It's a dark and stormy night . . . the dark of the moon on the first day of Sarenith and the first day of Summer as well. Though it is impossible to tell, this night, that the moon is dark. The cloud cover is complete and the rain is coming down in sheets, making it impossible to see farther than fifteen or twenty feet down what passes for streets in the Scóg Bocht, the Poor District of Saor Ghabháltas.
Each of you met earlier in the afternoon with Bronágh Tadhg, the Commander (and owner) of Bronágh's Bees. The Bees are a relatively small Mercenary Corps with a reputation for excellence in their area of expertise - scouting, light cavalry and mounted light infantry (scouts and skirmishers).
Commander Tadhg is a Tiefling Paladin who worked his way up through the ranks of the Bees, finally buying out the former commander and taking the leadership about 10 years ago. Rumor has it he was recruited off the streets by the former commander as a child, and that he wasn't always a Paladin.
After a nerve wracking interview - the Commander wasn't unfriendly at all, just scrupulous and very thorough - you were each made the following offer:
The Bees offer to pay for your Bond for a year, during which time you will work for them as a member of their Corps. You will be members of a five man squad assigned as 'irregulars.' You're assignments will be scouting and reconnaissance for the most part, though 'other duties' may be expected of you on occasion.
As a member of the Bees, you will be entitled to Merc billeting and resupply of basic items free of charge from the stores at any Mercenaries' Guildhouse. Pay is a gold piece a day, plus any loot specified in the contract the Bees are filling with your services; however, the Bees get 10% of that loot (half of which goes to the Guild).
You were told that you'd have the night to consider the offer, and told that the other prospective members of your team could be found in the Scóg Bocht at an inn called The Ruffled Feathers should you desire to meet them before making your decision. You are not told where to find the inn, or the names or descriptions of your prospective teammates. You are told that there is another Merc outfit that has had some . . . disagreements . . . with the Bees recently. It is possible that some of them will be at The Ruffled Feathers, as it is The Wolfhounds' turn to rotate through as Garda (Wardens).
Commander Tadhg will be awaiting your decision at first light on the morrow.
The Poor District of Saor Ghabháltas is a very densely populated maze of (somewhat) ramshackle buildings and very narrow streets. The people here live cheek by jowl with each other, and usually in the same building where they keep their shops.
This District of the city is almost impossible to navigate unless one is native to it, and even the locals are usually only familiar with the immediate area in which they live and work. However, there is an organization of Guides who keep members posted on many corners and in quite a few of the inns and shops. Each is familiar with a relatively small area of the District, and will happily escort patrons either to their destination or to a Guide in the area next closer to their destination (who will then perform the same service) for a fee of two copper pennies.
Finding Your Way
Locating a particular 'address,' shop or business in the Scóg Bocht requires a Knowledge (Local - Saor Ghabháltas) check w/ a DC of 30. Alternatively, you may purchase the services of the Guides' Guild (possibly to be re-named later) for two copper pieces.
Aodhán shakes the hand of the Commander firmly after receiving the offer, "I'll consider this over a glass of ale. Thanks" he says on the way out.
He walks out of the meeting attempting to hide the wide smile on his face at the fortune, a new group of so-called irregulars? This seemed like fate, if anything, to his mind. He had no intention of turning down the captain, and wasn't motivated by wealth, so didn't wish to haggle their contract, however he had to make a show of considering things, not wanting to come across as desperate. Whispering a prayer to Lonrach, the dwarven cleric adjusted his travelling cloak and backpack, before heading to the Scóg Bocht.
Once there, he will gladly (and wisely) pay the copper coins to the guide, imagining one could could lose far more than just some pennies if one wandered into the wrong street.
Upon arriving at his destination, Aodhán gives another copper coin to his guide as a tip and turns to head inside. Pushing through the wooden door, the cleric surveys the room, seeing if anyone sticks out as a potential member of this potential new group. He decides to grab a table with enough room for the five members, in case they show up. He orders a pitcher of ale and five glasses.
Description of Aodhán
The dwarf is tall (at least as far as his kind goes) standing nearly 4 and 1/2 feet tall and a relatively narrow build. He doesn't wear a helmet and his head is bald. The skin is tanned and rough, indicating time spent in hard labour. He sports a dark brown beard, neatly trimmed and well kempt. The dwarf wears a symbol of the Pantheon around his neck, drapping it on his dark scale armour. Leaning on the chair next to him is a large wooden shield in rather good condition, barely showing any signs of use. A shiny, polished axe is strapped to his hip and you can tell its of the finest quality.
Houwlou Groulenas, Olcán Ranger, AC 17/16/13, HP 21/21
Houwlou will begin my putting his exceptionally keep senses to work, listening and scenting about for taverns by the raucous noise and smells of freshly cooked food. 1d20+5=11 But, having little luck with that, Houwlou quickly abandons that plan and hires a guide. (For 2cp, right?)
When he arrives at the Ruffled Feathers, Houwlou thanks his guide and enters, not knowing precisely who or what he is looking for. Fancying himself the crafty hunter, however, he scans tables not too far from the door with fewer people than chairs, looking in particular for anyone who looks somewhat 'expectant,' for lack of a better word.
Last edited by Leif; 22nd April 2009 at 05:10 PM..
The sodden Áilleacht trudges through the rain trying desperately to keep his bowstring and lute strings dry with his threadbare cloak. He cluthes the empty pouch once last time in a futile attempt to find a coin or two. He'd been walking the streets for hours looking for The Ruffled Feathers. He'd tried asking a couple of guides but without even a measly two coppers to his name he was rebuffed. Finally he found a sheltered overhang on a street where there is some traffic. Putting out his hat he tunes up his lute and begins to sturm a popular tune...
Aodhán enters the ramshackle building indicated by his young guide and takes a quick look around. The Ruffled Feathers is dimly lit and raucously noisy, the room crowded with fighting types in all shapes and colors drinking, playing darts and dice and (occasionally) getting a little out of hand as someone wins or loses more than the others at the game think they should.
The best he can do for a table is a trestle with room for three or four more people around him; shrugging nonchalantly, he orders his pitcher and glasses and settles in to wait and watch the crowd.
Houwlou's keen nose readily identifies many places that fairly reek of ale and meat and his ears are assaulted by sounds that make the thundering rain sound almost peaceful each time he opens a door. Finally giving in to frustration and a sense of urgency, he accepts the fourth offer for guidance through the Poor District and parts with his 2 copper pennies.
His guide, a street urchin in her pre-teen years, walks him fearlessly up one block and over two and delivers him to the Ruffled Feathers. Stepping quickly in out of the driving rain, the Olcán gives a quick shake. The water spraying off his fur is hardly noticed by those closest to the door.
He looks around expectantly, but the room is crowded with raucous people of all sorts and there's nothing obvious at first glance to set any one of them apart from the others.
Houwlou
Make a Perception and a Sense Motive check, if you please!
The young Áilleacht outdoes himself - an exceptional performance that would certainly have drawn a nice crowd were it not for the weather. After a half an hour of playing, the young urchin leaning casually on the wall across the street pushes off and strolls insouciantly across to Keeland.
"Oh, give over won't you? The song's fair enough I suppose but you're never going to earn coin on a night like tonight. I suppose I could show you to a place you might could play for a bite and a place to lay your head, if only to get you to leave my corner in peace."
Location: columbia, missouri, u.s. of north america, terra, sol III, Milky way, third demension
Posts: 4,832
'harnry Drextin, Wizard.' That might look good somday as a shingle over his door, but not today. He has been offered a contract with a mercenary company of good repute and that is reasonable enough for Harnrey. Right now he just needs to apply his consideration to the offer. he shakes the commanders hand and promises he will give serious thought to the idea.
Right now he needs to brave the rain and get to the ruffled feather tavern and see if he can find other members of the company.that will not be easy. First he is going to get a few items of necessity and then head over.
he hails a guide and pays a couple of coppers to get to a general store and upon arrival he pays a copper tip.
[ooc] i am getting the equipment list done now[/ooc]
Location: columbia, missouri, u.s. of north america, terra, sol III, Milky way, third demension
Posts: 4,832
Harnry finishes his shopping and calls for another guide,
[ooc] check your e-mail mowgli, and deduct another 2 copper for the tips given thus far. for got that[/ooc]
finally getting to the mentioned ruffled feather tavern ... probably a test to see if he was able to percieve the obvious in a crowd. he pays his 2 copper and again upon arrival an extra tip of another copper.
He enters from the drenching rain with a shiver and looks about for any who would seem to be of the group he is supposed to be looking for
As Aodhán sits he takes note of a few people around the room. There are always two people in the room wearing red sashes tied around their upper right arms. These are not always the same person - they enter and leave fairly regularly, but one never leaves unless another has come in first - and they are not drinking.
An Olcán enters the Feathers, shaking out his ruff as he comes through the door and looking around without visible regard for those he's soaked. The Wolf-kin are not unknown to Aodhán - he encountered them occasionally during his time in the mountains - but neither are they so familiar to him that he can judge their intent from their body language, and this one is no exception.
Aodhán notes the red-arms noting the Olcán with some wariness.
Houwlou enters shaking, and as he takes time to truly examine the room he makes note of a few interesting things.
First, there is security in the room - two men wearing red sashes around their upper right arms and not drinking, but taking notice of any disagreements that seem about to erupt into actual fighting.
Second, there are a few people drinking more or less alone in the room; any of them may or may not be waiting for someone - Houwlou's time with the barbarians has been his primary human connection, and these city folk are hard to read.
The aspiring young wizard's guide disappears back into the alley almost before the tip disappears into his grubby little hand, and Harnry turns to confront the chaos that is the common room of the Ruffled Feathers.
There are people everywhere - crowded into the benches at the trestle tables and standing in the spaces between. They are drinking, talking (loudly), and playing at darts and dice.
Servers move deftly through the crowd, delivering drinks and finger foods to the tables.
His experience with mercenaries - gleaned through a short lifetime of exposure to those associating with his parents - tells him that the people in this room were mercs almost to a man (or woman). But as he gazes around he begins to realize that his parents had sheltered him from the rougher side of mercenary behavior. This is much more raw, more primal than he is accustomed to. He kind of likes it . . .
Snapping to, Harnry realizes as he looks around that he doesn't have a clue who he's looking for, and thinks Well, Harnry old boy, time to put that vaunted intelligence to work and figure out how to make contact.
"Well my friend it is very important that I find a place called The Ruffled Feathers. I was hoping my little tune would earn me enough to pay one such as yourself to lead me there."
The young boy (not yet pubescent but plainly in his element on the streets) scowls mightily at Keeland but immediately turns and starts walking.
"Pretty particular for a kid without two pennies to rub together, aren't you? Well, come on then before someone sees me being nice."
After a walk of a few blocks through the twisting, narrow streets he delivers Keeland to the door of a building of dubious structural integrity. The sign above the door displays two banty roosters, squaring off and puffed up to twice their actual size.
"If anybody asks, you found your way here all on your own. I've got a reputation to protect."
With these parting words, the boy disappears into the rain heading back the way you came.
Keeland pauses for a moment to try to shake off the worst of the water outside the door, though the overhang from the second floor of the inn doesn't provide much shelter from the pouring rain, and enters.
He's confronted by a wall of sound and activity, but quickly manages to sort through the chaos and get his bearings. While he recognizes that the two burly men with red sashes on their arms must be the Garda mentioned by Commander Tadhg he is unable to discern any thing that would make his potential squadmates stand out from the crowd.
Not knowing precisely with whom he is supposed to meet, Houwlou, after shaking the water from his coat most luxuriantly, will go to the bar to obtain some liquid refreshment and to watch the room and all in it that he can see. (He will refrain from 'marking his territory' at this point, as he has heard that these 'less forthright' types tend to frown upon that sort of behavior.)
Houwlou is confronted by a strange sight - a mop of auburn curls appears on the other side of the bar to his right, followed quickly by an intelligent forehead, then a pair of light green eyes, and before he knows it there's a halfling across the bar from him asking for his drink order.
At the Olcán's puzzled look, he says "The world is what you make of it, my friend. If it doesn't fit, you make adjustments!" With a gesture he pulls Houwlou's gaze to a short ramp on the other side of the bar. The ramp elevates to a platform of a height to allow the bartender to serve his 'big folk' customers at their level. "Now, what can I get for you?"
Aodhán is clapped soundly on a mailed shoulder. Looking around quickly, he's confronted by a halfling with shoulder length auburn hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. The halfling glances at the pitcher and extra glasses and gestures toward the crowd standing at the door.
"Are you trying to enhance the dwarven reputation for drinking, or are you waiting for someone? If it's just going to be you tonight we could use the extra seats."
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