World of Kulan DM
OOC: I will post my introduction to the game sometime this week. (Do you have your PC done?)
Kisep notes several shop names around the edge of the Grand Plaza: Mar's Magical Poultices. The Felled Ogre. (Looks decent.) The Inn of the Six Candles. (Likely overpriced.) Xacanthia's Magical Transcriptions. He notes that almost every building is either one- or two-stories with most being the latter. Every building is a shop with what looks like residences above them. Finally, he comes near a place called Helman's Bar.Kisep carefully moves through the crowd past the market stalls on the Grand Plaza and its surrounding streets, looking this way and that, reveling in the noisy bustle. The kenku moves his head in a decidedly avian way, abruptly moving and holding still for about a second before looking at another person or object that caught his eye. Not unlike a sponge, the bird-man pays particular attention to all the sounds in this city: voices, accents, animal noises, tools being used, goods crashing into other goods; remembering as many details as he can and sometimes moving his large beak as if silently trying out a sound.
His exotic outfit, instrument and weapons are not out of place here; more than a few people dress in similarly foreign garbs and colors or carry items Kisep has never seen before and has trouble identifying. Even the presence of his raven familiar on his shoulder hardly stirs anyones interest; occasionally someone sees the odd similarity between the bird and the kenku, and grins before moving on. Cousin Corvus, as Kisep lovingly calls the bird, is too distracted by the presence of foodstuffs and shiny objects to notice.
There is no clear goal to his wandering, but Kisep keeps an eye out for the so-called Wilie. Unsure whether he should trust anyone that would leave a note in his pocket, unnoticed, instructing a stranger to seek out an acquintance (or himself) for some shady business, the kenku intends to observe this Wilie person a bit before either leaving quietly or introducing himself. At the very least, the mysterious writer had made his entry into the city a whole lot easier than the bird-man was used to.