Waterday fertility week dark season   Midday.

It's midday and the Rangers find themselves entering Geo's Inn, after having strolled through the tight alley from the previous night. Members of the Deadhead gang had waved them through, acknowledging Grundar and Hoskar with warm welcomes and the rest of the group with nods.

Walking inside out of the cold and damp day they are all happy to see a roaring fire below a wide chimney. The decor is quite unlike the other drinking establishments they'd been in before, with foreign made furniture and crockery, which Hoskar knows as coming from Sartar.

There's only one other group of folk, several tough looking thanes, Angelika and two others. One is immediately recognisable as the city's mayor and head of the Garhound clan in Pavis Brygga Scissortongue, a petite woman with fierce eyes. Sat next to her is a broad shouldered, middle aged man, certainly a warrior and who must be Govoran the Magnificent.

Angelika gives the braves a welcoming smile.

"So you're the Rangers eh?" inquires Govoran. "I hear you did good things back in Garhound and Angelika has fine words to say about you. Sit and take drinks with us, for we have a proposition for you, which if successful will ensure that you are able to bear arms whilst in this city and come under my clan's protection. Believe me when I say we do not give this lightly and were it not for your references and good deeds unlikely for ones of your people."

Kobal has a very slight frown on his face, focusing on trying to ignore the gin hangover.  A healing charm didn't work.  It doesn't help that Gorovan's loud voice rings between his ears.

Normally, he'd step forward in reply, but in his present state, he waits a moment to see if any other of the Rangers will speak.  The right to bear arms in the city seems like a good bonus.

Ohanzee slips in just behind the rest of the party, barely noticed fresh from whatever trouble he has been causing or getting into.

Perhaps I should have ditched the gem he sends silently to Nibbles given that the former owner was likely someone from this lot. Keep a right hold on it.

Grundar takes the opportunity to chat to the Deadheads to glean whatever news of goings on they can offer him and to warn them about the gangland killings the Lunar officers drunkenly alluded to - do they know anything about this ostrich feather business?

Looking right and left about his comrades, Hoskar sees no sign of anyone else speaking.

He bows as he sits, drinking without question. For this we thank you. We will speak well always of your hospitality he hazards, half-remembering past greetings Becx has given.

He smiles nervously.

I hope that wasn't too wrong. Sincerely meant. We know how much it means we are even here and know you offer us an honour it will be hard to live up to. I know your men are trusty and true, and know you would expect no less of us. Issaries would have my tripes if I wrote even one as great as you a blank scrip though: can you tell us more of the proposition?

Kobal speaks up, wincing internally, but thankful for Hoskar's reminder about Orlanthi ways.

"Thank you, Lord.  We've heard of your hospitality and generosity and see that it is true.  I don't know what things our Wise One Angelika Snowspear said to you, but we won't make a liar of her."

He folds himself onto a seat, and sips only at his ale, wondering if it's the best thing to drink again with his hangover.  He looks up at Gorovan and waits for the mission.

Amara nodded in greeting a smile crossing her face. "Given what happens in this place, I would be pleased should we have the ability to bear weapons. It seems as though this place has a tendency towards....trouble." she smiled warmly towards angelika "And if our queen thinks we might be able to help, then I think we'd all welcome the opportunity to strengthen our friendship."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Wed 16 May 2018.

Govoran turns to look at the Mayor who gets right to the point...

“Now to business. Those zebra riding vermin of Hargran the Dirty have been muscling Orlgar the Middleman – our meat-buyer with the Sable Riders in Badside – forcing him to pay tribute to Zebra Fort. If we Garhounds can’t protect our people from Hargran’s bandits, we might as well forget about protecting our people from the Red Moon. I want you to rough up Hargran’s thugs and make them think twice about ever messing with somebody under the Garhound’s protection.

I want you to deliver a savage beating to the dogs who assaulted our man. Just don’t kill anyone – I don’t want to have to pay any wergild – and don’t get the Lunars involved.

Get back to me at the Saddler by the Well in the Farmer’s Quarter when you have something to tell me.”

Ohanzee grins "Beating, no death, sounds simple. Do you know which ones did it" his grin broadens "Do you care if it's the specific ones for that matter?"

"And I assume you want the message to be known to have come from you, else what use would it be?"

"Also," chips in Kobal, "do you have someone who can act as a guide for us?  Point out Hargran's thugs to us?

"And if we're going to find these thugs at Zebra Fort, are we going to need any form of pass or to pay any sort of expense to get there?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:46, Wed 16 May 2018.

"I suggest talking to Orlgar the Middleman, our clan meat-buyer. He'll know the names of those who beat him and can you fill you in on any details. He has an office in the Riverside.

If you decide to go into the Rubble there won't be any problems with that we can send you in on the pretext of escort duty to the Real city."

By the looks of it the matter is closed and that it is expected that the Rangers will sort this out on their own.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:47, Fri 18 May 2018.

Listening, eyes half-closed, Hoskar has occasionally nodded his head.

The trick's in judging it just right of course he observes quietly. Can't let that stand. Friend to many is the good Orlgar.

He rises and inclines his head respectfully. I believe we have work to do.

Kobal takes in Gorovan's words, then rises.  "Sounds straightforward enough."  He gives a small bow to Gorovan, Brygga and Angelika, then turns to leave.  It seems a crime to leave a mug of ale unfinished, though.

Having a bad hangover and feeling embarrassed by his mood swing the night before, Melock keeps quiet. He nods in agreement with the others and when they stand to leave he follows them.

The deadheads haven't heard of any suspicious gang related killings "Not this week anyways."

"Ah you mean the feather murders" says one "It's a crazed Ostrich rider going around killing folk who short changed him."

"Storm Bull worshipper"

"Massive club on him, hur, hur..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:46, Sat 19 May 2018.

Henal nursing a hangover and feeling that he doesn't have the right look for muscle work keeps quiet only doing the necessary greetings for politeness with the Garhound clan.

Melock's ears pick up as he listens to the Deadheads answer to Grundar and he looks to Temush, "Could it be one of your tribe, another lost brother or sister?"

Temush looks worried when he answers Melock 'I heard some Ostrich slaves fled to the Rubble. This could be one who did not get that far. ...short changed at what? Or is that just a pygmy crack?'

The Deadheads laugh and Temush can be sure that they are taking the piss.


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This message was last edited by the GM at 08:02, Sat 19 May 2018.