City of Orussus, The Red Dragon Inn X

"A pie? Are you kidding?"

Galwynn starts at the voice, and then shakes his head ruefully. "I'm afraid not... it was a 'divine' pie, but a pie nonetheless." he sighs and stares into his mug. "Many adventurers cut their teeth on kobolds... or goblins... I cut mine on a lightly glazed crust..."

Taelythenihel Nimmilemar, gray elf specialist wizard

The door opens slowly. A female elf enters the inn. She is small and slight, even for an elf, and dressed entirely in white. Her hair, the same colour as her clothing, is parted in the middle to hang straight on each side of her angular face. After a few steps, she lets go of her staff, which remains balanced upright on its end, and turns back to the entranceway. She drags inside a large strangely shaped bag, tied tightly at one end, filthy with dust and grime from the streets. It is obviously too awkward for her to lift and too heavy for her to move easily. She pulls it alongside her staff and lets it fall. Then she walks forward with her staff once more, covering a third of the distance to the bar. Again she plants the staff on the ground where it stands unsupported. The slow process of crossing the room with bag and staff repeats. To anyone observing her closely, it is apparent that beneath her elven hauteur, she is near exhaustion. Reaching the bar, she talks softly to Joe. “Landlord Joseph Smith,” she says, “I require food and lodging, in a private room. However, my situation is uncertain. The entirety of my ready money is three gold crowns. I intend to support myself by offering my services to those seeking to hire adventurers.” She seems to come to some sort of arrangement, for she inclines her head to him, and says “You are most generous.” Joe waves an arm toward the assembled patrons of the Red Dragon. “If I must,” the elf responds, and turns to face them. Her violet eyes sweep over some of the nearer faces.
“I am named Taelythenihel Nimmilemar. Should this prove difficult for your tongue, then you may call me Taelyth or Enihel. Fading-sorrow is an acceptable alternative, for a human or a dwarf. If you are orc-blooded and must address me, raise your hand above your head and make your customary grunting noises.” It is unclear whether her last sentence is a joke, though she blinks twice rapidly after saying it.
She turns back to her bag and sweeps a hand over it. Much of the street-grime disappears. Grasping the tied end again, she slowly moves across the room. But when she reaches the foot of the stairs, she falters and sways on her feet.
“I do not believe I can lift this to the second floor,” she says.

Rasereit Vundinn, Dwarven Barbarian

Rasereit drains his mug and stands as the elf trudges across the room to the stairs. He walks boldly over to her and hefts her sack over his shoulder with ease. "Fadin' Sorrow, eh? Not the merriest name Ah ever heard of, though you elves are a queer lot..." He grins. "Here, lemme help ye wit' this."

"Please be careful and hold it only by the tied end," says the elf swiftly. Rasereit indeed finds the bag light, no more than sixty pounds, but this must have been too much for the slender elf to carry for long. "I cannot disagree, master dwarf, but I bear the names my parents gave me." Her voice becomes cadential: "Beloved Child of Autumn Tears, Deep Promise Honoured." She pauses. "There is also my family name, but I do not use it, for I am the last. Now, if you would, the landlord has granted me the twenty-third room for my use."
Taelythenihel and Rasereit, almost of a height but otherwise as dissimilar as two humanoids can be, head upstairs. [sblock=Rasereit]When they reach her room, Taelythenihel asks Rasereit to place the bag, which in the better light he can see is woollen, down gently on the bed. She crosses to the open window and closes the shades. Then she draws a dagger and makes to cut the cords binding her bag, until she sees that Rasereit is still there. "My thanks," she says. "I am tired, but do not feel the need to trance. I will rejoin the company downstairs momentarily." She ushers the dwarf to the door. As he stumps away, he hears her say two short sibilant words. [sblock=Listen DC15] "Ossa, stand." [/sblock][/sblock]

[sblock=In Room 23]Rasereit grins and comments as he leaves, "We'll be waitin' for ye. Drinks are always on the 'ouse, here. My kind o' fine establishment, ye know?" With a wink, the dwarf saunters from the room and down the stairs, without hearing (9) her whispered words.[/sblock]
Rasereit comes down the stairs and orders another drink. He sits back down next to Ogrin at the bar.

Wik said:

Galwynn starts at the voice, and then shakes his head ruefully. "I'm afraid not... it was a 'divine' pie, but a pie nonetheless." he sighs and stares into his mug. "Many adventurers cut their teeth on kobolds... or goblins... I cut mine on a lightly glazed crust..."

Click to expand...

You hear a slight laugh as a gnome who was apparently napping at a table has awoken to overhear your comments. This is a strange land, I have heard tales of great adventures here, but it seems food is taking its place in the bards stories of late. When I first arrived two companions and myself fought bread stuffed with tomato sauce and it was a difficult fight! At least you did not fight for your very life against this pie. Laughing he seems to be going over the events in his mind. Forgive my manners I am Cepheus Beren Boomhill, armor smith and sometimes adventurer.

"I had skeletons and zombies in my first adventure, but they were inedible" says Nodis. "In fact they wanted to eat us"

The elf Taelythenihel returns to the main room at this point. "A skeleton has no need of bodily sustenance," she comments. "Did you face perhaps the undead remnant of a predatory animal such as a wolf?"

Galwynn looks up from his drink, regarding the gnome coolly for a moment. When he realizes that the gnome isn't mocking him, Galwynn raises his mug gently. "Adventuring is a bit difficult, isn't it? To be quite honest, I'd much rather be digging around in the dirt like my forebears, but" he scowls and looks upwards, "'She of the twisted humour' had other plans for me. So... here I am. Hopefully I can graduate upwards... maybe guard some ale from dwarves or something."

He stares into his mug, and mutters something to himself about "unpaladin-like behaviour".