Re: At the Black Scarab Pub
Maldor had returned to the Black Scarab. The tavern's employee had ventured across the street to see if he could accompany the caravan to Phandelver. The dwarven boss agreed that he could come.
Now Mal would have adventure. He would see the world beyond the walls of Neverwinter. And perhaps come across someone who recognized him.
Mal grabbed the broom from where he had leaned it. He noticed a spot near a table where some bread pieces had been dropped. The half-orc swept the discarded food over to the wall and left it to be picked up shortly. He was too anxious to speak with Orwen.
He slowly walked to the far end of the bar, where the Black Scarab owner was going over a ledger. Orwen Uberschat was a kind man. When the amnesiac Maldor was in need, it was Orwen who volunteered to lend aid. For minor labor at the pub, room and board were provided. The human-heavy population of Neverwinter was apprehensive of half-orcs.
But Maldor did not have bloodthirsty feelings. He would defend a friend, of course, but to blindly attack someone? Out of the question.
Mal placed the broom against the wall and cleared his throat. Orwen rubbed his eyes, then looked up.
"Hey there, Mal," the stout Orwen offered. In his day, he was an adventurer. It was his tales of valor and excitement that helped to fuel Maldor's need to explore. But an arrow to the leg put Orwen's adventuring days to rest.
"These books get more confusing every time I do 'em" he remarked. "I could use a break. Do you need somethin'?"
Maldor took in a breath. Now was the time.
"Orwen speak of time as warrior. Time exploring. Fighting evil. Finding treasure."
The pub operator nodded, waiting for his staffer to get to the meat of the conversation.
"Orwen know Maldor want to go explore, too. Maldor want to fight evil. To find treasure."
Another breath.
"Orwen hear dwarf across road want help, yes? Maldor go see if dwarf want Maldor come. Dwarf say yes."
Orwen raised an eyebrow. "So you're going on the trip to Phandelver?"
Mal nodded. "Yes. I hope Orwen understand."
"Of course I understand" the heavy man replied. "You've been thinking about getting out there. Figuring out who you are. Now's as good of a time as any."
Maldor was thankful that his employer understood.
"Maldor ask brother of Benton at horses if he could help Orwen while Maldor gone. He say yes. He will help Orwen."
Orwen nodded. "Thanks. Lifting that shipment in two days would be quite the burden."
"Maldor be back when he can, if okay" the half-orc stated. "Glad Orwen understand."
Maldor held his hand out. Orwen did the same. The two shook.
"Goodbye, Orwen."
"Goodbye, Mal."
The tall half-orc nodded, took another breath, then headed down the length of the bar. He stopped at the front door and turned. He made one last glance... for now... of his home, then exited.
Outside, Mal took a left and walked several yards to a thin door. He opened it, revealing a storage room. Not only did it serve to house items for the Black Scarab that could not be kept close at hand, but it provided a place for Maldor to sleep and store his meager possessions.
Mal walked to a far corner of the structure. A simple bed, stuffed with straw, was set against the wall. A backpack was nearby. He picked it up and opened it. What little he had he placed inside the worn container.
This was indeed it. Maldor's adventure... his new life... was about to begin.
[SM, next post will be another across the street in that thread. :)]
This message was last edited by the player at 15:18, Tue 29 July 2014.