Whispers of the Past - IC

[Sicarius Victis]

You arrive in town during the evening, right when the sky starts to get dark. Outside of the wagons, it's chilly, wet, and just plain uncomfortable. Inside the Cotton Club, however, is a warm and comfortable atmosphere, in no small part due to the customers already beginning to arrive. The Cotton Club is relatively well-known in these parts, mainly for its exceptional drinks, but partly for its service as well. Most come visit to try the exotic drinks served there, as well as to attempt to add some of their own brews to the stock, but more than a few just choose to spend time there because it's generally a friendlier place than a typical tavern.

Today, the clientele seem to be about the norm, with the usual laborers, brewers, and even a few adventurers looking for jobs and allies. However, there are also a few people that seem a bit more unusual than any you've seen before. In one corner of the room, a strange-looking man sits at a table. The man is surprisingly well-dressed, when compared to most of the customers of the Cotton Club. He stares intently at the bar, only glancing away to look at entering customers, before looking back to the bar.

In another corner of the room, a cloaked figure sits at a different table. You can't see their features, but the seem to be looking as intently at the man as the man is the bar. Unlike the man, however, nothing seems to cause the cloaked figure to look away for even an instant.

Nobody else in the bar seems to notice the two figures, though they stand out like sore thumbs. Anybody that glances at either of them seem to stop on them for a moment, then look away immediatelt after, as if they've already forgotten about them.

Now, what are the Galerunners doing?

And here's a table of the PCs that Amanil set up.



Player
Character
Race / Class
Colour


Linken (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/member.php?135123-Linken)
Vialla (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1034003)
Halfling UnRogue
A bit of a pink colour


Mornings (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/member.php?99183-Mornings)
Cayla Vronds (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1035394)
Human (Varisian) Bard (Talented Bard)
Teal


Farmerbink (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/member.php?83147-Farmerbink)
Edgar Cooke (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1035187)
Human Cleric
Plum


Amanil (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/member.php?6975-Amanil)
Pintrovio "Pint" Bumblerump (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1041220)
Halfling UnMonk (Drunken Master)
Fire Brick


hector212121 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/member.php?122070-hector212121)
Zagen Kikan (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1042146)
Aasimar Alchemist (Bramble Brewer)
Green


rezplz (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/member.php?45770-rezplz)
Grotar (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=211696)
Orc Barbarian (Armored Hulk)
Orange

[Amanil]

Business was decent, which kept the Hen happy, which meant there'd be plenty of drinks flowing, which kept Pint happy. It was an uncomplicated life.

The halfling dodged a boot as a patron stretched his leg, and carried on walking along his usual thoroughfare beneath the tables. He nodded to Vialla as he emerged, handing over a tray with a couple of drinks and receiving a few empties in return.

"Busy night'," he idly observed in Halfling, something he was wont to do with his own kind. "Ma' told me to tell you to make sure the fellow in the corner's got a drink, he keeps looking over her way," he added as they completed the exchange, reflexively ducking a fraction at the nickname for Cayla that he'd received negative feedback on in the past.

[Mornings]

http://i.imgur.com/V1OGfpe.jpg

The ride had been long, and in truth she wasn't entirely positive where exactly they had come. She'd flipped a coin while at a fork in the road and left the rest to fate. It was precisely for these reasons that leaving Cayla in the couch-seat was something of an affair which flirted with danger and adequate risk. The woman never claimed to have any sense of direction, but her wild and flighty fancy could lead a wandering tavern nearly anywhere if the right conditions and chance would have it. She didn't follow maps, and rarely followed roads. Which was precisely why the wheels and driving axle of the traveling tavern was steel. Running a wagon's wooden wheels across the rocks had put her out of commission more than once already, and thus the change was a much due upgrade.

The scene was familiar, and she hadn't traveled far enough to call the region unfamiliar. She was still 'somewhere south of nowhere', and thus nothing was exceptionally unusual, interesting or curious; her favorite words. After a short rest she begun the normal and laborious tasks of preparing The Cotton Club to open its doors in the evening. She had parked the wagon train nearly on top of the town's small fountain; 'as center as center goes'. Much like herself, being the center-of-attention also required the precise physical positioning as appropriate of one looking to steal the hearts and notice of all who'd visit; The Cotten Club was no different.

She'd prepared a special dish for the evening, something of a chief's special. Sometimes she'd prepare something different to try various recipes she made up. She washed her dishes as her dishes finished and sat warm in the oven. Moving about the tavern she set the tables, laying the lavish covers over the fine hardwood. Setting the ornaments and lighting the candles atop their coasters before setting the ember pots alight to fill the interior with a soft warmth that contested the chill outside. Once finished she turned back to the counter, filling in the menu sign with todays special 'God's Delight'. She had baked small rolls of bread and made an exceptionally sugary coating of molasses, Godsbrew liquor and a pinch of spice which she caramelized over the rolls using extreme heat. It created a somewhat creme brulee-esque sweet which tasted exceptional with a sweet-liquor like tepache. She was quite pleased with the results.

Without further delay she opened the door and put up the Open business sign before closing the door again to keep in the heat. She did not have to wait long before the customers begun to arrive. She wasn't one to over-sell herself, and thus only offered a coy smile or nod at the persons who came inside rather than a welcome. The faces weren't particularly familiar, nor particularly interesting. Observing the filling tables stole a measure of her bluster, customers were well and good, but an uninteresting night was the worst.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of the two less rudimentary folk who came through her door as she slid a tankard down the counter in the waiting hand of a young man, who had the hopeful spark of a novice adventurer in his eye. She cast a grin at Pint and Vialla, the two halflings had become something of attendants to the Club after spending so long under her roof. She leaned over to Vialla and passed the girl a tray of tankards she filled with frothing Godsbrew. She picked up a mug of fragrant tepache and one of the special rolls while gesturing to the well-dressed gentleman. "Sweetie, would you hold down the bar? I've gotta see a man about a dog..." She leaned over to Pint to pass him a word as well, "Honey, see Mrs. Grundy in the corner there gets something stiff. I like em' dark-and-brooding, but mamma's got a date with that upstage egg." She grinned mischievously while turning away.

With a quick motion she checked her hair then picked up the plate from the counter. Sauntering steps brought her up to the well dressed, and likely, wealthy man. She exaggerated the swing in her hips as she placed the plate and tankard down on the table. "Compliments of the house, handsome." With a seductive motion, she slid down in a chair across the table from the unnamed fellow. She pulled out her silver-case, tapping it once to release a narrow cigarette and placing it in her mouth. "So, Jamie. What brings a dashing-dandy like you to this tomato's house?" With an elegant motion she pulled out a chromed lighter and lit the end of the filterless smoke, placing the device back into a pocket. "If I like your song, they'll be more than just one cup off the parlor..." She winked at the man with the last word.

Cooking: Take 10 (20) - Making Gods Delight sweet-rolls
Diplomacy: Take 10 (20) - Vs Mr. Rich-Man :smallredface:

[rezplz]

As the Cotton Club began to fill up, Grotar’s table remained empty except for him – although, upon seeing the towering orc it was plain to see why. Grotar sat with a straight, stiff back and folded arms, emphasizing his powerful physique as he observed the Cotton Club’s patrons with slightly narrowed eyes. He tried to understand their motives and strengths, as he had in his short time with the Galerunners, yet as usual he came up with blanks.

As a relative newcomer here, and not exactly one with a friendly appearance, nobody had yet to really… ‘open up’ to him. And naturally, he had yet to see one that he was particularly interested in speaking to. As such, Grotar and the other patrons kept their usual tense peace of sorts. They didn’t bother him, and he didn’t bother them; merely observed. Right now, however, Grotar saw two people very much in need of observing.

First he looked at the man in his silly human noble garb. Grotar was sat in a table against the wall, putting this fancy-dressed human to his right. Grotar tried to follow the man’s gaze towards the bar, and then would look back to the human. So far, he had been unable to piece together what he was looking for, but he marked the behavior as odd. The other man, in the corner furthest from him, was odd as well. Yet the determined gaze was one that made his eyebrow raise just in the slightest amount by some measure of respect. That kind of determined gaze showed a man on a mission – which could also be dangerous. Grotar remained sitting, but kept his eyes trained on this cloaked figure.

He spared a glance back to his right as Cayla approached the rich man. As usual, Cayla’s words confused Grotar – she seemed to speak much, yet say nothing but nonsense. Still, he suspected there was method behind it, and this could prove interesting. He kept an ear trained on Cayla and the rich man, and narrowed his eyes again as he kept his eyes locked on the figure. What are they looking for?...

Perception check just because: [roll0]

[Linken]

Vialla, of course, didn't want to miss a single thing that was happening all around the Club! It is, after all, one of the loveliest places to be. She smiled as she weaved and hopped around the tables, getting to the bar once she had presumably been beckoned over. Still, her eyes were slightly locked onto the rich man, and she sizes him up slightly- no pun intended, of course. Once her attention is gotten once more by Cayla, she smirks. Yeah... busy. But, well, I can do that. Gimme a sec. Vialla pulls up an empty stool to the behind of the bar, and she clambers onto it.

Now, it'd be rather criminal to say that Vialla didn't size up just about everyone coming in, especially the people that looked rich or even looked like they had a hint of money. Still, she kept her 'urges' to herself, instead simply watching the locals of this town... their mannerisms, what they're like. Still, if addressed, she'd respond rather quickly. However, she kept one eye on the Orc in a corner. She wasn't... racist or anything! She just knew that that kind of people had a... tendency to cause trouble? Well, he doesn't seem all that aggressive, and he's just looking around, the same as her. It's probably slightly obvious that she IS looking at him more often than not, though.

Take 10 on climb in order to get onto the stool :p
[roll0] Knowledge: Local. The town we're in, anyone in the Club that is 'famous' by this place's standards.
[roll1] Perception, just because.

[hector212121]

Zagen sticks to one of the two remaining corners, preferably one with a good view of the room. He keeps his eyes and ears open; while he doesn't expect trouble, it never hurts to be alert and keep an eye on the mood of the room. He also takes note of any customers he can spot who are armed. Meanwhile, he sips casually at his drink, brewed himself. He keeps the barrel of water he makes alcohol with at hand; after all, he never knows when something crops up and he could use a quick boost. He tries to surreptiously brew a extract as well, simply because he hadn't the time to do so yet between travel and helping set up.


Hunch(Sense Motive):[roll0] vs 20
Perception:[roll1]
Preparing:Tears to Wine, 1 minute until prepared

[rezplz]

For a moment, Grotar’s eyes meet the halfling’s at the bar. His eyes quickly flicked back to the man in the far corner from him, yet he couldn’t help but raise the corner of his scarred lip in a slight, amused smile. It was normal for people to stare at him – in these so-called “civilized” lands, people feared one who showed their strength as prominently as him. As such he paid it no mind, merely absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the table, one after another.

As he observed, he licked his lips, noting how dry they were. He drummed his fingers on the table a few more times, and then scanned the bar in search of that Halfling that was staring at him. If someone were to pay so much attention to him, after all, he might as well use that to his advantage. Uninterested eyes met the halflings after not much time, and he raised his hand just a few inches off of the table. He then waved the Halfling over, and then quickly rested his eyes back on the suspicious man in the far corner.