ah dinna come here ta have ye tromp all 'or me boots, scoundrel." There was no compunction in her heart to do the same for Sandru. To say she liked her brother was an understatement; she adored the man and his carefree nature that she couldn't even imagine trying to replicate. But she knew that of all people, he needed her truth and would expect no less. And you can't help someone with sarcasm and lies, no matter how well-conceived. Plus, the last time they did dance he had actually stepped on her big dwarven feet several times due to her inability to keep up. It had been embarrassing and stupid. And that was the end of that.

Her cheeks flushed a little at the thought as she moved to greet Sandru, trying unsuccessfully to cover her recollection from him by forcing a laugh. It didn't work. She grinned at him all the same. "Surprised ta find ye here! Thinkin' fer sure yer little wagon wou' be on tha road still."

Praeta recognized Shalelu, whom had been around the town forever, and gave a nod as she followed her mother. Everyone knew the elven ranger if they spent any time in Sandpoint. They hadn't spent much time together though. The one that caught the dwarf's sharp eyes though was the scarred human girl with the large cat. "S'cuse me, miss, does yer friend there have a name? Seemin' like a dangerous animal ta have inna public place like this. Have ye registered her with tha Sheriff's office?"

Yup, best drinking buddy she definitely is; fun like a wet blanket.

[PIG]

Not arguing with a discounted beverage, the halfling sips the Andoren stout, the only thing he orders. He prefers the spicewine but he does not complain. Climbed up high on the seat next to Shalelu, he tries to address the bard about rent. “About this week’s payment-" he’s interrupted as she greets another guest through the entrance, Ghosteye, who is behind him and he doesn’t see come in “-I wonder if you have anything more…” he waves his hand in a circle as he rocks his head. “-affordable for my purse? Actually, also, I was wondering if you know anyone in Sandpoint who might need some work done-" he then has to pipe up his small voice as Sandru Vhiski, with his deep merry voice, interrupts them both as he greets someone else coming through the door “-IN PERHAPS BUILDING REPAIRS OR POTION MAKING? I’M A LITTLE… sorry, if I’m yelling. I’m a little light in coinage and could use some work.” He lifts up in his seat and tilts his pointed ear in her direction to get her reply. There is an eruption of laughter as the older lady, Koya behind her black veil, slaps the Varisian man in the head as a dwarf tattooed at her left eye is greeted to the table. Knowing that when a dwarf joins the table it’s going to get even more rowdy, even if… he squints to see her beardless chin and obvious cleavage. A female dwarf, right? He decides that yes, the dwarf is indeed a ‘she’. He glances again. Yes it is.

Wesh turns in his seat to then address the elf ranger when he finally sees one of the most magnificent creatures he’s ever witnessed: Black Moon. He pushes his glasses back on the bridge of his nose as he sees the tiger’s grace matched with power, effortlessly controlled by some scarred woman that must be an adventurer. He’s seen goblins and giants but he’s never seen a tiger before and it’s absolutely breathtaking. A few of the patrons of the Rusty Dragon keep a wary eye on the animal but Amekio seems in control so he lets his guard down for the moment. What a magnificent creature! He drags his eyes to Shalelu but then finds that it’s hard to look her in her large green eyes for too long.

“Hello Shalelu. Um… A trecut prea mult timp. I am pleased to see you again! I…um. So how goes you? Do you need any potions? You can’t wonder into the forest without any brewed cures you know. It’s free of charge of course!” Wesh feels his face blush as he composes his self, tightening his thin lips. ‘“You can’t wonder into the forest without brewed cures, you know?” Nice, very nice. As if she was new to this.’ The halfling chastises his self as he tries to have a normal conversation with an elf that has seen centuries pass and has small talked with countless people. He’s hating his self already.

"Two Knight mead, please." he looks over at Katrina and her icy beauty, seeming as out of place as he. Atleast that makes two people in here…. He glances at Ghosteye with her grip on her tiger and sensing her apprehension as the stranger orders an ale and shashimi. Or is it three people that feel odd here? That makes him a bit more comfortable in his skin. He straightens his self and pulls at the blue scarf wrapped tightly around his throat.

The dwarf, however, seems to be among family and at friends. The halfling watches her with sharp blue eyes as she talks about personal matters but keeps his attention sharply on Shalelu during the conversation.

[PopCultureBard]

Drink to Live, don't Live to Drink "Each morning I open my eyes and each evening I close them again. That is as adjusted as one can be, yes?" She takes the stein in both hands and lifts it to her lips, savoring the sweetness over her tongue. There is a process to mead creation and in her homeland that process is more of an art. Too little honey and mead is dry, too much and it becomes undrinkably sweet. Ferment too long and the drink becomes bitter. These Varisian have a knack for it, and their mead is passable, but the taste makes her nostalgic for long nights and warm fires. She sets the stein aside and offers Koya a small smile. "This place is lively and active. People seem content. It is not what I am used to but I feel I could grow accustomed to it without difficulty." A bustle off to the side, Sandru harassing pretty faces as was his custom. One face in the room was not so pretty, but she'd been distracted by the beast nearby and hadn't noticed before. Scarred, she was, and so visibly as to make one thankful that they were not so cursed. "New faces here." It always amazes her how cosmopolitan this land is. Not like home. Back home you were Jadwiga and respected (as you should be), Ulfen and mistreated (or so they would often claim), or fey and distrusted (but rightfully feared). There were no other options. Here, she would see more variety in a walk to the market than she would see in months of wandering the roads back in Irrisen. It was fascinating but also terrifying. She had begun to make efforts toward improving her socialization skills. Perhaps now was a good time to try again. Scanning the faces, she marked them off in a mental list. Too ugly, too pretty, too dark, too light. Settling on one, she leans over the bar a bit and calls across the room to he halfling. "You, half man. That is a delightful scarf. It does not make your head look too large. Where did you obtain it?" Perfect. Nailed it in one.

[PIG]

The halfling freezes under the spotlight of that observation. He tugs at the scarf strangling his throat. Is she making fun of me? he questions his self. That other part of him, that hard metallic part that has seen him get in out of jams, smothers the fear. "It was a complement, albeit a strange one. Get a hold of yourself." A smile perks his small mouth and he bows his head to the striking human woman. "Yes, thank you. I got it in" his mind races to evaluate any holes in his story "Korvosa from an elder woman and her stall when I had stopped in the city for the night. Twas but a copper or two."

"Keep going," prods that cold voice. "Halflings like to talk: so talk." He studies the woman a little closer. She's simply enchanting to look at- and regal. He knows royalty when he sees it and she holds it the way she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, in her authority. But she seems wild to him, regal like a lone wolf in a snowy forest might be. "You are not from here, madam. Where have you ventured from may I ask?"

The halfling is very aware that they make an odd couple to converse but he thinks they're both doing a pretty good job about it. He makes sure to include Shalelu into the conversation, glancing her way every few words.

[Sassafrass]

Things get busy really quick.

The Halfling approaches and Ameiko is more than happy to listen to his questions and oblige. "Of course, Master Gabor. As if happens, I have a friend coming by in a bit, a friend who might have Elf ears enough to have heard such rumors. As for me, I don't trade in them. I just know there's a rough business along the Lost Coast Road. I doubt the Sheriff'll let that stand, not long enough for Magnimar to get involved." She shrugs, trying to think. "I hear a lot about rats in basements. But I never trust those stories anymore." Placing a hand on her chin as if to think, she winks, and moves on.

Shalelu, at the bar, sleepily nods to Ghosteye, in reply to her greeting. "I fare well. I head back out in about a week, planning on checking out the ruins at Thistletop to make sure nothing's sprung up in the interim. Inevitable that something will, but I can prevent it while I can." Ghosteye is mostly aware of what Shalelu does. For the majority of this strange little city's existence, Shalelu Andosana has been its quiet and watchful protector, keeping it safe from Goblins, bandits, giants, dragons, and a myriad of other creatures that threaten the Light of the Lost Coast. It grew from nothing because she protected it. But it seems, of late, that she is not needed. As Ghosteye orders, Ameiko repeats it back to the back room, to a mysterious unseen force called "Bethana." She brings the ale herself, quickly dishing it out as she moves to socialize elsewhere. Shalelu, looking down at the big cat, smiles. "How is Moon?" Not much later, the Halfling approaches them, and speaks up. For a moment, it looks as if she is struggling to understand him; maybe she doesn't remember him? Maybe that original nod was just courtesy? But then she smiles. "Thanks. I should be fine, but I'll remember your offer. How is your stay? Are you settled, or looking to move on?" Or maybe, just maybe, Shalelu doesn't speak Varisian. There's a low chance, but one all the same.

The Varisian swashbuckler is wounded, grabbing his heart when Praeta destroys his pride. "What a world we live in, where my seminţie[/I]]Varisian: family[I denies me! I can't go on! Ameiko, get me a drink! If I can't drown my sorrorws, then at least I'll drown." He moves back to the bar, undeterred but faux-mopey. Her question, however, draws his from his mopeyness. "Ah, Varisian: sisterPena, how little you know of me! To think, I thought the sun and moon were the furthest one would have to go to not have heard the news. Sandru Vhiski is retired! The caravan business has served me well, but it is time for me to move on. Greener pastures, as it were." His smile is genuine, but the sentiment is not. "I am to move to Magnimar, soon, to be near you. Well, exactly, to find my way in the blistering world of politics. I have a knack for it, you see. Cunning and diplomatic are hard to find together, especially coupled with charm." As he finishes his statement, he notes that his sister has moved her attention elsewhere, and to elsewhere he follows it, looking at the tiger. The Elfess looks boldly at the Dwarf, but it is Ameiko who speaks up.

"It's fine. If it wasn't, she wouldn't have made it this far, hm?" She winks to Praeta, before taking the going after the order of sashimi issued forth by Ghosteye. Koya, meanwhile, clicks her tongue and shakes her head. "Do not question a matron in her own household, Praeta. These are the customs of our people." But does "our" include her? That's a question for another time, another existential crisis. Koya quickly turns back to her new friend, smiling. "You speak truthfully, dear. This is our way: that free folk be content to live and let live, and be able to choose their own destiny. Varisia is not so frigid as your homeland, nor capricious as your former life. You keep what you can, and you damn the rest." She raises her wine glass and drinks from it, looking from friend to daughter. "This is my chahvi, Praeta. She hails from Magnimar, a disciple of Abadar. Praeta, this is my friend from... the North. Be acquainted to one another." New faces indeed. She takes her cards and she shuffles them, a ritual Praeta has seen too many times. Koya has her deity, Desna, to whom she is devoted. It was that faith that inspired Praeta's own, though for a different god, and their convictions, while different and almost dissimilar in every way, are absolutely mirror images. This is her way of speaking with the universe.

The band changes tone, shifting to a slower song with an older tune, something from the borderlands of Taldor and Qadira, a classic tune from a time simpler than this. The food, once presented to the Halfling, smells meaty and strong, but the meat is the least that assaults his nostrils: it is the sauce, a brown-black soy base that is strongest, somewhere between perfect and too salty, and yet, crisp enough not to be an issue. It is inviting.

 

Out of Character Feel free to roll to check on what anyone says, including the rumor about the Lost Coast Road Results will be shared in your private threads based off of rolls.

[Blackfyre]

"One should think word would have spread by now that this area is not a place to settle for those looking to stir up trouble, eh?" Sandpoint was lucky indeed to have a protector like Shalelu around. "If you’d like some company, I could come along. I’m headed that way and back north anyways." Ghosteye knew that the elven woman usually hunted alone, but the offer was genuine.

The tiger, meanwhile, had sat down on his haunches between the young woman and the bar, and watched the common room with intense curiosity. "He’s doing very well. Really enjoys the opportunity to roam and not be chained down in a cage." She looked at the big cat fondly, scratching him behind his ears.

A moment later Ghosteye looked quizzically at Praeta when the dwarf asked about her companion. She didn’t exactly look like a member of the town’s militia, justifying her making this any of her business. "Black Moon is male, actually," she corrected Praeta. "And he’s no more a danger than any other predator around." The Shoanti woman made a gesture that included a lot of the armed folks present. Actually she figured he might be less of one. Animals tended to be predictable, following their instincts and their training. It was the sentient races that liked to do erratic things. She was saved from more explanations by Ameiko pretty much vouching for her and she nodded to the other woman in thanks.

[Jarl11]

"Done then. Ye shall be responsible fer his actions." There was a glint that crossed behind Praeta's eyes as she responded to Ameiko and Ghosteye. That same glint reflected momentarily across the symbol at her neck, the gold key of Abadar, god of law, cities, merchants and wealth. The implications of her statement were not empty. "He be a han'some one at that." She nodded at the tiger as though an equal, any dispassion about a wild creature here was filed away in her thoughts and dismissed for the time.

She returned her gaze to her brother, eyes widening slightly and features softening. "Magnimar? That be excitin' news, though me red head knew ye enjoyed tha open road. Yer head shall have a restin' spot with me, if'n ye want as much." A clap on the shoulder and a small smile, rare from her. "What kinna politics are ye set ta conquer? Why Magnimar? Be it fer tha trade culture?" It was clearly a better city than Sandpoint but she did her best to keep the bias out of her voice. Those that needed law did not always want it or realize that they needed it.

Settling in with her family and the new comers, the dwarf widened her stance and leaned on an exotic looking axe of dwarven style that was large enough to be used in either one hand or two. "An' there be news o' me own ta bring ye!" Again a rare smile, genuine, primarily directed to Sandru and Koya. "A holy missive did me hands receive. Nay longer ta be an apprentice, the Judge be sendin' be out ta find me city." It was a way of saying that she was freed from training to find how best to serve Abadar, to find where best to bring the law. "Ma, they be lookin' at me fer tha Justiciars!"

There are several orders within the clergy of Abadar. Some work as town or city bankers and lawmakers. Some serve as knights and judges or as taxmasters or trade advisors and port officials. They are not known for benevolent giving, more for enforcement and creation of law and order. A visitor is more likely to get a loan than a handout from one of their temples. Justiciars are a sect of the very devout that are dedicated to spreading the ideals of Abadar, of civilization and order. Along with the judges and paladins, justiciars are ones that may work on behalf of their god's portfolio of justice and judgement. Usually they have close ties to the city administration where there is one. This was right up Praeta's alley for those that knew her, though most people would groan or hide their contraband when folks like her come around. She suspected Sandru was groaning inwardly but the dwarf felt the need to inform her family of her chosen path as much as she simply wanted to tell them.

After pausing for her family's congratulations on accomplishing one of her goals, Praeta turned to regard the northern woman. Her face was again serious as her gaze took in the pale hair and skin, the furs and the foreign indicators, as well as the general care that the woman took of herself. "Well met. Clearly me ma has a habit o' takin' in strangers." As a dwarf referring to a human mother, she was showing that this sentiment included her own experience. "How did ye end up with the Mvishki's in Sandpoint?" They were both clean kept and brought into the same family through their kindness, so there was something in common already.