Kholdstare's Scales of War 4E Campaign [IC]

[Kholdstare]

It is a pleasantly warm spring evening in Brindol. A cool breeze blows in from the west, and the sun is beginning to set in the rosy-hued sky. The townsfolk have been pleasant and friendly to the newly-arrived adventurers, but there seems to be an unspoken worry underlying many guarded glances and furrowed brows. Still, there is a good crowd gathering for supper at the Antler and Thistle Tavern this night. The word on the streets is that this is the place in Brindol to catch wind of interesting goings-on throughout Elsir Vale...the kind of happenings that may be sure to catch the ear of adventurers perhaps? If nothing else, the food is said to be tasty and the ale cold. What more could one possibly ask for?

OOC: Enter the PC's. Have fun everyone!

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[drothgery]

Breena took one of the handful of barstools sized for small folk at the bar, asked the barkeep what he has in stock, and contented herself with a local dark brew and let him talk her into ordering a meal with it. She was partial to dwarven ales, though she knew well enough not to try matching their creators drink for drink. She was a gnome, after all; a short dwarf was six inches taller than a tall gnome like herself, and would weigh over twice as much.

She scanned the room while taking her first sip, on the odd chance there was a white-haired human in dark robes sitting in a corner. That was traditional, after all.

"I don't suppose you know anyone looking to hire a sword or two?" She asked the barkeep. A sword she had, a rapier almost as long as she was tall was on her back. Since she was a gnome, that didn't mean it was a particularly large sword, but it would do well enough. "I've enough coin to cover my room for a while yet, but if my father hears I'm being an idle layabout, he'll be awfully disappointed."

[sblock=appearance]
At 3' 8", Breena is tall for a gnome, and slender. She's wearing brown leather -- armor as well as boots -- and a red and gold - accented wool cloak. It looked like everything she wore was designed to look flashy, but also to last. She doesn't look heavily muscled enough to be a traditional warrior, or light enough on her feet to twirl into the middle of combat, but anyone looks closely would be convinced the blade is not for show.
[/sblock]

 

[rb780nm]

The flutist standing on the bar while he plays local favorite drinking songs is not bad... no master bard - not yet, but not bad at all.

After a few more songs, all of which are heartily accompanied by the three or four already inebriated locals sitting near his feet, he leaps down, drains the pint that was waiting for him and heads for his table - a large empty table at the back, the best and the worst table in the place - far from the fire and far from the regular paths of the serving girls, it is also has a modicum of privacy, and best of all, to Cardamon the bard, it is always empty and waiting for him.

He leans back in his chair with his second pint in as many minutes. Behind him a bow and a sword have fallen over onto the damp floor. With care that seems incongruous, he cleans and disassembles his flute, placing it almost reverently into its carrying box.

 

[hafrogman]

The inn's door opens quietly, spilling the last of the day's light in behind the figure back lit in the doorway. A first glance almost reveals the man Breena's idle speculation, but a closer look begins to form cracks in the illusion. As the door closes behind him, dark robes are revealed to be a brown, and rather dusty, cloak. The white hair and beard are just a pale red, and the man isn't as old as he first seemed. Truth be told he's also a little shorter and stockier than any imposing figure of legend. A little boring and plain, all things considered.

He finds his way to an empty stool at the bar and collapses onto it, dropping his pack on the floor and propping his staff up next to him. A deep sigh emanates from him, and he deflates slightly. He orders an ale and looks around the room while he awaits his drink. Catching sight of the diminutive figure next to him, he peers at her curiously.

"Have you come far?"

 

[drothgery]

When she saw the flautist had a bow and sword, she wondered about him for a second.

			Is he a musician who knows how to fight, or a true bard? Another arcanist might be interesting to talk to.

"Have you come far?"

[sblock=ooc]
We don't have a world map, so Breena's geography is completely off the cuff, and can be altered if needed.
[/sblock]

Breena looks a bit disappointed when the newcomer resolves into someone less likely to try and assemble a band of heroes in a tavern, but it doesn't last. Someone wanted to talk, and it was a lot easier to get her talking than to get her to stop.

"Somewhat. My clan's from up north -- it'd be over a week's hard ride on a good pony to get here from there. Took me longer than that, of course. Interesting work for a bright girl with a sword is easier to come by here in human lands than in the mountains, but a few jobs and a few rumors -- and this one boy in a merchant caravan, granted -- pointed me this way. And you?"

 

[Someone]

Sargeant Farmer is sitting at his usual spot, greeting the usual patrons and drinking his usual beer after a long day trying to instill the proper way to handle a spear into a bunch of villagers. Things are going comfortably boring lately, which is a pleasant change after the late monster sightings and rumors, except that those problems seems to have attracted a bunch of swords for hire and errant types, known for causing problems. Culth eyes them while tasting his drink.

 

[Theroc]

(I forgot to ask this before, but is it cool if I flavor some of Bane's attacks as the 'wristblades' when I use weapon attacks? No mechanical change, just feels more assassin-like sometimes.)

Bane stepped into the inn without a word to anyone, taking a seat at a lone table as he stared down to the wood, appearing to study the grain as he trained his ears to pick out facts and possibly get a lead on discovering the identity of those he hunted. After all, it would be a long road to vengence, but it was all he had left...

 

[Insight]

Vashtaryx, an imposing figure, even if he wasn't covered in red and green scales, wearing ornate, purple robes, slowly enters the Antler and Thistle. The robes give Vashtaryx away as a recent graduate of a dragonborn magical academy. Those with knowledge of such things would realize that he had studied under a great master of sorcery.

The dragonborn looks around, trying to get a feel for this eminently human establishment. Anyone paying attention to the 6'4", muscle-bound robe-wearer will note Vashtaryx's discomfort at being in such a place. The sorcerer strides across the wooden floor. Vashtaryx's thunderous footfalls give him away long before the sorcerer gets to his destination.

Vashtaryx makes it to the bar. "Barkeeper, I suppose I'll have an ale. The local variety." The dragonborn, while he awaits his drink, takes a look around the room. He seems a little more situated, perhaps a little more settled. Vashtaryx looks to his left and right, seeing human peasants and soldiers all around him. He sniffs the air. He wishes humans bathed more often.

Receiving his drink, Vashtaryx stares into the glass. "This is no firebrew, but it will have to do for now. Down the hatch!" The sorcerer drinks the watered-down ale in one gulp.

"Say, barkeeper, I don't suppose there's a hiring hall in this town. I'm recently at a loss for things to do, and I'm not the idle type."

 

[hafrogman]

Rhys bobs his head slightly at Breena's answer, his eyes still wandering around the room as he listens. Her question however, draws his attention back for a moment.

"Me? Oh yes, I have come a long way indeed. A very long way, indeed. I started out here..."

If there were more words coming that might have explained his seemingly incongruous statement, they are cut short by the entrance of a new arrival. He lapses into silence as he watches as the sorcerer strides through the room. He turns back to Breena after a moment.

"It seems like work is a popular topic today."

 

[Someone]

"It seems like work is a popular topic today."

"There's always need for someone who wants a honest work's wage" says the soldier at the bar in a quite strong voice. You realize, hoeever, that it's just his normal way of talking, not that he's trying to shout or be loud. "Though, looking at you, I'd say that's now what you're looking for. Let's be honest, pay your debts, avoid causing problems and we'll get along well."