Sailing the Broken Sea [5E D&D]

[Ascension]

The rains are light in Mayport, at least for the moment, but the intermittent rumblings of thunder nearby are doing much to encourage everyone to stay close to shelter regardless. Down by the docks, Darby's Seaside Inn and Tavern is swelled to bursting, filled up with a diverse mix of seafarers turned landlubber by the storms: sailors and captains, merchants and vagabonds, diplomats and missionaries, all wishing they could be somewhere else, all chained to their seats by circumstance.

The common room in Darby's stinks of damp wood and stale sweat, and the smell of alcohol is much less prevalent than the tavern's drinkers would like... the storms have hardly been good for supply. You probably aren't missing out on much, however; Darby's has the feel of an alehouse only a regular could love, dark and cramped and old and worn, the sort of place that cultivates an air of familiarity by way of never attempting to be anything more than what it is. The questionable atmosphere's finishing touch is the persistent din of conversation rising from each and every stool and table, threatening to drown out the very thoughts in your own head.

A red-bearded half-elf (Lainne) is deep in conversation with Darby himself, with a sealed traveling chest set atop the bar between them. A wild-haired elven woman (Sarya) sits in a darker corner of the room, and, despite the crowd, no one seems particularly eager to get near her. A young human woman (Nissa) sits at a table full of sailors, and she has their full attention, she has them in the palm of her hand, but she's still not hearing the answers she wants to hear. A quiet half-elven girl (Blaine) waits standing by the door, her eyes focused on everything and nothing. In comes a princely human man (Arthur), and, even dampened by the rains, his finery is as conspicuous as a jongleur's costume in such a dismal tavern, drawing eyes to his entrance.

So it begins...

[Inspector Valin]

The elf in the corner seemed entirely unconcerned by her social isolation. If she'd wanted company, she'd have been the one to seek it out. Instead, the dark haired stranger seemed to be the only one with a table at Darby's all to herself, perhaps due to her appearance. Beneath her darkened wet cloak the bronze skinned woman was clad in shining chain, and wore a sword at her back nearly as tall as herself. Sipping gently on her solitary cup, the elven traveller's eyes drifted slowly around the busy common room, taking in the figures one by one, listening to their conversation where she could make it out, and just watching their faces when she couldn't. More than a few of the adventurers she'd saught were sitting across the room from her, hatching their various plans for embarking upon the quest for the Eye of the Sea.

Mostly hopeless. A bunch of naive fools with dreams of glory. Still, perhaps one or two...

The first muffled stroke of thunder managed what the conversation hadn't; the woman jumped at the sound, tensing as if it were about to hit her. Most of Mayport were used to the strokes by now, but the wild elf seemingly was still getting used to them. Scowling to herself, Sarya Korthal raised her hood before slowly beginning once again to survey her fellow adventurers across the bar. This had probably been a waste of time, but even she was not excited to brave the rains looking for another doss-house full of would-be questers. She'd remain here for the moment, watching and considering. It never paid to be hasty.

[aturtledoesbite]

"Now, boys," Nissa says, meeting eye contact with each of the sailors in turn, "surely a little drizzle wouldn't be a problem for any of you strong, handsome men and your ships, now would it?"

She glances up at the finely-dressed man when he enters, but makes sure not to watch long enough to be conspicuous. I bet I could milk a lot of money out of him. Still, this reward will not earn itself. Eyes on the prize, Nissa.

[Maralais]

"...And that's how I basically spent the whole day looking for a place to store this chest. Not many places are up for it, though." Lainne looks at the ale (that was watered down to the point that it was no longer ale) in front of him, showing genuine concern. He continues the small talk with Darby: "Do you know anyone that could keep a chest safe for a while? I can pay in advance if necessary."

He finds himself unable to listen to the Bartender's answer, however as the noise of other customers distract him. "Sorry." he says, raising his hand and takes a quick look at those around him. That's one lady who knows what she's doing. he thinks to himself, seeing the sailors enchanted by their interest in her.

[Anyr]

"...Nearly sunk me to the bottom of..."

No.

"I asked for beer, not coloured water!"

Useless.

"This town's going to the dogs, I tell you..."

Irrelevant. None of these sounds mattered. They washed over Blaine like so much noise. Where was the one pure note among this cacophany? Where was the glint of light in the darkness? Her eyes and ears had yet to find it. But they would. Until then, Blaine would patiently await it. She paid no mind to her aching feet, or the cold which seeped through her patchwork clothing. Such things were unimportant. She needed to be ready.

[metaridley18]

Arthur looks around the tavern, slightly put off by the clearly unfamiliar environment, but the rain, nor the patrons can dampen his spirits.

I will prove Father wrong. I am not a bullheaded cask of alchemist's fire, ready to go off at any moment. I am the true heir of Coril. And I'll prove it!

He looks around briefly, and determines that this place is as good a place as any to start gathering a crew. He clears his throat and speaks, perhaps a bit too cheerfully for the day and the mood:

Greetings, good fellows! Such a drab atmosphere, both inside and out! Can you not feel the crackling in the air, the fact that we are on the edge of adventure? I am putting together a small group to seek the Eye, and at least a few of you seem capable of aiding me in my quest. Naturally we'll need to discuss the splitting of the reward when we no doubt succeed, but if you're interested, I'll be over here!

His eloquent words wash against the dismal mood to little avail, and some of the regulars look at him with a bit of disgust, the brash optimism no doubt harshing their regular escape from the terrors of the sea. He sits obviously at an empty table right in front of the door and calls for a drink.

[Anyr]

Good thing that Blaine had been so attentive. Otherwise, she might have missed Arthur's oh so subtle invitation. Clearly this was the sign she'd been waiting for. Without further ado, she walked over and seated herself opposite the brash noble.

"Hello. I'll join you."

[Maralais]

A wide grin appears on Lainne's visage. Well that's serendipity if I ever saw one. he thinks to himself as he watches the noble's flamboyant call. He elects to stay seated and observe what will happen next.

He doesn't observe idly, however, as a plan springs up in his mind. He tries to see if something that can help increase his chances of employment will catch his eye.

Lainne will be attempting to see if he can spot a detail that would normally be missed (think Sherlock-vision, but obviously toned down) or some obscure bit of knowledge he can extrapolate from the way he looks, his mannerisms, accent etc. about the guy's origins, to impress Arthur. Not sure if it would be WIS(Perception) or INT(Investigation), so rolling for both of them. Use whichever applies.

Perception Roll:
[roll0]
Investigation Roll:
[roll1]

HOLY HELL NATURAL 20

[Inspector Valin]

Well, that hadn't been expected. Fools and hopefuls making promises of glory and adventure in the quest for the Eye of the Sea were two a copper in Mayport right now. One of them having the audacity to take a seat at her table was a surprise. And somewhat unwelcome: this particular human seemed obnoxious and self centred, probably a nobleman's brat, and someone in regular circumstances she'd have left the building to avoid. Unfortunately for Sarya, the rains were set to only get worse, and she knew of few other taverns close by. For the moment, restraint seemed like the better option.

The hooded elven woman chuckled as Blaine approached, shaking her head at the strangely resilient half-elf. "A bad move, peredhil. This is not an expedition with good prospects. Risking the storms might be better for your health." The words were light, more humorous than serious. However, as the stranger turned towards Arthur, there was a slightly harsher tone in her voice. "Tell me, voeraen, do you often occupy someone else's table after making vacuous promises to a room full of strangers? Or are you merely drunk and busy dreaming of glories you will never reach?"

Peredhil - Half Elf
Voeraen - Child, specifically a toddler or younger.

[roll0] Insight on Arthur, looking to get a read on his intentions here

[metaridley18]

Arthur reacts to the elf in surprise, as if he'd not seen her before. He bristles noticeably at her words and defensively hisses out in Elven:

Do not speak to me as if I am some babe on his mother's breast. I am Arthur Corillion, heir to the throne of Coril, and Corellon Larethian himself will speak of my deeds before I am done!

He quiets momentarily, looking abashed at his own words, before continuing, quieter and more stately, in Common:

My apologies, miss. I tend to speak before I think when I feel attacked. It has been...problematic in the past. I have no need for glories or riches, as I have them aplenty in my home. I quest for the safety and security of Mayport, that Coril's trading fortunes may improve and the people may feel at peace once more, no longer afraid of the sea.

He breathes in deeply, calming himself further, also acknowledging the newcomer's words with a glance and a nod.

I cannot speak that we will be successful in our quest, but my desire is earnest. I have good relations with the elvish nations on the mainland, or rather Coril does, and I have counted at least one fine elfin swordsman as my friend and tutor, if not more. I would be honored if you would consider aiding me to bring stability to the seas. Both of you.

Arthur's charismatic recovery from his initial outburst seemingly over, he looks at the two figures at his table expectantly.

[Maralais]

Lainne's eyes widen as he sees Sarya react to Arthur and Blaine sitting on her table. Okay, Lainne, it's now or never! he thinks to himself and walks to the table, leaving his chest on the bar.

"Hello, Ser Corillon. You should count yourself lucky to have managed to disembark to Mayport, though I guess the storm your ship faced three days ago still managed to bother you. Not to mention I believe however that I can be of assistance." Praying silently to Ehlonna that his outlandish guesses are right, he keeps a cool demeanor on the exterior and grabs a chair to sit between Arthur and Blaine.

"As it happens, you already found a nice group for the initial expedition. There's you, the warrior with plentiful resources should the expedition need one, there's..." - he sits up and approaches the table, as if giving a secret - "...there's the Warlock (he points not so stealthily at Blaine while saying the word) should you need Arcane magic, especially of the destructive kind, and then there's the healer and knowledge bank, which would be me. You need a keen eye if you want to find the Eye, and I've got my eye on that job!"

"And as a proof of my observation skills, I dare you to ask me to hazard a guess on you lot. Qualities you're not even aware that you posess make me believe an expedition by this very group might actually succeed." He looks at Sarya, as if he's challenging her to oppose his claim.

[Anyr]

Blaine paused to consider Sarya's warning. Well, she wasn't actually considering it; But she'd learnt that such a pause could make things go much smoother. A lot of her seemingly adroit social manoeuvres were just simple mimicry.

"Thanks for your concern, but I've decided to take my chances here. This is something that I need to do."

Lainne's accusation was handled with more brevity. When the whispered word 'Warlock' was sent hurtling at her (along with a pointing finger), Blaine responded with three simple words.

"What's a Warlock?"

She was completely serious.

[Maralais]

Lainne's calm attitude came to a sudden halt. Whoops. Maybe his deduction went too far? In any way he was going to try a smooth recovery.

"You are, in any case, one with magical talent, I suppose? Honestly it would be very convenient if you happened to be a spellcaster."

[Inspector Valin]

"Nothing good."

The warrior looked up from her cup for long enough to raise an eyebrow at Blaine's reaction. Surprising; even she knew that term. Still, the girl with blunted ears seemed honestly set upon her path, and she'd shown her dedication earlier. No sense in trying to talk her out of it. She left the one with the red beard and an excess of confidence to try and explain himself, confident that the sage will be though.

She turned back to His Young Lordship, cup raised and a sneer on her face. She didn't know of this one's kingdom, but his name and its were all she needed to hear. "You think Corelleon cares enough about mortal life that he'll notice you or your prayers, ear-licker?" The traveller chuckled darkly at that, downing a gulp of watered ale before looking back up at Lord Arthur, voice quiet. Her grey eyes were slits, and she'd tensed slightly, her hand resting on her shoulder. "He doesn't even listen to his own people, human. This whole city could drown and he wouldn't bat an eye. He's not going to pay attention to you, and neither is any other god."

Silence for a second. Even Arthur could likely tell he was treading on dangerous ground.

Still, after a brief uncomfortable pause, the warrior turned her attention back to her cup, sighing slightly. She didn't look away, even as she continued the conversation. "Besides, I suspect you're overplaying your hand here. Your faith in Corellon is not enough to give you a ship, or point you towards the Eye of the Sea. If you did have the resources to secure a galley or any leads of note, you wouldn't be carousing through taverns in search of aid, would you? You'd have a ship from your father, and actually trustworthy assistants."

The elven woman's voice is berift of anger. Contempt is a better term. As far a she is concerned, she's stating simple truths. She took a sip from her rapidly depleting cup. "Naive, ear-licker, ill prepared and full of bravado... I give you about a week on the Broken Sea before you end up over the side. Coril had best start looking for another heir at this rate."

[metaridley18]

Arthur glances at the odd troupe assembled before him, seemingly pleased that his presence attracted so much attention. You can sense a desperation about him, as if he's swallowing words to accept Sarya's insults without another outburst.

He dismisses the side conversation about casting and useful skills among party members as unimportant, before smiling and raising a dirty glass of water as if in a salute.

Why should my Father, or the gods for that matter, help me when I have all I need here? I see at least 2 brave souls who have answered my call, dedicated to helping the city of Mayport! Of course if you, my fair elf, would rather remain as drowned as your mood, I see no reason to drag you begrudgingly. Now, since we've settled the crew, we'll have to find a ship. I like to do things in order, you see.

He looks at the group knowingly, as if he expects it a foregone conclusion that you are working together as one, and are friends and comrades alike.

Naturally, speaking as to the division of the reward, I propose we split it evenly; I'll donate my share to the coffers of Coril of course, and we'll obviously need to negotiate with any shipmaster that would sail with us. I'm sure if we cannot find a likely owner, I can speak to some merchants or a local noble who may be up for a risky venture.

He nods his head toward Lainne and resumes his hurried monologue:

As you say, though my voyage was difficult, I find that luck favors those who seek it, and opportunity is available for the optimistic. Do you think we'll need many more, or will we three be enough? I've done more with less, although the more the merrier, I always say!

At his last words, Arthur grins at his own slight pun and looks between Blaine and Lainne for confirmation, a slight fire in his eyes as they pass over Sarya.

[Ascension]

A man stands from a table near Nissa's seat, a man tall enough that his head nearly brushes the beams of the common room's low ceiling. As he turns toward her, she can see why... no one comes by a mouthful of teeth like that without a strong current of orcish blood in their family line.

"Your problem, girl," he growls, with a glare at her company, "is that you're talking to cowards. These men may sail the sea, but they fear it. They spend each night on open water mewling to the halflings' mother and wishing they were in port."

He shoves his chair roughly in between two of the men and folds himself down into it. He draws venomous looks from the other sailors, but perhaps he reads them rightly, for they do nothing but look.

"I don't fear the sea. Even these storms are nothing to fear... you just need to pay them the proper respect. I'd've set sail already, 'cause I'm more'n eager enough to be rid of this accursed port, but I need the blessing of a true priest of Gruumsh, and all I can find are thin-blooded wretches who haven't even seen the desert in the last three or four generations. No orcish soul left in 'em."

He leans across the table, his dark eyes staring into Nissa's own. His breath stinks of stale bread and decay.

"Bring me a priest willing to give an eye up for He Who Watches, girl, and I'm willing to sail you all the way across the Great Ocean."

[Inspector Valin]

Sarya chuckled, more to herself than Arthur, commenting as he pauses between remarks. "You hire a crew before a ship, and intend to hire a ship before you know where you're going. If this is your idea of order, I'd hate to see Coril at a time like this. The guard must help criminals along with their ill gotten gains, the better to arrest them later."

Her remarks might be directed towards the nobleman, but the elven woman's eyes were on the Orcish sailor. There was an interesting one; strong as the desert sun, and with as pleasant a temperament as this weather. Still, the warrior keeps her eyes upon the other table whilst continuing the conversation with her own compatriots. "Ser Half-Elven, you seem an intellectual man. You alone could redeem this undertaking. Do you have a theory? A plan? Even the remotest idea of where to start looking for the Eye of the Sea?" She glanced to Lainne briefly, still smirking slightly as she tilted her head towards Arthur. "His Highness is a rash impulsive fool, but you took the time to observe before coming over. If any of you three have a prayer in this quest, it seems to be you."

[Maralais]

Lainne doesn't try at all to hide his grin at Sarya's comment. "You could say that. I actually know a few bards who might have a few clues on the wherabouts of the Eye. Really occult group of bards and wizards. They live on the edge of the westernmost isles. Never really bothered visiting them since the Eye didn't really interest me before, and now that it does I'm stuck on an island and not really ready to undertake such a long trip on my own."

He looks at the Half-Orc, intrigued by the prospect of actually finding a group and a ship in minutes. "If you don't mind me asking, is Gruumsh the only option for a leaving vessel? You yourself correctly pointed out that it's hard to find a follower of a desert god on an island. Perhaps... another God of Storms?" Lainne knew where his suggestion would lead, and he wasn't really happy about being the one making it. Oh well, can't really change the way pantheons are built.

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa caught the fancy man's proclamation and noted his rather loud conversation with the people of various states of elfin blood from where she was sitting. Perfect. There's the crew. Now for the ship.

As the half-orc turns to her, it's all she can do to hide her enthusiasm. As he speaks of his fearlessness, she meets his gaze with a faint smile. What better captain to commandeer a ship through this weather? A priest of Grummsh, though? That'd be a bit tricky, but surely someone in this city must be crazy enough to put their lot in with the blood god.

"Then we have a deal, captain. Later, boys," emphasizing that last word toward the other sailors at the table. She gets up slowly and heads over to the most attention-grabbing table in this place: the prince's table.

"I couldn't help but overhear how the lot of you were in search of a ship. I'm sure you all just heard how I have obtained...conditional access to one, and luckily for you, I am quite aware that this expedition is rather too dangerous for a solitary girl such as myself. As such, I think we can come to an...arrangement of sorts."

[Ascension]

Lainne's voice is almost lost in the noise of the crowded tavern, but it carries well enough that he earns a glance from the half-orc, and the sea captain's eyebrows rise when he notices the soft points of the speaker's ears.

"I wouldn't expect an elf's bastard to understand," he shouts over the din, not bothering to come any closer to the soft-skinned bard, "but Gruumsh is the only god I trust to have the balls to take on these storms. Desert, ocean... that doesn't really matter. When survival is the challenge, and fear is the enemy, He's the one you want at your back."

[Maralais]

Lainne raises his eyebrow at the Half-Orc's remark. "I would expect a fellow bastard to understand, but there's more than one God who deals with storms. Can't Eadro help us out, for example?" Lainne still refuses to name the other option, hoping it wouldn't be brought to the discussion at all.

[Inspector Valin]

Sarya smiled at the first bard; her instincts had been correct. This expidition had jumped from lunacy to promising in a heartbeat. A lead, a ship... and a band of both heroes and idiots to help along the way. What could be better? She couldn't quite resist a bellow of laughter at the half-orc captain's dismissal of Lainne however, getting up and moving to address him more directly, though with a warmer tone than the contempt she'd leveled at Arthur. "Said a half-blood who traded the desert for a nice calm sea and human ports. Are you really the best one to be talking about taking risks, gruiuk?"

Orcish insult given, the elf turned to Nissa, nodding her head. "Well, I'm in. Red-Beard has a lead on a band of sages who know their Maydish lore, you're a good negotiator, the Warlock's got more determination than anyone else in this whole city... that's enough for me." Simple, concise and to the point. After that, Sarya turned back to the Captain, smile still in place, as she reached out a hand. "It's been a few years since I crossed the ghâsh’gul, but I remember the tribes. It's good to see someone in this city with a bit of mort'kai in his soul."

[metaridley18]

Arthur looks back and forth at the goings-on in disbelief, as if he could barely comprehend his good fortune. He laughs loudly in a rich tone.

Well, look at that! A crew, a ship, AND a destination! Let's see if we can't find that blessing!

He stands and almost as an afterthought looks at his unlikely companions in turn.

I guess I'll get your names on the way.

[Ascension]

The half-orc rises at Sarya's words, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, lips curled in a toothy grimace... and then he laughs, clapping the hooded paladin on the shoulder.

"I'd never have imagined that an nolung woman would be the first person I'd find in this damn port who can talk like she has fire in her blood. You I like. Maybe you can tell that half-blood who can't keep his mouth shut that Eadro is a deaf old fool who couldn't care less about anyone who lives above the water."

He looks back at Lainne, and at the rest of the motley band of questants who all seem to have decided they want to board his ship, and, after a moment, he nods to himself. There may be too many pointy ears and too few brains among them, but the elf woman has spirit enough for all of them, the human girl is easy on the eyes, and... well, he's damned tired of being cooped up in a dingy tavern in a rainy port.

"I'm Captain Hakim of the Clan Ghorreck and the ship Sherkbúrz. The nolung may be right, and Clan Ghorreck may not dream I live, but I still remember the sands of the homeland, and I hope that they might remember me. Allow me my superstitions... and I'll allow you your journey. That's the deal."

[Anyr]

An insistent hand tapped Lainne's shoulder while he argued with Hakim.

"Let it go. He's set on his course. Only Gruumsh will do."

Blaine knew the feeling well. She saw the captain's seemingly stubborn insistence as something more. When Arthur mentioned names, Blaine automatically extended a hand for him to shake.

"I'm Blaine. Pleased to meet you."

[metaridley18]

Arthur brightens significantly and returns the shake with gusto.

Well met Blaine, well met indeed! I am Arthur Corillion as you ...er... may have already heard.

He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing.

Do you have any ideas about this Gruumsh fellow? I don't know any of the local priesthood, and although I know of pretty much all the Duke's family, I don't see how that is much help to us here.

[Anyr]

Blaine pondered for a few moments. Her knowledge of Gruumsh was limited only to the basics. So instead, she focused on religions in general.

"Well, we seek a true priest of Gruumsh; And a true priest would want to uphold their God's holy traditions. Maybe we could use that to track them. For instance, there's a God who likes his followers to paint a wave pattern on their doors. Another asks them to pray at their city's highest point once per month. Does Gruumsh demand anything conspicuous like that?"

[metaridley18]

Arthur blinks confusedly at how quickly Blaine turned the question back to him. Attempting to divert his total lack of knowledge about any religion, he quickly turns to Lainne and speaks forcefully.

Well, what do you have to say on the matter of Gruumsh? You seemed relatively knowledgeable about me, and indeed a few other things. And if I'll ask your name as well, if I may be so bold? You all have me at quite a disadvantage!

It's clear that the quick assumptions by both Sarya and the half orc captain that he's a spoiled, pompous, noble idiot have gotten under his collar a bit too much, as he completely avoids their eye in his attempts at moving the conversation towards a more practical solution.

[Inspector Valin]

The elven woman nodded at the captain's words, bowing her head slightly after his introduction. "Sarya Korthal." Simple, direct, with no further flower titles or embellishments. She was not that kind of elven warrior.

At Arthur's insistent, rapid questioning however, the elf raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. "They like to fight. Perhaps you could challenge one to a duel?" Sarya's eyes betrayed perhaps a glint of mirth at Arthur's question. The elven woman stretched her arms out, yawning slightly before continuing. "It's probably the quickest method of finding the priest of a warrior god. Though there are problems with it. Such as getting him to stop killing you, for instance."

[Maralais]

Lainne extends his hand to Arthur. "Lainne Anornar, doctorant at the University of Hylle. After shaking Arthur's hand, he scratches his head. "Gruumsh is not really my speacialty, what with him having a feud with Corellon and all that.

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa cracks a slight smile at how Sarya neglected to mention Arthur anywhere in her team summary. She had come to much the same opinion. With as sarcastic a voice she can manage, she responds, "Now, now, we can't forget our 'prince' here! He's the one that got us all together, after all! I'm sure that counts for something."

Noticing that introductions are being passed around, she waits for the others to give their names before starting herself. "And I am Nissa Beauregard, finest bard in the Broken Sea, if I do say so myself.

"While I do appreciate the initiative in tracking down our ticket, I believe there is first the matter of the reward to discuss. I'm thinking...say, sixty-forty? I think that's a fair division." The clear implication is that the 'sixty' is for herself alone and the 'forty' would be further split among the remaining members.

[Anyr]

"Is that a joke? I have trouble with those."

As with the Warlock comment from earlier, Blaine's question seemed genuine. She and humour weren't exactly on first name terms. The best they usually managed was a vague nod when they passed in the street.

[metaridley18]

Arthur pulls his hand back from greeting Lainne and smiles broadly. You are indeed the intellectual sort! I bet that will come in handy on this quest.

He glances at Sarya, his eyes and voice each sharpening slightly, As for me, I'm not too shabby with a blade, Ms. Korthal, although I doubt that will help us find a man of faith. I'd appreciate it if you'll not confuse my optimism for idiocy. I've certainly never mistaken cynicism for wisdom.

Arthur at last acknowledges the captain, gruffly stating with a carefully practiced diplomatic tone of restraint, Well met, Captain Hakim. We appreciate your offer, and understand the importance of a blessing in times like these. I'm certain we'll find your priest, one way or another!

As he surveys the group with gleam in his eye, his gaze falls on Nissa when she speaks, suddenly remembering her presence after the flurry of arguments and introductions. Becoming visibly annoyed at her not-so-subtle insult, he sits back down and stares her down, daggers in his eyes.

I think you'll find that getting a journey started is often the hardest part, and I'm certain that none of you would have moved to join each other without my actions. Furthermore, we'll see just how skilled each of you is with a blade, a bow, and bard or not, the simple act of inspiring the populace to great deeds!

He breathes for a moment, seemingly for the first time after this long series of interjecting and introducing himself over every other person at the table. He then brightens, happily barking, Negotiations! Now, that I can get behind! Your point is well taken, the captain should receive a larger portion for the risk of his ship! I suppose the 60 percent for the rest of us would be quite fair for such a large purse.

Whether he deliberately misunderstood Nissa's implication or simply leapt to the conclusion stated isn't immediately obvious.

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa merely meets Arthur's stare with a sly grin while he's proclaiming the greatness of what he's already done, almost appearing as though she's only halfway paying attention. Slightly less of a grin when he tries to twist her proposed reward division, though. That's alright, Mr. Prince, I guarantee you won't keep a single copper of your reward if I have anything to say about it.

Turning to Blaine, Nissa responds, "Of course not, dear; if it were, I'd be laughing." She gives a small chuckle afterward just to screw with the poor girl.

[Inspector Valin]

Sarya snorted hard at Arthur's comment about his speech being the reasoning behind this group's assemblage. "Yes. Because I'm sure every member of this party had no intent to join the search for the Eye of the Sea before you suggested it. " Sarya didn't need to glance around to know she'd hit the nail on the head. Nissa was already in negotiations for a ship, Blaine and Lainne had been waiting too. Arthur had been a spark to the fusebox, but he was hardly in a position to take credit here. Sarya's smile remained as she met the young lordling's gaze. Your optimism isn't proof of your idiocy, boy. Your idiocy is. From the moment you arrived in this tavern, you've demonstrated that you have made no preparations, have no idea what you're doing, and couldn't organize a picnic for small children, let alone some kind of treasure hunting expedition. Learn who you're dealing with and what your words imply or as I said, you're in for a short voyage."

Words given, Sarya rose to her feet, bowing to Nissa before glancing to Lainne. "I'll leave the debate on splitting the payment to you two, and anyone else who wants to join in. I'll take an even share to any other around the table. If you disagree with that, you're welcome to try and stop me. But first, we've got a job to do. And sitting here won't help with that." Words given, the elven woman raises her hood and turns about, exiting the tavern into the growing storm outside. It was a fair way to the temple district. That was as good a place as any to start.

[Ascension]

Captain Hakim stares at Arthur, disbelieving, then, with a snort of laughter, shakes his head.

"Leave me out of this. I'll get my share when the time comes. Won't know how many ways to split it until you see how many live long enough to collect a reward. Now, I gotta get going. My crew's probably wandered off and got lost in dumps even sorrier than this place, and if I don't start pulling them together, none of us are sailing anywhere."

He gives Nissa a respectful nod, and favors Sarya with the same as he finds his way out through the crowd. The rest of the treasure hunters... well, maybe they'll prove themselves. In time.

[Maralais]

With Hakim gone, Lainne rolls his eyes with a bored sigh. "Or perhaps having common group coffers for the duration of our expedition and dealing with the treasure sharing when we'll actually have the final treasure in our hands? It'd be more practical I suppose."

Lainne looks at his potential companions: he can't help but shake the feeling that this is just an invitation for a massive inter-group fight later on. He hums a low tune to himself to get his mind off the idea: "Oooooh..." (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0x4Kw_y4fg)

[metaridley18]

Nonplussed, Arthur declares "Excellent, all is settled. And that morose elf seems to know just where to go! I suppose we better away. Can't let the lass get into trouble, it'll sully her pleasant worldview further!"

With unsurprising confidence, Arthur stands and strides out of the dingy tavern and into the rain, following Sarya.

[aturtledoesbite]

After seeing Sarya's no-nonsense attitude, it finally dawns on Nissa why she seems familiar. No wonder she's on the 'Do Not Disturb' list.

"I'd be more concerned about the poor fools who'd think to bring her trouble, myself." Gesturing to the two with rhymed names to start following, she's out the door as well.

Hmm, she's heading toward the temple district? Not a bad guess, but if it were that simple, we wouldn't be on this fetch quest. I suppose it's the closest thing to a destination we have, though.

[Anyr]

Blaine followed; She was good at that. She stepped unhesitatingly into the rain, despite being obviously ill-equipped for it. Her cheap clothes were little protection from the elements. It took barely a minute for the shivers to start running through her. But such trifles as hypothermia were of no importance. There was work to be done.

[Ascension]

Mayport's temple district stretches out along one of the high roads up above the bay, following it all the way to the foot of the walls of the ducal palace. Just as Mayport's markets have stalls to sell almost any item sold anywhere across the Broken Sea, so too does its temple district house shrines dedicated to almost any god worshipped anywhere across the Broken Sea, but there's a clear pecking order in play. The largest temples of the most popular gods are all clustered up near the palace, and from there, as the road winds down closer to the docks, the shrines lining it progressively decline in size, grandeur, and importance, until its last and least blend almost seamlessly in with the trinket vendors of the market district.

Depending on your point of view, the city's shrine to Gruumsh is either in a better location than most shrines its size, or markedly smaller than the other houses of worship in its immediate vicinity, squeezed as it is between a tall wooden chapel dedicated to Baervan Wildwanderer and a windowless stone edifice covered in arcane etchings praising Wee-Jas. Sarya recognizes it immediately, as it has the same look as the decorated tent pavilions used among the orcs' desert clans as portable temples. Drawing closer, the group can see that it appears to actually be a large desert tent, covered over with a thick, uneven coat of wax to try to keep the rains out. Its entrance flap is tied shut.

[Inspector Valin]

Sarya smiled a little at the sight of the tent. It brought back memories: perhaps not pleasant ones, but better times than some she'd known. Instead of examining the knot, the elven woman put her hands to the base of the fabric, looking to see if there was enough give in the tent-pegs for her to squeeze underneath. Better that than leave the priests without shelter from the rain. Whatver judgement the Captain might've made of them, it was best not to offend those with Orcish blood. They tended to hold grudges well.

[Ascension]

Sarya might be able to slip under the edge of the tent, but it would be a tight squeeze, and she'd probably end up fairly soaked in the process.

Give me a Dex roll if you want to try it.

[metaridley18]

Arthur looks down at Sarya's examination of the tent wall. "Are you actually intending on squeezing under there? There's a perfectly serviceable flap. It is probably heinously rude to simply walk in, but I doubt they have anything against announcing our presence and requesting entrance. I would prefer that as opposed to random callers rolling through my walls. "

[Inspector Valin]

Sarya shook her head at Arthur's words, rising slowly. Though at least she didn't look as irritated with him as she had been back at the inn. "Have you ever tried untying Orcish knots, Arthur kon-gash? Sometimes the ground's an easier entrance." Though not this time apparently. Too much water, and the stakes are in too deep. She could fit, but it honestly wasn't worth it. Instead, Sarya turned her attention to the knot, trying to recall how the priests had tied them back on the mainland.

[roll0] Dex

[Ascension]

The knot is a bit stubborn, but Sarya is able to work it loose with a little effort. The interior of the shrine is hot and humid... the wax seems to have done much to reduce the tent's fabric's breathability without going so far as to be able to prevent a fine mist of moisture from working its way in regardless. Waterlogged rugs trace a path leading from the entrance to the altar itself, atop which a dying lamb slowly bleeds out into a shallow pan. The shrine is dim, lit only by a pair of smoking braziers set flanking the altar, but that's no real obstacle to Sarya's sharp elven eyes... or to the eyes of the priest who startles at her entrance.

"This is the shrine of Gruumsh, the orc god," he informs her, his voice sharp with surprise, but not hostile, "What business do you have here, elf?"

True to Hakim's complaints, it looks as if the orcish blood in the priest's veins is thin. His skin is sallow, and his ears have an orcish look, but his face is as finely featured as any human man's. He might even be able to pass as part-elven in less cosmopolitan circles. He wears the holy symbol of Gruumsh's unblinking eye, but the only weapon he wears visibly is a small knife of human pattern.

[Inspector Valin]

"I'm looking for someone."

Sarya took a breath before continuing, lowering her hood and drawing herself up to her full height. It was going to be a struggle to say this with a straight face. But when she spoke, all the Orc Priest saw was the picture of serene power. "Lord Arthur Coril here is looking for the most fearsome Priest of Gruumsh in all of Mayport. He wants to try his hand in a dual against the finest champions of every god on Temple Row" She tilted her head slightly, regarding the thin-blooded Adepts as you might a laboratory specimen. "Are you the high priest?"

Either we get the name we're after out of this guy, or he'll want to fight Arthur.... so win win! :smallbiggrin: :smalltongue:

[roll0] Intimidate.

[Anyr]

Blaine gratefully basked in the tent's warmth. Aaah, that's the stuff. She'd let the others do the talking for this visit.

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa was struggling to keep from giggling, but she managed. She took her mind off of the humor by glancing about to see if there was anything worth value around here. There's not much, though, which dampens her mood slightly.

[Ascension]

The priest's eyes widen, and he takes a step back. A priest of Gruumsh, within his own sacred shrine, scared of an elf-woman. Truly this is a day of wondrous occurrences.

"That's crazy. You're..."

He squints past her, catches sight of Arthur, the alleged aggressor, and glares. Human, noble...

"It isn't like the old days anymore, you know! This shrine has been a peaceful, a respected member of Mayport's community of faiths for well on forty years now. Whatever your grandfather may have told you, we're not looking for any trouble."

Sarya's got him well on edge. If she presses him, she'll get a name, no need for another roll.

[Inspector Valin]

"'We're not looking for any trouble.' Clearly a traditional battle-cry of the priests of Gruumsh."

Sarya snorted slightly at that; she could recall how some of the Watchers from the desert would react to this. No wonder Hakim didn't feel this one's blessing was worth much. Still, no point in backing him too far into a corner. This wasn't the far end of Temple Row, to be in the middle, this priest had some influence. She moderated her sneer slightly, tone becoming a little more agreeable. "Look, you don't need to fight him personally. You said this shrine wasn't a respected part of Mayport's society forty years ago?" She hadn't been paying much attention to the city back then, it was plausible. Sarya gestured outside, towards the now open flap. "Who was the priest then? Did he have any other, less reputable disciples? Is he still around himself?"

[Maralais]

Lainne waits outside the shrine, his chest on the ground in front of him. He has his lute in his hand, now playing the same tune (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0x4Kw_y4fg) that he was whistling to himself in the tavern.

"Oooooh!
We've got this notion
That we'd quite like to sail the ocean
So we found a ship-crew and we're soon due north-east,
We do have a captain
And though he's as smart as a napkin
He just won't take us until we find him a priest.
Eidle eidle eee,
Eidle eidle eee,
We simply can't leave until we find 'im a priest!"

He doesn't seem to play to the crowd in particular, just to himself. He is somehow unaffected by the rain, as any raindrop that gets in his clothing seems to disappear in seconds.

I hope that true priest won't take too long to find. he thinks to himself.

Lainne's continuously casting Prestidigitation on himself with the song to dry off his clothes while he stands outside. If Arthur didn't get inside, he would be up for chatting.

I'll also roll for Performance just for the hell of it:
[roll0]

[Ascension]

"My grandfather isn't around any more, no," the priest answers, a touch of venom creeping into his voice. There's history there, obviously. "The only person from those days who's still alive and still in Mayport... would have to be Dhevek. Assuming he hasn't died recently, anyway. You could probably find him in or around the Pit, and I'm sure he'd be glad to fight your friend. And you ought to be careful around him yourself, elf, if you aren't looking to join in."

Nissa knows the Pit. An old archaeological dig site, long since repurposed, it's allegedly a bar, but it's chiefly known as a gathering place for the sort of criminal element the Thieves' Guild usually chooses not to associate itself with. And, true to its name, it's underground, with limited access in and out. Not a safe destination, particularly if Arthur says anything to anyone in there, or if Lainne starts singing.

[Inspector Valin]

If Sarya was affected by the mildly-Orc Priest's words, she gave no sign of it. She nodded politely before turning around. "I can defend myself, sir priest. God or no god. Farewell."

And may your shrine to Old One Eye hold the best society picnic of the season.

It was mildly hard for Sarya to resist the urge to laugh as she exited the tent. Keeping as straight a face as she could, she glanced around the group. "Well, that's a good start. We just need to head to the Pit, and find this Dhevek. Disreputable, prone to violence and racial hatred... he sounds like just the priest we're looking for." Even coldhearted Sarya couldn't quite resist a grin at that. However, the priest's words stuck with her. She glanced towards Nissa. "Should I go with you? I can speak Orcish well, but the cut of my ears might count against me."

[Maralais]

Seeing Sarya leave the tent, Lainne stops playing his lute. "Racial violence? Well that leaves half of the group out then, doesn't it?"

[metaridley18]

Arthur nods and looks around pointedly, "If the shape of one's ears will be a problem, maybe Nissa and I should go alone. I'm more than able to handle a few rough customers, and I'm sure she's well practiced in environs such as that. But perhaps you three should hover nearby, just in case. "

[aturtledoesbite]

"Of course it's the Pit. Just our luck."

Turning to Sarya, Nissa briefly considers her question. "We should all go. Dhevek won't be the only danger down there, and some of those aren't gonna care how pointy our ears are. You," she spins around to point at Lainne when she says this, "should get all of your songs out before we get underground. The fewer people who can hear us in there, the better. And you," turning toward Arthur, "...actually, you just shouldn't say anything, got it? Not one word, especially not about your title."

Nissa paces a bit, sighs, and turns toward the group with a sly grin. "Now then, who's ready for a field trip?"

[Maralais]

Lainne seems clearly disappointed at Nissa's judgement towards her. "If you think I'm a stereotypical Bard who sings at the most inappropriate moments, you're only partially correct!"

Seeing that his attempt at humour falls flat, his expression changes to a sullen one.

"Sure. No music, might as well keep one hand at my rapier's scabbard constantly."

[Inspector Valin]

"But if Arthur doesn't say anything, how can he challenge Dhevek to a pointless duel? Really, Nissa, don't rob me of my fun"

Sarya chuckles before nodding to Nissa. The bard was competent, and could've probably managed most of this alone thus far. She gestured down the rain soaked street"Lead on. If I hear anything significant in Orcish, I'll translate it for you. That way at least we'll know if he's ordering someone to kill us all."

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa smirks at Sarya's comment. "Easy. We tell Dhevek that Arthur doesn't even think the half-orc is worth the effort to issue the challenge himself."

It's impossible to tell if Nissa is joking or if this is actually her plan. In any case, she starts making her way to the nearest known entrance.

[Ascension]

From Temple Row it takes a long walk through Mayport's rain-slicked streets to reach the Pit, but the journey is uneventful. Avenues once filled by the sound of merchants hawking their wares and alleys once blocked by children at play are now quiet, now all but empty. Pedestrians hide beneath hoods and hat brims, shuffling swiftly and purposefully from shelter to shelter. The constant storms have sapped the vitality from Mayport, leaving the whole city feeling as dull and lifeless as the leaden skies.

The hill the Pit lies beneath was once green and grassy, but those days are decades past, if not centuries. Its good soil is stripped away now, leaving a barren, ugly outcrop. A hulking ogre-blooded bouncer crouches beneath an awning at its main entrance. He laughs at the sight of Arthur's fine clothes and Lainne's short stature, but lets you all down a narrow stair into the Pit ("It's your funeral," he says, feeling clever). The stairs are ancient, gnomish-built, and their dimensions are all uncomfortably small for people of your size, making for a slow, awkward descent. The door into the Pit proper is full-sized, however, and as you pass through, you pass into another world.

Outside the hour is early still, but the sun never reaches the heart of the Pit, and its nightlife is in full swing. The bar sprawls across multiple levels, uneven excavation lifting or lowering portions of the floor in irregular tiers. Firepits and luminescent fungi struggle to lend enough light to reveal the scene to weak human eyes, but you don't have to be able to see the crowd to feel it. The noise of conversation is at least as loud as in Darby's, and above that a raucous band beats out a thumping, percussive rhythm, keeping time for a writhing tiefling dancer. The air itself is hot and close, weighted with exotic aromas and clouded by a haze of smoke. No one pays any heed to the new arrivals... anyone who's supposed to be in the Pit is supposed to know where to go and who to talk to in order to transact their business.

[Anyr]

The Pit's interior was an assault on the senses: One which Blaine accepted gladly. She took a deep breath of the impure air, opened her ears to the pounding rhythms, and swept her gaze across the dimly lit scene (well, dim by the metric of her two Human companions). Back in Darby's, things like this had been an unwelcome distraction. But now that she'd found her quest, she was free to enjoy the 'noise'.

"I like this place."

Still, Blaine wasn't blind to danger. At some point, a strangely patterned Rapier (adorned with spirals) had appeared at her side. Better safe than sorry.

[Inspector Valin]

Sarya paused as she took the first step inside. This was... unique. She'd run up against Mayport's criminal element once or twice, but never before encountered a place so devoted to its own corruption. It was bizarre, strange, and yet at the same time oddly endearing. From the rough carved floor to the dingy sputtering firelight, all the way to the incessant drumbeat ringing out through the cramped underground cavern. Someone had gone to great lengths to ensure this place looked highly unwelcoming. Because the clientèle liked it that way. There was humour in that.

A glance around at the other patrons worried Sarya: they were all right now, but if they just wandered, they'd stand out. Better to separate slightly. They'd at least be close together enough to respond to trouble. With a nod to Nissa, the elven warrior stepped away from the group, taking a seat at a table close to the stage. She glanced up at the horned dancer, an eyebrow raised. Did they seek out a tiefling to make the atmosphere complete? Or are tieflings just prone towards working in places like this? Few people trust them, after all.

It was ultimately an unimportant question. Sarya just leaned back, alternating her gaze between the show and the rest of the room, letting herself relax as much as she could in a place like The Pit. She was just one more traveller, here for a few drinks, sanctuary from the rain and a night's entertainment. Nothing more, nothing less. She certainly wasn't here to seek out some bloodthirsty priest of Gruumsh and start a fight, oh no. That would be ridiculous.

[roll0] Perception. Also have low light vision, if that helps. Looking for someone with an axe, a scowl, tusks and possibly only one eye.

[metaridley18]

Arthur followed the group, a bit more demure than before. He'd dealt with people like this before; thinking he was some pompous spoiled nobleman with nary a thought in his brain. He'd proven them wrong before too, although sometimes in not the best or most diplomatic way. He preferred to not rely on that solution anymore; after all, part of the point of this journey was to STOP beating up the strangers who insulted him.

He struggled with his thoughts and swore that somehow he would grow from this journey; pessimistic, overly cocky elves, and greedy, narcissistic bards aside.

[Ascension]

Sarya has little trouble finding scowling tusked people amidst the crowd, but she can't spot Dhevek. If he was involved in whatever went down forty years ago, he'd have to be fairly old, at least by orcish standards, and all the orc-bloods she can see are yet young, untempered by time.

[aturtledoesbite]

Catching Sarya's nod, Nissa makes her way to another table, farther back but still within sight. She wasn't all that familiar with tieflings, so she watched the dancer longer than strictly necessary. But regardless, she's here for a priest. Let's see what kind of orcish folk are down here.

[roll0] Perception.

[Anyr]

Blaine snapped out of her reverie when she noticed some of the others dispersing. What a good idea. She proceeded to follow their example (sort of), by wandering off towards the stairs. If nobody noticed in time, Blaine would descend into the Pit's next level. Actually, she'd probably do that even if someone did notice: But at least they'd know where she'd gone.

[Ascension]

Nissa:

The Pit's poor lighting is inconvenient to Nissa, but it's a limitation she can compensate for. She's Thieves' Guild trained; she knows how to case a joint. She doesn't spot the mark immediately... as Sarya found, all the tuskers in sight seem too young to fit the bill... but she does pick up on the flow of traffic throughout the club, the currents amidst the motion of all those bodies. She spots Blaine's descent to the open floor, where a number of patrons appear to be engaged in something akin to dancing, but, more importantly, she also notes that the orc-bloods in the crowd aren't circulating freely or randomly. They seem to have a tendency to gravitate toward a far corner of the bar, where a gap between two higher platforms has created something like a private box between them, an alcove somewhat sheltered from the chaos of the rest of the Pit. Even if it's not Dhevek, whoever occupies that niche must have significant pull with the criminal element of the orcish community.

Arthur:

Something bumps into the brightly clad nobleman at about waist level, and a loud feminine voice breaks through the pervasive noise of the crowd.

"Hey fella, watch where you're going! Not everyone's as tall as a tree, you know! You gotta watch your feet!"

Looking down he can see a flame-haired halfling girl... or halfling woman, it can be hard to tell when they're all so short... glaring up at him, her face a perfect picture of righteous indignation.

Roll a Perception check against the following Sleight of Hand roll to see if you notice her stealing your coin purse.
[roll0]

[Anyr]

Not wanting to stand out, Blaine started dancing too. She weaved through the crowd while doing a passable imitation of their movements.

[aturtledoesbite]

Our guy's probably there. Let's see if I can't...convince him. Stealing a quick glance to make sure no one's focusing on her at the moment, Nissa whispers a quick chant to herself. Her skin turns grayish, her hair darkens, and she appears to grow by nearly a foot. A couple of her lower teeth also grow out, extending enough to prevent her mouth from fully closing.

Clad as she is, she saunters over toward this alcove to see what all the hubbub is about.

Casting Disguise Self to appear as a half-orc.
[roll0] Perception to listen for any informative tidbits of conversation about Dhevek or this alcove as she walks. (Presuming I don't have disadvantage since this is listening and not seeing.)

[Maralais]

This definitely isn't my kind of place... Lainne thinks to himself as he keeps glancing around. He stands close to Arthur, feeling like he'd just get in the way of what everyone else is doing.

He can't help but give a low chuckle when he sees Arthur bump into the Halfling. He keeps his eyes on the scene to see how the nobleman will react. Heh heh, classic halflings.

Rolling for perception to notice the robbery:
[roll0]

His eyes grow wide as he notices the Halfling reaching for Arthur's coin purse, however. He tries catching her hand before she takes it. "Oi!"

[metaridley18]

Startled by the halfling and Lainne's shout, Arthur peers down angrily at the halfling and guards his coin purse with one hand, the other hand touching his sheathed rapier.

"I'll look out for you in the future. But I'll thank you to keep your hands to yourself before I remove them!" He looks around at the tightly packed crowd around him. "And that goes for anybody else that thinks decent clothes mean an easy mark!"

Intimidate roll to halfling and those in the immediate area: [roll0]

[Ascension]

Arthur

There is strength in numbers, strength in a crowd. While the halfling pickpocket, being but one small girl, is sufficiently cowed by Arthur's threat, his bravado doesn't have quite the same impact on his larger audience. Indeed, he seems to have primarily succeeded in gaining their attention. Heads turn toward him, hands go to weapons.

A tall human man steps up beside the halfling (who, it seems, has started to cry). His face is almost lost under a mess of ugly scarring, and his hand rests on the hilt of a broad slashing sword.

"Who do you think you are, pretty boy? Where do you think you are? Did you get lost on the way to your tea party? Look, I'm sure your mommy is real impressed with how tough you sound, but, in case you ain't noticed, this ain't your turf. It's ours. And we don't take kindly to fancy strangers coming in here putting on airs."

Sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush; I'll update Nissa a little bit later.

[metaridley18]

Arthur refuses to be cowed but knows a death sentence when he sees one. Certainly an all out brawl in here wouldn't end well for him. He's had enough experience with thugs to hopefully be able to talk this down from a bloodbath.

"Putting on airs? All I've done in the three minutes I have been in this place is follow my companions and protect my purse. I don't have a problem with you or yours and I don't want there to be a problem. I'm not looking for a fight, but I won't be an easy target either. Surely you can see there's no need for this to come to blows."

Persuasion to avoid a fight: [roll0]

EDIT: SHOOT

[Maralais]

Lainne screams internally at the scene developing in front of his eyes. I hope Sarya is getting the fun she wanted from Arthur getting into conflict... Knowing that he'll be the next to be attacked in case this spirals out of control, he goes for a desperate measure, lying. He comes between Arthur and the man and speaks in a low voice so that only the two can hear what he's saying:

"Um... Would you be saying the same if you learnt that his 'mommy', as you put it, is a direct relative of the House of Beale? Even nobles sometimes need to make a good deal in the Pit, so let him have it. We came here to do business with you lot, but the nobles will stop turning a blind eye here if even they can't get things done here peacefully."

He gets more and confident in himself as he continues, though a voice inside him keeps doubting if he's going too far.

Rolling Deception:
[roll0]

Welp, I don't think that's too high. Cue shenanigans!

[Inspector Valin]

There are a few muffled words, and a spot of light, half concealed some distance in the bar. No one sees: all eyes are on the confrontation between Arthur, Lainne and the tavern patrons. The half-elf bard's words seem to have brought silence to the dimly let den of iniquity for a second or two. But then a voice speaks up, breaking the all too brief moment of peace.

"Stop lying Lainne. No one's buying it. And it's not you they have a problem with."

Sarya Korthal stepped forward, past the side of the would be mob. Positioning herself between them and her companions, the dark haired elf turned to the denizens of the Pit, her face covered in a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She gestured behind her to the errant nobleman. "He's Arthur Corillion, son of the Duke of Coril, some minor isle or another. He told me so himself about half an hour ago. Unless you care about Coril, you people have no reason to refrain from beating him within an inch of his life. So... anyone who gives a damn about Coril, leave the bar now!"

An artistic pause. Sarya glanced around her audience, pretending to check for wavering individuals, before turning back to Arthur, bowing her head. "But please, prince. Let's keep this dignified. Noble. Sporting." The elven traveller took a step forward, lowering her hood and rotating her head slightly. She bent her legs a touch, falling into a simple combat stance and raised her hands, ready for the fight. She chuckled darkly, tilting her head and looking across at Arthur. Sarya's sky blue eyes were devoid of any humour, wit or even the driest of mirth. All Arthur could see was honest, total anger. Her words were surprisingly quiet when they came. "Feel like fighting me? Or are you the sort of man who only threatens those who can't fight back? You know, a nobleman?"

That flash of light? Compelled Duel on Arthur. Wisdom save, DC13 or... well, a few things, but primarily Disadvantage on attacks against anyone other than Sarya.

Also, [roll0] Initiative.

[Ascension]

Nissa

If anyone's surprised by the disappearance of a human and the appearance of a half-orc in the midst of the Pit, no one makes an issue of it. Between the crowd, the irregular lighting, and the wide array of intoxicants on offer, who's to say that what happened was true magic and not a mundane optical illusion?

Her prior observations come in handy, allowing her to slip into the regular flow of traffic through the Pit, moving with the crowd instead of fighting her way against its currents. She has more trouble picking up on conversations, however... the orc-bloods seem to speak to each other largely in orcish, and what conversations she can overhear between them and people of other races seem wholly pedestrian... orders for drink or food or drugs, complaints or mild threats when jostled by over-enthusiastic dancers, that sort of thing.

As she draws near the alcove, a strongly orc-blooded woman, more likely three-quarters than half, and some six or seven inches taller than even Nissa's false shape, steps out in front of her, smiling a broad, welcoming smile... or what would be a welcoming smile on a human's face, anyway.

She says something to Nissa in orcish. It sounds like she's being friendly, probably.

Arthur, Lainne, and Sarya

Scarface looks unimpressed by Arthur and Lainne's attempts to back down from a fight, but Sarya arrives before he has a chance to do anything about it. Her theatrics claim the crowd's attention as surely as did Arthur's threats, but where he provided them with an enemy and a target, she provides them a champion. They want to see the nobleman get his comeuppance, and that's exactly what she offers. The crowd draws back from the two combatants (and Lainne), giving them their space. This is a spectator event now, and the audience isn't on Arthur's side.

Meanwhile, the halfling has slipped away into the crowd.

The halfling's Stealth is [roll0]. If that beats Arthur and/or Sarya's passive Perception (and Arthur's is penalized by 5 due to his lack of darkvision), they don't notice when she leaves or which direction she's headed in. Lainne can roll an active Perception check to try to catch her leaving, if he likes.

Arthur has initiative. As a reminder, Sarya hasn't drawn a weapon yet.

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa doesn't show it, but mentally, she's berating herself for forgetting something so simple. Here's hoping the woman knows Common.

With something like a smile, Nissa starts half-lying through her teeth. "I don't speak orc. Never taught. You know how it goes; pillage, rape, abandon the women and children to their fate." She adds that extra hint of bitterness to the end to sell the lie.

I hope this works.

[roll0] Deception to...um. Not get called out as a faker when I'm a half-orc who can't speak Orcish, I guess?

[Ascension]

Nissa

"That's not how it should go," the woman says with a scowl, but her aggravation isn't directed toward Nissa. "But I can't hold you responsible for your poor upbringing, girl. That's your father's shame. And it's all the more reason you should join the family. Our kind ought to stick together... we're stronger together. And you're new here, aren't you? You're gonna need friends, and I can guarantee you this is the nicest invitation you're gonna get."

Blaine

Take the average of this (http://youtu.be/sMjPIKJEXLQ?t=2m20s) and this (http://youtu.be/2NVpK8Vh_h8?t=1m20s), plus finger cymbals (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zill) from the tiefling dancer. I can't find any good fusion stuff that doesn't get synths or electric instruments or breathy vocals or something involved.

[Anyr]

Blaine, meanwhile, kept dancing. This was actually kind of fun!

[metaridley18]

Arthur turns to face Sarya with surprise. "A duel would be fine, I suppose. I didn't think it would be you I'd be dueling, however. I've never made threats I couldn't back up, although I will admit that the vast majority of the time it was unnecessary to due so."

He ***** his head, as if hearing a voice nobody else can hear. "But if you'd like a fair duel, why are you taunting the crowd to fight me? Why are you enchanting my mind with thoughts to fight only you? Mobs and cowardly spells are not something I expected in a fair fight."

He breathes deeply, seemingly muttering passionately to himself, straps on a small buckler that was hidden beneath his cloak, with an ornately crossed sword and anchor emblem displayed on the front, draws his rapier and assumes a ready position, "If you must fight me, have at it. But if you wish for a fair, friendly fight," Arthur taunts softly, "Then no magic, and I expect to be alive at the end of this, as of course I'll leave you."


Assuming that this is Arthur's first turn in the initiative, he uses his action to strap his shield on (AC 18 now), his free item interaction to draw his rapier, and his bonus action to Rally himself, if DM says that's okay. Just in case that's so: [roll0] temp HP to Arthur.

EDIT: The magic of formatting tags.

[Inspector Valin]

Sarya blinked, a little taken aback at this. She'd expected stupid bravado, but not for the noble dandy to actually draw steel against her, whilst complaining about her spell. The elven warrior was silent for a few seconds before snorting, shaking her head slowly at Arthur's claims. "Yes, why did I use magic to make sure you focused on me and only me? Rather than sticking that stupid little blade in whatever took your fancy? Why did I challenge you to a one on one fistfight rather than letting these people have their way with you?"

She started walking forward, slowly drawing closer to Arthur. She made no sound or gesture, not visibly casting the slightest spell, but some black energy pooling around her hands that played about her fingers like smooth water. Glaring at Arthur,Sarya hissed towards the young noble. "I offered you a fair fight, that wouldn't hurt anyone else, and you respond by drawing steel. If that's really what your elven swordtutor taught you then he's an idiot too."

With a brief flash the black energy was gone from her hands, and Arthur felt what it contained. All of Sarya's emotions, towards the world, its people, and him in particular.Hatred, contempt, disgust... the cloud of emotion hit the young noble as hard as any missile ever could. The elven woman meanwhile bowed her head, speaking as much for the crowd as Arthur."I've only a little magic left, and never was formally trained with the sword, but by all means. Use that as an excuse to try and run me through, Ear Licker. Let everyone see how courageous you really are when using fancy blades against an unarmed woman. You're doing so much to prove me wrong right now."

Moving to melee range, and then Channel Divinity: Hateful Aspect. DC12 Wisdom save or Arthur is Frightened of Sarya until the end of combat.

[metaridley18]

Screwed up the roll again, thanks phone. Wisdom save, and then I'll edit this post: [roll0]

EDIT: yes, made it!
Arthur looks at the strange display with confusion as the magic washes over him with no effect. "I thought you wanted a duel? You certainly are an odd one, elf. First you taunt the crowd to have their way with me, then you bespell me to twist and focus my mind on you, then you challenge me to a fair fight, THEN you attempt to bespell me further, and insist that you meant a fist fight of all things! If you want to duel and uphold whatever beliefs you have, I am more than willing to meet you in the noble art of swordplay. If you are sufficiently skilled, as you've bragged, I'm sure that you can manage to withhold even killing me," he laughs angrily, and flourishes with his rapier.

Arthur stares at the elf with rage and confusion behind his eyes. Her words and actions made no sense. She seemed to despise everyone around her, then stood up for some random halfing woman, caught attempting to steal. She repeatedly demanded having a fair fight, then had the audacity to use magic upon him and insult Coril to the crowd, attempting to goad them into mobbing him. When he conceded and drew his weapon to allow for a good, non-lethal duel take place, she spun back on her words, insisting that she meant a fist fight. These were the actions of a mad dog!

"If you refuse to draw your weapon and duel me squarely, I understand and do accept your surrender. I myself know the struggles of a temper that my actions cannot keep apace with. If you apologize for your ridiculous attempts, we may continue our quest."

Arthur's gaze bore down on her, daring her to try something further.

Arthur readies an action to Dodge if Sarya makes a hostile move and stays in melee range.

[Inspector Valin]

"Our quest? We want very different things, braggart. You're out for glory, gold and blood. None of those are of any interest to me."

Sarya snorted at that little piece of condescention, black energy returning to her hands. She was clearly not above the use of magic in this fight, reluctance to draw steel aside. The elven woman met Arthur's gaze, seemingly a touch calmer now. She gestured towards the stairs out of the pit. "I'll equal your offer. Leave this place in peace. You're doing no good for anyone here. All you've managed is to annoy everyone who has heard you speak. If you just have the sense to walk away, everything'll be solved in one simple move, and your precious 'quest' will be back on track."

The elven warrior gestured, and with a brief flash of light, Arthur could feel the magic lift from him. Sighing, Sarya shook her head. "Or you can stand and fight. For no other reason than your own pride that someone dared to challenge you when you were braying like a donkey and threatening the little people. It's your decision."

Readying Inflict if Arthur attacks. Sarya's lifting Compelled Duel to let Arthur withdraw if he wants to.

[metaridley18]

Arthur nods briskly and sheathes his sword (but leaves the buckler in place). "I accept your surrender and grant you forgiveness for your rash actions. I would hate to fight someone as delightful as you and deprive the world of additional color."

He turns to the crowd that has gathered, in particular the heavily scarred man "Now, if you don't mind, your so-called champion has yielded, and I'd like to go in peace. I know this isn't my "turf", but I've meant no one any harm unless you really want to test me."
Persuasion on the scarred man: [roll0]
After a few moments spent calming the crowd, Arthur works his way to the entrance of the Pit to wait for the group outside.

[Anyr]

Blaine paused in the middle of a particularly vigorous spin. Hmm, there seemed to be some sort of commotion happening above. It was hard to make sense of it from this sunken dance pit; But she could see Arthur (who stood out like a sore thumb) making his way towards the exit. Were they leaving? With a mental shrug, Blaine slipped unobtrusively through the crowd.

{OOC: I'm going to assume that Blaine makes it out of the Pit without incident. If not, feel free to retcon this post.}

Arthur wouldn't be standing alone for long. He'd soon feel a familiar presence hovering behind him. Blaine's distinctive grey eyes looked askance at the Noble.

"Why are you here? Is this where I should be?"

[metaridley18]

Arthur paused at Blaine's words and looked up from where he was standing in the gentle rain. "I didn't expect it to be this difficult, you know? At home it's easy; everybody knows who I am and what I'm capable of and are more than willing to follow my lead without causing trouble." He sighs deeply before continuing, "Yet, I'm sure this is what Father was talking about. My reputation means nothing here, and these folks are just as likely to trample over me for a bit of gold as they are to heed any advice I would give."

Arthur stops a moment, his anger of the minutes prior set aside for the time being. He realizes that Blaine did ask him a question, not simply grant him an opportunity to speak. "Why am I here? That is the question isn't it? I suppose because I'm of no use in there. He gestures sadly towards the bouncer overlooking the street with vague disinterest. "I've said my whole life that I wanted to lead differently from other rulers, that I would be able to blend among my people so well that they wouldn't even be able to notice unless I wished it. But I still can't do that. I don't know if I ever will be able to. It's not just the clothes, it's an attitude. It's a feeling. And it's one that I've never been able to understand. I can mingle with the high folk, I can be charming and dashing and witty. Everything a good prince should be. But I have no idea how to translate that to there." He indicates towards the Pit once more.

"You can go back inside if you like. They'll probably need your help, but they certainly won't need mine. I'll wait here and hope that I can be of use later on."

[Anyr]

Blaine didn't go back inside. For some reason, this felt like the place where she should be right now. She walked over to Arthur and stood beside him: The beggar and the prince.

"Have you tried just...listening...for a while? That's what I do when I don't understand something."

Blaine seemed uncertain. She wasn't used to giving advice. She struggled to find the right words.

"Right now, you're like...a boulder being dropped in a pond. You make a big splash, and everyone turns to watch. Boulder people make things happen; But they have no idea what a calm pond looks like. If you want to read the water, maybe you should...make less ripples?"

She offered Arthur a hesitant smile.

"And for what it's worth, I like boulder people."

[Ascension]

The Gathered Crowd

The crowd has some difficulty following the argument between Arthur and Sarya. Their conduct, on both sides, is foreign to the Pit's on rough brand of etiquette, and the point of the whole dispute, from their perspective, seems to have quickly become lost. Disappointment sets in when it becomes clear there'll be no violence, nor even any embarrassment of the shining prince, but, with his departure, the locals content themselves with grumbling. No show to see after all.

"Good showing there, elf," the scarred man gripes, voice dripping with sarcasm, as he brushes past Sarya.

[Inspector Valin]

Sarya paused briefly, watching as Arthur left, not reacting to him or the patrons. She paused briefly, taking a final glance around the bar as if to familiarize herself with the placement of everything, before in her turn moving deeper into the depths. The patrons would forget about all this soon enough, and she could throw Arthur's foolish barbs to one side. She had something more important to attend to than trying to explain herself to Arthur. Namely the child he'd decided to threaten.

[aturtledoesbite]

"Thank you." Nissa kept up her fake smile, though by all appearances, it seemed real.

Inwardly, though, she had a different kind of smile. Just as much a sucker as anyone else. This shouldn't be too hard.

[metaridley18]

Arthur turned to face Blaine, a slight grin on his face.

"For being so quiet, you have quite the way with words. Thank you for the advice, it does help. It's tough to get used to not being the center of attention, but I suppose listening more is the best way to begin."

He quietly unstraps his buckler and slings it back over his shoulder, adjusting his cloak to fall back into position over the top of it. A close examination reveals a tightly packed quiver with a longbow peeking through, also hidden carefully beneath the ornate cerulean cloak. Arthur adjusts his belt and sheath and draws his cloak carefully around his face, in a vain attempt to protect himself from further dampness.

"On that note, perhaps there's somewhere we can wait for the others out of this eternal rain! A bar or a pub, or even a street cart with a canopy." He laughs, a rich tone echoing in the mud caked streets and drenched rough wooden buildings, before being muffled by the worsening drizzle. "Come on, I can buy you a spot of dinner and you can help me practice listening with the tale of why you're hunting the Eye, or whatever you'd care to share. It'll be fun!"

Arthur begins to walk down the street, indicating that Blaine should follow.

Arthur will try to find a covered restaurant or cart nearby where they can see the entrance to the Pit and get some food.

EDIT: Also, buckler off, AC 16.

[Anyr]

Blaine followed, still smiling. She liked this man; He made her feel useful. And from the sounds of it, staying with him would result in free food. That alone was a big point in his favour. The talk of sharing raised a red flag, though. When people learnt too much about her, things tended to end badly. She'd learnt that lesson the hard way. Once bitten, twice shy.

"There's no tale to tell. I'm just after the reward money."

[Maralais]

Having watched the whole scene unfold before his eyes, Lainne lets out an exasperated sigh.That was a mouthful. He decides to stay around Sarya as she seems to be looking around for the halfling, with Arthur now outside the Pit. "Have we got much more to do, ifant Sarya?"

ifant: old, without any connotations of weakness.

[Ascension]

Nissa

With a jerk of her head, the older woman gestures for Nissa to follow her. As expected, she leads Nissa up to the alcove she'd noticed from across the Pit. Embroidered curtains hang half-closed across its open side, partitioning it from the rest of the bar, and it seems to even have a bouncer of its own, a scarred full-blooded orc who exchanges a few curt words in orcish with Nissa's host, then waves the disguised bard inside.

The smoke is thicker inside the alcove than it is outside, and the smell of incense rises alongside the smell of intoxicants. Rugs carpet the floor, and are covered over in turn with rough cushions and reclining orc-bloods. The light is even dimmer inside the alcove than it is throughout most of the Pit, but, after a moment, a new fire blooms in the shadows, and a figure steps forward... the unmistakable squat figure of a dwarf. His skin is a dark, wrinkled leather brown, his head is hairless, and his right eye socket gapes open, a vacant pit. An iron symbol of Gruumsh hangs from his neck.

"You have questions, I'm sure," he says, grinning a rotten-toothed smile.

Arthur and Blaine

The Pit is located out on the rough edge of Mayport, but while it itself embodies a sort of wicked, anarchic hedonism, the rest of its neighborhood is sadder, smaller, and quieter, wretched but not glorious. When Arthur finds an humble pub open for business, his entrance is greeted by wide-eyed awe. A thin waitress welcomes him and Blaine inside, waving them up to the bar, which does seem to be of somewhat better workmanship than the pub's rough tables, though long use has all but obliterated the differences between them.

"I'm sorry we don't have anything better to offer you, sir," she apologizes, desperate hope shining on her face, "but we'll bring you our best."

[metaridley18]

Arthur smiles at the waitress' overeager behavior, and sits where she indicates at the bar, ensuring that the entrance to the Pit is somewhat in his view. "Nonsense, I'm sure whatever you serve will be more than acceptable for my friend and me here. A warm meal for the two of us and some shelter from this damp is all I ask. Don't strain yourself on my behalf!"

As if to punctuate his statement, he shakes his cloak and pulls it off his back, hanging it on the back of his seat to drip dry. He sets the ornate buckler, well-crafted quiver and bow in the seat next to him and rests in the worn bar stool, his finely stitched blue and gold clothing standing out brightly in the dim and dingy surroundings. The easy and accommodating tone he takes with the waitress suggests that his ability to interact with the 'common' folk isn't as foreign to Arthur as he may lead one to believe, although perhaps her eagerness to please has something to do with his reciprocity.

He then resumes his conversation with Blaine in a somber timbre, glancing occasionally out at the pouring rain (and the daunting doorway into the Pit), "Surely there's more to your story than reward money. While tempting, most folks don't take up with strangers and risk life and limb for just money, no matter the size of the purse. If you were settled with a happy life, a family or a good profession, no amount of money would be worth dying for. No, prizes like the Duke's attract the failures, the forgotten, and the fools with something to prove. You already know a bit about my reasons: my Father believed that this journey would be a good way to build relations with Mayport and temper my anger once and for all. If I die on this quest, so much the better for him, as my younger brother is waiting in line to take my place, with more wisdom and less bravado to boot. If your reasons are too personal, I don't mind if you aren't up to sharing, but I thought that we were supposed to practice my listening skills here!"

Arthur grins with a forlorn glint in his eye at the last declaration, all anger and adrenaline from the events in the Pit forgotten as he admires the thoughtful and terse interjections from Blaine, and their ability to draw a surprising amount of commentary from him.

[Anyr]

Blaine sat down next to Arthur. She listened intently as he talked of food, money, and family. She would have been content to listen for the entire meal, had he wished it. But no, all too soon it was her turn to speak. This man seemed strangely eager to hear her story. Well, he'd have to settle for a few fragments. If she said too much, he might hurt her; Just like the others had.

"...'failure, forgotten, fool'. It's the second one: I've been forgotten. There's no place for me any more. It all got washed away."

There was something odd about those words. They didn't carry nearly the weight that such a pronouncement should. Blaine might as well have been reciting some random bit of trivia. It was as if losing everything meant nothing to her.

"But that doesn't matter. There's...something I have to do. It's the reason I'm alive. When it comes, I need to be ready. Every moment from now until then is a step towards it. At first, I just trained my mind and body; But then the money ran low. So many doors close when you don't have those shiny bits of metal. To be truly ready, I need money too."

Blaine paused, to gauge her audience's reaction. Was he satisfied with what she'd given him? Maybe he was ready to talk about himself again.

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa nods. "What...is this place, exactly? I mean, I heard rumors, but I don't know how true they were."

She takes on a practiced unsure gait, apparently somewhat used to assimilating into communities like this.

[Ascension]

Nissa

The dwarf's lips crease with a sight, petulant frown, as if disappointed that Nissa skipped the obvious question of his race, but he nods and moves on. As he speaks, fire infuses his voice, and his smile rekindles.

"This is the spirit of the orcish community of Mayport. This is the true temple of Gruumsh! And it's a sad thing that you have to find it here, I know, but your kind... and our god... aren't welcome here in Mayport, not without playing lickspittle for the great Duke Ronzibald and his whole gladsome band of gnome-lovers. Show just a sliver of a backbone topside and you'll see that. But we survive. We make do. Gruumsh expects no less. And down here we can still be free."

He steps around one of his lounging adherents and draws closer to Nissa, looking up at her.

"I hope that is of interest to you. It'd be a sad thing to see them break you down, use you. You should be prouder than that. Own your heritage. Own your strength."

Arthur and Blaine

The ale in this pub has a bit of a peculiar taste you can't quite place, but it isn't watered down like the swill at Darby's, and it isn't long before the barmaid brings out trenchers laden with food... poor fare, but plentiful. She hesitates, however, after setting it down... stepping away, but lingering near the adventurers. After a moment more, she hesitantly speaks.

"Begging your pardon... I'm sorry to disturb you, but... I saw you came here from, ah, the Pit? You... seem like awfully nice people to have, um, visited there. Did you... find what you were looking for?"

She flushes crimson, and begins stammering, "I'm not saying, I'm not- It's just, you're obviously not from around here, and I do... know the area. So if you're looking for something? I might be able to help?"

Lainne

Sarya glares over her shoulder at the bard and dives deeper into the crowd. Amidst the press of bodies, Lainne loses sight of her completely. The tide of bargoers jostles and pushes him toward one of the actual bars within the Pit, which has been heavily decorated with fungi, only half or less of it there to provide bioluminescent lighting. The drinks it's serving seem to have a peculiar aroma, too... it seems as if the Pit may have found its own solution to Mayport's weather-related alcohol shortage.

[Maralais]

"Hey! Sarya? Where are--" Lainne's attempts at finding the Elf are cut short as he suddenly realises that the crowd around him carried him to somewhere entirely different.

Oh great, the last thing I needed was being split from the party. He lets out a groan and looks around. His train of thought is immediately cut short by the peculiarity of the bar, the drinks in particular. What in hells is that?

He feels his curiosity overwhelm all his previous plans and forethought, and the only thing on his mind is learning about the drinks. Do they have mushroom in it? I wonder if it makes you hallucinate instead of get inebriated. Would it be too expensive?

In the end he decides to try it for himself, though the whereabouts of his current party are still on his mind. I'm sure this way I can... Get some knowledge from the crowd! Yeah, this will totally help me do something useful. He moves towards the bartender, quickly checking how many gold pieces he has left while doing so.

"Hello there, what's with the green-coloured drink? Never seen one quite like it before."

[Anyr]

The food certainly met with Blaine's approval. She tore into it with an enthusiasm which only true hunger could create. She'd enjoyed far worse meals than this.

The service was unusually good too. Seeing the waitress blush and stammer over the likes of Blaine was nothing short of surreal. But of course, Arthur was the real source of that. His aura covered the whole table like a cloak; A warm, comfy cloak, which Blaine was content to stay beneath. Best leave the talking to him, then.

[metaridley18]

Arthur manages to down the food and weak ale with a practiced smile; onlookers can't even tell he finds the greasy fare unappetizing, if serviceable.

He realizes Blaine is sidestepping being the center of any sort of attention. Considering this a moment, he thinks,That's okay. We'll get her to open up yet. Just takes time.

Responding to her final comment, he answers "Well, money won't be an issue if we do track down this Eye once and for all; I'm certain we will succeed. And you'll be ready for....whatever it is that comes. I'm sure of that, as well." Grinning confidently, he returns to his food with a hidden internal grimace.

After a moment, when the waitress returns and asks her question, he glances up towards her, over towards Blaine to confirm the non-response, then back. He smiles, trying to assure her that her tentative offer was not taken as an insult. "As a matter of fact we were here for a reason; though I don't know if we'll need any aid finding it since others from our group are still hunting. We're trying to find a true follower of Gruumsh, as our potential ship's captain is a bit...dissatisfied with the more public ones in the shrine district. I, obviously, hadn't the first notion of where to seek that particular request, so my companion and I decided to let our more knowledgeable companions handle the Pit. If you can help, you would of course be in our debt, but it isn't strictly needed at this point."

He coughs quietly, clearing the remnants of his meal from his throat. "And I must say that I am more than satisfied by the portions of this meal. How are you managing to keep ale through the storms? We owe you much for the fine service you've provided us in this harsh storm." Smiling broadly, Arthur awaits her reply.

[Ascension]

Lainne

The barkeep looks half-elven herself, from the soft points of her ears and the sharpness of her cheekbones, but she's on the wrong end of a hard life, worn and wearied in an all-too-human fashion. She rouses at Lainne's approach, however, and favors him with a smile.

With a dry chuckle, she answers, "That's ingenuity, honey. Most of what I serve is made with a fungal base, and some other ingredients... some of it follows old dwarven recipes, but a lot of folks have got real creative since the storms came. You don't wanna know what they do to some of this stuff, but it's all drinkable, and it can definitely give you an experience... I've got some customers say they wouldn't go back to regular alcohol even if the storms stopped this very minute."

Her grin splits, showing a glint of teeth.

"So tell me, tiger... what kind of ride are you looking to go on?"

Arthur and Blaine

The barmaid's eyebrows knit together, and she seems to struggle against frowning. She doesn't want to disapprove of a man of Arthur's noble bearing and obvious wealth, but she doesn't like what she's hearing either.

"Who put you up to that?" she asks, unable to keep the distaste entirely out of her voice. "Dhevek runs the orcs around here, and the Pit's the right place to look for him, but... you probably won't like what you find."

[Maralais]

Lainne's visibly lit up at the sight of seeing someone from his own kin. "The kind that floats on water and is stuck in the harbour due to the storms, bain. But I don't think anything short of an omen will provide me one." He grins at the thought, and playfully leans on the bar, as if giving a secret. "Say, these mushrooms wouldn't give prophetic visions, could they?" he sits back on his seat, raising an eyebrow.

Lainne then searches his purse with one hand as he continues the conversation, as if he's looking for his coins. Might as well keep the illusion of being a customer for the moment. He keeps one hand on the bar. "So, is your noss from here? Or are you visiting a distant friend?" He tries especially to keep an ironic tone on the last sentence to avoid a misunderstanding. "I've seen plenty of humans, orcs and even some shady dwarves but never thought I'd find an alfirin here.

[Ascension]

Lainne

The barkeep laughs at Lainne's flattery, glad he's being a good sport.

"I'm old, hên. My family is lost, so these lost are my family. Simple as that. They're a sorry bunch of criminals and drunkards, to be sure, but it's still better than being alone."

She sets a worn pewter cup down on the bar, then reaches beneath it to bring up a couple of heavy ceramic jars.

"As for your other question... I can't guarantee prophecy, but I could set you up with those visions. Three silver'll buy you an interesting night, and for eight you could forget you're down in this damn hole completely. So..."

She leans over the bar, grinning impishly.

"...are you buying, or are you just trying to win me over with that pretty smile of yours?"

[metaridley18]

Arthur nods knowingly at the waitress' obvious discomfort. "My dear, I don't like most of the unsavory fellows with whom I must deal on occasion. But alas, we do not pick which way the tide brings us. Forget I said anything, I'm sure our companions have the situation well in hand. I only mentioned it because you asked. We are more than happy to sit and enjoy your hospitality with no further questions."

[Maralais]

Lainne raises one eyebrow at hearing the word hen, but can't help but sympathise with the barkeep. He does seem visibly concerned at the promise of "forgetting this damn hole" completely, thinking back to the group that he met very recently. Why am I turning down the opportunity to try something new again? he thinks, his curiosity still strong. Right, people I just met today. People with no concrete promise that they could actually help me find the Eye. He visibly gulps. I have to know what these mushrooms do, but not immediately. Finally he reaches for his pouch and takes out three gold coins.

"Both would be desirable, but I neither, honestly. I'm actually trying to leave the island tonight, long story. He takes the barkeep's hand with both hands, stealthily placing the coins on her palm while doing so.

"For the moment I'm just killing time, so I'd like to learn how you prepare that hole-amnesiac drink you're making. I'll pay you triple if you teach me. The rest is for your good company."

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa nods. "I understand."

This is probably Dhevek, then. Doesn't sound like he'd offer a prayer if I told him what I was after. This might be tricky.

[Ascension]

Lainne

The barkeep laughs as if Lainne has just told her a ridiculous joke, but there's a glint of hunger in her eyes as she glances at the coins in her hand. She could really use that money.

"You need a dark, damp space for a mushroom farm, traveler. Can't grow this kind of magic in that backpack of yours."

Nissa

"Good, good," Dhevek says, grinning that rotten-toothed grin of his again. He takes another step forward and reaches out to clap her on the arm (her shoulder being well out of reach). Nissa's disguise doesn't extend to the sense of touch... but he doesn't notice any discrepancy.

[Anyr]

{OOC: Yes, I am indeed still here. I just don't have anything to say at the moment.}

In the background, Blaine continued her campaign against all things edible.

[aturtledoesbite]

"As much as I appreciate all of this...I'm here for a request. Captain Hakim of the Clan Ghorreck seeks a blessing of Grummsh for his ship before he sets sail. You seem to be the only one in this city who'd meet his standards."

[Ascension]

Dhevek looks surprised for a moment, surprised and a touch suspicious, but the moment passes, and he grins, a spark of curiosity twinkling in his eyes.

"A ship captain who claims a clan name? This man, I have to meet."

He's already brushed past you, headed toward the door, before he looks back to command, "Lead me to him."

[aturtledoesbite]

"Of course."

Nissa is trying so hard to not show a devilish grin right now. Instead, there's only the hint of a smile. She sets off leading Dhevek to the docks where Hakim's ship is located.

[Ascension]

Nissa

The taller orc-blooded woman who greeted Nissa on her approach to Dhevek's makeshift 'temple' falls in behind the dwarven priest as the disguised bard leads the way out of the Pit.

"Nothing personal, m'dear," Dhevek assures Nissa, with his ready grin in place, "but it pays to be cautious."

Lainne

The half-elven barkeep is distracted from her explanation of the requirements for establishing a mushroom farm and brewing operation by a stir of motion amongst the crowd.

"Dhevek's found a new one," she comments, sighing and shaking her head, "I don't know how he keeps reeling them in. I guess for some of them any shred of 'heritage' is worth clinging to, even if it comes from a dirty old dwarf."

Arthur and Blaine

The barmaid does her best to stay out of Arthur's business after his last remarks, but she can't help but squeak when she sees Dhevek leaving the Pit, accompanied by two orcish women.

"That's him there, Dhevek," she says, pointing out the window of the tavern, "...are those your friends with him?"

I'll give Lainne, Blaine, and Arthur a chance to decide what to do (and/or how closely to follow Dhevek's group) before transitioning to the docks.

[Anyr]

Blaine paused with a morsel halfway to her lips. She studied the three figures carefully.

"I don't know them."

This fact now established, the morsel was free to continue its journey.

[metaridley18]

Arthur looks at the waitress quizzically. He exclaims with a touch of amusement and surprise, "Dhevek is a dwarf? That's the supposed true follower of Gruumsh? I don't know the other two, but they look like they're heading somewhere with purpose. Maybe we can help our friends after all, and avoid the Pit to boot!"

He glances over at Blaine's obvious enjoyment of the meal and continues, "Unfortunately, that means I will have to wrap it up here. If you'd like to finish, you're welcome to stay and meet back at the good captain's ship. I doubt we'll depart tonight, at any rate. I also still need to collect my backpack from my room at the inn. Of course, if you'd like to come, I'm sure I can use the help. Who could tell this dwarf's modus operandi? Regardless, this was a very pleasant meal. My thanks again for the sage advice."

With a thankful look at the waitress, Arthur drops a gold coin on the bar, "And thank you as well, for the hospitality, and the information. May your business flourish in these trying times." He gathers his cloak and weaponry, bundling it over his head for protection against the rain, and walks through the door without sparing a glance backwards to see if Blaine follows behind.

I'm assuming the PHB prices for meals are indicative of this campaign setting, so a gold should more than cover the meal and drink for Blaine and Arthur. If they're not accurate, Arthur leaves enough to cover both meals and a very generous tip.

Arthur will follow fairly far behind Dhevek, curious about what he's doing and trying to observe him surreptitiously. Would that be Stealth?
If so: [roll0]

I assume Arthur would have advantage from the rain or the crowds and disadvantage from the obvious fine clothing, so they'd cancel.

[Anyr]

Blaine did indeed follow. The idea of leaving Arthur alone for the sake of a meal never even occurred to her: Though admittedly, that was because she took the meal with her. Any remaining food was swiftly wrapped in an old towel, and deposited in Blaine's pack. Waste not want not.

[aturtledoesbite]

"I understand." I understand all too well.

Nissa could only hope she caught the attention of everyone from the group. If not, though, she'd leave them behind without a second glance.

[Ascension]

Ships crowd the docks of Mayport to capacity... with all their masts framed against the sky it seems seems as if a barren forest has somehow sprung up from out of the bay. Even without direction, though, it wouldn't be difficult to find the Sherkbúrz; precious few of the ships stir with any sign of activity. Most stand still and silent, their sails hauled down and stowed away, their crews scattered all across the city's inns, brothels, and taverns.

Captain Hakim's ship proves to be a small two-masted caravel, lateen rigged. Even furled, her tanbarked sails are striking, stained the red-brown of old blood. Mayport's own flag hangs soddenly from atop its mainmast. Her crew, a blend of orc-bloods, humans, and halflings, fully numbered around twenty, labors at loading her with stores for her coming journey, but her captain paces the shore, waiting for you.

Hakim looks hopefully to Dhevek's bodyguard, but his expression fades first to concern, then to outrage, as he sees how she follows mutely, subserviently, behind... a dwarf. A dwarf wearing the holy symbol of Gruumsh. A dwarf with a missing eye.

"If this is a joke, dwarf," he growls, "I do not find it funny."

"No joke, thin-blood," Dhevek replies, delivering the insult with a smile, "I am here to bless your ship for its journey... if it be worthy of the One-Eyed God."

"My blood is the blood of Clan Ghorreck-"

"Yes, yes," Dhevek interrupts, "And that's why I'm here. You claim a clan-name, but you captain a ship of your own? How long has it been since you've seen the sands? How old were you when you left them?"

"You're a dwarf!"

Dhevek's grin broadens.

"Yes, how sharp of you to notice. And you look like a bright lad, so please, think. Think how long a dwarf must live to look such a sight as I do. I've lived two or three orcish lifetimes in your precious homeland, boy. I'm more orc than you are, here with your pretty little seafaring ship, sailing away from that clan you're so quick to claim."

"I passed my trials. I earned my name and clan."

"And you left that clan behind. Don't look at me like that, I'm just stating fact. If this were judgment, I'd be a hypocrite... after all, I'm standing here with you, aren't I?"

"We're talking about my home, dwarf, not yours."

"It's your birthplace," the priest partly concedes, "it's our home. Like it or not, your people are more a family to me than any dwarf has ever been. You may not wish it to be so, but some orcs are kind enough to welcome strangers in need of lessons only Gruumsh and his sons can teach. I was one such."

Dhevek points to his face, and it twitches as if to wink his vacant eye. It's not a pleasant sight.

"And now I'm the teacher."

Hakim seems taken aback, conflicted... in his heart he feels as if Dhevek speaks truth, but he doesn't want to admit it. He doesn't want to concede anything to the smug dwarf.

Will any of you intervene, or will you leave them to settle their differences between themselves?

[Ascension]

"You are an insult to the god you profess to serve," Hakim concludes at last, but his words hold no rancor.

"And you are a greater insult still, running from your rightful clan to the waters and to so-called 'civilization,'" Dhevek replies, jovially. "But perhaps together, through judicious application of such scathing criticism, we could teach each other to be less blasphemous. Allow me to join whatever foolish errand you have in mind, and I will give it my blessing."

"Dhevek!" the dwarf's bodyguard gasps, shocked and hurt, "You- You can't just leave! We need you here!"

The old dwarf turns to her, grinning.

"If you need me, then you haven't learned a thing from me," he says, "What's Gruumsh's first demand? Survive. I expect no more of you than the god does. And I expect no less."

With that, he turns his back on her, leaving her gaping, at a loss for words. He steps closer to the ship, taking in the sight of her with a newfound degree of attentiveness.

"What do you call her?" he asks.

"Sherkbúrz," Hakim answers, not without a gleam of pride.

"'Black Blood'? That will do. What's the purpose of the voyage?"

The captain shrugs.

"Some would-be heroes want to sail off to find the Eye. It's an excuse to get out of this damn port, and one the harbormaster will probably actually listen to."

"Would-be heroes? Would-be rich men, I should hope," Dhevek says, but then, with a shrug of his own and a sharp smile, concludes, "Heroes might be more amusing to watch, though."

"A couple of them seem to have some sense," Hakim concedes, "They might actually have a chance."

That draws a dry, wheezing laugh from the priest.

"We shall see."

[Anyr]

The debate was of great interest to Blaine. Both of these people served Gruumsh; And yet they distrusted one another. Why? Weren't they on the same side? The talk of being a 'true' follower mystified her. They seemed to be overcomplicating a very simple idea. Surely if they both heard the same voice, it could just tell them to trust one another. That's what the Whispers did.

Ah well, the two seemed to have worked things out. With a mental shrug, Blaine walked forward to join the Captain. She was ready to depart.

[aturtledoesbite]

While Dhevek and Hakim were speaking, Nissa took the opportunity to slip out of sight. She came back only a bit after, having dispelled the disguise during her disappearance.

She saunters up toward the ship next to Blaine with a self-assured smirk on her face.

[Ascension]

And so the crew is assembled and the supplies are laid in. There are questions... Hakim is disappointed when the spirited elf-woman never returns, and the disappearance of Nissa's false face is a recurring theme in Dhevek's bodyguard's repeated attempts to convince him to stay in Mayport... but none big enough to stop the ship from sailing. Hakim is hungry to get to sea, only barely able to tolerate the wait for the Harbormaster to approve his ship's departure and for the Duke's mages to be convened.

The sky is a dark, angry grey on the day the Sherkbúrz sets sail, and the winds are light and fitful. It's clear that the Duke's mages are only barely holding back the storm. One might expect them to wait for better weather, but there is never better weather; the elements always bend to fight whenever the people of Mayport attempt to escape their prison. The ship's progress is agonizingly slow, fighting through the restless waves, and her timbers groan under the strain, but sometime in mid afternoon she breaks free from the shadow of Mayport's curse. A cheer rises from the crew at the sight of sunlight unfiltered by clouds, their sheer joy at the sight overcoming all their weariness.

Your first night on open sea, the captain breaks open a cask of aged rum to celebrate, and the halfling crewmen bring out their instruments. There is song, and dance, and spirits are high. After that, though, life settles into more of a monotonous rhythm. The sailors soon realize that a return to sea means a return to work, and you realize that you have no clear part to play in running the ship. Calm seas slide slowly by, near featureless fields of gently rolling blue, their shining surface broken only occasionally by jutting rocks or leaping dolphins. The days seem long, your destination distant.

And then, after weeks at sea, something different happens. There is shouting on deck, and not just the steady bark of the bo'sun's orders or the lookout's routine calls. You emerge blinking into the sunlight, and follow pointing fingers and staring eyes to the sight of smoke on the horizon. A dark stain rises into the sky from a distant island. Seeing you, Captain Hakim passes over the spyglass, letting you each have a turn. Through it you can just barely make out the shapes of low, oared galleys pulling away from the smoking isle.

"We've checked the charts," the captain informs you, "And that, as near as I can tell, is Wintersby. Do you still want to go ashore?"

At the sight of the island, the soft scratching at the edges of Blaine's mind swells into speech, sudden, sharp, and insistent.


Find The Ones Who Did This
Teach Them

Show Them

TheErrorOfTheirWays

The voices haven't spoken this strongly since they first guided her out of the cave...

[aturtledoesbite]

This was the first time in years Nissa had been on a ship. It brought back some...less-than-pleasant memories, but in the end, she'd adjust like she always had.

Today's sight was unfortunate, yes. But that's why she brought along help. Well...a little bit of help, anyway; Arthur still seemed more bark than bite, and she wasn't sure at all of what Blaine could do. The others got left behind, which meant more money for her when they returned.

"Now, Captain, don't tell me you're scared of a little burned village, are you?"

[Ascension]

Had Nissa not questioned his courage, Hakim might have pointed out the likelihood that the information the adventurers seek might have already burned or been taken from the island, or even the tremendous danger that fire can pose to wooden ships, but such practical concerns are far from his mind now. Instead he smiles broadly at her words, stopping just short of laughter.

"I'm not the one going ashore, so it's not my valor that's in question. Let me ask again, properly: Are you scared, girl? If you are, I might be able to find some port full of soft elf-kin to take you to instead."

[Anyr]

Blaine spent most of the trip doing what she usually did: Observing. First, she explored the whole ship from top to bottom. Then (when she was sure that no hidden nook had escaped her) she moved on to the crew. The young Warlock tried to gain at least a passing acquaintance with everyone on board. She learned their names, listened to their stories, and sought the dreams which guided them. Arthur and Nissa in particular saw plenty of Blaine during the journey. She was happy to converse with either of them, whenever they were in the mood. Like everyone else, she was passing the time until her moment came.

And then it did. Blaine peered curiously at the distant plume of smoke. When her turn with the spyglass came, she saw the island ahead; But more importantly, she heard. The strange girl suddenly held up one hand in a 'shushing' motion. She tilted her head, as if listening to something. After a few seconds of this, she turned to face the others. Her eyes looked different somehow: There was a sharpness to them that had been absent up until now.

"I'm going there. It's where I need to be."

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa has a small grin on her own face as she replies, "Perhaps you could find somewhere like that, but if there's one thing I know, it's that there's money to be made in dangerous places. Onward!"

[metaridley18]

Arthur looks out at the burnt village mournfully. While he has seen many images of war and destruction, but it never fails to stir him. He speaks to his companions in a somber, yet forceful, tone,
"Money or no, we must seek out those who did this and bring them to justice. This may never bring rest to those who fell here, but it is the very least we can do. A peaceful village, no doubt filled with folks barely eking out a living, put to the sword, for what? Some prize, some bare hint of a reward that may never come? The gods would never see such acts rewarded when the weighing comes. Though gods may not be able to mete a just punishment this day, they need not act. I will suffer none who performed heinous acts such as these to live! Come my friends, onward and let us bring the sword to them!"

He faces Nissa and Blaine, determination in his eyes. His short speech fills those around him with a burning enthusiasm, a mad desire to see these villains put in their place, before the anger fades, leaving a grim resolve.

Nissa, Blaine, Arthur, Hakim, Dhevek, and 1 other chosen at random gain 5 temp HP from Arthur's use of Inspiring Leader. I doubt Hakim and Dhevek will come with, but they can be inspired too. :smallbiggrin:

[Ascension]

Arthur's bold speech wrests a snort of laughter from Dhevek, but the cynical priest holds his tongue. Perhaps he is actually somehow moved, or perhaps he's simply amused, but he doesn't see fit to rain on the nobleman's parade today.

The Sherkbúrz works in closer to the isle, and all the time Wintersby burns, and periodically galleys continue to depart. As the ship draws nearer it becomes easier to pick out details... the flames have already died down in the town along the bay; what buildings still stand there are charred and blackened ruins. That which still burns is the College of Wintersby itself, atop the hill, its stone skeleton wreathed in flame as all else is seared away. Soon you become able to pick out individual figures... and you see that those leaving aboard the galleys aren't simply choosing to flee from the fire. The people of Wintersby are being herded onto the waiting ships, prodded or dragged along by hunched figures armed with spears and nets, tridents and nooses and cruel hooks. Their eyes glint in the light, wide and unblinking, and their skin shines with a sheen of slime.

There's no way you could land a boat on the beach or among the docks of the bay without drawing the attention of those creatures, but landing anywhere else would take more time and put you farther from the town, the college, and any answers that might still be found on the isle. Perhaps you could work the ship's small jolly boat in among the rocks below the college itself, but you'd still have to climb from there to reach what's left of the school.

Hakim turns to you again.

"How do you want to approach this?"

Nearby, Dhevek watches with interest, curious to see what choice the 'heroes' will make.

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa considers what she can see and eventually comes to an idea. "Perhaps we could strike a deal with them? Something along the lines of 'tell us what we want to know and we'll consider not destroying your ships', perhaps?"

The fact that they're holding prisoners doesn't seem to bother her.

[Anyr]

Blaine's response was immediate.

"No deals. They must be punished."

[aturtledoesbite]

"I don't suppose you intend to simply walk up and 'punish' them, do you? There's an entire tribe of them, and a mere handful of us."

[Anyr]

"No; We need a better strategy than that. But one way or the other, they must be shown the error of their ways."

Blaine spoke as if reciting an undeniable fact. She clearly would not bend on this issue.

[metaridley18]

Arthur nods at Blaine's declaration and eyes Nissa suspiciously.

"We need to approach this cautiously. True, they outnumber us by a wide margin. But we have the advantage of surprise. We need more intel before we commit ourselves to any plan. But we cannot leave this place without taking action. I would recommend taking the jolly boat closer towards the departing galleys to get a better read on their numbers and movements." At this, Arthur points towards the ships docked at the port being loaded with prisoners.

"Once we have a better read on the situation, I believe the information that we sought about the Eye was in the college, correct? We'll need to hurry there first and see if we can spare anything from that blaze. After that we can see how best to free the prisoners and punish these....creatures. At the worst we may need to follow one of these galleys and isolate it. See where they are taking these poor souls and strike when we have a better advantage."

He looks at the haphazardly assembled team expectantly, waiting for them to agree, but ready to move as if he already knows they will.

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa considers Arthur's plan. She had to admit, it wasn't the worst idea...but it was also Arthur's idea, so she didn't like it.

She glances over toward the boats and the burning town before striking upon another idea. Looking straight at the marauding boats, she says, "Say...does anyone have a way to start a fire?"

[metaridley18]

Arthur looks at Nissa with confusion. "I've got a tinderbox here...and I'm pretty sure there's some oil somewhere on the ship, but I can't say as I'm carrying any. What are you planning?"

[aturtledoesbite]

"I'm glad you asked. First, we'll take the small boat to slip on the island unseen. From there, someone will sneak on one of their ships and light it, somewhere inside so it won't be seen by anyone not in the ship for a while. When they escape the ship in chaos, we surprise them and rout them before they can warn anyone. If we take things one ship at a time, there shouldn't be too much opposition."

Not bad, but...what about the prisoners on the ships, Nissa?

[Ascension]

"Those galleys are big enough to be seaworthy, but only just," Hakim weighs in, speaking from his years of experience as a sailor. "It's all cramped quarters aboard ship. It wouldn't be easy to sneak onto or to sneak around on board any of them that are crewed or are taking on crew... the only possibilities I can see would be to swim up to the stern and climb aboard... and that's no guarantee, but at least they might not spot you... or to act like you're one of the townspeople and let yourself get captured, which wouldn't leave you with freedom of movement. If you're looking to burn their ships, I'd say you'd best start with the most lightly defended ones... those down closest to the docks. It looks to me like they've only got a handful of guards posted, and they're still waiting for their oarsmen to be delivered."

With his trademark grin and a twinkle in his eye, Dhevek speaks up, "I wouldn't throw out her idea. If you set fire to empty ships they'll be able to react immediately, and might even be able to douse the flames before any real damage is done. Set fire to crewed ships and there's not just the impulse to action, there's real panic, and they'll have to worry about trying to keep the prisoners under control as well as the fire. It's much more likely, in that case, that they'll fail at one thing or the other. Or both!"

Hakim doesn't really look comfortable with Dhevek's perspective, but he doesn't say anything, deferring to the old priest's religious authority.

[aturtledoesbite]

"Don't worry about the 'sneaking aboard' part; I can make sure they won't see whoever goes on board."

It looks like she means something other than just a distraction.

[Ascension]

Hakim doesn't know what kind of magic the bard has, nor does he particularly want to know. He does, however, need to know if the adventurers have reached a consensus.

"Is that it, then? We'll prepare the boat, if you're ready to be off."

This would be a good time for any moral objections to be raised, before Nissa goes off and sets fire to the prisoners. Just saying.

[metaridley18]

Arthur looks at Nissa in horror as this conversation is actually being given some merit. "We can't simply slay innocent prisoners! I won't be a part of that! What was wrong with my idea?"

[aturtledoesbite]

Nissa looks Arthur up and down. "Frankly? Because it was yours."

Ouch. That's gotta hurt.

"And if you're so bothered by the prisoners burning, you can be the one to sneak on board; cut them loose or something. Just don't do anything dumb that'd tip the marauders off before you light the fire."

[Anyr]

Blaine looked alternately between her crewmates as they debated the issue: Like a spectator at a verbal tennis match. Both of them made good points. On the one hand, she liked Nissa's go-getter attitude to the mission. 'Sneak over and burn them to death' was a refreshingly direct way of thinking. But on the other hand, Arthur's approach seemed a lot more prudent. Sure, burning everyone to death sounded great in theory; But what if something went wrong? Their little group was drastically outnumbered here. Being impulsive could just get them all killed. In the end, she had to side with Arthur on this one. She indicated this by walking over and tugging his sleeve, like a child trying to attract someone's attention.

"I agree with you. Our first move should be to gather information."