Ärchönia would have taken the wine Konrad poured, but the stocky woman snatched it away. Perhaps they are playing a game? Or an initiation? In either case, she did not take offense, as games were essential to stave off eternal ennui. So, she would thank him just so. "It is a pleasure to meet such distinguished shades. How perfectly your lines are presented! How genial your generosity!"

Vera also started to speak of armor, a conversation Ärchönia did not join in. Armor was of little interest to her, after all, so the woman must have been speaking to others on this.

Instead, she focused more of her attention back on Falis, as she was the one who had talked of future plans. Perhaps their interests dovetailed.

In reply to Vera (msg # 12):

Konrad is stunned for a moment, not quite sure what just happened.  However, he quickly changes gears and has a lovely little conversation with Vera about the merits and demerits of chainmail.  Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, it turns into a brief yet somehow longwinded monologue about the history of his peoples' metal-crafting traditions.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:10, Thu 11 Mar 2021.

In reply to Konrad (msg # 14):

"Interesting... maybe someday I will visit this place?" As quickly as she held on to his words Vera looked onto the party. A place where they hold such reverie to crafting armor would be perfect for me to use my arcane power to create armor.

"Well, since the person who mentioned that has since passed on, perhaps it wasn't the wisest notion?" He pushed a piece of his bread toward Archonia with a smile.

"A death? How enticingly morbid! So perhaps that is all the more reason to do so, to honor their memory, until they come back. It would also make it easier for them to find you again." She waited to see if Vera pulled the bread away, if not she would reach for it herself.

"Tower living delightful," she added with a wistful tone, before saying with more enthusiasm, "Such things to be collected and stored. How marvelous! No doubt the previous owners had such a collection to behold! How can one pass such a thing up?" If she had it in hand, she would nibble on the bread in a careful fashion, eating in a circular fashion.

The massive woman ripped a morsel of bread away and devoured it. She pushed the remaining bread to the center of the table. "Maybe we could fortify the Tower with henchman? Or men at arms after we have secured more gold."

As the party talks, and very fat dwarf waddles to the table, carrying a pitcher in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.  His beard is immaculately groomed, the braids tight, and precise with small copper clips.   His eye is blackened and he has a sizable welt on his head.    He sets both on the table and shoves them into the middle.  "I be Thorak Copperwell.  A merchant of sorts, traveling here and there to sell." he says.  "I hope that drink will buy pardon for the interruption.   I talked to the sheriff, and I ain't getting the results I want.  I was robbed, and left fer dead.  They took me wagon, ponies and all.  An' I want it back." he adds, clenching his fist.   "If ya get me goods and wagon back, I'll give ya..." he pauses, as if its hard to say.  "...On..two hunnered gold.  The sheriff says he has a good idea where the bandits are holed up, but ain't went after them yet."

 Falis lets the others speak while the alcohol that kept passing through her mouth made its way through the rest of her system, followed by bites of stew-dipped bread.  To Zorbon, she nods.  But then, to Ärchönia she also nods.  "Never done tower living, before... did house living, slave quarters living..." She curls her lip at that memory.  "...inn living.  Tower living might be a nice experience.  Nice change of pace." She then points to Vera.  "Aye, yes!  We could fortify it with those!  I'd gladly set aside more than a few coppers for that.  Gods, I wish I could be two places at once, though... there's bound to be riches in that manor but the tower sounds like a better long-term investment."

 Then, a dwarf named Thorak speaks to the gathered adventurers.  She looks back and forth at her companions and Ärchönia, as if to say, "And then there's that...".

Ärchönia smiled brightly at Falis as she spoke. "What a marvelous scowl! What a noble sneer! Such a life must have been unmissably pleasantly unpleasant!" While she had not heard of the manor before now, having come to the table slightly late, she voiced no objection to it, nor to the request of the dwarf. All three sounded as if they would be a delightful romp.

Instead, she suggested, "Sadly, the Amaranthine Doxy has not the power here to send you to two places. But if gold is needed to man the tower, then perhaps first starting with the request of this funny little man will bring the coin needed."

"He is no man... oh no he is a dwarf." Vera nodded to the dwarven male. Unexpectedly a Nnuck nnuck escaped her mouth.

"My dwarvish friend, why don't you have a seat and drink with us?  I'll be honest, you look as if you could use wine more than us."

"Not a man? So it is true- that you are carved and brought to life rather than born? Magnificent! A whole race of little golems! Do they carve you anatomically correct, or is there no need for such detail? Is that why the men and women are so similar?" Her face and tone clearly indicated that she actually believed this was a possibility, rather than a deliberate insult to the dwarf or a play off of Vera's joke.

 Falis pretends to sulk at Ärchönia's admission of powerlessness when it came to cloning complex sentient individuals.  Then, she gapes at the mage's remarks about dwarves.  And dwarven genesis.  Similarities.

 "Yeh, I'll buy you a round," she offers to the dwarf.  Fumbling through her coin pouch, Falis produces some, well, coin, that she offers to a passing member of the service staff.  "Some of your strongest for the dwarf.  And a meal for him, too.  He's hard a hard past while."

In reply to Archonia (msg # 24):

Vera leered at the man, "who would have known we were blessed with a donkey of  a man."

The dwarf looks confused for a moment.  "I got a ma and pa, just like all the other dwarves I know."  He looks from person to person at the table, visibly unsure he approached the right table.

He starts to pull a chair out, then reconsiders, nodding to Faris, and waving off the server.  "I was just looking ta hire some mercenaries ta get my barrels back.  I don't need it bad enough ta suffer insults."  He turns and starts back towards the bar.

Zorbon gives the wiseguys a displeased glare for a moment and then rises to walk to the bar beside the dwarf.

"Forgive my uncouth friends, Mr. Copperwell, was it? Let me buy you some food and a drink and you can tell me if the sheriff told you where the bandits are." He leans down to whisper into the dwarf's ear over the din of the place.

 Falis leans over to Ärchönia and whispers in her ear.

"It seems the dwarf thought I were talking to him... but I was talking to this one." And Vera pointed at Archonia.

Archonia tittered at the comments and fellowship.


She whispered to Falis, then said in a normal, amused tone to all those at table, "Hopefully he will give us shrift for there was no intention of acting contumely. The Amaranthine Doxy would rather he share a common experience in our dream."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:17, Sat 03 Apr 2021.

Garret finds himself at the blue turnip, having been nursing the same beer for the last hour, at the risk of outstretching his coin purse.  He had seen people coming and going, and had been watching the interactions of a group of adventures with a curious way about them.  Of course, most adventures were of curious behavior.

He siezes a moments opportunity to rise from his chair and move across the room.  A cleric and a dwarf are engaged in some quiet conversation.

As Zorbon and Thorak speak, an attractive young man with slightly curly brown hair interrupts the conversation.  "Forgive the intrusion, master dwarf, I couldn't help but overhear your trouble." He begins.

ooc: This is Garett.   Garett, take it away...

With a warm smile Garett shifts his gaze slowly from person to person making sure to establish eye contact with each in turn. His bright brown eyes glisten in the light of the tavern as he holds his one precious mug of ale in his right hand. Once he has their attention he inclines his head and shoulders respectfully. "Gods grant ye good'en, ladies and gentlemen. I am Garett, of East-March. For what that is worth." He winks at the group as if inviting them to share in an obscure joke.

His banded mail shifts beneath his brown cloak as he moves his weight over to his left foot and cradles a well crafted pig-nosed bascinet with his left arm. His attention shifts back towards Thorak "As I said, Master Copperwell, please forgive my own blunt intrusion. I am newly arrived here and seeking the lay of the land. I couldn't help but overhear the prospect of battling the scourge of banditry in these environs. This intrigues me, along with the chance at earning honest coin, and I should like to offer my services in this endeavor, if you will have me."

There is a certain assurance in his mild baritone voice. That along with the clean nature of his unmarked features shows him the be a man of noble heritage. His gear is fine in form and function, but he also seems to have newly arrived in town for the dust of the road hasn't completely worked its way out of his boots and cloak.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:59, Wed 24 Mar 2021.

Ärchönia sees a new face has approached Zorbon and Thorak to talk. She cannot quite make out his words over the din, but his time sounds easy enough. Having just met the others already, she wondered if he was also part of their band. Pointing him out to Falis, she asked, "A compeer, or a competitor?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Sat 03 Apr 2021.

The dwarf looks the man up and down, and smiles.  "Now we are talking.  Sit, man and I'll tell ya what I know.".  He offers Garett a chair with him and the cleric.

"My thanks, Master Thorak." Garett takes the seat gladly and offers those around him a, hopefully disarming, smile. Then he turns his attention back to Thorak. His brown eyes hint at a keen mind applying itself to the problem at hand.

"Please, knowledge is like hardwood for a goodly fire upon a winter's eve. The more of it we have, the greater our chances of seeing the next dawn. What can you tell me about these bandits and their nefarious deeds? Details about how you believe them to be armed or armored would be most welcome." He takes a sip from his ale to wet his throat, then waits for Thorak to answer.

 "Hopefully a compeer soon to be..." Falis says to Ärchönia.  Her expression sours when she sees the dwarf seemingly approve of him.  "Betcha he said something nice to him in Dwarvish.  Or offered him food in it.  'Oh, warm forges and cold beers to ye and for ye, I am Garett.  What seems to be the trouble?'." She makes a face.  "Only other language I know's a pidgin of Giant dialects."