Roderic's Cove has always been a town with tension simmering beneath the surface. Founded as a way to escape the corruption and vice of larger cities in Varisia, their entire town is shadowed by the influence of nearby Riddleport. Even removed from the pirate city they cannot fully escape the power and influence that flows into and out of that lawless port.

Roderic's Cove has to play a balancing game where much of their economy is based on supplying traders going to and from Riddleport while still trying to maintain their independence and recently that balance has been threatened. It is an open secret that gangs fueled by organized crime in Riddleport exist however they normally keep a fairly low profile and are all but invisible to the native residents (albeit a kind of open secret). Recently that uneasy truce was shattered when just a week prior when half a dozen thugs were found killed in the market square one night. While a shocking tragedy in and of itself, the more surprising item was that while one was found stabbed the other five didn't have a mark on their bodies making the townfolk whisper about demons or foul death magics being used.

Over the next week rumors and speculation raced through the town like wildfire and the simmering tension started rise to a boil. A gang war seemed inevitable for retaliation and the locals were starting to prepare for violence in the streets. Meanwhile the market was cleaned up and the Circle was again open for business. Merchants had their stalls open and Possum Coots was selling cups of his Possum Punch to everyone who enjoyed a fun drink. On the surface everything seemed normal but the whispers and looks the locals were giving one another spoke to the underlying tension.

Moving through the crowd one only had to stop and listen to hear the truth.

."..Halek, Marna, Tristin...I can't believe they are all dead..."

"... the Horned Fangs will have to retaliate...""

"...but who killed them? Couldn't be the Roadkeepers, they only just recently arrived...."

"...I heard it was a demon. Sucked the souls right out of them and then ate the last one for dessert..."

OOC: Feel free to give an introduction based upon your personal character traits. It's a market day so there are plenty of shops to browse and food and drink to be had. Feel free to take some liberties but if you're not sure why your character would be here on a market day browsing the local wares feel free to shoot me a PM and we can work something out. Or if you need some additional information or clarification. There isn't a lot of rush on this so you have time to get a nice start to things.

Coming up to the town gates, Caydel looks to one of the guards.  "Goodman, I'm in desperate need of a drink.  Where can I go?"  He up-ends is flask to emphasize his point.

Amara had been in Roderic's Cave for awhile, having found her path headed here after she left the dismal situation with a circus and a group of would be adventurers who got in too deep. Another reminder of why growing old was horrifying in more then just physical ways, the hag climbing walls was just creepy when all was said and done. She had taken her time to wander and explore before finding her way to a bar in Roderic's Cove and deciding to stick around for awhile.

Not only did she end up making a friend, one she often shared drinks in the evening with after her day at the graveyard, but she had no end of minor jobs as long as she stayed freelance and didn't cross the guilds. It was a pretty ideal situation for a young elf quick on her feet and with nimble fingers. For the moment she was just wandering the market, keeping an eye open for anything that piqued her interest. Perhaps a nice bottle of elven wine she could lift easily, Audrahni might appreciate the taste of their homeland as much as she would.

An unusually lanky man has been walking around among the market's bustling crowds, standing out in his tattered, dark claret robes and overly meek smile as he wobbled between all the potential customers somewhat graceful-like, carrying around a large, stuffed bag on his back.
"Poultices for rash! Ointments against festers! Leech for the burning gut! Come-come good folks, Horril has all the cures for thy maladies! Toad's wart for pimples, tit warble for love sickness, yes-yes! Heheh, come-seek Horril's tinctures for and against trots good folks!"
His pale skin, mismatched eyes and matted red hair made him quite hard to miss, which he certainly used as part of his "marketing". There were about as many who were trying to get out of his way as those who sought him out to be left with a strange advice or an odd-looking concoction.

In time the tallish man's path had come to cross the elven lady's. At first he glanced at her with a slight surprise, then he narrowed his eyes, as if intrigued by what he saw in her person. With a sudden change of mood then, he began shaking his head.
"No-no dear, I am afraid even Horril has no cure of that quantity, I'm sorry."
It would almost seem like he was ready to leave her at that, as he began turning around, but with a dramatic swing with an open palm, he gestured at the market folk. Just as dramatically he leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"Last time Horril heard, discord was too virulent a thing to be treated with lies."
A confusingly mad, but in a way meaningful look was exchanged, then the man turned around just as dramatically and with what sounded to be a low-pitched croak coming from his direction.

As if nothing had happened, the man began his usual shouting again, promoting his own services with the same suddenness he addressed the elven lady.

Cathran skipped along in the marketplace from vendor to vendor until she came upon one that sold quality dresses. She stopped with a wide smile and began rummaging through the racks for an ideal dress. Slowly following up behind her was Gavel. The massive individual was dressed in a simple gray cloak that covered everything except for gauntleted hands and a helmed face that wasn’t covered by the hood. It clearly gave off the feel of a bodyguard. When someone came too close to Cathran, he simply looked at them. His look wasn’t one of malice or anger but more of a butcher evaluating how to best cut up a hunk of meat.

Cathran held up a dress on her that was pink with gold trim and remarked to Gavel. “Oh this is soooo me isn’t it? I love it! What do you think?”Gavel simply held a thumbs up in response then lowered his hand. Cathran smiled and looked to her left when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. With a mischievous grin, she pulled up a bright yellow cloak with flowers on it. “I think you would look fantastic in this shade. You really do need to add a little pop of color in your wardrobe.”He looked at the cloak then up at her. He raised his hand in a thumbs down position. She gave a pouty face then put it back. “You’re no fun.”

While Horril may scream Madness, Amara was easily pegged as an adventuring sort. Even traversing the marketplace she was wearing well made studded leather armor with a pair of short swords and several daggers strapped to her pale thigh. Her skin was near flawless to contrast his own pale flesh, and her lips quirked in a playful smirk as she took him in.

"No, I doubt your tinctures can cure what ails me. But be wary, you're in the territory of unsavory discord. Unprofitable lies may find silence."

Perhaps not the best of warnings he was hawking his wears in the territory of multiple thieves guilds, but he amused her none the less. It would be a shame to find his corpse in an alleyway, albeit perhaps he deserved it offering warts as a tincture. Humans were so strange. Then again for all she knew, she could be the one hired to put his corpse in an alleyway.

Such was life though. She certainly had no desire for one of his tinctures though, she'd rather make one of herbs and berries. Despite living in the city she was a forest woman at heart. Her feet took her away from the Mad man as she continued to seek out something for her friend, or at least a savory treat to make the outing worth her time.

"No directions, my stoic friend?"  Caydel shakes the bottle playfully.  Putting the cap back on the flask, "Come find me later...we can have a drink when you are not paid to be a statue.
 Maybe Caydan will smile on you then."

Walking through the gate, he starts to sing softly...

"Here's good luck to the pint pot
good luck to the barley mow
jolly good luck to the pint pot
good luck to the barley mow...."

Kamea Asano arrived at Roderic's Cove several weeks ago. She was battered, bruised and confused. She staggered into the Creekside and took a private room for the night and the next. Garleena, the tavern co-owner, didn't mind. Kamea's gold was good. Eventually she emerged from the private room. She followed the sounds of laughter outside the backdoor of the inn where she was staying.

The warmed of the sun and the slight breeze brought a smile to Kamea's face. She took up the name some weeks ago. It was a struggle for him. He still had visions of his comrades, all those that died. She stood at the porch in her armor and used the glaive almost like a quarterstaff. Kamea stepped off the porch and soon found herself with a drink in her hands. She drank the drink quickly and got another. Perhaps a night of drunkenness would allow him to forget the recent memories.

The madman hesitantly turned around at the answer, taking up a different smile. As if there was some eerie intellect at the back of his befuddled mind, that's just began peeking outside at a reply like that.
"In silence only the truths lie."
It wasn't sure if the madman understood any of the dangers of him spreading his merchandise here. He was more likely trapped in the moment, then thinking of such consequences. Then all the sudden the man straightened up, and placed his hand on his chest all flattered-like.
"Why thank you! And here I thought no-one would notice it! How sweet.."
He kept babbling as he was going on, seemingly talking to the elf or just...to himself? The things she said certainly had an opposite effect on the man, making him quite merry about his situation.
"See? I knew she has ails! You can tell me all about her soon.."
Muttering on, the man has grown less intelligible or interested in the crowd. Stooping forward, soon he seemed to blend in relatively well afterwards.

Possom Coots might not have been the cleanliest resident of Roderic's Cove, but he definitely was the friendliest! With a keen eye and knowledge of the locals he was able to call out visitors and travelers left and right to come by for a complimentary drink of Possom Punch.

"You there, you're looking for a drink? Look no farther!"

"Adventuring is mighty thirsty work! Have a Possom Punch on the house!"

"Horril you mad man, come share a drink with ole' Possom and share some gossip with me!"

"Possom Punch! Good for what ailes you! Clears up bruises and cuts in no time flat and is more delicious than any magician's potion you'll ever drink!"

He had a giant infectious grin on his face as he spoke and chattered loudly with the locals who would drop coppers into his cup in exchange for the bright red juice. For the kids he served them straight but for the adults (and for a few coppers more) he would spike the punch with a little "extra" kick.

For travelers he would start chatting them up, finding out where they were from and where they were going so a small crowd started to form around his cart as time went on.

Cathran overheard Possum Coits selling his drink at the cart and was interested in all the excitement. Obviously, what he was selling was good otherwise he wouldn’t be drawing such a crowd. Cathran walked over with Gavel and spent the extra coppers for a stronger drink. She took a big gulp and coughed a little bit while holding her hand on her chest. “Oh my that is some strong stuff! I would ask what’s in it, but I’m sure that is a trade secret. Have you been running this cart long? I’m new in town and trying to get the lay of the land. Is there any shops or taverns I should visit first?”

As his name was being called, Horril turned around and closed the distance with lengthy steps, followed by the slight clanking of his bag's contents.
"Possom ya old coot! Been a while since we've not shared stories the last time!"
He opened his arms with a wide smile as a reaction to being called out. Whether he was aware what he said made no sense or not was a mystery.
"I've earned enough on others ills to slurp in some o' your wonder juice! Hit me with a mug gently and you'll hear the coppery knocks of my ill-gotten riches."
Leaning closer to the old man's cart, he handed over a few coins, and was shamelessly staring at the elegant lady as he drank.

Once finished, he smiled at her somewhat charmingly, then looked back at Possom.
"Yes! Don't spare us your trade secrets. I also want to know how to get the attention of such graceful things at such a gray age."
As he raised his cup towards the lady in fancy dress, a loud, reproachful croak sounded from behind him. With a surprised chuckle, he spilled some of his beverage, but have attempted to hold a straight face after that as if it weren't even real.

While singing to himself in the bazaar, Caydel allows the banter of the stall sellers to invade his mind.

"We have silk and cotton,
Our fruit is not rotten.
Do you need a sword young man?
We know we can,
Make something for you.
If you need an item to munch,
Have it with punch,
You will not be blue."

He stops mid-thought.  Punch?  Punch?  Did he say Possum Punch??  Well...it isn't beer, but...  Weaving his way through the sellers and buyers, the thieves and jolly-makes, he joins the growing crowd around Coot's stall.  After listening for a moment or two, he pulls his tankard off his belt.  Swirling it around two fingers, flipping it into the air to do a full turn, he catches it by the bottom.  He tosses a coin into it and the threads his arm with cup between the few in front of Ol' Coots.

"The coin is yours for a tankard of your punch...."

Amara let herself be lured in for the free punch, albeit she was fine with the unspiked version. Human alcohols were just a bit too strong for her tastes. She much preferred the sweeter and subtler tastes of Elven alcohol. She had picked up a small 'necklace', in the case of a pouch of dried flowers and herbs on a cord for her friend at work.

"Can't argue free drink, not sure I have much to tell you about unless you want to hear about this horrible circus, a possessed old lady who crawled up walls and a mellow sphinx that ran it all."

Cathran giggled at the croak from the crazy looking quack seller. She raised her cup politely at him and took another drink with a slight cringe as the alcohol went down her throat. Gavel simply watched everyone that had started gathering like a silent sentinel. He didn’t advance toward anyone, but neither did he make room for others that wished to partake of the punch. Cathran winked at Horril. “Some beauties like shinies. Others prefer sweet smells. I like to try new places and experiences within reason of course. His punch seemed an innocent enough new experience for this traveler.”

Possom waggles his big grey eyebrows at his newest customers.

"Now now, I can't reveal all my secrets. The Possom Punch is my trademark, you hear!"

His words might have been hostile but his tone and facial expressions were nothing if not comical and the wide snaggle-toothed smile he broke out at the end cleared up any further doubts. He started to talk some more but then paused.

A cluster of about a half dozen tough looking thugs were muscling their way through the crowd. They had serious looks on their faces and were heading straight towards Possom's cart.

"Oh no....Roadkeepers!"

He jerked his head to the side and over his shoulder at another knot of tough looking scoundrels with cups of possom punch in their hands.

"Horned Fangs."

He practically whispered it to his newest customers as if that explained everything. The Horned Fangs, true to their name, had symbols on their clothing that looked like an open mouth with jagged fangs.

When Possom Coots didn't see the immediate comprehension he was expecting he quickly elaborating while pulling up the legs of his cart to begin wheeling it to the side.

"The Horned Fangs just had six of their men killed and nobody knows who or even how it happened. Now the Roadkeepers are coming in and looking to muscle them out of town for good. You've got the Roadkeepers looking to make a name for themselves and the Horned Fangs looking to avenge their fallen comrades. This is going to turn bloody."

He finishes putting his cart up and begins wheeling it quickly to the side. He turns his head to call out one last warning before disappearing down an alley.

"Best leave now if you're looking to avoid trouble! If that's the kinda person you are that is!"

Meanwhile the Horned Fangs seem oblivious of the incoming Roadkeepers currently about fifty feet away.

Kamea accepted a mug of the punch from Possom. She had drank quite a bit in the past few weeks. Alcohol and food were therapeutic when there was enough alcohol. She was about to ask for a second mug, when Possom explained about the Roadkeepers and the  Horned Fangs.

Kamea set the mug on his cart before turning to watch the approaching thugs.

Not liking where this is headed, Caydel frowns, but stands out of the way.  Maybe he can help after things settle.

Cathran looked over at Gavel then off to the side of the road away from where the action was going to be. “Wait for me. I’ll be right back.” The large man gave a thumbs up and stepped to the side next to Possum Coots.

Cathran walked past the group of Horned Fangs with her cup. “Hey boys. Looks like Roadkeepers are looking for ya. Just thought I’d let you know.”She then went over to stand next to Coots. “So my good man. May I ask what laws in this area say about two gangs fighting in the streets? Does the local authority stay out of it unless there is property damage or bystanders hurt?”