World of Low'verok

Argent said:

Elexia takes his head in her hands and smiles. "I will do as you ask. Where can I find this Skord?" Her touch is gentle and warm against his skin. She raises his head and pulls him to his feet. "I officialy take you as a charge. You are innocent in the eyes of Alnaria.

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*Hisk smiles at you, showing all of his still-sharp teeth. The sight is somewhat disturbing; he must have picked up that mannierism in town.*

"I will tell you what I can. Ssskord is great and terrible; he is as a black thundercloud. From him comesss the hissssing rain that hurtsss." As Hisk says this, he extends one thin leg. High on the thigh are old scars that after a moment's examination Elexia realizes are acid burns. "He lairs in the sscenter of the ssswamp, and ssswims below in the water, hidden and sssecret, and waitsss for thossse to come to him ssso that he may devour them. We would sssacrifice to him on our altarsss of stone, in many placesss, and he would come there to take what we offered. But no more, no more. Sssomeone came to his placsse, and that one made him mad, mad. Maybe that isss why he hurtsss me."

"I promise I will talk with Skord and let him know you are still his faithful servent. But what if he is so mad that he no longer wants you around? I will be happy to help you find a new place to live. Far from this swamp and Skord but with others who will accept you." Elexia's heart truly goes out to this poor lizardfolk.
"Wait here and I'll get my traveling companions. We can discuss this together. They will not harm you. Remember you have the lady's protection now."
Elexia leaves the room and gathers the rest of the party.

Ray Silver said:

*Syrrian is gently badgered by a female elf woman for news of home. She slightly disappointed to learn that he's a Farlight elf (she's a Black Pine elf), but still exchanges what information she can about their kind. The woman, Yasmira, is middle-aged for an elf, and obviously a mercenary of some kind, both due to the well-used armor and weapons, and the patch of the Mercenary's Guild she wears on her shoulder. She imparts that a ship of elven silk and wine was attacked by pirates nearly within sight of Port Xialar. She laments that the pirates get bolder every year; for while pirate attacks are hardly a rare occurance, never had they attacked so close to the port cities before. If Syrrian brings up the Forbidden Lands, Yasmira simply shakes her head.

"It's a cursed land, my brother," she says kindly, her eyes sad. "Some damnfool merchant in Benshay once hired my company to protect his train. It was stupid of him; he couldn't afford adventurers and so tried for mercs. We were trained for fighting wars, not that bodyguard business. He thought he'd be clever and run his train close to the Forbidden Lands so that desert raiders could only come at him from one side. None of us knew until later; but the raiders avoid the cliffs like the plague. It was the cliffs we should have been afraid of.

The train was attacked that night by those winged, human-like sacs of ooze. It killed all but two of the mercs and all of the horses. The servants and traders ran off into the night and were picked off. Myself and another traveled straight into the desert for two days and were rescued by the desert nomads before we died of thirst. I've never gone back to Benshay, and I doubt I'll go into the Unwanted Desert ever again. I admire the courage of the desert people to stay and fight those monster, but I don't have the courage to stand up to that kind of slaughter again. Keep your interests closer to home brother, keeping too much of your attention on the Forbidden Lands means nightmares for months." As she says this she shudders. She quickly orders some of the strongest rotgut the inn has and has to take two large drinks to steady herself before she talks again. When she does recover, she speaks no more of the Forbidden Lands.

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Syrrian reaches out and puts his hand on Yasmira's shoulder. "I am sorry if I have troubled you. Truly it was not my intent. Perhaps you could share some happier stories."

Syrrian will continue to chat with her, listening to any other stories she has and sharing some of his own. He tells her about the time Noddy made Rokelsh angry when he made one of the barbarians prized items "disappear." Needless to say, Rokelsh was quite upset until he realized it was just a trick.

Noddy is a shameless show-off and puts on quite a show with music, juggling, tumbling, and general comedy. Since he's not seen any other Halflings nor Gnomes in town, short-people jokes are the order of the night. The evening regulars probably haven't had this much fun in months. Since Gaoi has already wowed them with his Prestidigitation, though, Noddy holds off on his own sleight-of-hand tricks. No sense boring the crowd, after all.

During a break, he sidles up to a patron who had previously cast the unfriendly glances toward the lizardman, picking a patron who looks to be honest and forthright without being belligerent.

"Hullo, friend! I saw ye took notice of Mum's new friend. She's a bad way for takin in strays. Dunno 'bout here, but at home if ye took in a stray dog, he's like tae bite ya as tae fetch for ya, if ye know me. I reckon ye know a bit of that scaly feller." He catches Pelo's eye. "Here, lad - fetch me and this gent a drink, eh? That blathering mess is right hard work and dries ya out. So, now, Mum tisn't letting a wolf intae the fold, is she?"

Rokelsh eyes the gnome for a few minutes, not entirely trusting the little folk.. They had a tendencey to be tricksters, he had found. After a moment of silence and a large draught of his drink, he set the now-empty cup down and responded.

"Stories, you say? I have a few that might interest you, I suppose. Have you ever heard of a Bedirp? They're nasty bird-like beasts, sometimes venture out from their nests to attack travellers in the desert. I was out with a hunting group several seasons back when we heard this low-pitched shriek. Seconds later, three of the group were laying on the ground with the demon-birds pecking them to pieces. Out of 16 seasoned warriors that went out that day, only five of us returned. It was the second greatest tragedy our tribe had seen in my entire lifetime there... although the meat from the Bedirps was delicious and fed the camp for over a week."

He stops and signals for another drink.

outlands said:

During a break, he sidles up to a patron who had previously cast the unfriendly glances toward the lizardman, picking a patron who looks to be honest and forthright without being belligerent.

"Hullo, friend! I saw ye took notice of Mum's new friend. She's a bad way for takin in strays. Dunno 'bout here, but at home if ye took in a stray dog, he's like tae bite ya as tae fetch for ya, if ye know me. I reckon ye know a bit of that scaly feller." He catches Pelo's eye. "Here, lad - fetch me and this gent a drink, eh? That blathering mess is right hard work and dries ya out. So, now, Mum tisn't letting a wolf intae the fold, is she?"

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*Pelo returns with two brimming mugs of mead. Your table companion has the look of a hunter around him; he wears a bracelet of various kinds of teeth and there's an unstrung bow leaning up against the wall behind his chair. After getting the mead, the man takes a large swallow, then strokes his beard and mustache thoughtfully.*

"'Tis not a wolf. At least, he's never been mean to anyone. Old Hisk couldn't hurt a fly. But he's mortal strange, even for lizardfolk, and he ain't right in the head. It's just what he's been doing that worries some of us.

"Ya see, Hisk came into town over four years ago. He was old, but he wasn't thin like he is now. He seemed to have, I'm not exactly sure, but some kind of purpose to what he was doing here, even if no one knew what it was, he did. A few months after he arrived though, he just started getting downright strange. The town watch would hear him screaming in some dead-end alley or flophouse, and would find him with his clothes ripped up, sometimes bleeding, always beaten up. They looked for the culprit, but when it started happening damn near weekly, they thought that he was just beating himself up for whatever reason. Touched in the head, we all thought.

"Then about a couple months after that started, he started pestering passerby, particularly those that looked kindly, if you catch my drift. He goes and asks them something in private. Then some of them hare off into the swamp. Not all of them come back. Oh they all gave reasons for going into the swamp, but they never metioned Hisk directly.

"I don't know if that crazy old lizardman is giving folks the idea that there's treasure out there, or if he's asking them to take up some damnfool crusade, but if he hasn't gotten folks killed already, he's going to." He pauses to take another swig of mead, then looks at you expectantly.

Jemal said:

Rokelsh eyes the gnome for a few minutes, not entirely trusting the little folk.. They had a tendencey to be tricksters, he had found. After a moment of silence and a large draught of his drink, he set the now-empty cup down and responded.

"Stories, you say? I have a few that might interest you, I suppose. Have you ever heard of a Bedirp? They're nasty bird-like beasts, sometimes venture out from their nests to attack travellers in the desert. I was out with a hunting group several seasons back when we heard this low-pitched shriek. Seconds later, three of the group were laying on the ground with the demon-birds pecking them to pieces. Out of 16 seasoned warriors that went out that day, only five of us returned. It was the second greatest tragedy our tribe had seen in my entire lifetime there... although the meat from the Bedirps was delicious and fed the camp for over a week."

He stops and signals for another drink.

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*Kipp's eyes widen for a minute, then he collects himself.*

"A most fascinating tale! Do tell, how did you kill the demon-birds? And what do such foul creatures look like?"

Ray Silver said:

*Gaoi finds several patrons are quite interested in his magical skills. One, a fairly prosperous-looking half-elf wearing working leathers but elegant (yet not ostentacious) gold jewelry, asks Gaoi if he could entertain at a birthday party for his young daughter. If Noddy helped (particularly with juggling or acrobatics), he is also asked.

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Gaoi smiles at the prospect. "Perhaps. It all depends on our current responsibilities. When would the party be? Please let me check with my companions before I make any promises. Where may I find you once I have an answer for you?"

Gaoi respectfully excuses himself when possible and starts looking for Maven, the ooze genasi.

Tailspinner said:

Gaoi smiles at the prospect. "Perhaps. It all depends on our current responsibilities. When would the party be? Please let me check with my companions before I make any promises. Where may I find you once I have an answer for you?"

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"Ah, the party will be tomorrow afternoon, at my manor. I'm Baron Kilsroff, by the by, Baron Elgin Kilsroff. If your companions let you go, I'll send a messenger here when it's time for the party. If you need to reach me, just talk to Raff, he'll take care of it," the half-elf says easily.

*Gaoi, you just barely recognize the Kilsroff family from your studies of nobility. They're a minor noble family that helps the Dragoneye high nobles with the administration of this region. Kilsroff is nominally the mayor of Ranfer's Crossing, but sends a proxy to town council meetings more often than not. The reason you remember this fact is because the proxy is usually his wife.*

Gaoi respectfully excuses himself when possible and starts looking for Maven, the ooze genasi.

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*Maven is where you left her, stirring pots and adding things to the stew and porriage. When you come over, she yanks one of the serving boys over to her and sets him to doing her job with a few whispered words and a hard stare. She gives you a quick curtsy and then leads you back to a table that's half-hidden behind the stairs. She scurries back to the bar and comes back with two blue glass wine cups filled with something that makes the blue look purple.*

"It's Dragoneye wine m'lord. Your elven friend was enjoying it earlier. It's quite fine," she says, trying to arrange her skirts and hair to something more elegant than a bar wench. She sips her wine carefully, with stiff and brittle manners. She's obviously trying to impress you, or at least not disgust you. Ooze genasi have a reputation for being disgusting; it's in their heritage. She's most likely tried to hide it as much as she can, but she still looks greasy and oily. After a sip or two, she builds up her courage to speak again.

"I was wondering, m'lord, if you could vouch for me before the Elemental Guild Masters. They've got a rule that no genasi can be admitted into the guild without being verified by another, independent genasi. I know what I am, and I know what I can do. I've been practicing ever since I've been little. I can learn more, but I have to be in the guild do that. Only way for a bastard daughter of a barkeeper to get out of here would be through one of the Guilds," she says the last with undisguised bitterness.

Rokelsh leans forward, whispering in a conspiratorial tone.

"I tell ye, lots of people, they're scared of demons and such cuz they think they can't be killed, but they're just as vulnurable to a severed head or a sword in the chest as you and I!" He takes a drink from his new drink. "They took about 6 of us in the initial run, knocking them down and flying off before we could respond. The rest of the battle was more even, though we lost 2 more for each of them we killed. I personally slayed the last one with THIS sword." He says, laying a hand on the hilt of his blade. "A steady slice while it was swooping in at me sent its head flying a hundred steps."

He smiles a bit in memory before continuing on.

"Well, you see, Bedirps're only a bit larger than a full grown man.." He stops and looks around at those in the bar" Uh, well, a full grown man of the desert, at least. Significantly larger than most of the 'men' around here, I'ld wager. They're covered in dark brown, almost scaly feathers, all over. Great huge tallons on their feet, bigger'n any dagger, and jagged beaks made for ripping flesh from bones!" Rokelsh visibly shudders at his remembrance of them, taking another drink to calm himself.

"I tell you, even I wouldn't want to meet one of those beasties again.. at least, not alone. hmmf.. specially since they never travel in groups less than 3. We were luckier than we could have been that day, to encounter such a small flock."

OOC: psst, want me to write up some stats for the Bedirps? *L*