(Tavern) City of Orussus, The Red Dragon Inn V

[Knight Otu]

Semabin watches the small man trying in vain to start a conversation with the group of four, who are apparently adventurers. Not waiting for the bartender's answer about stormbrew, he moves up to the group. "Excuse, but I have a question. In Sairundan, there aren't many... small humanlike people, and I've been wondering, er, ... what you are?", he asks the two small humanoids.

 

[The Goblin King]

Replying to Merlis, "No. We took an unexpected swim in the bay. Luckily, no one was drowned. No, we are not a sailing crew. That is one of our problems."

He raises an eyebrow at Semabin, "You must be very far from home if they do not have Goblins there."

To his three companions, "I see two courses of action. One: we find Word and get more information out of him. A risky proposition at best. Two: we have the old mans log book, perhaps we could retrace his voyage? This has the problem of being expensive. Either way its not going to be easy." Zhang sighs and takes another sip.

 

[orsal]

To his three companions, "I see two courses of action. One: we find Word and get more information out of him. A risky proposition at best. Two: we have the old mans log book, perhaps we could retrace his voyage? This has the problem of being expensive. Either way its not going to be easy." Zhang sighs and takes another sip.

"Word?" The guy who tried to kill us? No, I have no wish to let him know Atella and I are still alive and kicking. He'll probably be too tempted to finish the job." Jo pauses to take another swig. "If you want to, go ahead. I'm splitting. Either way, Haisi and I are heading out of town tomorrow morning. If we can figure out where the map leads we'd be happy to check it out with you; otherwise, we'll continue our wandering."

 

[Steadfast]

Cailean steps in the door moving a tad stiffly from several days hard riding. As the smell of cooking wafts over to him, his stomach growls audibly. Rubbing his stomach he looks around and before he can do a thing is accosted by a barmaid.

"You'll be wantin' to speak with Joe, you will. Go and greet yourself like a proper gentleman." With a hand made strong from lifting heavy trays of mugs she grabs his arm and shoves him toward the bar.

Rubbing his arm, where he was sure a small bruise was forming, he walks over to the bar. "You must be Joe, the owner I assume? I'm Cailean Riok. Glad to meet you. Now, if I can get..." Before he can finish Joe raises a calloused hand to cut him off. "Now greet them, and add a little bit about yourself." Joe says gesturing to the crowd of customers and smiling.

Cailean's eyebrow starts to climb his forehead until he realizes that the man isn't joking. He turns and looks at the crowd blinking in incredulity. "Well, uh, I'm Cailean and I'm a generally employed as a caravan guard although at the moment I find myself free of obligation." He turns back to the bar. "Now, can I get something to eat? Anything will do. Oh, and a mug of your best beer."

 

[TheNovak]

Before the sound of Cailean's voice even fades, another figure, short, stocky, and as thick as a boulder stomps through the door. A bald dwarf, clad in scale mail armor and proudly displaying a bright silver holy symbol of Grendath in between the twin, braided ropes of his long, brown beard.

"Ye there! Human!" he calls in a thick, dwarven brogue. "I been ridin' behind ye for the past three hours, tryin' tae catch up! Ye dropped this in the road while ye were dozin' in the saddle!"

The dwarf ambles through the crowd, ignoring a few annoyed stares at his loud outburst. Like a rolling boulder, he clears a path through the crowded common room, finally standing face to face with the human fighter. "Here," he says, his voice dropping to a bit more conversational of a level, though it's still gratingly loud. "Ye ought'n be more careful with yer sentimental trinkets, lad."

Turning away from Cailean, Rogan now begins his inevitable trek towards Joe. He's heard of this place's customs, and the sight of the poor, bedragalled human warrior shouting at the top of his lungs confirmed it. "Hail to ye!" he roars at point-blank range, apparently not meaning to be unpleasant, but unable to control it. "I be Rogar Flowstone, Cleric o' Grendath. Nae then, what's there tae eat?!"

 

[Steadfast]

Taking the red tassle from the dwarf's hand, Cailean blinks in surprise. It was the tassle that his father had always had attached to his guisarme. Cailean never knew for sure, but it seemed likely that it had been his father's remembrance of Cailean's mother. Now it was all he had left of his father. "I, uh, I don't know how to thank you enough. At the very least let me buy you your dinner." He says to the dwarf. "I don't know if you were here for my introduction, but I'm Cailean, Cailean Riok."

 

[TheNovak]

"Cailean?" the dwarf bellows, seemingly unaware of his own volume. "Good tae be makin' yer acquaintance, lad! I be Rogar Flowstone, though I'm guessin' ye heard me own introduction!"

With a huge, roaring laugh, the dwarven cleric hops up onto a barstool next to Cailean, and pounds his fist on the bar. "Ye! Inkeeper! I hear ye're makin' spirits that'd put me own peoples' tae shame! Bring me a mug, ye good man, and let me be findin' out!"

As Joe turns to retrieve Rogan's ale, the dwarf turns back to Cailean. "And don't ye be worryin' about payin' me tab, lad. Ye look like ye'll be spendin' enough gold fillin' yer own belly, and I've more'n enough coins o' me own tae be payin' me own way."

 

[Steadfast]

Cailean's stomach rumbles again as a bowl of fish stew is pushed in front of him by one of the barmaids. She sets down the mug of beer next to it with a clunk. "I suppose I will at that." he says as he starts to shovel down the stew. After chasing a few gulps down with a healthy draw from his beer he turns to Rogar. "Well, you've done me a rare favor, friend. I'd hate to see it go unrepaid. Is there anything you need or want done?"

 

[TheNovak]

Rogan laughs. "Aye, there is! If'n ye come across anyone hirin' fer an adventure, ye look me up! We'll go in taegether, me friend, an' cleanse the place o' goblin scum! An' then, after I patch yer wounds up and take a quick nap, we'll be off again tae cleanse another gobbo bolt-hole, aye!"

Joe no more sets the tankard of ale down, then Rogan picks it right up, tilts his head back, and downs it in one, massive gulp, ignoring the drink spilling down his braided beard in thick rivulets. It takes more than ten seconds, and when the dwarf finally finishes, he sniffs, wipes his nose, and then slams the tankard down on the counter. "Not bad!" he cries at the top of his lungs. "Ye're knowin' a thing or two o' brewin', me friend! Could teach some o' us dwarves a trick, aye! I'll have another...nae, damn that, I'll have a pair o' them! Bring on the ale, friend, that I can be toastin' me newfound friendship with this spear-wieldin' warrior o' human descent!"

 

[Steadfast]

Cailean chuckles. "Whatever you say, friend!" He raises the new mug of beer to his new friend and takes a healthy swig. "If companionship is what you want, I've got plenty of that to spare."