A Caravan to Ein Arris

[Kafkonia]

The elves turn to the kobold cleric in surprise.

"Vicen qua?" says one. "Nen spiken tay!" When Kibek doesn't seem to understand, the other elf speaks up.

"I'm sorry," he says. "My friend speaks only our tongue, the language of the desert. How can we help you, brother? I see you are a man of the gods."

----

As Damien wanders through the marketplace, he stops and speaks with a few different people, as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations. He picks up several pieces of information, some of which seems more believable than others.

-Kira is Halmaro's daughter by his First Wife, Katsaya -- a woman who is almost as powerful as Halmaro himself.

-There are monsters in the desert, and they prey on the unwary, especially at night!

-Halmaro is a demanding but fair taskmaster, rewarding exceptional service but punishing incompetence.

-Halmaro's most trusted advisor is Tsorvano, an elf with the power to cloud men's minds. He handles those matters that Halmaro deems most important.

-Tsorvano and Halmaro first met when the elf led a band of brigands in the desert; Halmaro bested him in combat, and Tsorvano has followed him ever since.

-Most merchants have a girl in every town along their route, sometimes two or three!

-Many pickpockets and conmen have flocked to the Market to fleece unwitting applicants.

-There is an oasis in the desert that can save lost travellers and lead them home, but it is never in the same place twice.

-Katsaya has made deals with dark forces, but the wise do not speak of it.

-Some of the wedding presents have actually been stolen from the Royal Family -- Halmaro is hoping to use this marriage to cement his power and stage a coup in Khedris when he returns.

[SBLOCK=OOC]
Technically, taking 20 on that check should take 20d4+20 hours (20 times the 1d4+1 delineated for one attempt.) But since you don't have that kind of time, and it's a very busy place with lots of people who are very eager to talk.

Of course, taking 20 means you try again and again -- so not every piece of information Damien gathers will be 100% factual.
[/SBLOCK]

 

[Kafkonia]

She glances down to Pasha and then back up to meet Halmaro’s eyes, “But you must speak in jest about tonight’s crowd! Certainly I have not seen any evidence that ‘hooligans’ are being tolerated here. Why, just such a lout was escorted away, not a few minutes ago. No, I am certain that only upstanding individuals would be hired on for a caravan of such importance, though I admit it will be hard to find a more appreciative ear than yours, even in such a gathering.”

"It feels like there's always a bad seed that manages to slip through -- but I hope this time you're right!" Nivram says. "I'll be travelling with the caravan, yes, but my... duties might not leave me much free time." He glances at the line trailing into the distance. "I'm sorry, my lady -- little fellow -- but my attention is required elsewhere. Until tonight, then?"

 

[stonegod]

Having garnered a bit of potentially useful information, Damien makes his way to the Elf and Castle Tavern. He finds a seat with a good pair of walls behind him if possible. He wanted to watch, not be watched. He strikes up an amiable conversation with whomever is there just o past time.

 

[fenixdown]

"Vicen qua?" says one. "Nen spiken tay!" When Kibek doesn't seem to understand, the other elf speaks up.

"I'm sorry," he says. "My friend speaks only our tongue, the language of the desert. How can we help you, brother? I see you are a man of the gods."

Kibek nods, "Yes, I'd wanted to learn your language before coming here, but as you can imagine, it's quite difficult to find other speakers high up in the mountains. It's too bad, really; what little I have heard impressed me as being so poetic. Maybe I'll have the opportunity on the way to learn, hmm? Let me introduce myself: my name is Kibek Danar, and by Halmaro's kindness I'll be joining you in the caravan as a healer," he says, reaching into his pocket and producing the white ribbon the goblin gave him, presenting it with a slight bow then drawing it back. "You and your friend will be our guides, I understand? Quite the responsibility, if you ask me, but I'm sure to you it must seem rather routine," he smiles. "But it's never bad to have help; means less work for all involved, yes? I'd like to offer my help if you can use it; with the Mother's grace I won't be acting as a healer much, and I already have some knowledge of survival in the wild that I could put to use. What do you say?"

 

[PhoenixAsh]

"It feels like there's always a bad seed that manages to slip through -- but I hope this time you're right!" Nivram says. "I'll be travelling with the caravan, yes, but my... duties might not leave me much free time." He glances at the line trailing into the distance. "I'm sorry, my lady -- little fellow -- but my attention is required elsewhere. Until tonight, then?"

Malinda straightens, putting her flute back in its case at her belt. “Very well, my lord,” she replies evenly. She turns to walk away, but pauses to look back over her shoulder, “May I request the name of the tavern I should be at tonight?” She waits only a few moments for an answer, and whether or not she get’s one she proceeds away from the front of the booth, though not too far before stopping once again. She looks back to Pasha and approaches him, bowing her head.

”Forgive me, Pasha. You’ve been altogether generous with me. If you would still care for my company, it would be the least I can do to accompany you while you await the kobold. I have no more business until tonight, it would seem.”

 

[Kafkonia]

"You and your friend will be our guides, I understand? Quite the responsibility, if you ask me, but I'm sure to you it must seem rather routine," he smiles. "But it's never bad to have help; means less work for all involved, yes? I'd like to offer my help if you can use it; with the Mother's grace I won't be acting as a healer much, and I already have some knowledge of survival in the wild that I could put to use. What do you say?"

"Thank you, my scaly brother," replies the elf. "We do not expect to spend much time amongst your kind, but if we do your help will be greatly appreciated. Many shoulders lighten the load, as my people say."

 

[Kafkonia]

That Evening: The Obligatory Tavern Scene

The Elf and Castle Tavern is easily recognized by the prominently displayed sign above its door, depicting an elf being unceremoniously thrown from a castle window into the moat below. At the door, a pair of burly neanderthals bearing the insignia of the White Sword mercenary guild, require that every patron relinquish his or her weapons before entering the establishment.

Inside the tavern is a bar, several tables occupied by a variety of humanoids, and a game of darts going on in the back. Beside the dartboard is an open door through which can be seen various games of chance and skill taking place -- dice, cards, and more exotic entertainments. The conversation is loud, but everyone seems to be well-behaved... at least for the time being.

Only one mostly-empty table remains -- five of the six seats remain empty, a sullen-looking half-elf being the sole occupant. He appears lost in a mixture of thought and drink, oblivious to the crowd around him.

 

[stonegod]

Damien makes his way inside, grinning and shaking hands, being agreeful but mostly keeping his ears open. He buys a drink, and pretends to drink it, and makes his way to the open table. He works on getting a sense of the mood of the place, but does not try to make too much of an impression. Watch, do not react.

 

[Kafkonia]

As Damien takes a seat, the half-elf looks at him only briefly, barely seeming to register that he has company.

The mood in the tavern is light-hearted and expectant, the various partygoers excited about their chance to leave with the caravan in the morrow. The mix is divided fairly evenly between males and females, with humans dominating the racial make-up. One table is surrounded by a crowd eagerly watching whatever is going on -- between the bodies, he can make out what appears to be an arm-wrestling contest, with the observers shouting encouragements towards the competitors.

 

[PhoenixAsh]

Malinda enters the tavern, sparing a glance up at the sign above the door, drawing raised eyebrows. She has no weapons to leave with the doormen, having left them behind with her pack for the evening.

She makes a slow circuit of the establishment, evaluating briefly where any likely performance would take place. She then approaches the bar and orders a drink, and once that is in hand, makes her way to the still mostly empty table. She takes a seat, smiling briefly if either gentleman should look her way, but otherwise keeping her peace - and not disturbing theirs. She nurses her drink half-heartedly, idly fidgeting with the red ribbon tied at the clasp of her cape.

OOC:[sblock] Spot +2, if necessary, to find the performance space location.[/sblock]