mood music

You find yourselves spending the night at The Scoundrel and Dirk, a large two-story timber framed inn located just inside the main gate of the walls of Titan's Gate. The innkeeper is a thin female dwarf named Shakurd, [Private to GM: She is a retired thief, and is rumored to have a hidden cache of stolen treasure.] she has in her employ various races but as is common in this area most are human. The entry way and support columns of the common room are carved with intricate runes and markings[Private to GM: ward vs evil] as well as a reinforced wooden door. If rumors are true a rather large cellar. Accommodations consist of small rooms with wooden cots, a mezzanine with several wooden cots as well as a few hammocks in the common room.

The common room has fulled up over the past few hours as the sun setting bringing people inside. Rain has dominated the past week or so on the road so a roaring fire and mug of ale seem to help ease the long days many of these travelers and farmers have been on.

OOC: So what has brought each of you to Titan's Gate?
This message was last updated by the GM at 11:31, Tue 14 June 2016.

"An Inn, why does it always have to be a inn...why can't she never meet me at the main square...or a park. Something with space..."


Marik is sitting uncomfortably at the edge of a table of eight places, a few empty seats besides him. It's the quietest corner of the inn he found. People keep coming, chatting loudly. Each minute that passed, he misses the silence of the woods more and more. He looks behind him at the window facing the back alley of the tavern. A very blurry yellow eye looks back at him through the stained glass. He takes some comfort at the thought that Rani is watching him. Maybe later, in his room, he could open the window and let her in without the patron knowing. He would sleep better knowing she's beside him.

The flagon of ale before him is nearing end. He's been sitting here for a hour and still no trace of his contact. She had talked to him about a interesting elven ruin they could investigate together, apparently a old temple of sorts nearly completely overgrown in the Urshok region. She said it could be of interest, without saying more. She could be so cryptic sometimes...

Marik looks around him. Still no sign of her.

"Well, she's not coming." He mutters to himself. Might as well take another drink and go to sleep.

He down the last of his beer, still grimacing at the taste. Human beer tastes like piss. No balance. No research in the flavours. It's like they just cram the biggest sack of hops they find in the barrel and leave it at that. He should have bring some of his own on his way there.


He thinks about what to do now. He heard lots of stories in here. Politics, dwarves, orcs, bandits. He could talk to this group of soldier here, debating about how many mens to bring in the forest. Maybe they could use a guide. Or maybe he could sign up to go kill some raiding orcs in the countryside. He could use the gold. He need new tools and some brewing materials and those ain't cheap these days. Also, he misses the trill of the hunt. Only thing he killed lately was a deer Rani found on the way to Titan’s Gate. A short chase. He sold some of the meat to the tavern for a few coins.


He decide to try the wine and orders a glass while a group of small group of drunkards bearing steel suddenly pulls chairs besides him and start yelling more than talking. Marik gets up and pulls his chair to the side before sitting again, avoiding all body contact as best he can. His ankles itch from rubbing against the straps of his carved wooden legs. He hates wearing those blasted things, even if he made them to his measure.

"What the hell am I doing here..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:01, Tue 14 June 2016.

Rianna adjusts her position in one of the hammocks along the wall of the common room. She had been in the inn for three days now and had been trying to wait out the rain. Sadly the long stay at the inn had eaten all the way through what meager coin she had brought with her when she had left the protective walls of her cloistered monastery. In fact she was flat broke. It was not the being broke that bothered her for she had been without any real wealth her entire life. No what bothered her was that up until this point there had always been someone there providing her a roof over her head and food for her belly. She had not thought leaving her home through obviously for she never foresaw that one day she might have to take work in order to feed herself. This was not to say that she was a stranger to hard labor as it was like an old dear friend to her albeit one she did not care for awful much. So for the time being she merely lay her head upon her pack and was grateful for the warmth and dryness of the inn while she still had it. For if the weather kept up she would be slogging along in the mud bright and early tomorrow morning. Not that there was expected to be much brightness with the weather as it were. She just wished she had had a good reason to remind herself why she was in Titan's Gate. Other than just passing through with no real destination in mind. Wandering for the sake of wandering, while the picture was pretty, had a tendency to wear on you fairly quickly. Once you ran out of coin leastwise.

The fire crackles and spits, spilling warmth into the damp air.  Standing near the hearth, Marcus alternates between gazing across the length of the common room and into his ale mug.  He'd emptied it, but his gloomy demeanor seems to be discouraging any of the inn's servants from approaching him with another.  That suits him fine, as he is not overfond of the beverage in any event.  Unlike his comrades in arms, Marcus never did enjoy drinking himself into a stupor when off duty.

That, of course, only serves to remind Marcus yet again of the fact that he is out of a job, and likely to never see his fellow soldiers again.  Worse, he isn't even really sure where to go or what to do next.  Rumors hold that Titan's Gate would provide opportunity for a strong arm and a quick sword.  Rumors, however, aren't always true, as evidenced by Marcus' ever-thinning coin purse.

Fingering his mug idly, Marcus glances around the inn once again -- unable to avoid his ingrained habit of looking out for trouble -- and tries to listen to the rain over the din of the common room's inhabitants as he contemplates his fate.

A human male in a rather lavish outfit is currently playing on the small stage, he's good but not great - Rianna has heard him play night before last. The overall mood of the place is pleasant despite bad weather.

Shakurd is running the bar and the few tables near it like a pro, as are the rest of her people. This place seems to be use to the farmer and mercenary crowd currently here due to the recent harvest.

Food here in The Scoundrel and Dirk is actually good considering the price:

A group of five individuals enter out of the rain - two elves and three halfings - all dressed in various adventurer gear. They nod to Shakurd, who points to a large table near the fire which until now has been empty  despite the packed nature of the room. A bag of coins flies from one of the halfling male's hand and hits heavily on the bar. "Thanks Shakurd," he says in a lyrical voice before the group makes its way to the table.


OOC: Everyone give me a Intelligence roll to identify the group if you want :)
[Private to Anastrianna: Give me an additional Investigation/Intelligence check please, as you've been here 3 days and probably have heard some rumors]

Marik turns his head to see the arriving group.


OOC: Marik rolled 11 using 1d20+1.  .
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:01, Tue 14 June 2016.

Glancing up at the sudden racket, Marcus gives the newly arriving group a cursory inspection before returning to brooding.

11:26, Today: Marcus Bournstride rolled 8 using 1d20+1.  Intelligence check.

The room seems to spin around Filimena as she enters it. Candlelight. Chatter. Laughter. Music. The clinking of beer mugs and cutlery. The smell of food. Filimena grasps the door frame and leans against it. It's all she can do to keep from collapsing.

"Is... is this it? Is this the place?" She whispers to herself, gasping for breath, the words barely escaping her lips. At once the voices fill her head, a storm of words in tongues long forgotten. Yes.

Filimena thrusts herself into the room, nearly slamming into a group of halflings. She manages to catch herself at the last moment, and ends up grabbing hold of a wooden column. She leans against it, shivering, rain and mud dripping off her cloak.

"What... what is it we seek?" The voices again. Thunder breaking against her skull. Flashes of brilliant white light. The ringing of bells. Louder. Louder. Louder. LOUDER. LOUDER. LOUDER. MORE. MORE. MORE. MORE. MORE. MORE. Filimena lets out a soft cry, her voice breaking as she begins to weep, "what? I don't understand. Please." Then suddenly,

She's in an inn or tavern of some kind. It's warm. It's crowded. There's music playing. Through the window she sees it's getting dark outside. Filimena lets go of the wooden column she's been leaning onto and stands herself upright, stroking the sleeve of her cloak, feeling its wetness, frowning. She looks around warily, conscious of the suspicious glances she's attracted. Her mind is clear. She's made it out. "Where am I," she whispers again, this time not expecting an answer. She has no idea.

OOC: Edited for some minor typos.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:47, Tue 14 June 2016.

Looking at the arriving group, Marik catches the sight of Filimena entering and leaning against the tavern door. She looks pretty rough from what he gathers. It's been a long time, but he recalls a brief encounter with her. Wierd girl. Always seemed lost in her thoughts and a bit of a wildcard from what he remember. Still, there was something endearing about her when he briefly meet her in the woods. The same feeling he has now seeing her gasping for breath in the tavern entry, with the look of a frightened deer on her face.


Marik gets up, and shamble more than he walks to her. Curse these legs. He made them to help him walk a bit without Rani in places like this, but now he really needs to make new ones. He support himself on the wall.


"Hem...Everything alright there, young one?" says Marik, trying to make his voice as soft as possible.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:14, Tue 14 June 2016.

The group sits quietly, most don't look at them. One of the wait staff comes over with a tray of food and drink for the group which she leaves without word to the group.

[Private to Marik: You've heard of the group who just sat down - the're known as Guardians of the Wilds They're known for being one with nature and keeping away from civilization

They consist of :
Freward: Male Halfling Fighter. Freward is rough in appearance, with thick copper hair and gray eyes. He wears chain mail and wields a warhammer and shield.

Cati: female Elf Warlock. Cati has silver hair and large blue eyes, and a beaked nose. She wears studded leather and wields a short sword. Cati has an animal companion, a forest owl named Fare, who sits on her shoulder.

Vani: Male Elf Druid. Vani has a narrow face, with uneven black hair and bright amber eyes. He is clever and fierce in and out of combat.

Anier: Male Halfling Ranger. Anier has a round face, with straight auburn hair and amber eyes. He wears studded leather and wields a flail. Anier has an animal companion, a badger named Igard.

Merey: Female Halfling Paladin. Merey is pleasant in appearance, with gray hair and brown eyes. She wears splint mail and wields a bastard sword and shield. ]

The sound of whimpering emanating from the bedraggled-seeming halfling reaches Marcus' ears, tearing his attentions away from his sour mood.  Looking up at her, he watches with some small amount of curiosity as she appears to calm herself down.  He then notices an elf heading toward the halfling, moving with an odd, shuffling gait.  Crippled, it would appear; he's seen the sort, wounded in battle and fitted with limbs of wood and iron -- though it is unusual to encounter someone who's lost both legs, as this individual seems to have.

Suddenly realizing then that he is staring -- and remembering getting smacked in the head for staring similarly at combat veterans in his trainee years -- he frowns at himself, then turns his eyes back to the bottom of his cup.

The half elven lady is content to watch the goings on about the place from the safety of her 'bed'. She has no intention in drawing attention to herself and as such isn't really doing much at the moment. Besides taking in the melodies the mediocre bard is sending out into the crowd. Her eyes watch as people enter or leave the inn, but really she is just enjoying the dry.

[Private to GM: 16:16, Today: Secret Roll: Anastrianna rolled 17 using 1d20+2.  Additional Check Per the DM.]
16:15, Today: Anastrianna rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  Intelligence Check.

The din of the room is back to normal as people retutn to chatting and eating.

[Private to Anastrianna: You recognize The Guardians of the Wilds - info on them is in their description

Rumors you've heard while here.

• An order of demonic cultists has slain the elementals which guarded an artifact near the ancient Dwarven city of Vangrim
• The village of Ravens Bluff is besieged by orc and goblins
• Someone or thing called the Lost Hive of Mubunu has assassination or taken a group of adventurers

]
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:33, Wed 15 June 2016.

Rianna watches the group as they enter for a few seconds, but upon realizing who they are she relaxes. Normally a group of heavily armed people mean bandits or the like, but she doesn't reckon that she has anything to fear from them. True their world views differ from hers she doubts that they have come to drag her from her hammock and point out their differences. While she rests she mulls over weather or not they are perhaps just passing through the region in some quest to chase down one of the numerous rumors that she had heard floating around in her time spent at the in. Mostly this was all idle curiosity for she did not truly care one way or the other what they were doing in the inn. Mostly she was just fretting over the fact that she would be out in the rain come morning.

[Private to GM: Cool. Glad I know this stuff, but I doubt it will affect her much. Was I suppose to be interacting with them? For if that was the story hook and I'm the only one who realized it I can post accordingly so as not to ruin the plot right off the bat. If not she's just going to keep the information to herself for the time being.]

As Filimena surveys the room around her, her thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of an elf in studded leather armour, standing over her, leaning himself against the wall to her left. There is something odd about his gait. She recoils in a mixture of surprise and irritation. Young one, she thinks. Young one.

"What is it to you?" Filimena snaps, glancing angrily at him, then quickly turning away. Almost immediately she regrets this. She recalls the look of concern on his face. It seemed genuine enough. Much as she resents his condescension, she's all alone in this place, without the slightest clue where she is, how she got here, and why.

Filimena steals a quick glance towards the elf. He doesn't seem to have been too taken aback by her initial reaction to him. "I'm alright. Thank you," she mutters softly, not quite looking at him. Then she sighs, "Where... what is this place?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:33, Wed 15 June 2016.

Marik lift out an eyebrow in surprise, then only let out a small sigh, like he's used to this reaction. Introductions are so much easier in Elvish...with squirrels.

"A place where I stand about as awkwardly as you" he continues, with a smirk crossing his face. This is the Scoundrel and Dirk. The beer taste like piss, but the food is decent...for a human inn. You look like you had a rough day. I can offer you a drink if you want to gather your spirits..."


He pause, then laugh seeing her guarded stance.


"Ha ha, afraid of a crippled? Don't bother. You could probably destroy me in a few seconds with that staff of yours. Or a bit of your magic... " He continues while turning back, shambling back to a table with a few seats left.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Wed 15 June 2016.

Filimena watches as the wood elf turns around and hobbles towards a nearby table. She hesitates a moment, then follows. Until the voices return, there's little she can do but wait.

OOC: Filimena doesn't say this aloud, but she intends to pay for her own drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:55, Fri 17 June 2016.

Marik makes his way toward the first empty table he sees, a small four seats near the inn hearth. This corner seems less crowded than the rest, apart from a few farmers and a tall man in scale armor sitting near the fire, brooding with his eyes lost in his mug.

The fire has died down a bit since he arrived. Still, a small shiver moves through his spine as he look away. The muscle in his legs tenses a bit.


Marik sits, his left leg rattling a bit against the wooden planks of the floor. From where he is, he can see the tavern entrance but would need to turn his head quite a bit to see the other side of the common room, where the hammocks are.


Filimena has followed, sitting before him. A few seconds of awkward silence follows, as Marik doesn't seems quite sure of what to say. He finally speaks.

"I...I gather my previous salutation wasn't adequate.... Apologies for that." Marik begins. "I'm not used to meet a lot of people where I come from... What is your name?"

OOC: Marcus could probably hear the conversation, if he wish.

The minstrel on the stage finishes his song and takes a bow, a few folks come by and drop coins into a hat that has been out the entire time.

As this set change occurs a human soldier dressed in garb indicated he is part of the guard of Titan's Gate enters The Scoundrel and Dirk and makes for the bar where he speaks with Shakurd before handing her a rolled up scroll or parchment. The soldier leaves, [Private to Marcus Bournstride: as though he's done with whatever duty he was here to do,] and the room buzzes for a moment before Shakurd makes her way to an empty board near the door.

Those of you who've been out in the world have seen boards like the one Shakurd is currently tacking the piece of parchment to - these boards are in most inns and taverns and are points where announcements of law or bounty are made.

[Private to Anastrianna: Do with the info what you will but it is stuff Rianna knows/has heard ]

Marik is distracted for a moment by the arrival of the guard, before returning to his conversation.


Hmmn. Probably a bounty...that could be interesting. I'll check it out later. No one will go out tonight anyways. Even then, I could probably track him or her down before anyone gets too close.


OOC: Edited because I read again the first post of the DM, which said the sun was setting at the beginning, so it's probably not raining at the moment.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:17, Wed 15 June 2016.

Well, now, Marcus thinks to himself, as his mug's contents suddenly become far less interesting.  What have we here?

A bounty may be just the opportunity he needs -- not only for the reward it no doubt offers, but also to make a name for himself with the local constabulary.  That could lead to more missions or even a permanent position among the town guard.

Striding carefully, but purposefully, across the common room, Marcus pauses only to deposit his empty mug onto the bar.  He then makes for the announcement board, to inspect what the guardsman has posted.

Filimena is slightly taken aback by Marik's apology. "On the contrary, I-"

Filimena's attention is drawn suddenly to the solider. She sees him leave the room, then watches with rapt attention as Shakurd makes her way to the board and pins a piece of parchment to it. Something's happening.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:32, Wed 15 June 2016.

OOC: Marik stays silent, waiting for Filimena to continue.

Marcus reads over the posted announcement

[Private to Marcus Bournstride:
By order of the Baron - his highness Darius Kilian

Merchants are seeking men and women of adventurous nature to escort several wagons carrying supplies from Titan's Gate to Haldrim.

Payment of 50 gold crowns upon safe arrival of wagons and their contents in Haldrim.

Any who wish to apply for position may meet on the morrow at the strike of first bar.]

Rianna mentally curses herself for allowing the man to get to what is most assuredly her best bet at gaining some coin. She is not sure exactly what the 'bounty' might say or for whom it might be, but she knows that they don't normally put bounties out for the common, petty criminal and her basic outlook on life boils down to 'Crime is Bad'. Thus her face momentarily puckers as the man reads the paper, but then again who knows perhaps he will take his leave and is just the curious type. One way or the other she has no coin and thus no time to wait for another opportunity to present itself.

Deftly swinging her feet to the floor of the establishment, she slips on a pair of wooden sandals that had been resting on the floor just below her hammock. The din of the room isn't overly load, but what chatter there is muffles any sound those wooden contraptions might have made about the floor of the room. She leaves her pack in the hammock so no one else thinks to claim her 'bed' as their own, but keeps an eye on it best she can as she makes her way to where the man is reading the posting.

She doesn't speak, as she doesn't really care to converse with the man, and does her best not to 'rubberneck' but she feels the need to see just who or what the 'bounty' is for. She needs coin and she knows it so she does her best, from a safe arms length behind Marcus, to also read the page and hope that her father's eyes are strong enough to do so without causing the man any alarm. she doesn't have the money to rent another room elsewhere after she get's thrown out for brawling after all.

Rianna reads the announcement with little issue - few people seem to be paying attention to the posting.

A dragonborn from Zir takes the stage, dressed in the colorful desert garb traditional in Zir. He, she, it ... sits upon a the stool there. It reaches into a pack pulling out strange looking stringed instrument, some of you might recognize it as a simsimiyya. After a few test plucks and adjustments of various strings the dragonborn begins to play a rather enchanting song. The music starts low and soft, before the creature starts singing in draconic.

[Private to Anastrianna:
By order of the Baron - his highness Darius Kilian

Merchants are seeking men and women of adventurous nature to escort several wagons carrying supplies from Titan's Gate to Haldrim.

Payment of 50 gold crowns upon safe arrival of wagons and their contents in Haldrim.

Any who wish to apply for position may meet on the morrow at the strike of first bar.]

Satisfied with the posting, Rianna heads back to her hammock. Perhaps this was a sign. Home was a goodly trip away, but mayhap she had never been meant to leave it in the first place. One way or the other it meant coin and with none to spare it was a good way of keeping herself alive. Perhaps if she had been rich she would have been able to turn her nose up, but that was a luxury that she could not afford. One way or the other she had a plan and that had put her mind at ease. With her head back on her back and her sandals tucked neatly under her hammock, she listened to the soothing songs of a foreign land.

Momentarily forgetting the wood elf, Filimena rises and walks towards the board. "Jobs, bounties," she reads, whispering. They don't often concern themselves with matters of the living, but then... They must have sent her here for a reason...
This message was last edited by the player at 00:36, Sat 18 June 2016.

This time, Marik can't contain his surprise as the little halfling stops mid-sentence, and after a few seconds, rises up and leave him. He follows her with the eyes until she halfway across the common room, before closing his eyes and letting out a big sigh.

"Maybe I'm better off with squirrels, wild boars and ettercaps after all...I'm not cut out for this."

"She going for the board" he tells himself. Of course she's going for the board. Humans and halflings are always in such hurry. "Well, thinking of it... if I only lived a century or two and couldn't live off from what the forest provides, I'd probably be in a hurry too"

Might as well go to see that damn board himself and go to sleep.

Then at this moment, he finally hear the music. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the minstrel had changed. This song doesn't sound like anything he ever heard before. He quickly turns his head to watch the new musician on the stage. The dragonborn begin to sing.

He can't hear the song clearly among all the chatter of the inn. He decides to get up and slowly make his way toward the board too. But before, he makes a detour to get closer to the stage. There, supporting himself on a wooden column, he close his eyes again and takes in every little variation and ghost-notes of the melody.

Now that...is real beauty. Those complex harmonics, that masterfully crafted instrument, those chord progressions that run as freely as horses pushed by the winds. And that voice... He only ever heard fleeting stories of Zir, but it's the first time he actually sees a real Zir Dragonborn. Marik is completely absorbed, trying to imagine the landscapes of that foreign land. If it is anything as refined as those melodies and that instrument evoke, it must be breathtaking.

He'll go there one day, he decides. Maybe he could ask the dragonborn how to get there after his performance.

Marik stays there for the whole song, leaning against that wooden column and listening to the dragonborn sings.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:10, Thu 16 June 2016.

Flicking his eyes toward the halfling, Marcus looks her over briefly before shrugging to himself.  Not my call, he thinks, wondering idly how this wisp of a figure might go about trying to convince a nobleman's soldiers that she's qualified for the job.

Turning away, Marcus heads back toward the bar, seeking a refill of the ale he'd finished earlier.  With a brightened mood and a mug in hand, he then makes his way over to an empty table toward the back of the common room.  There he sits, nursing his ale calmly, watching casually for anyone else showing an interest in the job posting.

The post reads

[Private to Marik: You notice a few other older notices pinned to the board about missing persons.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:48, Fri 17 June 2016.

After a few minutes, when the dragonborn pauses, Marik eventually makes his way to the board and reads the announcement with interest. He hears chuckles behind him...


"Lookit that! The faen crippled elf think he's a bounty-hunter!" says a voice behind him, before a group of soldiers burst into laughter.

Marik doesn't move, absorbed in his reading.

"By my mother's balls, he actually got steel on him! Think he can swing without crashing on the ground?"

"Nah, but I'd like to see his footwork!" Another burst of laughter.


Marik doesn't spare them any attention. Instead, he look at some of the older posts on the board with a intrigued look on his face.


[Private to GM: Introduced mocking soldiers for ambiance, but you are more than welcome to use them if you want, dear DM!]
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:00, Thu 16 June 2016.

Filimena stands before the notice, no longer quite looking at it, but rather deep in thought.

"Is this it?" She whispers, just under her breath, still sceptical. "Is this what I'm here for?" Nothing happens. Is that a no? A yes? It seems unlikely. And Titan's Gate? Why of all places have they brought her here?

Filimena emerges from her thoughts, frowning. She looks around her. The wood elf who'd spoken to her before stands beside her, having also come over to examine the notice. There'd been others. A half elven lady, she remembers. And a human man, tall and well-armed, who at this very moment, seems to be looking right at her.

Once again, Filimena finds herself as a loss for what to do. For years the voices have spoken to her, commanded her, but never clearly, and never with any real indication of purpose or intent. Sometimes, Filimena has found, it is better to simply do something, to force their hand, rather than wait patiently, foolishly, for further guidance.

Filimena turns to face the wood elf as he continues to read the notice. "The name's Filimena," she says, addressing him. Then, jerking her chin at the board, "Interested, by any chance?"

Marik turns his head toward the halfling beside him, one of his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Well, that's a first" he thinks. He wasn't actually expecting to have an answer at this point. Normally, people just leave him without looking back.

"I am…" he says in a soft voice, regaining his serious composure and turning his gaze again to the board.  “Didn’t thought of you as the mercenary type…”

He pauses.

“Actually...scratch that... You sure looked pretty fearsome the last time I saw you” he continues, now looking at her with a little smile crossing his face for a moment.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Fri 17 June 2016.

If Filimena heard the wood elf's statement to the effect that they had met previously, she doesn't show it.

"I asked if you were interested," she replies, after a brief pause. "I never said I was. Yet."

She looks vaguely in the direction of the well-armed human male she'd seen earlier, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"In any case, there are others."

Rianna can't help but smile at the awkward tension between the cripple and the Halfling lass. She watches the two talk about going on the escort and figures that it will most likely be the four of them with the wagons. Fifty pieces of gold did not split four ways in a way that satisfied her and if even more people showed she might get lucky and get a night or two at the inn in Haldrim before she was out of coin again. She didn't guess she could help it, but maybe the lot would overseleep and she could get the wagons ushered out before they woke up. Content with her strategy she folds her hands across her chest and tries to catch some shut eye. It wouldn't do her much good if they left without her in the morning.

Marik turns his attention back to the board, continuing to read the various posts. His voice shows a slight loss of interest in the conversation.

"There are always others in these kind of assignment...generally of the unsavory type. There is also the occasional idealist, who would do anything for a chance at glory. Those are the ones to worry about... And then there's the downright bizarre ones... Shows you how desperate the Baron army is with their recruitment."


"Can't argue with that!" he hears behind him, resulting in another roar of laughter.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:06, Fri 17 June 2016.

OOC: While this happen, Marik also makes an Insight Check to try to understand Filimena motivations.


Marik rolled 6 using 1d20+3.  Insight Check


OOC: Well, I guess I don't have a F.. clue XD
This message was last edited by the player at 18:01, Fri 17 June 2016.

There are other postings on the board - including a handful of bounties.

The soldiers continue to talk among themselves with the occasional glace from them to Marik and Filimena, all the while drinking heavily as they do so. As the night goes on the soldiers get rowdier and rowdier. Many of the wait staff are less than thrilled but the soldiers seem to have plenty of coin to spend. [Private to Marcus Bournstride: You've seen men like this before - locals who joined the guard to be rise above their lowly stations, always picking on those under them.]

The soldiers each have the harildry of Titan's Gate on their tabards
[Private to Filimena the Gentle:
Names ^Names _Names Names!

_{look at the names} ^{how are they here} who are they ^{where are they} _{do we know them} ]

OOC: Y'all have seen the heraldry right?!
This message was last edited by the player at 20:49, Fri 17 June 2016.

OOC: So I'm rushing to leave the house now and will be out the entire day and most of the evening. Figure a quickly dashed off, RP-lite post is better than no post at all, just to move the story along, so here goes...

If Filimena hears the taunts directed at the wood elf, she doesn't show it.

Filimena suddenly winces and cranes her head towards the board, away from the rest of the tavern, hoping they don't see. The voices again, not as strong this time, just whispers, just a dull pressure against the inside of her skull.

As Filimena recovers, she uncranes her neck, looking up at the board.

OOC: What else does she see on it? And the bounty posters: does anything stand out to her? Names? Numbers? Images?

OOC: I will wait to see the description of the older posts I see on the board before doing anything else.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Mon 20 June 2016.

Sighing inwardly, Marcus shakes his head at the behavior that the soldiers are exhibiting.  Surely the members of his company -- his old company, he's forced to remind himself -- would never act so disgracefully.  It's unbecoming to those who've fought valiantly and sacrificed on behalf of others.  Besides, he thinks, you never know what the next battle holds.  This could be the day that you end up in the same state, or worse.  All it takes is one sword blow.

The elf doesn't seem particularly bothered by the soldiers' obnoxious jibes, though, and Marcus has no interest in starting trouble.  So he simply continues to nurse his ale, keeping his thoughts to himself.

The board has a variety of posts upon it. There are a handful of bounty posters and a dozen or so missing persons postings as well.

The bounties are as simple as 5cp for goblin ears
To the Bandit King who's head is worth 500gp

Marik stays silent for a few seconds. Filimena seems to not pay him any attention...Part of Marik wants to stay silent and leave this halfling who is clearly not interested in talking to him. But another part of him is intrigued in this puzzling woman, her motivations. He never seen something like her and his curiosity gets the better of him. He keeps talking while looking at he board, trying awkwardly to fill the silence.

"So, forgive my curiosity, but what brings you here Filimena? You do not strike me as the glory-seeking type and neither as one of gold seekers filling this dreadful place. Looking for someone? Looking for work? Or maybe you ..."



While talking to Filimena, Marik takes a mental note of all the available bounties, and turns his attention to the missing person notice.


Behind him, the soldiers are sounding more vulgar and disorderly by the minute. He hears another insult, but can't quite make out what it says before the roar of laughter engulf it.


" They want a reaction." he thinks. "They're just like hounds sniffing blood...I need to get out of here. They won't let go as long as they see me."


"...Won't look at us cause they're so faen superior...faen pointy-ears thinks they faen own the world they step on..."


"Sometimes I wish they just burned with everything else in that damned hellhole. Faen nuthin good comes from o'er here anyways..."


That one stings...Marik fists suddenly clenches on his crossed arms, as he feel a burning sensation filling his lungs and his muscles.

OOC: Marik does a Wisdom Check to see if he can contain his reaction. Marik rolled 4 using 1d20+3.  Wisdom Check. First Nat 1 of the game!

Now, that comment really hurt. Marik whole body tremble with rage as he look behind him and glare at the soldier who did the comment with bared white teeths. For a moment he consider calling Rani and shut up that braindead ape for good.

He turns his head back to the board, immediately regretting this action. He gave them exactly what they wanted. He tries to calm himself while the soldier falls over themselves laughing. It was like feeding red meat to wolves.

"Stupid faen fool"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:24, Tue 21 June 2016.

Filimena is too deep in thought to hear what the wood elf is saying at first, though she soon becomes aware that he must be speaking to her. She's just about to ask him to repeat himself when she's interrupted by some laughter coming from across the room. She turns to look, and sees some soldiers she'd somehow failed to notice before, crowded around a table, clearly inebriated, sniggering in her general direction. She furrows her brows.

Filimena turns and begins to head back to her table when again she hears whispers, more distant this time, but echoing in her mind in a way she cannot ignore. She frowns and looks back at the board. Is there something she's missed? Or perhaps... She turns and looks more carefully at the soldiers. Could it have something to do with them?

Rianna had not been paying to much attention to the folks reading over the bounties and jobs on the board. She was comfortable and content with just lying in her hammock and trying to catch some rest. It is, however, completely impossible to do such with fools hurling jests at an innocent bystander. Perhaps innocent was not the best word, for in truth the cripple could have easily been one of the foulest beings ever to walk the Spinelands. In this instance she felt safe to say that he was not due the dejection he was receiving, but then it was not her business. Throwing jeers and rancid comments toward the cripple in no way broke the law and it seemed the elf had some fairly thick skin. So far he had endured with the grace elves are famous for.

Rianna, like most other Ban Tuur, had raided the caravans that ran from Titan's gate to Spinespire keep. And as such had fought guardsmen from the Gate on at least one occasion. They were tough and disciplined and she was just glad that they were not attacking either of her dual heritages for both were ripe for the picking. When the cripple spoke up in his defense she could not help but to have mixed feelings. On the one hand she very much believed in helping oneself and was not one to show pity for the weak. On the other if the guardsmen started beating on the cripple she did not think she could stand by and watch. Not because they shared a lineage for he was not even from the vale, but because he had done nothing wrong.

A crime was a crime and should be stopped. She was no constable or judge and thus had no power or authority to punish the offenders, but at the same time she could not very well sit back and watch these men beat a cripple to death. For it was plain if he could not walk across the room he could not fight in a way that would possibly save his hide. She could not recall him renting a bed and hoped he had not and that he would have the sense to go find another place to rest his neck for the night. Had he sat back and continued to endure their jeers with his elven grace she could have feel asleep peacefully, but now she could not close her eyes for fears of allowing this crime to take place under her very nose. She did not give a damn about the good or evil of it. But she simply could not abide lawlessness. And so she watched and waited.

OOC: Sorry, broke hand. Took me thirty minutes to type that little bit. I am watching every day though.

The dragonborn on stage's music stops briefly before the minstral strums a trio cords and says something in it's native tongue, then the soldiers fall silent ... actually they fall asleep at their table. With bow to the scaled man addresses Shakurd, My apologizzzes lady Helmoral, it zeems thezzze men have not held their alcohol too well."  A few members of the wait staff go about setting the soldiers up so they don't fall into their food or onto the floor.

OOC: so at this point there are a few plots point in the air

OOC: Not bad at all for a thirty minutes post, Anastrianna. My last post took me two hours to write, and I have both hands functionnal!


Marik hears the dragonborn sing and the soldiers immediately falling fast asleep in their mug. Amazed, he slowly makes his way toward the stage.



"Ehm...Thank you for that. I don't know how you did that, but I really appreciate it" Marik says, looking up in admiration at the scaled creature over him.


OOC: Do we know what the missing persons post are about now that we looked at them?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:29, Tue 21 June 2016.

There are several posters, but what catches most of your eyes is that the latest lists several children missing :

The whispers continue as the tavern staff lead the soldiers out of the room.

"Something's not right," Filimena whispers to herself. "I'm missing something." She turns her attention back to the board and begins to walk back towards it. Almost as if to encourage her, the whispers get louder, more urgent. Filimena can barely hear anything else. But what? The bounties. Nothing about them stood out to her. She reads them again, wincing, tracing the words with her fingers this time, trying to focus as the voices in her head start getting louder and louder.

Merchants are seeking men and women of adventurous nature...

...to escort several wagons carrying supplies...

...from Titan's Gate to Haldrim.

Suddenly she stops. She turns her up and to her right. Above her, on the far, upper corner of the board, another noticed she hasn't noticed before hangs. Almost immediately the voices drop again to a quiet whisper. Filimena backs up so she can read the notice.

Missing children...

Deakon Stormshield...
Evelyn Radavec...
Lucinda Aldreen...
Terrem Kharatys...

Silence. Filimena can feel her heart pounding in her own chest. Those names... Where has she heard them before? She closes her eyes, tries to concentrate. As she does this, the whispers return again, this time gentle, encouraging. But no. She can't place them. She looks back at the notice.

The Lantern Street Orphanage, three nights ago... Why would anybody steal orphans from an orphanage?

This is it. This must be it. This must be what they want her to see. Filimena smiles very slightly in satisfaction. She looks around her. Nobody seems to be paying her any special attention. She checks out the window. It's getting dark. She'll have to start tomorrow. Calmly she walks towards the dwarven woman she deduces must be the innkeeper, and asks for a place for the night.

mood music

Again playing the dragonborn shifts to a more contemporary bit of music. The sleeping soldiers are taken to a room as they begin to snore.

The dwarven lady looks down from the bar at Filimena, you do note that the bar is shorter than a human bar might be - as though Shakurd built it with dwarves and other smaller races in mind. "Of course young one, we have much in the way of lodging here at The Scoundrel and Dirk. What sort of room would you like? We obviously have the hammocks in the common room for a seven copper a night, there are shared rooms for a silver and of course we have individual rooms with their own beds and such which are five silver a night."

 Still a bit shaken by the episode with the guards, Marik is slowly making his way to the door giving access to the back-alley. Thoughts are racing in his head.

He thinks of the missing childrens. Three days was a long time in a hunt, but not long enough to erase all the evidence left by the prey. There was a slim chance, but he feels he could possibly do something about it. He was a good tracker and Rani had good ears, and an even better nose. Actually, he would feel bad not to even attempt it. He doesn't need money in the short term to survive...and these are children... After the Scorching, he had seen firsthand what happens to a community that loses too much of her children. He does not wish that upon the humans, however primitives he can find them sometimes. He can still remember the silence, haunted and overwhelming that followed...that and the eyes... those lifeless, hollowed eyes. No, he can't pass up a chance to prevent that if possible. The safety of the Veïljan'Elm (the World Weave) as he likes to call it, depends on things like that.

While making his way, Marik passes before the table where the Guardians of the Wilds are seated. They glance quickly at him, without expression, like so many others before them.

Marik would like to say something to them. He appreciates their efforts to protect Nature in all its forms and their willingness to embrace whole its fruits and dangers. But the words stay stuck...he can't find something to say to break the ice. What if they took it badly? Finally, he simply bows his head while crossing his hands with fingers extended on his chest, like the roots of a tree. For as long as he can remember, it's been a common sign of respect among the wood-elves, who recognize themselves as roots of the same tree.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:59, Fri 24 June 2016.

Filimena feels in her pockets and frowns. She turns and surveys the hammocks she can see from where she's standing. They look comfortable enough. "I guess I'll have a hammock," she says, handing over a single gold piece.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:08, Fri 24 June 2016.

The group of campaigners known as the Guardians of the Wilds sit talking to each other in a strange almost elf like language (Sylvan) pay no mind to Marik as the elf passes. One of the halfling's, Anier or Freward Marik isn't sure, has a badger laying at his feet sniffs the air as Marik passes by and growls lowly.

In reply to Filimena the Gentle (msg # 53):

Shakurd looks at Filimena, "Come love for this much, you can have your own room for a night and a several meals too." The dwarf takes the coin and makes change for the halfling, "but take your pick of the unoccupied hammocks."

Having no reaction to his salute, Marik turn his head to look at the ground and continue to shamble slowly as he passes near the table.

OOC: Marik actually can speak Sylvan. Can I try to pick a few words from the conversation as I pass by the table?

PM
[Private to Marik: You hear something about hunting ears and the Dead Kingdom.]

While intrigued by what he heard, Marik doesn't stop and walk past the table. Passing near the bar, Marik sees Filimena talking to Shakurd. He suddenly remember he need to ask Shakurd something.

Marik wait until Shakurd appears to have finished with Filimena and approach the bar.


"Moïen, Shakurd... I saw the posters on the board." he says, pointing in the general direction of the board behind him with his thumb. "I'm not familiar with the city. Where do I go to find the Lantern Street Orphanage?"

Rianna has been watching the cripple for some time, and while she did not feel sorry for him she did wonder about him trying to find those lost children alone. guarding the caravan paid in coin, but it was wrong to let those missing children stay missing. She did not feel sorry for their plight, only wished to stop the kidnappers. As such she made a decision, and one that she would be liable to regret later.

Swinging herself from her hammock. She fitted her wooden shoes about her feet and silently made her way over to the cripple. She thought of beckoning him, but felt it would be wrong to make the man walk any more than he had to, "Do you truly seek to find those wayward orphans? Perhaps our paths may run parallel for a time as I cannot, in good conscious, allow those children to go unfound." Her voice is low and sturdy as stone. Looking at her, Marik sees none of the joy one would expect to find in a young, elven woman.

Marik hears a unfamiliar voice behind him, proposing a team-up, and turns around. Eyes wide in surprise, he sees a tall woman standing there. Her face, in which he recognizes some elven features, is striking, and Marik thinks she would be quite beautiful… without that chilling stare. Her muscular arms and torso stand out and shows evidence of long years of training. This woman looks like she could break rocks (or someone spine) with her bare-hands without breaking a sweat. Definitely not someone to be trifled with…

Then Marik recognizes the tattoos and the markings…

 Marik catch himself with a hand on the bar, as if he was about to fall. Images of fire and screaming sounds fill his head, as his face suddenly harden and his muscle tenses. His blood begins to boil, as his eyes becomes a mix of fear and hatred. There it is. Not only an enemy, but THE enemy. One of the foes he has trained himself for years to fight and kill, standing right there before him.

Marik takes a quick glance besides him. No. Fighting her would be suicide. He’s got no ally here, and Rani would arrive well after she made paste of him should it happen. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself. Better to keep a level head. Blind rage would be useless here.

“Ban’tuur” he says with a touch of disdain, making visible efforts to stay calm and keep his voice down.  “What are you doing here?”

Rianna knew the reputation of her people, both of them. She had long since left her nomadic lifestyle behind and her elven heritage was only in her blood. And yet she knew instantly that approaching the cripple was a mistake. She felt no sorrow towards the man for his affliction and she could not stop her muscles from tensing when he spoke.

Once on alert, she did not try to uncoil her muscles for she had long ago learned to trust her instincts, "Are you deaf as well as cripple? I was going to ask you if you were in need of a hand in looking for the missing children, but you take one look at my face and spew hatred from your mouth. So instead of talking with you about the ins and outs of the task at hand it seems you expect me to justify my reasoning for sharing the air with you." Her voice remains a monotone which holds neither anger nor any threatening undertones. He might as well be a rock that she has decided to converse with.

Marik restrain himself from blurting an insult in response and stays silent for a few seconds, digesting the information. As much as he hates to admit it, from a purely rational standpoint, it would make sense to team-up with somebody for the hunt. Especially if this someone could handle herself in a fight. There was also something that appear different with her compared to the others Ban Tuur he met before. This calm, these clothes...could she comes from the monastery?


"Funny. I've encountered many Ban Tuur before and they always seemed more interested in MAKING orphans than saving them." Marik reply. "So yes indeed, color me surprised. Why do you want to find these childrens?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:27, Sun 26 June 2016.

Rianna shrugs, "Can you name a blade that does not an orphan make when used? Life does not end in death and yet everywhere I hear the tears and laments for those whom it has embraced. It is true that the Ban Tuur kill and are killed in turn. Imagine for a minute how the world could support all the life that it would contain if it's inhabitants where not culled from time to time. Death is a certainty and it is true that many meet it at an early age. But how is our discussion going to change the fate of those children on the wall? If you can answer me that I would be more than happy to sit here and debate my heritage and reasons until I die of old age." Her eyebrow raises slightly showing the most emotion you have seen her exhibit in the time she has stood before you. It lasts for a split second and she is a stony visage once again.

"Do not try to school me on the certainty of death and the laws of nature, horselord. I was learning them first-hand at least a century before you were even born" He replies. "But we can agree on something... discussions won't change the fate of these orphans. And as much as I hate to even consider it, a bit of help would indeed be useful for rescuing these childs."

He pauses.

"But the question still remains, especially after your little diatribe on the culling... Do you intend to save these children, or smash their heads to put them out of their misery?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:01, Thu 29 Sept 2016.

She speaks without expression, "I would suppose that answer hinges on how we find them. Death can be a mercy. Something you should have learned by now, but then age is not a sign of wisdom nor intelligence." She turns to head back to hammock armed with the knowledge that the elf's hatred of her is a flame that might never be extinguished, "Make no mistake in thinking that I feel any pity towards you due to your condition. I will assist in the search for the children but will not hesitate to do what is necessary." Finished she leaves the cripple's presence.

"No, I'm sure you won't, you know-it-all manure-eating filth" thinks Marik for himself, with a small smirk crossing his face. Thinking she's educated actually managed to make her even more insufferable than her stupider counterparts seeing gods everywhere. He hope they would find the children quickly...he didn't want to pass a minute more than necessary in her presence. Or maybe the fates would be kind and let her strangle herself in her hammock tonight.


Marik turns back to face Shakurd again.

"Sorry about that, Shakurd. Could you tell me again where do I go to find the Lantern Street Orphanage?
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:02, Thu 29 Sept 2016.

The dwarf remains quiet as Marik and Rianna talk, but as things get heated her stance shifts and it's obvious that she's ready to breakup the pair. As the two part ways she shakes her head and takes a drink from something she's got stashed behind the bar.

"Sure love, its down at the corner of Lantern and Avana  ..." she gives you directions which you feel you understand enough to get to where you want to go.

"Many thanks to you, Shakurd. That will be useful". Marik then leans forward on the bar and speak with his voice lowered.


 [Private to Shakurd Helmoral: "Also, if I may. I've heard talks about something called the Dead Kingdom and I was wondering...with you receiving so many adventurers and travelers each day. Ever heard something about that around here? It it how we refers to the lost cities of Dwarves and Elves around here, or is it something else?"]
This message was last edited by the player at 17:20, Tue 28 June 2016.

Filimena finds herself a hammock in a quiet corner of the room. She removes her still-damp cloak and hangs it by a hook next to the hammock, before climbing into it. She lies down, holding her backpack against her body like a pillow, and tries to fall asleep. It isn't hard. She has no memory of what she did today -- or indeed if it's only today she doesn't remember -- but she's exhausted. An early night's rest will do her good. First thing tomorrow morning, she'll ask the innkeeper where the Lantern Street Orphanage is.

The tavern keep takes another drink of her hidden beverage, she then leans in and speaks quietly to the elf.

[Private to Marik: "Dead kingdom that stead is east o' 'ere loads days. Used tae be th' Southern Sanction, everything wis gaun weel. Folks wur living 'n' workin' 'n' th' lik' ... Then th' druid made some pact 'n' unleashed a naustie spell oan th' hail steid. A' body died 'n' turned intae undead. Th' guardians thare patrol th' area keeping living 'n' deid separate while making sure th' deid dinnae harm th' natural order. " her accent turns mighty thick, perhaps it's the drink. ]


[Private to GM: Dead Kingdom that place is east of here several days. Used to be the Southern Sanction, everything was going well. Folks were living and working and the like ... then the druid made some pact and unleashed a nasty spell on the whole place. Everyone died and turned into undead. The Guardians there patrol the area keeping the living and dead separate while making sure the dead don't harm the natural order.]

OOC: If nothing else ... we'll move on.

---

The rest of the evening passes quietly.  Morning comes and brings with it an overcast day with a hefty side of drizzling rain. The Scoundrel and Dirk is hopping even despite the weather - seems being near one of the main entries to biggest city in the local area is good for business.

[Private to Filimena the Gentle: As you sleep a riddle comes to you which you recall when you wake up

The locks are key to finding them
Look beyond the curtain, below the gate,
Beware the doors with teeth.
Descend into the malachite 'hold,
Where precious life is bought with gold.
Half a dwarf binds them, but no for long

]
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:53, Thu 30 June 2016.

Shakurd and her crew are bouncing around the common room taking breakfast orders and checking on the various folks who are sleeping in the hammocks in the room. The Guardians of the Green and the soldiers who made the disturbance last night are no where to be seen. The dragonborn is causally playing a strangely soothing tune on his, er her er it's simsimiyya though the brightly dressed minstrel isn't singing currently.

Rising and stretching, Marcus begins the laborious task of checking and re-checking his scale mail armor as he dons each piece.  Then, gathering his weapons and belongings, he sees about having a quick, quiet breakfast in the common room before heading to apply for a position with the caravan guard.

Rianna rises at about the same time as Marcus and when he seats himself to eat his breakfast she pulls up a chair opposite the man, "I hate bothering you like this, but I couldn't help but see you looking at the flyers last night. Don't know which one you planned on following up so I was just wondering if you were also looking for the missing orphans? If so I figured you, me & the cripple could all head out to find the place together. I figure he has the location from the innkeep so we should just be able to wait on him to attach his peg legs and we can be off." She isn't smiling or frowning and in truth doesn't seem to be concerned for the orphans. If one were looking for a motive it would seem that duty rather than emotion was driving her to try and find the children.

"What am I doing here?" Filimena whispers. All around her is black. Almost immediately the ground begins to tilt heavily towards her left. She stumbles and begins to fall, from nothingness into nothingness. The voices grow around her, waves crashing against invisible cliffs. Distant bells ring, growing ever closer and louder. "What am I doing here?" She asks again, yelling this time into the void. At once she hits the ground. The impact knocks the breath out of her. She is surrounded by a deafening crash as the voices and the bells, almost like physical objects, like fine china and crystal, dash themselves against the ground around her, shattering violently. Then, it is silent. She is blind. She pulls herself up and begins to crawl, feeling the ground around her, pricking herself against sharp fragments of sound. With each prick, words seem to coalesce in her mind, thickly, like mud, or like... like porridge...

Filimena jolts awake to the sound of breakfast being served. She looks around her and sees that most of the inn's occupants have also awaken, and most are eating. She must have been much more tired than she'd thought. She doesn't usually oversleep. Still groggy from her sleep, she gets up, grabs her backpack, heads to a washing basin that has been placed in a corner of the inn, and begins to wash up. It does little to wake her up up. Last night's dream weighs heavily on her mind. The voices. They'd been telling her something. But what? She finishes washing and stands before the basin, thinking. Slowly the words return to her, assembling themselves into a strange verse.

Suddenly, there is a cough. Filimena turns around to find a man standing behind her glaring at her with an annoyed expression. She frowns and steps aside. Returning to the common room, she motions to the innkeeper, and then begins looking for an empty seat. She spots one and heads towards it. Sitting down, she find herself beside the well-armed human man she'd seen last night. Across from him is a half-elven woman, who seems to have been saying something to him just before Filimena had arrived.

Though he raises an eyebrow as the strangely-clad woman approaches -- some elven blood in her, he supposes, as he glances at her features -- Marcus does not otherwise react, instead simply continuing to dip a large, hard biscuit into his porridge, gnawing upon it with deliberate patience.  No longer a soldier, he's begun trying to train himself to stop shoveling his food down his throat in a hurry.  He has plenty of time now.  Too much time.

As the woman begins to question him about his intentions, however, he sighs lightly, setting down the biscuit and reaching for the ale that the serving girl had provided to Marcus with his meal.  Taking a mouthful, he swallows, then finally meets her gaze.

"No," Marcus says, curtly.  "My intention is to sign on with the merchants' guard.  It's good pay, and simple work -- the only kind of work I'm trained for.  I'm no investigator, and I'm new to Titan's Gate.  Looking for lost children is the responsibility of the local constabulary anyway, I'd reckon.  But good luck," he adds, somewhat dismissively.

Glancing down at his plate, Marcus reaches for a fork, intent on spearing a piece of thick, greasy sausage.  It is then that he notices that the thin waif he'd seen last night has managed to sidle into the chair beside him.  Doing his best to ignore both females without seeming overtly rude, he continues to eat, chewing slowly and carefully.

Marik was already up since the very first lights of dawn, while also being one of the last one to go to bed. After talking to Shakurd, he had exchanged a few words with the dragonborn after his performance, asking him about Zir and how to travel to such a foreign land. Afterward, he had rented a private room and retired for the night. As soon as he felt secure to do so, he had opened the window giving on the back alley and allowed Rani to enter with him.


With his guardian by it side, he had spent the entire night sitting next to her on the floor, not even touching the bed. He had spent hours unpacking, furbishing and repacking his equipment, before falling into a deep transe.


Awoke before most of the inn custmers, Marik had spent the early hours of the morning making small adjustments to his wooden legs with a sharp knife. He picked into his own rations for breakfast, sharing some salted deer meat whith Rani accompanied by some Lembas bread and tea.

 Having sometimes traded with merchants in the past, Marik knew urban activities usually start a few hours after dawn. Humans need more sleep than elves. He saddled Rani and opened the window. His animal companion jumped out, hitting the ground with a muffled sound, before disappearing swiftly in a branching dark alley. She had probably found a fat pigeon or a rat to accompany breakfast.

Marik meditated some time beside the window, listening to the sounds of the city. Once he started hearing carts rolling in the streets and chatter coming form the street, he estimated it was late enough to start his investigation. He put on his equipment and his wooden legs and opened the door out of his room. There he carefully made his way down the stairs giving on the common room, his peg legs making a distinguishable "knock...knock" on his way down.

On his way down, he recognized Filimena at the end of the room, standing right next to the armored human that was standing next to the hearth yesterday. And sitting before him is the half-elven woman, the Ban-Thuur, with whom he grudgingly teamed up for the search. A dulled burning sensation hit his chest again.

"Think of the children" he thinks for himself while calming down. "Think of the children...".



Marik start making his way across the room.


[Private to DM5: Wow, that was some mighty accent indeed XD Had to read aloud to pick up the words.  Julian of Kord would be proud!]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:00, Sun 03 July 2016.

Seeing the crippled elf, Rianna nods to the human and rises from her seat. Heading over to Marik she stops well out of arms reach of the man, "I thought he might be coming with, but no. The Halfling lady does seem interested though." She rests her hands at her sides, but keeps a watchful eye on the racist elf.

Marik nods the head in agreement, his face expressionless.


"Fine by me. Then let's be on our way. I'm pretty fast on my feets, so try to keep up..." he says, as he carefully shamble his way to the door giving on the back alley, his left leg rattling at each step on the floor.

OOC: Er. Have to meta-game a bit, because I'm a bit unsure of what to do. Filimena does not actually know Anastrianna and Marik are also interested in the missing orphans case. She went to bed pretty much immediately after figuring out the voices in her head the evening before. I'll just do what I'd originally planned, which is to have her approach Shakurd after breakfast about the way to the orphanage, and either Shakurd can tell her Marik asked the same thing, or Filimena can bump into Anastrianna and Marik there. Either way, though, Anastrianna's statement would be a bit out of place?

Filimena watches the half-elven woman get up and speak to the elf she'd spoken to briefly last evening. She herself hurried through breakfast, eager to make up for lost time. She finishes her porridge, nods to the heavily-armed man she'd sat down next to, got up, and approached the innkeeper, who's been busy serving her guests, but at this moment is taking a quick break grabbing herself a drink by the bar.

"Pardon me, ma'am," she greets the innkeeper. "I don't suppose you could tell me where I might find the Lantern Street Orphanage?" She motions with her head towards the notice board.

Passing near the bar, on his way to the back alley door, Marik hears Filimena asking Shakurd for the same directions he asked yesterday. He pause a moment, and turn his head toward the halfling.


"The Orphanage? We are going just there at the moment. You are free to tag along if you want" he says, continuing to slowly make his way across the common room.

Filimena blinks, surprised. They're heading to the orphanage too? She thinks. She's about to ask him why, but it's too late, he's halfway out the door, followed close behind by the half-elven lady. Filimena hesitates momentarily before springing towards, glancing back to thank the innkeeper.

With Filimena and Rianna in tow, Marik push the door giving on the back alley. The alley is now well-lit under the morning sun and smells of moisture and urine. A snoring drunkard is still sleeping against barrels lined up against the wall.


Marik whistle a few high-pitched notes and wait.


There is a sudden movement on the left, coming from slightly obscured branching alley. A large, muscular feline form with golden eyes and light brown fur appear before them, a bloodied mass of feathers in her mouth.

"Of course" thinks Marik.

As the panther makes her way toward the group, they can see a saddle on her back, strapped under her belly with two leather belts, two bags resting on her sides and what looks like a bed roll packed on her back.


Right upon seeing Rianna, the panther immediately drop her meal and starts growling menacingly, with bared teeth. Her back becomes arched and she looks like she is ready to pounce.

Marik calmly advances toward her, and pass his hand on her neck, saying a few words in elvish. The large puma calms down and straighten up again, her growl now only a low, faint rumbling sound.

Marik is still talking to the panther, but now in common so that Filimena and Rianna can understand.

"Calm down, Rani. She is not our enemy."

He turns toward Rianna.

"Let's try to keep it that way..."

Then, with the swiftness and elegance of something done everyday for years, Marik hop on Rani back. His posture instantly changes. A little hunched and constantly looking at the floor when he was on his wooden legs, he is now proudly standing straight with his head high. Only when he was standing with Rani was he feeling complete.


"All right, let's go."


With only a small inflexion of Marik knee, Rani turns toward the exit of the alley and begins to trot gently toward the orphanage, following Marik directions.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:22, Fri 08 July 2016.

Filimena follows close behind the elf, bewildered at somehow having landed herself in some kind of adventuring party, a situation to which she is not at all accustomed. A few times she finds herself wanting to ask them about why they're headed to the orphanage. She assumes that they too have an interest in finding the lost orphans. Then she realises she doesn't actually know any of their names, and decides to remain silent, rather than affect any kind of awkward introduction, although she does recall having told the elf her name the evening before, and also recalls his implication that they'd previously met. Instead, she looks around at the city around her, all the while contemplating the verses that come to her in her dream last night.

OOC: Going to break y'all up so

Moving Marcus to Guard Duty or Bust
Moving Filmena and Marik to Lantern Street Orphanage