Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Dark_Jackalope" data-source="post: 3024260" data-attributes="member: 41706">Shark Tank Tavern, Port Verge (evening) – Morika, Doral, Partash“How wretched!” gasped Bertrand, drunkenly surprised by Morika’s story.  “All-f’r bread…”  He regarded the ale mug between his hands with a depressed expression, swirling the ale around a little bit.Disonda just looked at him a moment, partly disgusted, before addressing Morika: “I’m sure, traveler, that our Prince’s men would do the same.  Or perhaps worse… they are not known to be gentle menkind.”“Ah, Dis’nda, stop tryin’ to scare ‘er… You make it soun’ like Port Verge is prowled by monsters at nigh’.  Sure, the Prince’s men are a very…”—he fished around for words—“…brutish, and brut’l, crowd.  But there’s-a reason they don’ leave the barracks complex much.”  He leaned towards Morika, gesturing with his hands the locations of things, enthralled by the subject.  “Th’ compound’s righ' near the Prince’s man'r, bu’ not in it of course.  Not those lot.  Strange thing is, though, tha’ you nev’r see them going into the man'r…”Disonda glared.  Bertrand didn’t notice, and continued, “They don’ really come an’ go much.  They go drinkin’ sometimes… but we townsfolk avoid ‘em.  Th'only common fo’ who ever really see th’m are th’ whores, really!”  He broke out in drunken laughter.  “They sure go to th’ barracks plenty…”The table thumped loudly, as Disonda’s mug flew down and slammed hard onto the worn wood.  “Another round!” she called demandingly.  “But you, Bertrand, are becoming terribly drunk.  Perhaps you should fold from this game?” she offered coolly, handing him his next mug.“No, no… You’d-be s'prised whatta comeback I c’n make…”  he winked clumsily at Morika as the barmaid handed her her mug.  “You jus' watch, miss…” Morika did so, as he flipped his coin into the center, and took a boastful swig of fresh ale… and promptly fell off his chair.“Mm, seems to have passed out,” Disonda observed casually, seeming completely unsurprised.  “Well, it’s just me and you now, Reacher.  Seventh round.  May the best woman win.”  They collided their mugs over the haphazard copper pile, and drank up, letting happy drunkenness set in.About and around town, Port Verge (evening) - CarverCarver stepped out onto the quiet familiar streets. The sun was by now only a glow on the western hills that Port Verge was nestled into, and the lamps standing along the town's lanes and avenues were being lit one after another by a torcherbearer making his rounds. Remembering that given the curious ritual of resting at night that other races tend to practice, many shops will soon be closing, he hurried through the streets.His first stop was The Cut, a tailor and clothier's shop owned by a halfling Bim had known. Feet clacking against the hardwood floor, the construct made his way to the back where bolts of cloth were kept, and quickly found the exotic weave he was searching for—a darkly-colored special silk suitable for extradimensional bags and pouches.  After paying the not unhappily surprised owner a hefty sum, and exchanging a few brief words of familiar greeting, the artificer departed, bag of silk in hand.His next stop was a small and luxurious smithy, where a young Brelander with a talent for working valuable materials sold his wares. Perusing his inventory, arranged carefully over dark cloth in glass cases and shelves, Carver found a handful of fine brass buckles and fasteners.  He handed over his coins for these items as well, before walking on to his last destination: Banderelli Artifice and Alchemical, the shop he was raised in.The black-plated Warforged pushed open the comfortable steel door for the first time in months.  Pausing slightly, his magical eyes scanned the room, at once taking in both unfamiliar features and reminders of his home.</blockquote>

Verification