Fiend's Embrace - IC Thread

[Land Outcast]

"Arakk, Arakk, let me see...yeah, I hard of 'im. Not from around these parts, I think he's from one of the cities way south, not sure which. He's a merchant, I guess, but he acts like some kind of nobleman. Spreads a lot of coin around, I hear. Speaking of which, that's got to be worth something to you, right?" The meat seller holds out a greasy palm, and smiles showing his filthy teeth.

*craw* *Fatball!* *craw* *craw* the Raven spits out and descends from Idivien's shoulder to be nearer to the meat pies.

Under the cloth, the tiefling smiles.

Worth something to me? Who does this simpleton think I am?

First starts speaking at normal volume, but then says in a confidential tone "Sstrangers are around" And ignoring his hand leans towards the man, with hushed tones, making an effort to keep off his odd pronunciation of the "s", he adds "I hate using that stupid "s" accent, surely cooperating with the Swords is worth something to you... this Arakk being here from the south is spreading quite a bit of coin around, and the Tarkhan's interest is roused... strangers are entering the town"

After this, he stands straight again, winks, and moves his hand to his pouch. "And I could alsso usse a pie"

OOC: Bluff +8 plus any situational modifiers

 

[Malvoisin]

Stopping to wipe his brow off with his sleeve, Ortak recalled all he could of the local customs and laws of the area. While his main field of study had always been the more obscure facets of history and how magic had shaped it, all of Boccob’s followers normally could be counted on knowing a little bit on a broad range of subjects.

Knowledge check (history) +10

Ortak Knowledge (History) Check (1d20+10=20)

[sblock=Ortak]Ortak recalls that the territory of the Wegwiur is a hard land, barely civilized. The Tarkhan's word is law in these parts, and the laws are simple, straightforward, and subject to change as the Tarkhan sees fit. Strangers are scrutinized constantly, with nonhumans always under threat of suspicion. The Wolf Nomads are intermittently in conflict with their distant kinsmen, the Tiger Nomads, each branch viewing themselves as the 'purer' version of the nomadic tradition. Eru Tovar originated as a simple stockade, and grew over time into the large town that it is today. The Wolf Nomads hate the forces of Iuz the Old passionately, and conduct forays and raids against his armies on a semi-regular basis.

(OOC: If there are more specific details you'd like to know, feel free to ask!)[/sblock]

 

[Malvoisin]

Under the cloth, the tiefling smiles.

Worth something to me? Who does this simpleton think I am?

First starts speaking at normal volume, but then says in a confidential tone "Sstrangers are around" And ignoring his hand leans towards the man, with hushed tones, making an effort to keep off his odd pronunciation of the "s", he adds "I hate using that stupid "s" accent, surely cooperating with the Swords is worth something to you... this Arakk being here from the south is spreading quite a bit of coin around, and the Tarkhan's interest is roused... strangers are entering the town"

After this, he stands straight again, winks, and moves his hand to his pouch. "And I could alsso usse a pie"

OOC: Bluff +8 plus any situational modifiers

Idivien Bluff Check (1d20+8=22)

The vendor swallows hard as the smile melts from his face. He stammers, "One...one of the...the Swords? Forgive me, lord, I did not recognize you with...with the veil. So sorry. Allow me, I would be honored..." He quickly grabs hold of a steaming meat pie and places it gingerly in Idivien's cloth-wrapped hands. Then he grabs the handles of his cart and trundles away up the street as fast as he can.

 

[Land Outcast]

As the cart departs, the Raven takes flight up to Idivien's shoulder.

Idivien shrugs to himself.

"Let's sseek thiss man who likess sspending coin then" The tiefling walks towards the Wyvern's Sting with a calm pace, scrutinizing each person he sees, more out of custom than of need.

When he enters the Inn, still with the pie on hand, he looks for the one who could be his employer, if he is nowhere to be seen he sits at a table.

 

[Malvoisin]

The Wyvern's Sting is easily found, as it lies near the center of Eru Tovar, and seems to be a popular destination for locals and travellers alike for food and drink. The inn's battered sign creaks as it swings in the cool breeze; the facade of its namesake, a faded carved wyvern, snarls with menace.

Inside, the air is thick with the smoke of flaring oil lamps and a roaring corner hearth which staves off the evening's chill. The interior is loud and raucous. Fur-clad local hunters and farmers, herdsmen and traders, mix with road weary travellers, all eating and drinking, talking and laughing. The patrons crowd at the rough-hewn bar or at ramshackle tables, while a handful of waitstaff tries to keep up. There is no evidence of who in this crowd might be Arakk, or even if he is present at all.

Actions?

 

[Land Outcast]

Just like home

Idivien walks up to the bar and calls out the barkeep, at the same time he leaves the pie on the table with evident disgust. The Raven descends from his shoulder and starts pecking at the meat pie.

While he waits for the barkeep to arrive next to him he entertains himself seeing how careless people is with their moneypouches; and remembers that that's nothing compared with how careless they usally are about trusting in strangers. People can lose more coin trusting the wrong people than carrying their coins in a bowl on their head.

Bless their carelessness

He doesn't waste his voice shouting out over the crowd to ask what he's come to ask, and when the barkeep approaches him: "Iss there anyone who might be waiting for me here?"

The crow rises his head from the pie for a second to look at the barkeep, as if daring him to say something against him being there on the bar, eating. And then returns to his pie.

 

[Rayex]

Gnro - Lizard Favoured Soul

Looking around herself, carefully keeping the cowl on, the little "halfling" finds a table in a quiet corner. She'll order a glass of watered ale, carefully keeping her face in the dark, as long as possible.

An Inn... So many people gathered in one place, and they all seem so careless. She sigh quietly to herself. Well, if this is where I'm supposed to find this... Arakk? I better wait for him here.

She'll sit quietly, sipping her ale, and watch people in the commonroom, trying to learn how to better blend in.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"Oh? Three Dragon Ante? Well, you'll have to explain the rules to me, but if you don't mind a beginner playing with you ..." Harval grins wolfishly as he sits at the table with the gamblers, picking a bit of roast beast from between his teeth with a fingernail.

 

[Malvoisin]

While he waits for the barkeep to arrive next to him Idivien entertains himself seeing how careless people are with their moneypouches...

To Idivien's eyes, most of the locals appear to be pretty savvy, and they keep their coin purses clutched close at hand. Apparently, in an unforgiving land such as this one, the people learn to be aware of such things...perhaps they learned the hard way.

Idivien doesn't waste his voice shouting out over the crowd to ask what he's come to ask, and when the barkeep approaches him: "Iss there anyone who might be waiting for me here?"

The barkeep, a heavyset man with a bulbous red nose responds, "Well, if you mean that noble from the south, he's booked up a private room through there." The man jerks a finger over his shoulder, indicating a short hallway leading off from the main common area of the tavern.

The crow rises his head from the pie for a second to look at the barkeep, as if daring him to say something against him being there on the bar, eating. And then returns to his pie.

The barkeep spares one glance for the gluttonous raven, but that's all. Apparently, he's a bit too jaded to make a fuss over the bird.

 

[Malvoisin]

Looking around herself, carefully keeping the cowl on, the little "halfling" finds a table in a quiet corner. She'll order a glass of watered ale, carefully keeping her face in the dark, as long as possible.

An Inn... So many people gathered in one place, and they all seem so careless. She sigh quietly to herself. Well, if this is where I'm supposed to find this... Arakk? I better wait for him here.

She'll sit quietly, sipping her ale, and watch people in the commonroom, trying to learn how to better blend in.

There doesn't seem to be such a thing as a 'quiet corner' in the Wyvern's Sting on this night, but Gnro does find a table with a short leg that wobbles badly. No one is sitting there, so she climbs into a chair and waits for one of the overloaded servers to get to her and take an order. Meanwhile, she observes as a thin man wrapped in a cloak [Idivien], approaches the bar and speaks to the barkeep. His manner of dress marks him as a non-native traveller, much like herself.