Dalton looks at Korgan’s sword and thinks about his words for a minute or so.  ”Well my Dad doesn’t have much use for a blade on board, too easy to cut a rope or split a sail.  He favors a good stout club or belaying pin.  Plus he says you don’t have to worry about keeping the edge in line with your blow.  He is always telling the story of how he killed his first pirate.  He came at him with some sort of sword and in the confusion of battle, the pirate hit him on the side with the flat of his blade.  My Dad’s club knocked his brains out.  No edge to a club, any side is a good side.”

The vendor looks at Geth, ”I have the best meat pies to be found this side of the Moonsea gate.  My old lady makes them fresh each morning, good meat that I puts on my own table goes into them.  Today’s take be venison or pork with lentils and taters.  They be 2 coppers each.  Cool beer for 1 copper.  Two pies and a beer cost you only a 5 coppers or half a silver.  What it be mate?”  As you listen to the meat pie vendor, you see what appears to be another beggar come out of the Moonsea Gate and head up the dock toward the other beggar.  Soon they are both sitting on the old fishing nets passing the bottle back and forth.

Merka you notice that the old one eyed beggar is joined by another just as dirty as the first .  They appear to be sharing a bottle of spirits.

As they spot the Gemacoe, Brin makes a recommendation,

"There is the place.  I suggest we go in to get a feel, and start asking our questions.  However, I think our entry should be as the beginnings of a gentle spring shower, and not a sudden ocean squall.  So Ashes, Rystro,...as we did in Phlan?  One at a time?  Varrguur, can you pretend you don't know us at first when you go in?"

Brin is not so sure of the half-orc's abiltity to intrigue.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:33, Tue 16 Nov 2004.

Ashes nods at Brin and then makes his way inside confident that Rystro will follow shortly and watch his back.  He puts his head up high and strides in like he belongs.

Smiling the ranger replied "Sounds just right. Give me that half a silver special. My stomach is doing somersaults."

His eye drifted over the beggars as he handed the money over and began to eat slowly some of the food. He was trying to pick out what they were saying by reading their lips. He ate and drank slowly so the vendor wouldn't move off to quickly and give away his position.

Vaargurr, still clutching onto his great axe, nods his head.

I tries, but I is not a great actor.

Well, well, Grup... What have we here?  Now it's a pair of drunkards who are enjoying the peace and quiet of our pier.  We shall have to careful watch our watchers, don't you think?

I can feel that you are nervous, Grup.  I am, too.  But as long as the soldiers are nearby they will not move.  Besides, we outnumber them...at the moment.

Stroking Grup's back, Merka watched the two suspicious characters with growing apprehension.  The epitome of aloofness and nonchalance, he strolled casually over to Dalton and Korgan.  "There are two of them now, gentlemen.  And their drink is not disappearing twice as fast.  Perhaps as long as the soldiers are at yonder post, they will continue to merely observe."

Korgan nods. "I've seen them. That's why I have my metal close by" he says and points at the sword. "If they think they're attacking a peaceful merchantship with a few drunk cabinboys as guards they're in for a nasty surprise." He turns to Dalton. "You see what I was talking about? They're trying to be adventurers, and think everything is going their way...but they're about to learn that afventuring is not a walk in the park."

Rystro nods and follows a minute or so after Ashes entrance, hands folded behind his back and strolling along, with an appearance of not a care in the world.

Giving Rystro time to get inside, Brin turns to Varrgurr,

"Wait for me to go in, then count to ten and come on in yourself.  If you don't know what else to do, just order something and look around."

Brin then whistles and points to the water.  Krais leaps in with a remarkably small splash, busily hunting his lunch.  Brin then walks in the inn, with a few coins in hand, counting them as if checking to see if he has enough for a bowl of stew.

One, two, free, four, six, seven...no, one, two, free, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. All da fingers gone 'n it's time for me to enter da inn, just as Brin said, the huge half-orc says to himself. He strabs his axe to the back, but unfortunatly he didn't remove his spiked armor, though he doesn't seem to care. He swings the door open and enters. Still with his vizor down the cleric walks up to the bar, letting his boots fall hard down upon the floor and when he stands by the counter he bellows out:

Ale, I wants ale.

He removes his right boot and empties it upon the counter. A lonely gold coin falls down.

From the Spirit of Gall, you can see that a second beggar has joined the first.  After a few minutes, the second beggar gets up and strolls back toward the Moonsea Gate.

Geth from your position, one of the beggars are facing you and the other, the new one, has his back to you.  After a few minutes, the new beggar gets up and heads back toward the Moonsea Gate.


At the Tavern

As you enter the tavern, you see that it is just a step above a dive.  While trash litters the floor and the stale smell of old ale and beer greets you at the door, you notice that the few patrons of establishment are not beggars.  There are four tables on one side of the narrow room down along the wall away from the door and a bar running the length of the room on the other.  Two small stature men dressed in dark clothing, no visible weapons are sitting in the table beside the door.  They give you a hard glare as you enter.  At the bar are three burley dockmen, men who unload ships for a living.  The kind of men that work hard, drink hard, and play hard.  The barkeep stands behind the bar, polishing a mug with a cloth and looking at you.  On a chalk board behind the barkeep is written:
Beer  1 copper
Grog  2 copper
Ale  3 copper

The barkeep says, ”Welcome stranger, cash up front for all drinks, if you want something to eat, go somewhere else.  This is a drinking man’s bar.  If you want something to drink, come to the bar.  What you want?”

Vaargurr as you empty your ‘purse’ on the bar, the barkeeper gives you the dirty eye.  ”We don’t get many of your kind in here.  Cleric!  You going to be drinking a lot of ale, cause I don’t have any change for that gold piece.  Don’t you have anything smaller.”  The three dockmen at the bar beside you erupt into laughter as they look at you.

Sensing no immediate danger, Korgan relaxes a little.

Sensing no immediate danger, Korgan relaxes a little.

Merka divides his time between watching the two suspicious vagrants, the four guards, and scanning the pier for other persons (or non-persons) of interest.  He strikes (what he believes to be) a mage-like pose while waiting with Korgan and Dalton.

"Korgan, you look very relaxed.  What is your secret to dealing with the...ah, shall we say stresses of professional adventuring?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:33, Wed 17 Nov 2004.

Vaargurr spurs around, his red eyes narrowing down into mere thin lines of glowing red lines of anger. Instinctivly his hands went for his axe.

What's ye laughin'bout, humies, he asks, his deep voice filled with rage, so much he almost growls at the sailors.

Not waiting for an answer the half-orc turns to the barkeep.

Give me food wif da ale.

Rystro heads up to the bar and decides to give his half-orc friend a break. Last thing they needed is trouble. He keeps it as if he never even met Vaargurr. "They don't serve food here. And I'm sure the barkeep won't repeat himself." He says with a little grin, "I have change for you. Consider it my kind deed of the day." He pulls out enough silver to change the gold piece. "You do have change for silver, barkeep?"

At the Spirit of Gall, the same old one eyed beggar sits on the old fishing nets without a care in the world.  He seems to study everything except the Spirit of Gall.  As the afternoon sun gets hotter, he moves a little to get in the shade of several wooden crates.

At the Tavern, the dockmen seem to laugh all the harder at Vaargurr outburst of anger.  The barkeeper puts a mug of ale in front of him and takes one of the silver and puts seven coppers back on the table.  Then he moves down in front of the dockmen and resumes polishing a mug with his same old dirty towel.

Geth maintained his watch, his patience that of a hunter born. He had his food and drink and paid for it accordingly so he would be able to keep going for hours yet. He too kept to the shade, one eye on the beggar and the other on the rest of the docks.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:05, Thu 18 Nov 2004.

"How do I cope?" Korgan says, and sits down on a roll of rope, leaning against a crate. "Well, you have to like the thrill and the tension obviously. And you have to be confident in your own abilities to deal with a crisis." He scratches his nose.

"Obviously, the old recommendations of getting enough to eat and plenty of sleep help too. But I think the confidence and the joy of the danger is most important."

In the Tavern,

Anyone that wants a drink can get one with no problems.  The barkeeper is speaking with the three dockmen.  You are left alone with your drinks and other than some laughter from time to time from the dockmen, the tavern is quiet.  There are no others to be seen in the tavern.

"That last part is exactly what I am wondering.  In my life so far, I have not faced a true life or death crisis.  In fact, the only life-threatening situation I've found myself in was when my face was injured.  And I was rather young, then.  I am untested.  I am very curious to see if I handle myself well and if the adventurer's life is for me."

With a smile in his voice, Merka asked Korgan,"Do you have any suggestions or advice for a novice, old man?"



"Joy in danger, you say?  Yes, I think that is what got me interested in pursuing this line of work.  A joy in danger, indeed."

Vlearly enjoying being the old veteran, Korgan leans further back looking up intot he sky and ponders what Merka just said. "Hmmm...suggestions...i don't know. It always seemed to me that you never know how a man will react to the chaos of melee befoer he's thrown into it." He pauses, mainly for the effect, then continues "I remember Warish from my tribe. He used to be one of the best when it came to competitions of strength and agility. Then the first time he was on a combat situation he fell and twisted his knee so he couldn't run any more. You see what I'm saying. Only the test of real combat shows you what kind of man a man is."

He smiles.

"So we have to wait and see with you too. That fact that you like danger is promising though. Just stay at my shoulder when things start to get hot, and I assure you you'll have plenty."

Korgan pauses just a second, then adds  "What exactly did happen to your face back then?"

While sitting at a table not far from Vaargurr, and looking like he is trying to decide if wants to try the local stew, Brin tries to eavesdrop on the cojnversation between the barkeep and the dockworkers.  He has learned from Phlan that sometimes important information can bediscovered by just keeping your senses tuned in to the activities of the local populace...

(OOC:
12:32, Today: Brin rolled 21 using 1d20+6. Listen check.

Ashes sits quietly at a table nursing a cup of ale, watching the room, listening to the conversations around him.  He tries not to laugh at Vaargurr's antics.

Sigh. Ashes rolled 8 using 1d20+3. Listen check, it appears that I cannot hear anything over the sound of my beer being slurped ;)

Waiting for Merkas answer to his question, Korgan let's his eyes scan the docks. He's looking at the beggars obviously, but also tries to see if he can spot anybody else, particularly dwarves.