airwalkrr's Rise of the Runelords (IC)

Chapter 1: Burnt Offerings
It has only been a couple of days since you left Magnimar for the town of Sandpoint. You signed on with the caravan of one Aldern Foxglove, old money from Magnimar and from all looks and appearances, quite an important fellow. Your meeting with him was brief. He offered you a standard mercenary contract to protect his caravan, supplying you with food and lodging for your journey in addition to the modest sum of 2 silver pieces per day in exchange for your services. You have already spent much of the money on incidental expenses already, as Foxglove's contract said nothing about covering the cost of ale, grog, or the companionship of various women and men (whichever you preferred) along the way.

While the caravan consists of several dozen wagons and carts containing goods and supplies for the Swallowtail Festival celebrating the opening of Sandpoint's new cathedral, it's chief cargo (and most well-guarded) is a carriage-house whose windows are always draped. Whoever rides in the carriage must be a person of great interest and Foxglove has informed everyone to give it a wide berth unless specifically instructed otherwise. You have yet to catch a glimpse of who rides inside the mysterious carriage-house.

On the third night of your journey, you are nearly halfway to Sandpoint and staying at the Rushing Boar Inn when you strike up a conversation with several other individuals who, like yourself, have signed on as mercenaries to protect the caravan. It seems they have interests and ties to Sandpoint themselves, and, among other things, you have begun talking of forming an adventuring company.

Talashia is seated a little back towards the wall of the inn, a pewter mug in front of her as well as a wooden plate with the remains of the vegetables that were served with her supper. Evidently she doesn't care for the chickpeas. On the table by the flatware is a slim leatherbound book that she is writing something in, occasionally glancing up at the inn and the others at the table.

When everyone has assembled she blows the page dry, shakes off the pen onto the floor and caps the ink bottle. Briskly she closes the book, which lacks a visible title or symbol, and folds her hands over it.

Throughout the journey, she's been easily identified at a distance...the unusual combination of light brown skin and glossy white hair made her stand out, and her Varisian heritage is clearly evident in the graceful curves of her face and figure. Though not unfriendly when approached, she has kept to herself most of the time, content to walk along and enjoy the sights in her own little world. Despite being unarmored and armed only with the knife at her belt and the stout walking stick in her hand, she carries herself with all the confidence of a seasoned man at arms in a company of soldiers.

"So," she says slowly. Her voice was rich alto with just a little huskiness to it. "There's talk of us forming a company when we reach Sandpoint. What do you all think of that?"

Danya, a comely lass of no more than 14 years stops by your table to check up on you. "Beggin' yer pardon, but will there be anythin' else for ya?" she asks meekly and politely. She seems to share a number of common features with the Rushing Boar Inn's owner, Danson, a scruffy man of many years and his alewife, Illya. You've noticed she is young and pretty and ever so delicate as she moves about the room. Perhaps she is not so accustomed to serving so many people. The tavern area is filled to capacity with all the caravan travelers and she and the other servers are quite busy. You've occasionally noticed a bawdy sell-sword pinching her ass or making lewd gestures or japes at her, to which she has meekly tried to escape back behind the bar.

Talashia gives the girl a sympathetic smile and shakes her head. She's no stranger to having had to put up with dirty old men's inappropriate affections. One would think that wizards and magi, being of sound and powerful minds, would be well equipped to refute the temptations of the body. One would be wrong.

"I'm fine, thank you," she assures Danya. "The food was quite good. My thanks to you and the cook."

She puts a few extra coins on the tray for the girl. Just copper, but something to make the night's labors a little more bearable. This close to home, Talashia was feeling upbeat and generous.

Vandalin is cheerful sort who seems to enjoy life on the road. He has obviously done this sort of work before and wears the fine chain shirt and pair of short swords comfortably. He is lean and wiry with the sharp features, dark hair and dark eyes of one born of Chelaxian stock. His clothes are well made and suited to traveling. He is clearly fascinated with the ruins and monuments along the road. He often pauses to read the ancient words carved in stone or sketch an unusual form. He chats amiably with nobles or peasants with equal grace and often asks what they know of the local monuments and legends.

He responds to Talashia's question. "It seems we have similar intentions with regard to Sandpoint. Given the size of the place I expect we'll be stumbling over each other anyway, might as well work together." He frowns at the sell-sword's boorish behavior before continuing. "I have some experience with explorations and ancient writings that might be useful to the group." He scans the room looking for the Innkeep to see how he's responding to the boor if at all.

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[sblock=Mini Stats]
Marcas Vanator
Initiative: +03
AC: 14 (14 Touch, 11 Flat-Footed)
HP: 09/09
Senses: Perception +7
CMB: +02 CMD: 16
Fort: +03 Reflex: +05 Will: +04
[/sblock]

[sblock=Duko Wrag] [/sblock]

Duko says "I'm going to Sandpoint to help defend it against giants like those who destroyed my village. Beyond that, I have no plans. Think there might be profit in adventuring? Well, why not, then."

The heavily muscled, tattooed half-orc drinks deeply of the ale. He eats a good deal of roast beef too but it confuses him. Why is it cooked so much? Tastes all right though.

He looks around, trying to understand local mating customs.

The dark haired Deivon appears to be the only one not shocked by the patrons behavior. "It appears I'm to be travelling with a group of sticks in the mud" he say with a gleam in his eye. "As for the group I think that would be a good idea." Turing to waitress, "I'll have another glass of wine if you, please." Nodding to Talishia, "Care to join me, striking one?"

Shayuri said:

"I'm fine, thank you," she assures Danya. "The food was quite good. My thanks to you and the cook."

She puts a few extra coins on the tray for the girl. Just copper, but something to make the night's labors a little more bearable. This close to home, Talashia was feeling upbeat and generous.

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The girl stares at the coins almost in disbelief before quickly shoveling them off the tray and stuffing them into a pocket in her apron. "Uh, yes miss. Thank you, miss," she says with a curtsy.

Scotley said:

He [Vandalin] scans the room looking for the Innkeep to see how he's responding to the boor if at all.

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Danson the innkeep, by all appearances Danya's father as well, seems quite oblivious to the way the bawdy men are treating here. He is instead quite focused on keeping the vast number of patrons coming up to the bar to request ale, grog, or mead happy. He is either intentionally ignoring her, or simply has too much business on his hands to notice.

Mowgli said:

Marcas leans back from his meal with a sigh of contentment, his plate completely cleaned . . . there’s not even a crumb to be found as evidence that the largish tray once held an entire roasted chicken, along with a trencher full of vegetables and gravy. ”Aaahhhmmm. Now that was a good meal. Best I’ve had in a while, in fact, and you can share that with your father and the cook Danya!” He looks around the room and speaks to the young girl in a more confidential voice. ”If any of these louts gives you enough trouble you need help, just you let me know, yeh?” He's a big man and moves with considerable grace; that, and the Shoanti tattoos covering his body lend credence to his claims that he could handle the lass' trouble if called upon.

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"Oh, um, of course," Danya says shyly. "They're not all bad. Just a few of 'em. They don't scare me... much. I... I can handle meself."

rangerjohn said:

The dark haired Deivon appears to be the only one not shocked by the patrons behavior. "It appears I'm to be travelling with a group of sticks in the mud" he say with a gleam in his eye. "As for the group I think that would be a good idea." Turing to waitress, "I'll have another glass of wine if you, please."

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"Oh, yes mister, or sir, beggin' yer pardon, as I'm afraid I don't know how to properly address ye. I'd be happy to bring that for ye. Only thing is, we don't got any of the nice Taldane red, just a Korvosan white, if that's alright with ye."

After gathering your plates, the girl heads back over to the bar and opens a hatch which you suppose leads to the cellar to fetch your drinks. While she is leaving, a small group of mercenaries wander in, an ale cask and ale skins among them, a few of them quite drunk. "Aye, but she's a pretty one, eh?" one of them says with a slur. "I wouldn't mind havin' a go at her, if ye know what I means," he says, nodding in Danya's direction. Then, turning to your table, he takes a keen look at Talashia. "She's not a bad-lookin' one herself. You, um, beheld to these men or are ye available? How much for a little romp, eh? I got the itch and I got the coin to satisfy."

Talashia eyes the men inscrutably for a moment, then looks at Deivon, deliberately ignoring them.

"No, thank you on the wine," she demurs. "And lets stick to 'Talashia' if we're to work together, hm?"

She then turns her attention back to the mercenaries.

"Gentlemen," the sorceress says, with irony thick in her voice. "Any other night, I would be happy to show you all such a time that you would all be lying insensate on the floor, smoldering, by the end." Her smile was a sharp thing, like a scimitar's edge.

"But alas, this is a special night for me, and not one I am willing to sully so. I am here with friends for a quiet evening of conversation. Find another table to pester."

With that, she sat back down and favored the others with a more genuine smile.

"Now, where were we? Right, a fellowship. As Vandalin pointed out, our aims in Sandpoint seem mutually compatible, if not identical." Talashia looked at the orc at the table with a slightly puzzled frown. "I am a little...curious though. Do you have some reason to suspect giants are threatening Sandpoint? It's quite some distance from the mountains, and has very little they would be interested in. I recall they had problems with goblins occasionally, but never giants."