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?”