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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Isida Kep'Tukari" data-source="post: 1045572" data-attributes="member: 4441">*In the common room, the atmosphere has become much more lively and upbeat since Hisk and Elexia left.  After Gaoi is done (and Noddy too if he performs, either as background for Gaoi or on his own), a heavy-set human goes up and bellows the chorus of a drinking song.  Others respond, and roars for more ale reverberate through the Golden Gryphon.*As the patrons grow more relaxed (and more ale is drunk), you all find yourselves somewhat the center of attention.  Apparently adventurers don't often come into this inn, and several patrons have questions for you.*Damien finds himself in conversation with an apprentice of the Healer's Guild, a young human man with tanned skin, blond hair, and gray eyes, wearing practical leathers.  He has an easy and earnest manner.  Calling himself Jallon, he quickly deduces that Damien is the owner of the cart in the stableyard.  They fall into a technical discussion about healing herbs, particularly how they're found and prepared.  (Damien, you have a one-use +2 bonus to Knowledge (nature) checks relating to finding healing plants in Skord's Swamp.) *Gaoi finds several patrons are quite interested in his magical skills.  One, a fairly prosperous-looking half-elf wearing working leathers but elegant (yet not ostentacious) gold jewelry, asks Gaoi if he could entertain at a birthday party for his young daughter.  If Noddy helped (particularly with juggling or acrobatics), he is also asked.*In addition to the half-elf, one of the barkeeper's seemingly endless brood of young sons keeps coming back to the party's table.  He's obviously never seen a halfling before, and finds Noddy fascinating.  He was particularly taken by Noddy's act, and begs for juggling lessons in between running out orders of ale and food.  By the end of the night, the boy (Pelo), is practically Noddy's mascot.*Syrrian is gently badgered by a female elf woman for news of home.  She slightly disappointed to learn that he's a Farlight elf (she's a Black Pine elf), but still exchanges what information she can about their kind.  The woman, Yasmira, is middle-aged for an elf, and obviously a mercenary of some kind, both due to the well-used armor and weapons, and the patch of the Mercenary's Guild she wears on her shoulder.  She imparts that a ship of elven silk and wine was attacked by pirates nearly within sight of Port Xialar.  She laments that the pirates get bolder every year; for while pirate attacks are hardly a rare occurance, never had they attacked so close to the port cities before.  If Syrrian brings up the Forbidden Lands, Yasmira simply shakes her head."It's a cursed land, my brother," she says kindly, her eyes sad.  "Some damnfool merchant in Benshay once hired my company to protect his train.  It was stupid of him; he couldn't afford adventurers and so tried for mercs.  We were trained for fighting wars, not that bodyguard business.  He thought he'd be clever and run his train close to the Forbidden Lands so that desert raiders could only come at him from one side.  None of us knew until later; but the raiders avoid the cliffs like the plague.  It was the cliffs we should have been afraid of.  The train was attacked that night by those winged, human-like sacs of ooze.  It killed all but two of the mercs and all of the horses.  The servants and traders ran off into the night and were picked off.  Myself and another traveled straight into the desert for two days and were rescued by the desert nomads before we died of thirst.  I've never gone back to Benshay, and I doubt I'll go into the Unwanted Desert ever again.  I admire the courage of the desert people to stay and fight those monster, but I don't have the courage to stand up to that kind of slaughter again.  Keep your interests closer to home brother, keeping too much of  your attention on the Forbidden Lands means nightmares for months."  As she says this she shudders.  She quickly orders some of the strongest rotgut the inn has and has to take two large drinks to steady herself before she talks again.  When she does recover, she speaks no more of the Forbidden Lands.*Rokelsh, your hard eyes and touch-me-not attitude have garnered you a great deal of personal space, and not as much else.  While you overhear Yasmira talking to Syrrian, she also recognizes your garb and manner.  She keeps her face averted from you.  A colorfully-dressed gnome, overlooked until now, eventually finds his way to your table, however.  Plunking himself down in a chair, he leans over and introduces himself.*"Hello and a fine day to you good fellow!  I am Galdory Kippman Yillfory Winborrow Meldoka, though most call me Kipp.  I'm a minstral by trade, and collector of stories.  I tell them to the children, you see.  I've traveled all the way from Andeluvay in search of new tales to tell.  I've gotten tales from many people, but I think perhaps I've never gotten one from the desert folk before.  So, if you have tales to tell, please let them flow from you.  I shall immortalize you in the spoken word and in the minds of eager children," he says flamboyanly.  With that he produces a sheet of paper and plucks a shockingly pink extravagant plume from the band of his overly-large hat, and sets it to the paper expectantly.</blockquote>

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