Ringmereth
First Post
OOC: Carver will accompany Vhir, Dragen, and Glasia.
Intent on learning more about the town, Doral leads his two companions towards the Argotch Inn. Walking down the crowded and aptly named Dock Street, the trio dodges crews unloading their goods into rickety wagons and ill-sorted piles next to street preformers, juggling knives and strumming mandolins, trying to earn a hatful of coppers to buy their dinner. In spite of the bustle, the brick street is surprisingly clean and free of debris and litter. To their left, they take in the wide variety of vessels harbored in Port Verge: caravels and longships, gnomish vessels hailing from Zilargo and beyond, and even swift Lyrandar ships built from rare soarwood. On the inland side, they are presented with a closer look at the bars and storehouses they passed on the Thresher's approach to its wharf.
As they enter the Inn, a one-sided shouting match assails their ears. "Ooh, I toss your scrawny carcass on the dockside if that happen again, you clumsy stinking man!" screams a bald goblin at a visibly frightened young human servant twice his height. "You be glad--"
The berating stops abruptly when the suit-clad, yellow-skinned humanoid notices his new guests. "Well, take their bags!" he hisses to his employee, then approaches Doral, Partash, and Morika with a wide smile on his face. "Welcome to the Argotch Inn, the finest-value rooms in all Port Verge!" he exclaims, lowering his squeaky voice marginally and standing tall--by goblin standards, at least. "What may I do for you fine travelers this day?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Meanwhile, two humans, a kobold, and a warforged arrive at their destination, judging by the sign suspended over the oak double doors: an image of a tall mast suspending one large triangular sail, magically fluttering against its wooden backdrop, upon which is painted a glittering rod of silver set with saphires. It, too, glitters with the aid of some minor enchantment.
The district that surrounds them is a drastically different place than the seafront. Unlike the bustling Dock Street, the northern end of Port Verge seems almost deserted. A few servants and well-dressed merchants roam the streets quietly, and a spear-wielding sentinel stands on each corner.
The inside of the inn is a comfortable contrast to the sea town; the fine paintings, hardwood floors and furniture, and smartly uniformed doormen could be part of any respectable establishment in the Five Nations. A tall bellman steps forward and greets them. "Welcome to the Sail and Scepter, my lords," He extends an hand to take any luggage thrust his way. "What lodgings would your party prefer tonight? We can offer rooms for one, two, and three occupants. Additionally, the eastern suite is currently unoccupied, should you be interested in our luxury offering," explains the servant, his accent identifying him as a native of Breland, not the Principalities.
Intent on learning more about the town, Doral leads his two companions towards the Argotch Inn. Walking down the crowded and aptly named Dock Street, the trio dodges crews unloading their goods into rickety wagons and ill-sorted piles next to street preformers, juggling knives and strumming mandolins, trying to earn a hatful of coppers to buy their dinner. In spite of the bustle, the brick street is surprisingly clean and free of debris and litter. To their left, they take in the wide variety of vessels harbored in Port Verge: caravels and longships, gnomish vessels hailing from Zilargo and beyond, and even swift Lyrandar ships built from rare soarwood. On the inland side, they are presented with a closer look at the bars and storehouses they passed on the Thresher's approach to its wharf.
As they enter the Inn, a one-sided shouting match assails their ears. "Ooh, I toss your scrawny carcass on the dockside if that happen again, you clumsy stinking man!" screams a bald goblin at a visibly frightened young human servant twice his height. "You be glad--"
The berating stops abruptly when the suit-clad, yellow-skinned humanoid notices his new guests. "Well, take their bags!" he hisses to his employee, then approaches Doral, Partash, and Morika with a wide smile on his face. "Welcome to the Argotch Inn, the finest-value rooms in all Port Verge!" he exclaims, lowering his squeaky voice marginally and standing tall--by goblin standards, at least. "What may I do for you fine travelers this day?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Meanwhile, two humans, a kobold, and a warforged arrive at their destination, judging by the sign suspended over the oak double doors: an image of a tall mast suspending one large triangular sail, magically fluttering against its wooden backdrop, upon which is painted a glittering rod of silver set with saphires. It, too, glitters with the aid of some minor enchantment.
The district that surrounds them is a drastically different place than the seafront. Unlike the bustling Dock Street, the northern end of Port Verge seems almost deserted. A few servants and well-dressed merchants roam the streets quietly, and a spear-wielding sentinel stands on each corner.
The inside of the inn is a comfortable contrast to the sea town; the fine paintings, hardwood floors and furniture, and smartly uniformed doormen could be part of any respectable establishment in the Five Nations. A tall bellman steps forward and greets them. "Welcome to the Sail and Scepter, my lords," He extends an hand to take any luggage thrust his way. "What lodgings would your party prefer tonight? We can offer rooms for one, two, and three occupants. Additionally, the eastern suite is currently unoccupied, should you be interested in our luxury offering," explains the servant, his accent identifying him as a native of Breland, not the Principalities.
