In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 44):

Titus sees the fur and flashes of gold, then sees Brennan sidling up next to them.  He waits a few minutes and takes a strategic path towards the man alternately grabbing a dancing girl to twirl her around and then pass her off, hoisting a beer to cheer with one of the tables.

He arrives at Brennan's table with a flourish, spinning a girl off his arm back to the crowd and sliding a mug of beer across the table.

You look thirsty friend.  Hear anything you like tonight? 

He darts his eyes significantly towards the table next to them.

/ooc I'm going to give Brennan a few minute  to get the gist of their conversation and then head over myself.

Writing a better version that matches what happened.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Thu 09 Nov 2017.

Ciryl keeps an eye on his four new companions through the night and when Brennan and Titus converge on the man in furs and gold he gives the hairy man a nod, gesturing with his drink, "Who's that fellow?" he asks the two tradesmen keeping him company.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 46):

Brennan finds space at the table near the large man in furs.

Whether he has any tattoos, Brennan cannot tell except that he has none except that he has none on his face.

His cloak, though made of rough furs, seems finely crafted.  He wears a golden chain around his neck with an iron pendant at the end.  The insignia on the pendant looks very much like the one you found in Keller's hut.

The big man is relaxing, enjoying a beer and jokes.  Those around him show clear deference, but the discussion becomes quickly ribald: primarily focusing on eligible ladies around DuckTown and their various assets.  They talk very little shop.

The big man has a deep throaty guffaw and his face goes red whenever he laughs, which is often.

Despite Brennan's discretion, one of the man's associates does notice the huntsman.

"You?" he says pointing a thumb at Brennan.  "You come in today, yes?  You're the one gave a drubbing to those brats in the outskirts?"

The big hairy man raises a thick brow in interest.

Across the hall, Ciryl talks to his new friends and probes them somewhat.

"Oh him?  That's the Hunt Master.  "Comes in here most nights to chase skirts.  Decent enough fellow."

In reply to GM (msg # 47):

"Guilty," Brennan says, flashing a plastic smile. "I did indeed come in today. On the roads a fair ways out from your fine town, the opportunity arose to demonstrate how deserving I was of life and property."

He shrugs, as if it were a routine thing.

"I suspect the ruffians in question won't be bothering anyone else for quite some time."

Given his new friend’s judgement Ciryl turns away from the Hunt Master with a smile, “Ah, yes I’m sure.  Always a good time with a man like that.” Ciryl chuckles and takes a swig of his drink,  “He must be quite concerned about the state of things in town.  I don’t mean to be crass but I hear the skirts are getting fewer in these parts.”

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 49):

The Big Table

"Seems likely," the big hairy man nods.  "Wasn't be the first time they needed a lesson in decent behavior, won't be the last."

He accepts a plate of fish from the proprietor and digs in with gusto.

"What's your story then?  You don't look a soldier to me, nor a merchant."

He chews for a moment.

"More like you're an academic?  Headed up north to the Ruins?"

A Smaller Table

"Well, if you can call them skirts," the man replies with a sad shake of his head.  "Were barely out of diapers, most of em.  How old was the last one?" he asks his companion.

"Ten," replies the other.

"Yeah, youngest yet.  Others were at least flowered, I'd say."

"Oh I heard young girls...I suppose I'm more like him than I thought.  But children, even more tragic.  No one bothered the king's cavalry about the issue when they passed did they?" Ciryl attempts to double back to the previous line of conversation.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 51):

Smaller Table

"The King?"  the man eyes Ciryl thoroughly and chooses his words with great care, like stepping gingerly through pricker bushes.

"They were Xander's forces, or had his banner at least.  They didn't tarry a moment here.  One or two ducked into the brothel, maybe, but they didn't stay."

Ciryl looks at the man with a faint, bemused smile, "I see.  Forgive me if I sound foolish, but is Xander not the King of these parts?  The guards at the gate thought I might be a spy, I'd hate to have someone else call me a traitor."

In reply to GM (msg # 52):

"I'm a bit of all three," Brennan replies good-naturedly. "Anyone traveling the roads for long stretches of time would have to be at least those former two -- you either need to be a soldier or have the means to sustain your own. The academic bit is just my own personal wrinkle to the mix, I suppose."

He swirls his beverage wistfully.

"I am indeed hoping to visit the northern ruins. I've heard such fascinating stories about them, and I'd like to see them for myself. Have you been?"

Brennan glances at the man's necklace for a moment, then casually says.

"Hopefully they won't disappoint. I hear they're all for the one, which is a nice sentiment. I'd like to think that includes young and old alike."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 53):

The Small Awkward Table

"Hmmm, ye heard?" asks one man.

"It's... not a simple subject is it?" puts int he other quickly.  "If I could ask, where have you been traveling of late?"

The Main Table

The hairy man chuckles into his fish, going beet red.

"Aye, that's true.  You've a quick tongue.  Truth be told, I cheated a bit: I spent much of my youth further north, seen many a bookworm heading to this dig or that.  You have an air about you I seen many a time."

He tosses a bone over one shoulder.

"Disappointment is always in the eye of the beholder, isn't it?  If you like dust, rocks, and old scrolls, you'll be happy enough.  Most of what's left has been picked over for years.  I never made it past LostHelm, but I hear above the mountains is where the real research is."

He makes no discernible reaction to Brennan's emphasized words.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:47, Thu 09 Nov 2017.

"It rarely is.  I've been traveling all over, south, east, west, north.  I go where there's money, and sickness. And injuries, given the times." Ciryl shrugs and looks at his drink despondently, "It's a morbid trade I admit. But please, enlighten me.  What's the state of Xander and Osmell in these parts?  I find being inoffensive to the locals far more important than being proper to the lords."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 56):

"That's kind of you, to offer such advice. Thank you," Brennan replies. He takes a moment to absorb the details of the necklace the man is wearing -- not the disc, the likes of which are in his pocket, but the chain itself. "I don't suppose you know of any other areas of interest while we're nearby?"

I'll need to get it just right to make a forgery.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 57):

Talking Politics at the Small Table

"It were never simple," the man agrees with a nod.  "And you'd do best to stay out of it.  Some folks here think it's wrong to go against King Osmell, then there's some say he abandoned us years ago."

He shrugs.

"Best to let sleeping dogs lie.  Most here probably'd say it makes no difference one way or another.  War will likely ignore us if we can help it.  Neither side has made any move to claim DuckTown.  Lord Garr to the South will like to keep his nose out of things, Lady Sheer to the North the same."

Talking Roadside Attractions at the Big Table

The big man shrugs.  "I been far north, and down past Garr's lands to the south.  Nothing I seen so nice as DuckTown."

He smiles.

"I'd tell you to stay out of the outskirts to the west of the lake, but as you're already acquainted with them, there's no worry there."

The chain is made of simple gold links.  Likely any goldsmith could make such a chain.

In reply to GM (msg # 58):

Brennan nods agreeably. "That would have been advice well-heeded."

He drinks thoughtfully for a moment, taking in the ambiance of the place.

"Y'know, it's the strangest thing," he says, keeping his voice somewhat quiet. "But I'm absolutely certain I've seen a necklace just like yours among that band of ruffians. Less guilded, of course, but still -- it's a remarkably pattern that pleases the eye. I assume their similarities mean the same gifted artisan made them -- are they perhaps here in town? I'd love to pay them my respects to their craftsmanship, and perhaps browse their wares for myself."

He grins disarmingly.

"What can I say? I appreciate a finely made trinket now and then. And, if we're being honest, who doesn't?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 59):

The Big Table

The hairy man raises one eyebrow.

"I should hope not, less that ruffian wanted a solid thumping.  This here is my badge of office.  Only the Masters and their staff are permitted to wear them."

Seeing the questioning look in Brennan's eyes he continues:

"Myself, the Guild Mistress, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Arms.  Our delegates wear them too, shouldn't be more than a dozen in all of DuckTown look like this.  If someone is making forgeries..."

"A very sensible stance," Ciryl nods to the recommendation of deference, "But you say most, and the guards seemed to have some strong opinions. Is there someone in town who's not so interested in being ignored by war?  I'd like to keep my distance."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 61):

Brennan nods as the man speaks, engrossed in the implications.

"My mistake -- I didn't realize that," he says. "Perhaps it wasn't quite so similar after all. I'd hate to bring additional trouble down on them without being absolutely certain. Might be worth looking into, however. Just to be safe."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 62):

Titus dances by managing to juggle four of the prettiest girls in the bar at once, he catches Brennan's eye and adds some extra special flourishes.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 63):

Politics Round Table

"Nobody in particular, just be careful about seemin' too eager to know people's leanings.  We made a good town here, we don't want the war to change that."

The Big Table with Big Men

"Interesting," the hairy man mutters.  "I'd tell you to talk to the Master of Arms.  If there's some whelp running around with our chain, he'll want to crack some skulls."

In reply to GM (msg # 64):

"I'll do that," Brennan nods. "When does he normally begin his day. And, er, where would I be able to find him tomorrow?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 65):

The Big Table

"Follow the guard, easy enough," he replies.  "He's always there for the changing of the guard, and to open the keep in the morning.  Just after first light."

Brennan is directed how to find the keep, which turns out to be a large building along the town wall.

In reply to GM (msg # 66):

Brennan nods his thanks, and leaves the Master of the Hunt to his cups unless the man wishes to pursue further conversation.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 67):

The main room stays busy until the fire has burned low and the torches outside have been replaced.  People leave in large groups, the Master of Hunt being one of the last, and he does not leave alone.

Finally it is only the inkeep and yourselves.  He indicates the warmest spots to sleep, and after he and his family wipe down the tables and sweep the floors, they retire to a back room.

The night passes uneventfully.  You find the floors warm if not overly comfortable.  Sometime in the night, it sprinkles lightly, making you all the more glad for your lodgings.



It is the 22nd Day of the Queen's Month

The inn does not open early, so you are allowed to sleep until the sun is well past risen.

In reply to GM (msg # 68):

Titus yawns and sits crosslegged on the bed counting the previous night's take.

I'm going to go check the market.  Deev come along with me.  Save us some breakfast.

He says in a voice that indicates its not a request.  They walk out of the inn shoulder to shoulder.