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. ]