The Game of Kings

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

"Well, I don't personaly know the ruler, but I know my way around the streets fairly well. I mean, I did spend almost all of my life there, a whole 10 months!" Carver says. "It has been a long time since I was there though, a lot can happen in 2 months. I've been mostly wandering Korvairre and crafting things. And I think pretty soon, I'll be able to invest a personality into my morningstar. It will be so exciting to have a companion on my travels."

"But you want to hear about the Port, don't you? Well, there's a great Seafood place called the Silver Tide. Bim used to go there all the time. He must have done something for the owner, because he was always nice to me after Bim died. And then there's this blacksmith who makes some of the finest iron bars I've ever seen. Oh, and..." Carver will go on unless someone stops him or everyone leaves.

Morika was going to comment on Carver's idea of a weapon having a personality, but decided it would be useless. The 'forged obviously had the attention span of a gnat and the grasp of reality of a cloud-chaser. She endures his comments for another five seconds before losing her short temper. "For the love of Balinor, can't you just sum things up instead of babbling like a brook? If you end up talking that much during our little mission, we're all going to end up in the stocks because you were talking to the guards like old drinking buddies! Save your words, they're too precious to waste on idle chat," she snaps, shoving away from the table. However, one clawed hand does keep a firm grip on her mug.

 

[Dark_Jackalope]

The captain deflated ever so slightly, but did not allow the smile to leave his face. He set the quill back in the glass ink jar with a small flourish, and set the ledger aside.

“Ah, well… S’pose it’s only fair tah talk to yehr friends ’fore spendin’ their gold, mm? Please, though… be sure tah tell me your decision theh ev’ning ‘fore we set sail fer Tantamar again. An’ the sooner yeh decide, tha better. Even fer something as small as a barrel, space in tha ‘holds fills up fast on this ship.”

Gorbrekken then stood up, and courteously showed Glasia out of his quarters, bidding her a good night on the rougher open seas.
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As the kobold leaves the galley, a more elderly crewmate passed him in the doorway and nodded politely, before coming into the dining room, which was now abandoned save for the small group listening to the animatedly talking warforged.

“’Allo,” he said simply, as he wiped his hands on an even greasier apron cloth and began stacking up the scattered dishes and leftover food. He looked up when the wild-looking young woman erupted angrily, obviously startled and somewhat unnerved. He didn’t recognize any of the folks at the table, but did remember the kobold coming into his kitchen earlier, and knew them to be member of the same party.

Quietly, but in an ungraceful way that reminds one of a mouse more than anything, the grey-haired old cook left the room again. He politely left some of the food and drink for the travelers, though he probably intended to come back for it as soon as they had gone.
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OOC: The ruler of Port Verge is Prince Kolberkon.

 

[Bront]

Morika was going to comment on Carver's idea of a weapon having a personality, but decided it would be useless. The 'forged obviously had the attention span of a gnat and the grasp of reality of a cloud-chaser. She endures his comments for another five seconds before losing her short temper. "For the love of Balinor, can't you just sum things up instead of babbling like a brook? If you end up talking that much during our little mission, we're all going to end up in the stocks because you were talking to the guards like old drinking buddies! Save your words, they're too precious to waste on idle chat," she snaps, shoving away from the table. However, one clawed hand does keep a firm grip on her mug.

"Where is this talking water of which you speak? That sounds truely facinating? Or is that some sort of expression? And why would I talk to guards that are guarding what we're after? Though, I suposed that talking might be some kind of good distraction, but still it's not like I would be a drinking buddy, as I'd have never had a drink with him. Do you need a buddy to drink? Is it like swimming?" Carver asks.

 

[Bobitron]

Glasia makes her way to Doral after bidding the captain goodnight, stating his offer. "He seems unwilling to discuss the price," she explains with a sigh. "So much money!" She sits down unsteadily as the ship hits a particularly heavy wave. "But it stays in port for three nights. That fits our plans. Perhaps we could seek another vessel once we reach port? One more desperate for work?"

 

[Deuce Traveler]

Doral gave a friendly smile to the elderly man handling the dishes.

When Glasia enters he listens with interest to her story, absorbing every word. Once or twice he asks small details, such as what kind of lock was on the cabin and whether the captain had any noticeable vices. When she is done Doral leans back and whistles in appreciation.

"So you convinced him to keep the relatively low sum he first offered and to also leave the offer open until we've gathered enough money. You've done excellent. Thank you. Relax, and enjoy the food. I guarentee we'll be glad for the rest. Oh, and I'll go with the kobold when he goes to negotiate with the dwarves." Doral repeats his plan to those who had not been at the meal before.

After Doral finishes his meal, he'll move to the deck, then to examine the ships's piloting system, then towards his quarters and back through the ship, looking for any of the dwarves that he intends to eventually bargain. He observes their schedule and for a chance to find them all leaving their quarters so that he make sneak inside...

 

[stonegod]

"Oh, and I'm still looking for a volunteer for negotiating with the dwarves."

[OOC: I believe the kobold stated that he would talk with them here. He wanted to know a little more about their arrangement, but will work without it if needed.]

 

[MadMaxim]

Partash looks at Morika with a look of concern on his face. "I'm not trying to insult your or anything, Miss Morika, but perhaps you should learn to control your temper a little more? I don't think anyone of us are interested in jeopardizing the success of the mission because of our personal quirks. Carver might just know something that could prove potentially useful for our mission. I have no doubt that your skills and knowledge about the wilderness will prove crucial to our cause, but still, there's no need to be this hard on your companions." He sits back in the chair and waits for the expected outburst from the shifter. She sure has a short fuse...

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

"Where is this talking water of which you speak? That sounds truely facinating? Or is that some sort of expression? And why would I talk to guards that are guarding what we're after? Though, I suposed that talking might be some kind of good distraction, but still it's not like I would be a drinking buddy, as I'd have never had a drink with him. Do you need a buddy to drink? Is it like swimming?" Carver asks.

"It... but... you... no!" Morika manages to sputter in between Carver's non-existant breaks in his questioning. She's torn between laughter and rage, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tries to grasp what the warforged is doing.

Partash looks at Morika with a look of concern on his face. "I'm not trying to insult your or anything, Miss Morika, but perhaps you should learn to control your temper a little more? I don't think anyone of us are interested in jeopardizing the success of the mission because of our personal quirks. Carver might just know something that could prove potentially useful for our mission. I have no doubt that your skills and knowledge about the wilderness will prove crucial to our cause, but still, there's no need to be this hard on your companions." He sits back in the chair and waits for the expected outburst from the shifter. She sure has a short fuse...

Morika rounds on the young-seeming nondescript man, her mouth snapping shut as her anger finds a better focus than the oblivious 'forged. "Guess what my quirk is? Unbridled rage!" she snarls, slamming her mug down on the table. A shower of ale fills the air, and she calms her breathing a bit. "I'm a beast at heart, I lived much of my life in the Reaches. I never learned manners, and I never saw the need for them when I watched other people use them. 'Don't try to teach a boar to sing, it wastes your time and annoys the boar.' The same is true of shifters and manners, little one."

 

[MadMaxim]

Partash, half-way expecting Morika's outburst, still jumps a little in his seat at the angry tone of her voice. Did I just ignite a warehouse full of alchemist's fire? He quickly collects his thoughts and comes up with a proper response for the obviously very articulate shifter. He narrows his gaze on Morika and says calmly:

"But even rage must be tempered and made useful at the right moments. The cheetah doesn't just charge its prey unless its sure it has a chance of bringing it down before its strength is spent. I'm not telling you to learn unnecessary skills, Miss Morika. I'm simply asking you to manage your strength better than you seemingly are.

After all, you're dealing with creatures that are used to certain customs and ways of interacting and if you fail to see the point of learning these skills, then one could state the question whether or not you are fit for interacting with so-called civilized people. I'm not saying there are anything wrong with your point of view, but if you're not willing to broaden your horizon and learn from other people, then you'll never really grow as a person."

Partash leans back on the chair, obviously satisfied in having stated his point.

"Just think about it, okay?"

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

Morika waves her free hand lazily and takes another gulp of ale. Her expression has gone more thoughtful... and more feral. "Oh, I'm certainly not fit to be with civilized people. My clan... we spent our lives in the wilds of the Reaches, protecting the little pockets of civilization from the war. We never had the time to learn to be civilized, because we were saving it. Funny, eh?" Morika broods for a minute, then stretches full-length. Old scars can been seen under her thick hair on her arms and legs, puckered arrow wounds and slim sword slashes. "I'm old. I spent a lot of time in the war, and it's hard for me to change. Why do you think I left the Reaches after the war ended? I'm looking for little wars, I'm looking for the way things used to be. When you spent all your life doing something, it's hard to up and change it."