[PF] [IC] Ire of the Storm - Group Two

[An Idle Mercy]

Presenting An Idle Mercy's telling of...


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Beginning this...
Moonday, 17 Arodus 4715
Evening


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For many, the last eleven days have been an unusual mixture of boredom and excitement aboard the Kaava Cutter. A new life full of promise and possibilities lay ahead of them in Sargava's southernmost frontier town of Pridon's Hearth. While the Cutter and her crew were certainly efficient and capable, the many days at sea were almost interminable for some of the more anxious passengers. These individuals included the portly nobleman Gallio Menius and Annabelle Tullia. The former being a rather large nobleman whom spent much of his time alternating between pacing the decks of the ship and telling anyone who would listen about his plans to have a large and thriving papaya business based out of Pridon's Hearth. The latter, a half-elven woman who always looked her best in various brightly coloured dresses and scarves, wore a constant surly, angry expression on her face and wandered the accessible decks of the ship constantly. When approached, she would be cordial if not friendly and tell of her love of the deity Shelyn (goddess of beauty and art), but soon after the conversation, the clouds would cast deep features across her stormy features and a deep seated angry scowl would darken her visage.

Others yet were taking it in stride and would spend their time looking out over the railings, watching the western coast of Sargava slowly pass far off in the distance as she made her way south. Such individuals included Umuzu, a tall Zenj woman that handled the rocking of the ship with ease and would assist the sailors with their tasks occasionally. When asked, she would tell of her exploits in the past: how she spent her youth exploring much of the Mwangi's southern and western edges and how she became a guide for explorers through those areas. Another equally patient fellow was the always polite and incredibly proper Mr. Blackwell. Never addressing anyone by anything other than by a "Mister" or "Missus" or "M'Lady" preceding their name, this impeccably dressed owner of a surveying company never had a wrinkle or short black hair out of place.

Through it all, Captain Len "Sharkskin" Abradu and his motley crew navigated the wind and waves with ease, even as the last couple of days proved to grow increasingly cloudy with larger waves and occasional showers. And as has become a regular occurence, at sundown the dinner bell would ring and the passengers would gather in the galley for the evening meal.

And on this Moonday, the seventeenth day of Arodus - deep in the dog days of summer - the passengers gathered together once again for a meal of freshly caught fish along with some vegetable stew and bread and cheeses. Their drink choices included (cheap) wine, water or watery stout. As the winds picked up outside and the Cutter's crew kept the ship safe, the passengers discovered they had a surprise visitor - the captain himself! The dark skinned man in a loose cream-colored shirt and reddish-brown breeches leaned back against one of the support beams and chatted amicably, if not loudly, with his paying guests.

After chatting idly for a few minutes, there was a certain expectation building in the room as to the reason behind his unusual visit. With a large grin, the tall Garundi man finally released that secret. "Ah, mah friends! Indeed ah have a reason to be here! We shall be making berth in Pridon's Hearth by mid-day on the morrow!" A series of cheers sounded around the cramped room and the captain held up a calloused hand, "Yes! So you best be gatherin' yah goods for goin' ashore in the mornin'! But, before that, please...eat! Drink! Oy! Shank!" he yells, calling the cook's name, "Get these men 'n women the good stuff!"

And with that, Shank - a short, pudgy bald dwarf - ducks into the larder for a moment and comes out with a few bottles of much nicer wine and even a bottle of Cryer's Brandy and a few snifters for those wishing to partake. Once everyone has a drink in hand, the captain lifts his own snifter of brandy and says loudly to the assembled group, "Here’s to you and yours. And to mine and ours. And if mine and ours ever come across to you and yours, I hope you and yours will do as much for mine and ours as mine and ours have done for you and yours!"


Please introduce your character and indicate how they've spent their time aboard the ship. Also, this is your chance to speak with the other NPCs as you wish, whether the captain or the other new settlers to Pridon's Hearth. Welcome to the game! I'm looking forward to this!

[Hazuki]

At the far corner of the makeshift dinner room sits a colorfully-dressed young woman named Deader. Her always-donned hat has been reluctantly removed for the sake of dinner, and the presence of the Captain, after a brief encounter with one of the sailors enlightened her as to the fact that it's rude to wear one indoors. Although the lack of it can only draw more attention, to the telltale cracks that criss-cross her skin, and ever-illuminated eyes.

Her time on the ship has been an admittedly boring one for her. She seemed to lose most of her time-passers before stepping foot on the ship, which means she'd be left only with her instincts. And those told her that it would be incredibly stupid to start prying into the lives of her fellow passengers, when she was just one angry Captain away from an unpleasant dip in the water.

So, she's been left with little more than her memories, her knowledge, and brief encounters with other passengers willing to entertain her. The steadily-rocking boat reminds her of her first ever boat trip, a flash of Canter in her eyes, but there's no such woman here. There's the scowling elven woman, who would scowl only more at a tiefling, she's sure. She spotted one of the Catfolk at some point, and so longed to investigate, but restrained herself to going over what she knows of Pridon's Hearth already.

When the Captain comes with an announcement, very loud, much like her time with the caravans, she sticks with her fish and water (She searched every meal and beverage for poison) rather than partaking in alcohol. Her memory is clouded enough already!

[DarkOne-Rob]

The young woman known only as "Moiri" to crew and passengers shyly looks up at the captain, holding her brandy in a delicate hand. The excited smile on her face shines past a horribly scarred visage, the ugly brand of some foul demon impossible to miss in spite of her long hair and hood. Even inside she never willingly uncovers her head, such is her obvious embarrassment at her appearance. In a quiet, high-pitched voice she joins in the cheers and laughter between enthusiastically eating and drinking from where she sits on one end of the table across from Mr. Blackwell. "Mister Blackwell, I want to thank you for your company on this trip - you have been so kind and a pleasant conversationalist. Are you looking forward to beginning your surveying work or will you take several days to get settled once we make landfall tomorrow?"

As she talks with the gentleman she makes every effort to avoid eye contact with Lady Tullia, with whom she has not had pleasant times. Moiri's scars contrast so sharply with the woman's beauty, and her espousal of faith only highlights Moiri's deeply felt shame at her own appearance. Unfortunately tonight the lovely lady sits beside Mr. Blackwell, making the evening more trying than usual...

[3SecondCultist]

Zshari leans over the railing, his mind adrift. The dead-water-tree has carried him for many days over the poison lake, and yet it has not sunk. It is strange. He saw the first saw the craft in the great village known as 'Bloodcove', but has yet to come to terms with their existence. The idea still unnerves the cat slightly, and results in the tighter grip his claws have over the strange serpentine spear he clasps in his left. The skald has taken a position where he can see all paths in and around the Kaava Cutter's exterior; in case something were to happen, Zshari would much prefer having a choice of escape routes.

To ease the thrumming notes of his heart, the skald flicks his white-black ears about the room on curiosity. There is no shortage of personality on the dead-water-tree, and although the Nightsong has relegated him to his quarters for most of the journey, its music has been spent. Zshari has nothing more to fear from it this evening. Seeing a dark-skinned woman that greatly resembles one of the tribesmen from the jungles he calls his home, he catfolk slides across the deck to sidle up not too far away. "It is a shame, that the wilds we seek are not those we came from, no? I ask because I sense that you are like me; drawn to a place, and yet unwilling to let that be your whole world. The horizon is never set, and yet we long for home."

Honestly, Zshari has no idea whether or not this Mwangi woman will be receptive to his speech, or even really what he is saying. Instead, he's really watching the young woman who has approached the cold man not too far away. Her facial mark intrigues him, and he wishes to learn more about it given the chance. Anything to keep his mind off the raging chorus within.

Okay, so first things first, Zshari is going to roll a Perception check to try and learn more about Moiri while in conversation with Umuzu. If possible, he'd do it unobtrusively, but if he gets found out... well, could be some good roleplaying!

Perception: [roll0]

[PersonMan]

During the voyage, Relisys has stubbornly remained encased in metal, taking off her helmet and left gauntlet for meals but never being seen with any less of her armor with her. She did, after a brief exchange with the Captain, stop carrying her massive shield and blade around the ship. Though she doesn't speak much to others, she has a tendency to be near a few others, mostly Moiri and Umuzu, though it's never overt or extreme enough to be following. She simply tends to be near they are when she's on the deck. In the mornings she finds the most open and least populated corner of the deck to go through a series of motions that have an awkward look to them without a weapon and shield in her hands, and those who pass through the lower decks in the late hours hear a soft Varisian singing from her door, in a voice surprisingly smooth for someone of her appearance.

If Relisys was uncomfortable with the constant motion of the ship, she's never shown it, responding with brief shrugs or quick assurances whenever the question is brought up, clearly looking to bring the questions to an end as quickly as possible.

Wearing far less armor than normal - which in her case means she has removed her helmet and gauntlets to eat - Relisys is quiet as the captain explains his presence. Abstaining from anything stronger than water, she seems mostly content to listen to the others, occasionally responding to some bout of merriment with a slight twitch of her lips. She glances over to the scarred woman on her right every now and then, but eventually turns to her left. Visibly touched by the lower planes, the short tiefling woman had simultaneously intrigued and worried her. After a few moments, Relisys nods to her.

"Hello. Is the fish good?"

Briefly, the mental image of her various tutors clawing their eyes and ears out comes to Relisys' mind.

[Farmerbink]

With the other inhabitants of the ship fed and the cat-man back on the highest deck, Doba finally makes his way to the galley to retrieve his own share of the evening meal. The bald, dark-skinned young man settles near the older woman who shares too many of his features to not be his mother or much older sister. The captain makes a grand declaration, most of which rambles about and tumbles over itself too much to make sense. Still, Doba accepts a mug of the stuff called "brandy," and follows suit of some of the others- sipping quietly from the rim.

Unused as he is to alcohol, and intrigued by the unusual taste, Doba makes shorter work of the squat drinking vessel than most... and then requests a replacement. In point of fact, the youngster has emptied a trio of servings by the time most of the crew has finished heir first, or started a second. Several knowing pairs of eyes, reflective various states of disapproval and amusement flicker in his direction, as he begins a fourth....

His inhibitions clouded, with no framework to amend his behavior, Doba finds himself wandering about the galley- much longer than he would usually have stayed belowdecks. He approaches a red-haired... Woman? seated by herself in colorful garb. "Why do you not drink of the 'brandy'?" His tongue stumbles over the unfamiliar word. "The drink has quite a powerful taste..." He empties his fourth, while waiting for an answer from the startled woman.

Doba will learn an unpleasant lesson, this night.

[Hazuki]

Deader hears Relisys approach before she sees her, which is not particularly hard when the woman's boots are in a constant argument with the floor. There's a heavy weight shifting beside her (Do corners mean nothing to any one any longer?), and a question to follow it up. She looks up at her fellow redhead and responds to the awkward small talk with a friendly smile.

"You're new to this, aren't you?" She asks, in a conspiratorial whisper.

And then her attention is suddenly seized by a young man with brandy in his hand and a peculiar voice. Why the sudden popularity? Perhaps somebody smuggled human pheromones into my meal... Still, she has to answer the boy; to reward his curiosity, if nothing else.

"Because poison is the tool of an assassin." Deader tells him, glibly. "If I were to poison myself, it would put those poor souls out of the job!"

[Farmerbink]

Doba looks suddenly confused. His eyes scan the room with an expression mingling disbelief and terror. "Poison, you say? Why, if this is poison, does the cook himself partake?" He gestures with the now empty cup towards the bald Dwarf- the only person in the room making a decent effort of keeping up with Doba- though perhaps as a result more of happy accident than competitive spirit.

"Surely, this cannot be as you say! It has such a hearty flavor!" Obviously, Doba is enjoying the odd mixture of fire and sweetness that until so recently graced his cup.

[PersonMan]

"Something like that," Relisys replies, and considers elaborating until the tiefling is approached by another. The tribesman. As his question is answered, she raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of her own drink. It made her curious, and a moment after the young man's clear confusion is spoken, she edges slightly closer to the warm-eyed woman.

"The fiendblooded can't drink it?" She asks, voice low.

[Hazuki]

A smile flickers over Deader's lips, at the obvious confusion of both her conversational partners. "What would you call something that impairs one's senses and judgment? That, without exception, causes pain, drowsiness, even memory loss? And can be surreptitiously delivered through an otherwise innocent vessel?" She quirks an eyebrow at the pair. "I would call it a poison, no matter how pleasant."

[PersonMan]

Relisys listens, pauses for a moment, then nods. As unusual as the woman's explanation was, it did make sense. "I can see your reasoning," she says. "What's your name, by the way? Mine is Relisys, Of Her Own."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Moiri listens as several of the other passengers begin speaking, smiling at Mr. Blackwell in amusement. "Do you think we should explain the nuances of liquor as opposed to poison to them?" she asks, laughing quietly beneath the hood of her cloak.

[An Idle Mercy]

"Mister Blackwell, I want to thank you for your company on this trip - you have been so kind and a pleasant conversationalist. Are you looking forward to beginning your surveying work or will you take several days to get settled once we make landfall tomorrow?"

As she talks with the gentleman she makes every effort to avoid eye contact with Lady Tullia, with whom she has not had pleasant times. Moiri's scars contrast so sharply with the woman's beauty, and her espousal of faith only highlights Moiri's deeply felt shame at her own appearance. Unfortunately tonight the lovely lady sits beside Mr. Blackwell, making the evening more trying than usual...

The Avistani gentleman removes his hat and places it carefully on the table beside him, giving the top of it a brief dusting with the tips of his fingers. He turns his attention to Moiri then and nods with a friendly smile, bowing his head just enough to break eye contact with the young woman before returning his steel gray eyes upon hers once more. "Miss Moiri, it is I who should thank you for the opportunities to pass the time in excellent conversation." His gaze does not - nor indeed, has it at any time that Moiri can remember in the past roughly dozen days - harden or change when he sees the mark upon her face. It's simply as though it is not there, a pleasant rarity for the woman. "As for my intent once our boots touch soil in Pridon's Hearth - a strange name, no doubt - I would be a poor mind at business if I were to rush in. I shall spend some time inquiring around town amongst those who live there. While I admit I may have a map or two from some of my business sources, it pays to validate them with...shall we say, actionable intelligence."

He pulls a handkerchief out and dabs at the corners of his lips after having finished his drink and then begins to meticulously fold it back up. The job finished, he tucks it back in place and then inquires of Moiri, "Turnabout being what it is, what is it that you wish to find in Pridon's Hearth, Miss Moiri?"

Meanwhile, Umuzu sits stock upright on the bench, fingering one of the bones on the leather thong around her neck as Zshari asks his query. Her body language reflects comfort and ease with the question, and after a moment of silence her lips spread into a friendly smile. "Kuwinda nzuri! I find that whatever horizon I behold, it is there from whence I glance it to be home. Whether it be from the deck of this ship or atop a mighty calo'bana tree or while letting the fingers of the savanna grasses caress my knees. What need have I of an entire world when my feet only occupy a small part of it? But by the grace of the spirits, I am able to let my feet wander in many a place. And so I shall honor them and continue to wander, leaving my footprint as my mark." She pauses, her smile positively illuminating her ebony features. "But there is more, of course. I intend to keep an old promise. I am no longer welcome among my Kalabuta family," she says with a slightly pained expression, referencing one of the Zenj tribes that Zshari knows actually lives in the savannas and not the jungle, "but it is because of that promise that I spend my time protecting the outsiders from falling prey to the savanna's predators, the calo'bana's poison leaves, and the many other teeth of the Mwangi's massive bite." She finishes with a playful snap of her teeth, giving a hearty laugh. She then draws a gentle sip from her mug and nods to Zshari, "If I miss my guess, binamu, it is you that needs to find your root and your peace. I wander not because I'm drawn to see new things, but because the spirits allow me."

[3SecondCultist]

The feline skald breathes inwards in a sharp hiss as Umuzu brings up the subject of her exile. The topic is still too fresh in Zshari's mind for it to be anything but painful. When he closes his eyes, he can still see the battle in the rain, Ferus' expression as the cat that used to be the closest thing he had to a litter-mate turned his back on him, and his people followed. Zshari has told himself never to forget that feeling - it is probably the only thing that keeps him going. The Nightsong has followed him far, and the catfolk suspects that although its melody will never truly cease, once his purpose has been achieved and a lasting peace between the Alijae, the northern lizardfolk, and the Longpaw has been forged, the music will fade away.

"Your words wind a familiar path, tsaro." He ponders what Umuzu has said about roots. What is he really doing headed over the poison water to this strange southern land of 'Sargava'? It is a question that has nagged him ever since he reluctantly boarded the Kaava Cutter. Just how long will it take me to learn all I can about the reptiles of the world? The grip on his totem spear gets a little bit tighter. "The spirits are an excellent guide, but I'm afraid I only have one. That being said, it seems we will walk together for a time. I too seek the world, but am looking to settle a score of sorts." Zshari doesn't press the topic of the Zenj woman's sentence, just as he would not want a stranger asking him such questions.

[Farmerbink]

"...impairs one's senses and judgment? That, without exception, causes pain, drowsiness, even memory loss?"

For the first time in several hours, Doba looks at his mug with something resembling suspicion. With a deft flick of his wrist, he flips the vessel onto the back of his hand- sitting firmly on it's base. A gentle game- easy for anyone who has spent the years testing their manual dexterity on the many oddly-shaped objects of Mwangi. The mug dances between the back and palm of his right hand for several seconds, as a confident grin spreads over his face. He brings his left hand to clasp the mug and sends it clattering noisily to the table's surface, as his hand makes contact with the object before his brain makes contact with his hand. Shock floods his features.

Slowly, he recovers the mug, now turning a suspicious gaze back onto the Demon-touched passenger. "You may not be lying, but Doba feels no pain, no drowsiness. Doba is unsure what to make of his accident, but clearly recalls the event..." He scowls, whether in response to your words or the irritation of his own mishap, it is impossible to tell. Picking up where he left off, he continues his vocal investigation of the unfamiliar substance. "... and poison is not meant to cause drowsiness or memory loss! Poisons are meant to kill! Surely this sweet drink is no tonic of death, from which so many partake willingly!"

Unable or unwilling to believe Deader's words, he accepts a filled mug from one of the crewmen, his own empty mug forgotten as the sea-farer takes it from his unresisting hand. To the less-naïve eye, Doba must be an entertaining drunk for the sailors to take it upon themselves to prolong the experience.

[An Idle Mercy]

Umuzu's smile softens, almost as though comforting a child. She shakes her head slowly and places her worn, calloused hands together, palm against palm while looking at Zshari. She slowly separates her hands until they are being held out at either side of her body, her fingers splayed slightly. The entire display is one that is evidently quite practiced and ritualistic in nature. Serenity in her voice, she continues, "But that is where you are wrong, kijana. The spirits are many and everywhere. They belong to all and none. Even this ship forged of many fallen mighty trees bears many of them. I hear their voices, faint though they may be. And they keep us aloft, saving us from the wrath of fickle ocean spirits. To say you only have one spirit is folly and risks invoking their wrath. Keep this in mind, always."

She then brings her hands back together and clasps her fingers tightly, bringing the two-handed fist to her head reverentially. She whispers something quietly, and then lowers her hands once more and places them on the table. "And sadly, you are incorrect in one other thing. Our walk together will be brief. It is my understanding that a ship called the Cobalt Eye awaits me in Pridon's Hearth and I am to join with her crew there to begin an expedition to map and explore the surrounding jungles shortly after our arrival. But I will be glad to walk with you until that time, Zshari."

And for the rest of the evening, she speaks with him as much as he is willing, careful not to bring up his obviously sensitive past. Instead, she asks of his spear, his interests in the lizardfolk if he brings it up, as well as her own time in the wilds of the Mwangi and her experiences there.

At another table, Mr. Blackwell takes in the conversation between Doba, Deader and Relisys quietly, though with an amused curl of his lips. He seems ready to say something in response, but another voice beats him by a second, to which he patiently defers. "Oh, no no no, my dark ignorant friend! Poisons are many! The Chelishhh have many at their dis...dishpo... they have many that they use! 'Swhat keeps the nobles and people alike afraid and in check, I hear! Father talked at...at length about it! He shaid...he said they have poisons to blind and to control and to weaken and, of course, to kill! And well, you know that Sargava is a colony of old Cheliax! Poisons of all types are found in the markets in Eleder, if you know whence to look! Many of them by your own people!" The young, portly nobleman Gallio practically yells over the din of the conversation, not realizing initially that his words have largely caused the room to fall quite silent. He coughs and a red blush spreads over his jowls and then takes another long draw of his drink which does nothing to help his already inebriated state. "Well...I just meant to shay that...the young dark man was wrong. 'S'all..." Despite being clearly embarrassed, the holds his chin high, almost defiantly. He looks to be poised to continue, before the priestess Annabella turns her fierce glower on him and stands from her bench, hands planted flat on the table as she bends over the table facing him. Her beautiful features are transformed into a look of pure contempt and barely restrained rage that he visibly shrinks back from.

"Don't you blueblooded, bloated blasphemous buffoons in your high houses and piles of coin have anything better to do than throw your weight around," she pauses to let the jibe sink in, "and proclaim to know what's good and right and what people should and shouldn't do or know!? It's because of...of rich, greedy blackguards like you that the people have lost their love of beauty and the simple things in life! You crush people's spirits and care not a whit! I've come to Pridon's Hearth to make sure that at least some know of Her beauty and art and joy, and I'll make sure that you don't poison the people's minds there as well!" With a huff, she leaves the table and storms out of the room and down the stairs to the passenger quarters.

Mr. Blackwell stands as the priestess exits the room, giving a slight bow as she does. Once she's left the room, he sits back down and then straightens his shirt carefully before saying evenly, "M'Lord Menius, I would kindly advise you switch to water and, if I may suggest, retire for the evening. You undoubtedly have much to prepare for tomorrow, no?" The nobleman opens and closes his mouth silently and then nods wordlessly. He hefts himself up from the bench and stumbles ungracefully out of the room.

[Farmerbink]

Doba appears content to take the nobleman's interruption largely at face value until the man brings up "your own people!" A sudden darkness shadows Doba's eyes, at the perhaps unintentional affront. Already standing, he takes two steps towards the nobleman when the ornately-dressed priestess stands to make her own interjection. If he's being completely honest, Doba does not at all follow everything the woman says, but her tone makes it clear that she's delivering an admonishment of sorts, and Doba is distracted in his futile efforts to put the pieces together. When he looks back up, the target of his ire has already departed.

His anger and honor neither sated nor defused, Doba takes his 5th serving of brandy to the deck, leaving his mother and sister in the galley. There, he finds the catfolk and the other native of Mwangi engaged in conversation. Uninterested in joining, he half walks/half stumbles to the prow. His feet hanging over the edge, the gentle mist of wave and wake washes his feet as he sullenly stares over the featureless expanse of blue.

[Hazuki]

"What's your name, by the way? Mine is Relisys, Of Her Own."Deader decides not to comment on the strange name. It's likely some kind of self-affirming declaration, like how many would say 'I'm Dunkelvahn of Lastwall", or "Of the Kitharodian Academy", but Relisys has done a playful little twist on it to assert her individuality.

She reaches down to her waist and checks the grip of her gladius, into which she scratched her name. Yes, definitely Deader.

"I'm Deader. Of...the dead." She quirks an eyebrow.


"... and poison is not meant to cause drowsiness or memory loss! Poisons are meant to kill! Surely this sweet drink is no tonic of death, from which so many partake willingly!""Ah, but how can you be certain you're not already under its affects?" Deader asks, briefly aware of the commotion dominating the rest of the room, but not paying it too much attention. "You could be dreaming right," She looks suspiciously in either direction. "Now."

[PersonMan]

Relisys watches the twin outbursts closely. Both brush, in their own way, against her past. The lengthy tirade about Cheliax's poisons and its families, then the rebuke from the priestess, both remind her of the thoughts she's had in the past, and her own experiences. She considers, as the woman storms off, if she'd have spoken to her without that scowl on her face. Maybe. Glancing briefly to the smaller woman on her right, Relisys turns back to the tiefling just as she finishes her comment to the confused tribesman.

"Deader of the dead?" She asks. "That's an odd name. Did your family give it to you, or did you make it yourself?"

[Hazuki]

"It was inherited." Deader answers, matter-of-factly. "There's a long line of Deaders from a little island off the coast of Ustalav, and I impressed them enough to become a member of their family. When the rest of their young suffered untimely deaths, I was the last one able to take up their mantle."

[PersonMan]

Relisys considers the tiefling silently for a few moments, before nodding. "Is it amusing? My name?" She asks calmly, taking a moment to slowly exhale after she speaks.

[Hazuki]

Deader rolls the question around her tongue. "Not 'haha' amusing." She answers. "But it is peculiar. And that's the point, isn't it? You don't have a name like that unless you want it to mean something."

[PersonMan]

Relisys sits back in her chair, feeling that particular kind of caustic heat leave her with the breath that follows. It was to be expected that her name was found strange - and the tiefling was right, that it had meaning. "It's not meant to be strange, but there is a meaning, I suppose," she says. For a moment she's finished, then the realization comes that Deader would likely ask more about it, given her description. It did, after all, sound like it was asking her to ask.

"After some events, I left my old name behind," Relisys explains. "I eventually took a new one, after...other things happened."

If Relisys' tutors weren't still alive, they would be rolling in their graves.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Turnabout being what it is, what is it that you wish to find in Pridon's Hearth, Miss Moiri?"
Moiri smiles and is about to reply when the scene erupts in the galley. Only after everyone has calmed down does she respond, saying, "I am looking forward to starting fresh and making a home for myself away from many of the squabbles and troubles up north. There are sure to be many herbs in the area, and I fancy myself something of an expert on many plants with healing properties. It will be exciting to discover new ones!" After her answer she excuses herself and retires to pack her small bag of possessions and sleep until the morning.

[An Idle Mercy]

Mister Blackwell stands as Moiri rises from her seat and wishes her a pleasant evening's rest and then sits back down after she has left the room. He casts his gaze around the few remaining souls in the room - the increasingly drunk Shank, Relisys and Deader having their soft conversation on the opposite side of the room, a few of his assistants, two of the Cutter's crew as well as her captain that is finishing up his drink.

He stands and wishes them all a good evening, gives the captain one final look and slight bow of his head and then dons his hat precisely before turning in for the evening. After his departure, his assistants soon turn in as well, leaving only the crew members (including Shank) and Relisys and Deader. The former begin to clean up the dishes while the latter finish their conversation and ultimately return to the passengers' quarters for the remainder of the night.

Another gloomy, gray overcast morning greets the souls aboard the Kaava Cutter. As the first of the passengers reach the deck of the ship, they can see that the ship has gotten much closer to the shore. There is a flurry of activity as everyone readies their gear and cargo while the crew adjusts the speed and heading of the ship. Before long, the ship navigates through a wide channel with rocky shores on either side. Initially the land has spots of trees here and there, but before long a sizable cluster of jungle can be seen off the northern shore. As the ship slows down, those aboard can see that the jungle gives way to a river delta. On the opposite, southeastern side of it is a small blurry dot that becomes more defined as the town of Pridon's Hearth comes into view through the misty, rainy air. Shouts and directions back and forth from the ship's crew precede the ship slowing further and eventually coming to a full stop and dropping anchor just a a hundred meters or so off-shore from the town.

The captain informs the passengers that since Pridon's Hearth has no sizable dock against which to make berth, they will have to take longboats ashore with a few passengers per boat. Multiple trips will need to be made, using the ship's two longboats. Before many have the chance to begin grouping up, Gallio's voice is loudest as he steps toward the captain. "You will, of course, allow me and my servants to go to shore first, captain. Rank and privilege, of course!"

Looking around at the others with a conciliatory sigh, he nods, "Of cahse, m'lahd." Captain Abradu gives the overweight man a mocking bow, then yells, "Drayson, Tuckah! Get ah esteemed guest's vessel ready!" After which, the two men lead the nobleman and his servants towards the port side of the ship.

Lord Menius and a few of his servants climb into one of the rowboats, as well as the two crew members. They are lowered slowly down to the water below and then begin the row to shore. As soon as they are away, the captain turns to the remaining passengers with a wide grin. "Can't say I will miss that one. Alright, who's next?!"

Mister Blackwell abstains, allowing the remaining passengers to go before him, as do Annabella and Umuzu. Moiri, Doba, Zshari, Relisys and Deader are led to the other longboat, where they climb aboard with their backpacks and easily carried gear. Anything sizable will be brought ashore later by the ship's crew. They are joined by two other crewmembers and are lowered to the water and they too begin their journey to Pridon's Hearth.

The town's details begin to clarify through the drizzle. The town is spread across a couple of islands as well as the mainland. Its buildings are comprised primarily of wood, many of which are little more than shacks with a canvas roof or walls and occasionally both. A small handful of buildings in the town are stone and usually quite larger than the wooden ones. On the mainland, they can barely make out the blurry form of some sort of high protective wall that's been built around most of the town. There are no paved or even cobblestone roads - all of them are dirt and, thanks to the rain, rather muddy. Palm and other tropical trees and plants are scattered throughout the town, with colorful birds and what appear to be pinkish-purple flying lizards flitting about from tree to tree, issuing loud calls amidst the light rain.

Before they reach the dock, they see that Gallio's has already made shore and that the nobleman is stumbling backwards, his arms raised defensively as a rather well-muscled, tanned man in just a tattered pair of breeches is yelling and pointing viciously at him on the dock, a large mostly-empty bottle in his hand. The man is unsteady on his feet.

“You should be getting out of this land, ya filthy leech!” the man yells.

The drunk swings with a right hook and knocks Gallio to the deck planks, looking more shocked than injured. The swaying man ends his tirade by smashing the bottle he holds against a sturdy dock pylon. The bottle shatters, leaving him holding a vicious spike of serrated glass.

“And if yer not gonna leave... then I guess it’s up to me to make ya!”

The two crew members rowing their longboat look back at Doba and the rest, "You sure you wan' make berth here? We kin go to the next dock instead? He's gettin' what 'e deserves, stupid git."


http://i.imgur.com/yf2Sdlf.jpg


Welcome to Pridon's Hearth!

Indicate whether you want to get involved with the scrap on the deck. You have the option of docking there and getting involved or going to a different one and letting it play out unhindered. Your choice. First person to respond will determine where the sailors will steer the longboat, therefore gauge your responses accordingly.

For this, there will be no map, but rather more of a theater of the mind. I'll largely use maps, but in this case I shall not.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"We didn't come all this way to see a man gutted as we come ashore!" blurts Moiri before she realizes it. The passion in her voice hints at some deeper meaning, but with a nod she gestures towards the dock, staring intently at the attacker. "Starting a new life by watching someone lose theirs is not alright..."

If able, Moiri will use her Evil Eye (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/base-classes/witch/hexes---3rd-party-publishers/hexes/common-hexes/hex-evil-eye-su) hex (DC 15 Will or -2 to attack rolls for 8 rounds; on success it last 1 round) on the shirtless man to lower his attack bonus.

[Farmerbink]

Doba nods quick agreement. "Doba seen too many people dying already. He's an ass, but that don't mean he has to die foah it."

He raises his voice, calling out to the man as he slowly and steadily retrieves a javelin. "You theah! What he done to make you so angehy?"

[Hazuki]

Deeader leans back in her seat on the longboat, as the decision has apparently been made by another woman and the drunk young man she met last night. She'd like to help, too, but...there's not much point in adding to the chaos of a fight, Doba yelling and arming himself, and the magic the witch is casting.

"A weapon will only make this worse." Deader tells Doba, as she adjusts her cap. "He'll feel threatened, the town will get ornery about escalation, somebody will have to clean blood out of the floorboards..."

[3SecondCultist]

Zshari's ears perk up as they catch wind of the conflict on the dock. He slept restlessly the night before, and his senses are not as sharp as they could have been, so he's slower than the rest of the group in the cutter boat to offer their opinion. Recognizing the loud pink-skin from the night before, the cat twitches his nostrils in annoyance. The other one is going to kill him. The thought brings him no pleasure, but neither does he want to interfere in the affairs of others.

Still... as Zshari's eyes drink in the conflict, he can feel the first stirrings of the Nightsong within. The urge to play off of the aggression, to fuel the flames is growing. He did not have time to exercise his gift this morning, and the song's refrain begins to uncoil from his being. The skald does not even notice that he has planted the spear on the wooden bottom of the boat, or that his lips have touched the wooden grooves on his totem spear. The music that emerges is a haunting wail, designed by nature to bring the bright rage of the soul forth for all to see. It washes over the water indiscriminately, worming its way into the ears of anyone who will listen.

Zshari will be spending a round of his Skald Performance (Inspiring Rage) to affect everyone within the area: both combatants, the nearby sailors, and anyone in the party who accepts it (anyone can choose to deny the effects). Assuming any of the PCs stop him, he'll stop, but his Community-Minded trait means that the effects will continue for 2 more rounds afterwards.

The song's effects include +2 to Strength and Constitution, a +1 on Will saves, and a -1 penalty to AC. Furthermore, the recipient cannot make use of any Charisma, Intelligence, or Wisdom-based skills while under the song's influence.

[Farmerbink]

somebody will have to clean blood out of the floorboards..."

Doba gestures to the man's broken knife with the back of his empty hand. "If deya be blood, I be making shoah it's his, and not the man he trying to huht," he whispers, harshly.

I think I'm going to ditch the font. It's almost impossible to read as a whisper, and ultimately necessary, I think.

[Hazuki]

"This can be solved with no blood at all." Deader replies evenly, as she gives Zshari's spear a kick just enough to disrupt his singing. "But you'll never find out how, if you bring a javelin to a word fight." She smiles at the young man.

[Farmerbink]

Doba mutters inconsequentially, his features distinctly marred by confusion.

[An Idle Mercy]

Shirtless man's Will save: [roll0] vs DC 15
Shirtless man's attack roll (absolutely accepting the "nightsong" bonuses): [roll1] vs AC 11 (total should be reduced by 2...sorry)
Shirtless man's damage (again including bonuses): [roll2]

INITIATIVE:
Shirtless man: [roll3]
Doba: [roll4]
Zshari: [roll5]
Moiri: [roll6]
Deader: [roll7]
Relisys: [roll8]



The man stumbles forward and angrily stabs at Gallio with a powerful swing, a yell of rage further fueled by the supernatural effects of Zshari's nightsong. "Die, ya damned parasite! Leech! THIEF!" He screams again, an anguished yell of fury and sadness mixed. The man seems to completely ignore Doba's calls, so intent is he on his intended target, the clearly frightened noble who keeps crab-crawling awkwardly backwards away from the man ineffectively.

The makeshift glass "knife" in the man's hand cuts a deep wound as fresh red blood begins to blossom through the shirt at the nobleman's shoulder where the glass impaled. He shrieks with a loud, high-pitched yell and covers his injured shoulder with his hand. "Somebody HELP me!!"

Meanwhile, with practiced ease, the two sailors bring the front of the rowboat to nudge gently into the dock about fifteen feet away from the fracas. "Well...'ere ya go. Luck be with ya!" The two men snicker at the nobleman's plight and offer no help in the fight and, after the last person steps off the boat, they begin to row away back towards the Kaava Cutter.


The attacker passed his save (hooray Nat 20!). -2 to attacks just for that round
Attacker accepted the nightsong bonuses.
Deals 5 points of damage to the nobleman.

Thus ends the surprise round of the encounter. Indicate whether you choose to accept the bonuses from the raging song or not. I rolled Initiative for everyone in the above spoiler. Order of operations shall be:

Doba, Zshari, Moiri
Shirtless man
Everyone
Shirtless man
etc etc...

[DarkOne-Rob]

Moiri (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=856208)
Female Chaotic Neutral Human Herb/Hedge Witch, Level 1, Init 7, HP 9/9, Speed 30 ft
AC 11, Touch 11, Flat-footed 10, CMD 10, Fort 2, Ref 1, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger -1 Melee, +1 Thrown (1d4-1, 19-20/x2)
No Armor (+1 Dex)
Abilities Str 8, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 20, Wis 10, Cha 8
Condition None
Continuing to stare intently at the attacker, Moiri calls out, "Someone stop him!" as she quietly draws her dagger, just in case...

Moiri will stay put behind melee combatants and use a move action to draw her dagger
Standard action to use Evil Eye (DC 15 Will or -2 to AC for 8 rounds; on success it last 1 round) on the attacker again

[Farmerbink]

Doba steps off the boat, with little more than a confused expression for Deader. "You gotta say something if you want to stop him!" Feet on the dock, he flings his javelin towards the aggressor. In a smooth motion, he continues onward, pulling a massive hammer over his shoulder.

Doba Marzaazz (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=853184)
M N Human (Mwangi) Ranger (Wild Hunter), Level 1, Init 4, HP 14/14, Speed 30
AC 18, Touch 14, Flat-footed 14, CMD 19, Fort 5, Ref 6, Will 2, CMB +5, Base Attack Bonus 1
Earth Breaker +5 (2d6+6, x3)
Javelin w/ Amentum +5 (1d6+4, x2)
Chakram +5 (1d8+4, x2)
Chain shirt, Buckler (+4 Armor, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 19, Dex 18, Con 16, Int 13, Wis 15, Cha 11
Condition None

If called shots are in play, I'd like to call a shot for his arm. On a hit (with a -2 penalty), he will take a -2 to attack with that hand for [roll0] rounds. If called shots aren't in play, just chuck the javelin at him.

Standard action: attack (+2 to-hit and crit, if no called shots)
[roll1] (includes to-hit penalty from called shot to arm)
[roll2] crit confirmation (23, x2)
[roll3] 8 damage (neglected inspiring song)
[roll4] 10 crit bonus

move action: move-to the guy, and draw the earth breaker (if I can't close, draw another javelin instead)

[3SecondCultist]

Zshari's concentration is utterly shattered by the closest passenger's kick to his totem spear, the music faltering slightly. At first, the catfolk's face twists into a snarl of annoyance as he faces the strange bronze one. How dare she? But the rage fades away to a cold feeling, as Zshari's gut coils in disgust at his own actions. The Nightsong has beaten him, if only temporarily. He cuts off the ritual of his own accord, although he knows that the music will persist for at least a few more moments. A storm, once conjured, does not die easy.

Gathering his wits, the performer gets a second look at the events on the dock. The loud one might be irritating, but he realizes that the Nightsong might contribute to his death. That would not do. The least he can do before setting foot into the city is try to remedy the mess he's had a hand in making. Brandishing his spear, the catfolk wastes no time or breath explaining himself to the others in the boat before hopping onto the wharf, advancing on the pink with the broken glass. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zshari hears one of the other pinks in the boat call out something. The song's glorious current runs through his veins. He cannot miss.

As mentioned, the trait continues to give the bonuses of Inspiring stage to all in range for 2 more rounds, without using up any of my own performance rounds for the day. To that end, I'll have a +1 to attack and damage rolls, and my target has a -1 to AC until his next turn. Zshari will be moving 15 ft forward and attacking with the spear.

Attack: [roll0] for [roll1] damage (crit confirm: [roll2])

Edit: so I hit, for minimum damage. Also, I messed up the damage calculation, it should be +4 instead of +3, for a total of 5 damage dealt.
Zshari Nightcaller (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=854533)
Male Chaotic Catfolk Skald, Level 1, Init 3, HP 10/10, DR -, Speed 30 ft
AC 16 [15], Touch 13 [12], Flat-footed 13 [12], CMD 16 Fort 3 [4], Ref 3, Will 2 [3], CMB +3, Base Attack Bonus +0
Totem Spear +2 [+3] (1d10+3 [+4], x3)
Dagger +2 [+3] (1d4+2 [+3], 19-20x2)
Shortbow +3 (1d6, x3)
Studded Leather (+3 Armor, +3 Dex)
Abilities Str 15 [17], Dex 16, Con 12 [14], Int 9, Wis 10, Cha 18
Condition Inspired Rage (+2 Strength, +2 Constitution, -1 AC, +1 Will)
Raging Song 6/7 rounds
Skald Spells 1st level (2/2)

[An Idle Mercy]

After his stab at Lord Menius, the man sways woozily from overextending his swing. As he rights himself, he lets out twin cries of pain and surprise - one from each sharp point that pierces his skin. Doba's javelin sinks deep into the man's right wrist, impaling nearly the entire way through. As he shrieks in pain and stumbles around with a drunken, befuddled expression on his face, the man again yells as Zshari's spear tip sinks into the man's shoulder, fresh red ribbons trickling their way down his chest.

He sinks to his knees before Zshari and throws the broken glass bottle into the river, holding his wrist and blubbering and babbling. "I...I'm s-s-sorry!! I...I jes'...oh I wan' my Vela and Caro back! This damn place took 'em!!" The man doubles over onto the wooden deck, howling as tears of anguish run down his face and drip onto the warped wood, mixing with the trickles of blood from the combat.

Gallio shakily stands after the man surrenders before the others. He covers his shoulder wound carefully with a hand and then looks disdainfully down at his assailant. "Serves you right, miscreant. How d..."

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?" A loud, authoritative and clearly annoyed voice rings out. A tall, short-haired and dark-skinned woman in red-dyed light armor walks up, the insignia of Sargava on her chest. Two men in similar armor stride behind her. "THEOS!? What happened? Did...did these newcomers attack you!?"

The drunken man babbles and drools incoherently, to which the woman sighs and puts a hand to her forehead in exasperation. "No, miss. He attacked me with a bottle but these brave men and women saved me from this drunken lout!" Gallio steps forward and explains, uncovering the wound on his shoulder for her to see. The sheriff turns her eyes to the rest of the people gathered on the dock, an eyebrow upturned.

After they give their explanation of what transpired, she sighs and turns to the two men that accompanied her, and says gently. "You know what to do. Take Theos to sober up a while. I'll sort it out later." As they haul the man up and lead him away, she turns to the others again. "I...apologize for the less than pleasant greeting. And my tardiness. I meant to be here to meet you personally, but...well, understaffed and overburdened seems to be the way it is of late. I'm Adaela, sheriff and commander of Pridon's Hearth's military."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Before the assailant is dragged away Moiri reaches out to touch his pierced side, willing some of her magic into the action.

Keeping her face covered by her heavy cloak's hood, she turns to Gallio and quietly says, "If you will accept some relief from your wounds, please stand still a moment." Once the nobleman does so, she repeats the act self-consciously and then turns away from anyone watching. Once the sheriff introduces herself Moiri prepares to introduce herself to the local leader but waits until someone else speaks up first...

Use Healing Hex on both men, healing [roll0] and [roll1] HPs respectively.

[PersonMan]

On the trip to the dock, Relisys is quiet, silently eyeing the water with some discomfort. Being on a proper ship wasn't an issue, but having to sit in what felt like a flimsy boat (it did, after all, shift around every time she moved) that could easily capsize or simply begin taking on water and leave her struggling to stay afloat...it wasn't comfortable. Luckily, they fast approach the dock, though the events there are anything but welcoming. Narrowing her eyes at the sight inside her helmet, Relisys considers standing, considering the better view against their vessel's tendency to move with the armored woman's weight, when the furred man begins a song. No stranger to music herself, she'd normally ignore it - however oddly timed his performance was, it may have been some attempt to distract the man advancing on the noble. Then she feels the stirring in her chest, the familiar heat of rage uncoiling without cause, and immediately begins to turn towards him, only to see Deader interrupt him.

Her own options limited - she'd never thought herself good at keeping an obviously belligerent man from attacking another without being able to immediately intervene if he ignored her threats, and without a way to reach the dock with anything other than a well-aimed throw of Kinslayer she couldn't - Relisys stays silent, eyes going between the confrontation and the dock as she breathes steadily, each exhale carrying more of her anger out of her chest. It's as she waits that the conflict is resolved. Painfully. The drunk seems entirely defeated as the second spear drains his will to fight, his weapon already gone.

Of course, the moment the matter is resolved, someone arrives who could have kept the entire thing from happening at all. Relisys allows herself a slight smile at the coincidence, hidden as she is by her armor and the process of stepping onto the dock - something she makes sure to do quickly, before the others leave the boat. It wouldn't do well for her armored weight to push it underwater as she went to one side, after all. She's silent, again, as the explanation of the drunk's attack and the newcomer's introduction pass. Glancing briefly to the woman tending to the wounds of both parties, Relisys speaks.

"Relisys Of Her Own," she introduces herself, barely resisting the instinct to give a shallow bow in greeting. Her pronunciation was already stiff enough to sound highborn, no need to make herself more conspicuous. Of course, Relisys considers, for the time being she could consider herself lucky if the "authentic" Chelish design of her armor didn't resemble what it was meant to evoke, given where she was.

[Hazuki]

Deader steps off of the boat and gives her name to Adaela.

[3SecondCultist]

Zshari shakes his head, like something out of a dream. The Nightsong is gone for now, leaving him but a simple cat. Unfortunately, it would seem that the music only egged the aggressive pink on. Anyone well-versed in catfolk expressions would see something of a frown cross Zshari's white-black fur. He murmurs something close to an apology to the noble who was hurt, turning to face the chief-in-metal of this place, Pridon's Hearth.

"Greetings. I am Zshari." His words in Taldane are clipped and accented, but the catfolk has spent enough time around pinks now to know their etiquette, so he extends a paw and a warm smile in Adaela's direction. "I am... well, I suppose I am looking to get lost, one might say." He does not elaborate on that matter further, waiting for the other strangers to introduce themselves before falling into line himself. If I'm to find the lizardfolk that reside in these jungles, I should probably get the lay of the land first.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Seeing that it is her turn, Moiri introduces herself quietly, saying, "My name is Moiri. I am an herbalist and healer looking to start a new life for myself here, sir. Thank you for intervening when you did..."

[An Idle Mercy]

http://i.imgur.com/ezBKOYO.jpg

Gallio introduces himself as well, giving her a slight bow at the end of the introduction. As the rest of the group introduces themselves, she is quite evidently taking mental note of each of their names and assessing them. For any that offer their hands for a shake, they find her grip to be strong and confident. As she extends her hand for those greetings, most of a tattoo on her right upper arm reveals itself in the shape of a sunburst and a sword extending down through the middle of it. If anyone's eyes gravitate towards it, she subconsciously pulls the sleeve of her shirt down to cover it and clears her throat quietly and moves the conversation along gently but firmly.


You know this tattoo to be the symbol of Iomedae, goddess of justice and honor.

She looks at Relisys and any of the others that bear weapons. "We do not restrict folk from carrying weapons about. We are in a largely jungle area after all and we've had....incidents. But as the guard captain, I would kindly request that you keep any weapons sheathed while in public. And," she addresses Relisys directly, "you have no need for such heavy adornments here, Relisys. I'd rather not find you passed out in the street, half-dead and half-cooked." She looks up into the dull grey skies and adds morosely, "Not that we've had much sun of late."

She shakes her head just the slightest bit, as if to shake off her thoughts, and resumes, "I apologize that Count Narsus cannot be here to greet you personally. I know that he is eager to meet those that answered his missives in Sargava proper, but like myself, he is overburdened as well and cannot meet everyone individually. For now, I imagine you're rather tired from your journey and want to shake off the sea legs for the remainder of the day. You're welcome to have a look around town, but if you'd like to find a soft bed and a place to put your things, there are some rooms available at the Stone House - our largest tavern and only inn. Or, if you prefer, some locals around town are willing to open their homes to new colonists as a show of good faith."


Indicate where you'd like to put your stuff and "live" for the next couple of weeks until you establish yourselves more. If you choose to live with someone in town, you will not need to pay "rent" for two weeks. After that, you will.

If you choose the Stone Hall, each night is 5 sp, including meals.

"I'm going to wait here for the rest of your arrivals. Have a look around. The layout of town is fairly simple. Right now you're in what many have started to call Island Town. There are a few islands that have been settled. There are some bridges that connect Island Town to the Pridon's Hearth proper on the mainland. Most - but not all - of the shops and taverns are on the mainland, as is the Stone Hall. You'll find the bridges...that way." She pauses to get her bearings and then points behind her. "If you get lost, just look for the Counting House of Abadar, which is on the mainland. You can't miss it, since it's been built on a hill. And it's one of the only stone buildings in town." She takes a moment to answer any questions and then warmly says, "Welcome to Pridon's Hearth!"

As they leave, the group finds all of the streets to be wide muddy paths that pass between wooden buildings, many of which are ramshackle. Some buildings are better off, but it's clear that some areas of Island Town contain what are likely the oldest buildings in town. Greenery abounds in town, as many of the native trees have been left as decoration and shade. Wildlife calls from the trees and from the bushes. Small monkeys skitter along the ground and up into the trees. Colorful parrots and small winged dinosaurs of various hues fight for branch real estate. All in all, the town is rather peaceful, if not clearly a frontier town still very much trying to find its roots and identity.


I'll put a map of the town in the OOC thread shortly, with a label of all of the different locations you can go to. Feel free to settle in, wander around, or whatever you wish to do.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Moiri listens intently to Adaela, a hopeful smile slowly forming on her face. At the end of the woman's welcoming speech she takes a deep breath as she steps back. Looking out to the sea first and then back towards the ramshackle town, she makes a clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth and shakes her dark, hooded cloak purposefully. A dry, scratching sound can be heard as a small green lizard falls to the pier and scampers away. "Don't pick any fights, Jade!" she calls in an excited voice. Then she begins to wander about the town aimlessly, drifting slowly towards the Stone Hall as she explores the muddy streets.

[Hazuki]

"But, Adeala, how do I sheathe a whip?" Deader asks the guard-captain, as she fingers the length of coiled leather at her hip. Once she has an answer to her question, and the woman leaves, she puts a finger to her lips and hums to herself. Rent will be an issue if she can't gather some kind of funds, especially considering the loss of most of the funds she'd gathered before departing.

The cloaked woman is already departing, so Deader turns to the heavily-armored woman from dinnertime. "Do you have any plans, Ser Of Her Own?"

[3SecondCultist]

The Stone Hall. Finding a place to sleep would be an excellent place to start, save for the fact that Zshari has no coin to speak of after the voyage on the Kaava Cutter. The concept of trading bits of useless shiny metal for more immediately useful goods and services seems utterly alien to the catfolk. Who decides how much these 'coins' are worth, anyways? Still, there are brighter things to think about now. The streets of Pridon's Hearth are utterly beautiful, captivating the skald as he wanders aimlessly for a while.

Eventually, Zshari spots one of the pinks from the boat, the one who introduced herself as 'Moiri'. He follows her for a time, taking no great measures to conceal his presence. In such a fledgling tribe as this, Zshari is not surprised to find a distinct lack of his own kind about, making him all the more conspicuous for it. After some minutes, he approaches the woman directly. "Well met," he begins with a low and pleasant rumble in a practiced Common tongue. "What do you make of this place? I am in no hurry to find lodging; perhaps we could walk together?"

[PersonMan]

Relisys responds to Adaela's comments with a nod - she was accustomed to the heat of armor, but removing it while within Pridon's Hearth is something that seems reasonable. The appeal is there as well, of course. It was rather warm. Once that conversation is over, the warrior spends some time simply looking around, eyeing the exotic plants and animals silently until Deader approaches her.

"I'll be finding a place to stay soon," Relisys says after a few moments, turning to the shorter woman. "Been considering leaving my armor somewhere before I spend more time looking around. It's warm, and the breeze will help once it gets to me. You don't have your own plans, do you?"

[Hazuki]

"I don't even have a concept." Deader replies, looking up at Relisys and wondering just where she's going to safely store all of that armor. No doubt it's worth its weight in gold. "What I do have is a lack of funds and a wide assortment of skills, so I expect I'll have to seek a good way to use them." She pauses. "Do let me know if you find any oddjobs, or Chelish folk, will you? I'll be spending my time in search of both."

[PersonMan]

It's nigh impossible to see due to her helmet, but Relisys raises an eyebrow as Deader mentions the Chelish. "What is it you're looking for the latter for?" She asks.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Well met. What do you make of this place? I am in no hurry to find lodging; perhaps we could walk together?"
Moiri literally jumps, so surprised is she by the catfolk. With a squeak she blushes deeply, visible even underneath her hooded cloak, and replies, "Hello...Um, I like it! It is much warmer than where I was a child, and Jade likes it." She gestures to the green lizard, frolicking about the area as it explores excitedly. She keeps walking, falling back into an embarrassed silence, but not rejecting the offer of company either.

For all of Moiri's silence, her familiar boldly approaches Zshari, sniffs at her feet, and in a burst of energy runs circles around the feline. Chattering animatedly, it seems to be trying to speak to both of the two newcomers and elicits a quiet giggle from Moiri. "I think he likes you!" she says with a smile before disappearing back into her shyness.

[Farmerbink]

Doba strides forward purposefully, a satisfied glare on his face as the drunkard relents his antagonism. He roughly recovers his javelin from the man's arm as a woman apparently of local authority approaches. Doba looks the woman in the eyes, and after a moment, offers her a primitive, closed-fisted salute. As the unexpected surge of adrenaline begins to fade, he takes a step back, wary of the unfamiliar sensation.

He immediately re-wraps his amentum, and states confidently, "He will not have lasting hahm. My throw was only to hindah his attack. I am Doba." He listens intensely- still somewhat unfamiliar with this 'common' tongue. He nods in acknowledgement, and subconsciously puts his hand to the purse at his side. The heavy weight of gold- the remains of selling a recovered blade- reminds him of the weight of his burdens. Stoically, the dark-skinned man turns back to his mother and sister. "We will stay in this inn," he says.

The unusually young provider sets off in the direction given by Adaela.

[3SecondCultist]

The catfolk makes a sound that is suspiciously like a purr as the little lizard approaches him excitedly. Zshari has seen such little creatures before, but very rarely are these cold-bloods so domesticated. He leans down and speaks to the lizard as though he were talking to an equal. "Jade, is it? My name is Zshari." He takes the lizard's enthusiasm to be an invitation, and walks beside Moiri; not too close, but close enough to indicate to others that they are walking together.

"So, if I may ask, what brings you to Pridon's Hearth? Was it just the summons from this 'Count Narsus'?"

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Oh no, I am coming to start over. Herbalists like me can make a good living for themselves here, and there aren't so many people that I expect to be given much trouble for how I look..." Moiri says, her voice getting quieter and trailing off as she finishes speaking. Reflexively her hands check that her hood covers the scars and marks on her face, the dark cloth shadowing everything within the cloak.

[Hazuki]

"Is it not obvious?" Deader asks the armored woman. "I've come down with a terrible case of the devils." The amber of her eyes becomes suddenly fiercer, illuminating the crack-like indents all over her skin for just a few moments before she stops focusing on seeing into souls "And if there's anybody who knows devils, it's the Chellish."

[PersonMan]

Relisys nods after a moment of thought. "I see," she begins. "If it were something else, I may have been able to help, but I'm afraid devils are outside my skills," she continues. For a moment, Relisys looks away, her gaze going over some of the buildings of Pridon's Hearth, before she continues, voice quiet, not sure what sort of reaction the fiend-touched woman will have.

"I could give you a room if you'd like."

[Hazuki]

"Are you propositioning me?" Deader asks, loudly in counter to Relisys' own whispered words. She waits to see the woman's reaction before speaking again. "Do you even have any land here, Ser Of Her Own? I wouldn't doubt it from somebody with armor as fancy as that, but - surely you'd have had a better room on the ship. Better than the rest of us landlubbers, at least."

[PersonMan]

Perhaps comically for someone otherwise quiet, and for someone clad in so much armor, Relisys swivels quickly in response to Deader's words, raising both arms as if to ward off what she's said. "No! No! No, no it's ... no. Not to say that you're ugly, but...no, ehm," she replies, starting loud and almost panicked, before calming. "I just meant - I'll be getting a place at the inn, probably. And if you, well, I could offer you maybe part of my room, or your own room, or something, for a while. I-If you like."

[Hazuki]

Deader watches the large woman's reaction with a kind of detached amusement, managing only a smirk on her own face. This is the most easily-ruffled warrior she's met, that she can remember, and that promises to be fun. More fun that mad drunks attacking folk for no reason.

"You'd pay for a room for a stranger, for no reason at all?" Deader asks, arching a ginger eyebrow at Relisys. "If that's the case, you look like a woman of means. Perhaps it would be less of a drain if we worked together on an any oddjobs in town. There's bound to be something to do, if Adaela's comment about being understaffed has any truth to it."

[Farmerbink]

Doba starts short- briefly focused on the awkwardly chatting pair of women. He eyes them with an awkward glance, unable to follow the banter effectively. Again, behaving older than he looks, the young man gestures his docile younger sister and mother towards the stone-built inn. There will be time for figuring out whats next until the gold runs out.