Argenti entered the bathhouse where a polite servant offered to take her clothes to the clothier for any minor repairs, suggesting that they would be delivered to the House of Rest (along with any other belongings that she did not insist to keep close by). In their place, the servant offered rust-coloured "Seeker's Robes".
After cleaning herself with a bucket of warm water over colourful drain tiles, she had her choice of three large pools or two smaller ones. In one large pool, an ogre sat speaking softly to an elderly woman; in another, a half-dozen humans and a halfling were animatedly debating an obscure subject; in the third, a green dragonborn sat alone with his eyes closed. The two smallest pools were empty. Alternately, she saw that she could choose to head to the saunas, which were behind closed doors.
Ethian Silvermoon was enjoying his time in Candlekeep. He'd read several interesting and informative books, and had held many interesting conversations with Avowed and Seekers alike. Having given his book some weeks ago, his time as a Seeker was nearing its end, and he did not know what he would do next.
At present, he was sitting in an overstuffed chair next to the large circular firepit in the centre of the Hearth, that gave the tavern its name. He was speaking to his adjutant guide, a stoic elf named Voshadi Moonriver. In spite their obvious similarities, the two elves had very different upbringings, and they had clashed for a time before finding that they both quite enjoyed the other's differing perspective. In particular, they liked to have heated debates.
Argenti thanked the servant for the robes and care her belongings would receive. Candlekeep was truly a hospitable place, it reminded her a bit of home, and that gave her confidence that her goals would be reached.
Taking the crowds in, the genasi settles on a course of action. It would do no good to come all this way and ignore the experiences and information the people residing here no doubt possessed. But she didn't wish to be too intrusive, and her goals could be considered a bit base by most scholars. Wealth was useful in and of itself, but for Dao it was also of cultural significance. By contributing to her Matron's vaults, the warlock would not only make Aurumamma proud of her, but maybe, just maybe, it could also be a way for Argenti to become a Dao herself.
With resolve and a smile, Argenti approaches the large pool with the ogre and the woman. "Hello friends, I hope I'm not intruding?"
After a nod to make sure it was OK, she enters the pool and introduces herself. "I am Argenti, from the lands of Mulhorand, may I ask for your names?"
Ruznami Warmaker leaned over the ancient tome as he flipped through the book. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, an indication he had been working too long. “Bah! This one doesn’t have what I need either!” the dwarf said, leaning back and looking at the stack of books he had just finished. He pulled over a piece of parchment and jotted down the titles of several other books. “Looks like we have time to kill while the interns grab the next batch.” He spoke without the typical accent of the dwarves, his Common perfect.
Not so long ago, that would have been Ruz. Now, however, with his dissertation finished -- was such a lifetime work ever really complete? -- he had graduated to Master Reader and had much more time to pursue his other avenue of study, magic.
Ruz grabbed up a hefty tome, his spellbook, and flipped through it. He made a couple of corrective notations before he was interrupted by a hoot from a box near his open window. Archimedes, a small burrowing owl the size of a child’s doll, with brown feathers, white chin, and scowling eyebrows emerged from the hole in the wooden box, blinking against the light. It wasn’t unusual for the little owl to be about during the day.
“You hungry, Archie?” Ruz asked, standing. “Might as well go see if anyone interesting has arrived. And I need to check on the next batch of ale,” he said.
Ruznami pulled on his official robes over his clothes. At a year passed fifty, he was considered young for a dwarf, though he had been at Candlekeep for longer than many of the humans at the library, though he was by no means the most venerable. He was still young, yet already his hair and beard had turned white, giving him a venerableness beyond his years that was belied by his bright blue eyes and lack of wrinkles or other weathered features.
Archimedes hopped into a sling that Ruz pulled over his shoulder and across his chest, a nice little pouch the familiar could rest in. Then the dwarf headed down out of the hallowed halls of the library and down to the Hearth tavern.
Ruz went to the back of the tavern at first, down into the cellar, where large barrels of ale were stored. He went to the last in the line and tapped a shot, tasted it, swirled it in his mouth, then spat it out. “Not ready yet,” he declared, patting the large oak barrel. “But soon!”
Then the dwarf headed up to the common room. He paused outside the door, taking several deep breaths, steeling himself for the social interaction. He stepped into the tavern and looked around before quickly avoiding eye contact with anyone. He found a seat at the end of the bar, out of the way and hopefully out of anyone’s interest, and ordered one of his ales -- he was particularly proud of that last batch -- and a good meal of fried pork sausages and potatoes, three hard boiled eggs, and carrots and spinach. Archimedes poked his head out, and Ruz fed him a bit of sausage, though the familiar didn’t really need to eat.
Hawthorne nodded to Loremaster Lei in gratitude for the introduction. "Good day, Loremaster. Name's Hawthorne Grandview. Praise be to the Binder Of What Is Known." Without missing a beat he pulled a small purse off of his belt and dropped its contents into the gleaming silver pan stationed at the head of the aisle leading up to the altar. With the clanging of the coins subsiding, he walked purposefully straight up the aisle and to the altar. He closed his eyes and raised his chin towards the vaulted ceiling, then began rattling off several ideas he had come up with on his carriage ride to Candlekeep and which he was presenting to Oghma and into the ether.
"A cushioned wagon wheel would make for a more comfortable journey."
"Your will can be strengthened as much as your body."
"Do not forsake the chance to make a new acquaintance, for you never know how it might enrich your life."
"Pack light. Always try and remember to pack light."
With his ideas and his coin tithed to Oghma, Hawthorne opened his eyes and smiled contentedly at the large scroll of Oghma's symbol emblazoning the back wall of the shrine. He turned quickly on his heel and proceeded back up the aisle and towards the doors to go back outside. With a final nod to the priest, he bounded out of the building back into the sunlight, the sounds of the courtyard washing over him once again.
"And now a new idea. Let's get a drink!" he said out loud but to himself, and then strode across the cobblestones towards the humble tavern next to the inn.
Ethian enjoyed the comfort of the chair he was sitting in. It was not delicate or orate by any means, and lacked the finesse he was used to, but had the heartwarming charm of human manufacture. He was also enjoying his time with Voshadi, the first elf he had seen in weeks. He had traveled alone, away from other elves: a necessary evil to avoid detection by unseen enemies of his family. Besides, elves that knew his pedigree often acknowledged it, which he wanted to avoid outside of elven lands. He even chose to bring armor and weapons of human and dwarven make, to avoid being recognized. Now, Voshadi reminded him how pleasant it was to be with one of his own. The short lived races didn't savor the silences, and always seemed to interrupt this precious contemplative time.
His reflections were interrupted by a seemingly scholarly dwarf. It was obvious to Ethian that the fellow didn't seem to want to be disturbed. Nodding at Voshadi, he signaled his brethren to look a the master dwarf and spoke in a soft voice in jest: "It's a pity, he doesn't seem to want to be disturbed, but my Dwarvish could use some practice."
He signaled the Tavernkeeper for some food. By now, the man knew that he couldn't' stomach the heavy foods that were expected by other patrons, and only brought some vegetables and cheese. Ethian ate, sharing the large plate with Voshadi, hoping to catch the Dwarf's gaze for perhaps an opener to conversation.
Ruzmani kept his head down as he ate, more comfortable around books than people, though he listened to the conversations around him. He had never left the confines of the library, and his only knowledge of the world outside was the books he read and the people who visited. He sometimes wondered if, at some point, he should actually visit some of the Delzoun sites that he wrote about in his dissertation, visit the famed Gauntlegrym.
Ruz reached for his ale and lifted his gaze as he drank, catching an elven Seeker staring at him. He blinked his blue eyes. What? Did he have food in his beard? He brushed a hand through the white beard to check.
Archimedes hooted then, taking that moment to flap into the air and circle the tavern before landing near the elf.
Kaliban took a big sip from his mug and smiled at his guide. He had become a fixture in the Hearth since his arrival in Candlekeep. He had been craving companionship since leaving seclusion. Even though the Hearth was more reserved than some of the other taverns he stopped in on his journey to the library there was still conversation and stories to be had. The gnome scans the room as he finishes off his drink. Several of the other Seekers had started to meet here in the late afternoon to eat, swap stories, and play cards but none of them seemed to have arrived yet. He sighed and looked down at his now empty mug. Signaling to a server for another.
Kaliban glances at Parmak once more. He knew that the guide would be absorbed in the book for the rest of the night. With the unlikely chance of conversation from the guide the gnome slides off the stool and grabs his mug, crossing to a chair near the fire. He smiles at those nearby and takes a sip from his drink. He places it down next to him and settles in to wait for one of his fiends to arrive or an interesting conversation to start.
Ethian smiled at the dwarf, and then the bird. He knew enough arcanists to infer that the owl could be a magical familiar, and if it was, this would be an opening to chat with the dwarf. He needed to make sure though, again, etiquette mandated that he didn't force the conversation.
"What a beautiful creature" he said to Voshadi, but loud enough for Ruzmani to hear. He offered the owl some cheese, and waited for either the bird or the dwarf to react.
"Ah yes," said Voshadi, "I love how small it is. Where I am from, owls have been known to be of a size where they can be ridden as mounts, if they do not eat you first. One must learn to ask respectfully."
The guide turned to Kaliban, who was nearby, and asked, "Do they have owls at all where you are from? I don't mean to assume, but I would guess that bats would be more common, if I am not wholly ignorant."
