Azr Thoth's Tavern
Furthinghome, City Of The Peacock
Aglarond
16 Marpenoth 1375

It was raining. A lot.

Overhead the sky boiled with grey clouds, almost black despite the pale light of the afternoon sun, wherever it was. The cloud-bank rolled and roiled on winds rushing in off the Sea Of Fallen Stars, with great sheets of rain driven before it. Heavy drops pounded buildings and people alike, like sling-stones from the sky. In the distance, the rain lashed buildings in great waves, bounced off and arced overhead giving the city a peculiar halo of grey light.

It was a city both fair and foul. On the west side were many fine manses and town-houses of grand grey stone and dark weathered wood. Worn cobblestoned roads led in their direction, flanked by parks and gardens where bright flowers drooped in the rain. And on the east side, tumbling down the slopes of a series of low-hills were the slums, where thatch-roofed shacks and ramshackle lean-toes floated atop a sea of mud.

North of the city was the harbour, where docks and warehouses crowded along the edge of a small, shallow bay. Here light boats huddled tightly to their moorings as they were tossed up and down by the churning sea. Leading away south from the harbour was a circular road that went right round the city, taking the traveller from the rich bright face to the poor dark heart and back again.

Few people were out on a day like this, bar those who had to be. Richer folk in bright clothes and embroidered designs and dangling jewelry scurried from shelter to shelter. Poorer folk, in clothing stained with mud carried on with outdoors work or desperately secured their shanties against the rain.

And everywhere there were peacocks, the free-roaming birds that earned the city it's name. Feathers soaking and plumage drooping, they honked and screeched their displeasure at all who passed them by. They sought shelter from the driving rain in doorways and under porches.

The closest shelter to hand for a traveller just off the docks was Azr Thoth's Tavern, situated directly on the nominal edge between the rich west and the poor east. There it could cater to the aspiring poor and the slumming rich, and all the adventurers and criminals who could squeeze in between. The place was done up in a tacky Thayan style, all red paint and golden fittings, scratched and peeling with age and ill-care. Portraits of Red Wizards and cavorting fiends adorned the walls. In the background, a minstrel played a flute, and thin piping tunes carried across the smoky air. It was a strange thing to find in a realm like Aglarond, a long-time enemy of Thay. This kind of cheap cultural import could only prosper in a city like Furthinghome, where people hungered for such exotic novelties. A peacock huddled by the door outside.

Azr Thoth himself waited just inside the door to greet visitors, a thin man with jangling rings and bangles, and bald face and head jutting up from green robes that made him look somewhat like a turtle. "Greetings! Welcome to my humble tavern. How can I help you?" he said in ersatz politeness.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:25, Thu 08 Nov 2007.

Coby hustles in out of the rain, pack held above his head.  He was used to the rain, of course - out in the wilderness, encamped, or traveling, he didn't mind it  - but in the cities  rain seemed different.  Meaner.  Colder.  It flooded the streets carrying garbage and - less desirable things - along.

He kept his head up.  He didn't want to watch the flood of peacock feathers flowing by.  It just seemed so damn sad.

The boy stands in the doorway to the inn, letting the water flow off of his hair, off of his rain-cloak, and kicked the mud off of his boots.

"A hot meal, please," he asks politely.  "and how much do your rooms go for?"

He was, admittedly, a little worried.  Getting this far had taken up the bulk of his funding.  He'd have to start finding work soon or he'd be forced to start selling his belongings just to eat, and for someone in his line of work sometimes his gear was all that stood between victory and a shallow grave.

[Private to DM BadCatMan:

Assuming I'm good to go and ready to post.  If not, just delete this.]

Azr shook his head. "I am afraid it is only a tavern I run here. Fine drinks and food, but no beds. Go to The Ailee Inn around the corner, and say that Azr Thoth sent you. My cousin will give you a discount."

Azr waved over a waitress in a short red dress and long worn face, and said "Caera, please escort this man to a table."

"Please follow me, sir." Caera led Coby through the winding passages between seats and tables in the crowded tavern. On a day as damp as this, everyone had retreated here to be out of the endless rain. The floor below was grimy with tracked in mud and dripping patrons.

Every table was full, bar one recently vacated by departing patrons. Coby realised that if anymore people arrived, he would have company. "Here you go, sir." Caera cleared the table, directed Coby to sit and handed him the menu. "When you wish to order, just wave." She flitted off through the tavern. The menu promised both traditional Aglarondan fare - the usual animals and vegetables and styles, flavoured with herbs - and exotic Thayan cooking, including the meats of some of the more common edible monsters, spiced and hot.

Coby sits at the table, privately hoping that nobody else comes into the tavern.  He's not so good with strangers.  Oh, he's polite and all - but he has trouble finding a common ground with people who have regular lives.  Lives with normal families, and regular jobs, and houses and stuff.

He just had to remember.  People like talking about the weather.  And about local rulers and their policies.  Social niceties are important.

He leans back a little, resting the back of his chair against a support column and leafing through the menu.  Giving a small, depressed sigh, he takes a quick peek into his coin pouch and browses for the cheapest thing on the menu - probably watery vegetable stew and even more watery ale.

Still, it'd be hot, and better than the trail rations he'd run out of yesterday, or the nothing he'd had for breakfast.  And, if he was lucky, it'd come with bread that he could save to eat later.

To put it simply, Duncan creaked.  And clanked.  Enamelling steel helped protect it from rust, and his heavy cloak kept the worst of the rain off his precious equipment, but the young knight of the Faithful Blade was still going to have to spend hours carefully drying, polishing and oiling his ornate armour and weapons.

But it didn't matter.  The rain matched his mood.  Duncan had lost his charge yet again, the wee slip of a girl easily evading him and disappearing off to Helm knows where.  And she had yet to return, when it had been several days.  To make matters worse, she had said she wanted to explore the woods outside of town.

Duncan had failed in his sworn duty.  Filled with contrition and shame, two things the young knight was unaccustomed to feeling (though others often felt it would do him some good) he couldn't face his masters, either those in the Order or the temporary one of Lord Berask, without atoning.  He had to find the Lady Duladora.  And for that, if he was to do so in time to rescue Duladora, he would most likely need help, given the reputation of those woods.

Stepping into Azr Thoth's tavern, Duncan basked in the dry warmth for a moment as he continued to drip water on the floor.  He grimaced at the tacky decor.  'Very poor taste' he thought, 'and badly maintained at that...'  Staring sourly at some of the patrons, he realised quite quickly that this was a den of thieves.  Under any other circumstance, he would most likely clap the majority in irons and drag them off to the local magistrate, if he didn't just try them himself.

However, Thoth's also had a reputation for attracting all sorts of adventurers - and that was just the sort of help he needed.  Throwing back his hood to reveal his handsome, but somewhat damp, features, Duncan looked about for likely candidates.

Coby notices the stranger in full armor.  He can't imagine what it must be like to wear such heavy gear all the time - he tends to only wear his own chain shirt when he expects trouble, keeping it safe in his pack other times - like now.  He's always wondered if knights sleep in their armor.  He guesses it's different for them, because of how long it takes to put on or take off.

Seeing that his table is the only one available, he waves the knight over, scooting around to make room.

Duncan spotted the young lad waving him over and sized him up for a moment.  Very young, younger than himself in fact, but confidant all the same.  Definately the outdoorsy sort, with a heavy knapsack beside him.  In a word, an adventurer - just the job.

Duncan noisely moved through the pressing crowd, but with surprising grace for all that, light, balanced amlost delicate steps.  The steps of a dancer on stage.  Or a swordmaster on the battlefield.  Which meant his grace was really unnecessary - the crowd made a hole for him as he moved.  Unsurprising, really.

It still took severally moments for Duncan to get over to the table.  Mainly because he stopped at least twice to assist harried serving maids with overloaded trays get where they needed to be without spilling everything.  Eventually, he stopped in front of the table, whereupon instead of sitting he offered a courtly bow.  "Duncan Radhe, knight of the most blessed Order of the Faithful Blades, at your service, sir."

"Well met, sir," the young man replies with a light Illuskan accent as he stands, returning a small bow, his voice cracking a little now and again.  "I am Jacob, son of Koen - you may call me Coby.  The tavern is crowded, but you are welcome to join me in a light lunch."

Azr Thoth was about to launch into his customary greeting, when Duncan strode on through. The Thayan glanced at him, shrugged, and turned back to his post.

One of the waitresses that Duncan aided had been Caera. The Aglarondan woman smiled at the knightly warrior, and drifted after him back to the table. She set down a bowl of complimentary nuts and took out a notebook and pencil. "May I take your order, sirs?" she said, with eyes on Duncan.


OOC: Prices as here:
http://www.d20srd.org/srd/equi...#foodDrinkAndLodging
Invent your own meals.

Duncan smiled winningly to the serving woman, his eyes showing warmth.  However, his tone was polite, but a little stammering - evidently attractive ladies like Caera made the young knight more than a little nervous in some way.  He jingled a somewhat thin purse before spilling five Neverwinter gold crowns onto the table.

"A flagon of good, cold mead for myself, along with a bowl of hot soup and whatever stew you have.  A loaf of bread for the table, then whatever the young lad wants that this will cover.  'Tis a cold night, and I think we're both in need of some hot food to warm us up.  Thank you, lady."

OOC: Ale (mead), a common meal and a loaf of bread in essence.

"I'll have the same," Coby smiles.  "I thank you, sir.  My travels have drained what little coin I had, I am afraid."

"I'm afraid the same is true of myself, Sir Koensson..." Duncan ruefully replied as he passed Caera two of the coins before putting the other three back in his belt pouch.  "Thank you, lady.  May I sit?"  The latter was addressed to Coby with a nod to one of the empty chairs.

"Please," Coby nods.  "What brings you to this place?  It doesn't seem the sort a knight such as yourself would frequent."

Duncan gingerly lowered himself into a rather flimsy looking chair, cringing slightly as it creaked ominiously under the weight of the muscular knight and his plate mail.  How he wished for one of the sturdy arming stools they had back at the Chapterhouse.  But thankfully the legs didn't snap under the strain, and Duncan swiftly got on with explaining his reasons for being there.

"I know, Sir Koensson - believe me, had I any other choice I would most likely be purging this place of it's scum myself.  But there is a task that I must undertake if I am to regain my honour, and from what I've heard I shall most likely need help before the endevour is complete.  I heard this place is the haunt of many adventurers as well as criminals, so it seemed as good a place as any to start looking for that help."

Koby glances askance at the knight.  "Perhaps it would be wiser to keep such ambitions quiet, given the company we keep here, sir knight.  Suppose you were to purge this place of scum.  Were you to slaughter them without proof of misdeed, who would be the criminal then?  If you were to simply bring them before a court without specific crimes to charge them with, would they even be tried?  A knight's word is worthy much, but what kind of justice can exist if no evidence is required?"

He stops himself, looking embarrassed.  "I forget my place, sir knight.  Forgive me, I am not used to the ways of cities and their laws - I digress.  I am a professional adventurer myself, here seeking a misplaced item of some value.  I'm afraid I have no leads, but I am always looking to advance my craft.  If you are looking for help, I may be of assistance."

Earlier...



Caera took the orders down and nodded. "Thank you, sirs. It should be with you in a couple of minutes." The waitress then drifted off.

Gildor walked into the tavern with his hood pulled up. He was in a foul mood to match the foul weather. He knew that ships sank, everyone knew that. But why did it have to be his ship? Stuck at sea for how many days most of his belongings lost while he floated on a piece of hull. The others were planning on buying another ship maybe having one built but Gildor had had enough of chasing pirates from horizon to horizon and was actually glad to get his feet on solid ground again. Scanning the crowd he noticed one table with only 2 men and shook the water from his cloak and attempted to squeeze the water out of his hair before heading to the table. Do you men mind if I sit here? The other seats seem to be taken.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Wed 14 Nov 2007.

"Please," Coby greets, gesturing at an empty chair.  "We've ordered, but the waitress should be passing by shortly."