"Too small to be a Giant, didn't grow back when I tore his throat out like a Troll would."

Then it was Verbannt's turn to be uncomfortable.

"You speak of the fighting pits, yes?"

He shifted in his seat, clearly not liking the change in subject, but not speaking of it either.

"I think the arena is an area where there are smarter people at play these days. Victor himself grows much stronger by the day, and I'm sure that one lucky hit will down me in an instant." replies the bar owner. "In any case. Erret is keeping me busy with bounties of late. It shouldn't surprise you, but this settlement of his has attracted a substantial number of lowlifes in recent times!"

Izayah frowned a bit and then rewound the conversation in his mind. "Ohhhhh. You were talkin' 'bout what might be out in the wilds t'fight. Gotcha." He shook his head. "Misunderstood the conversation. My bad."

He then shrugged. "If you don't like the arena, no worries. Just a mostly fun way t'test one's self in a non-lethal way."

He glanced at Carmen and his eyebrows went up. "Criminals? Here?" Something about the way he said that was suspicious. "You helpin' keep 'em in line or some'in'?"

After his fifth or so mug of ale, Tusk stands up from his bench.

"You lot have a good one. I'm not as young as I used to be, and I'd best be calling it."

He makes his way to the door, and heads outside. Before it closes fully, a loud belch can be heard.

to the Inn

"I will enter this pit of fighting, and see what you small folk can do!". Sovok states belicosely, as he down a tankard of ale, and pours another one.

Tiria enters the tavern, quickly shutting the door on the cold outside and stamping her boots on the wooden floor to clear them of the loose snow and mud. She steps aside and makes an arcane gesture which causes the mess she just made to dry, shrink, and then disappear as though it had never existed.

Looking over to Carmen she gives a friendly nod and moves over to the table to come up behind Izayah from his left, resting a hand on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

"That was quite an adventure, eh?"

She looks at the various drinks on the table then catches Carmen's gaze.

"Can I get a meal and a pitcher of wine for me and a round of shots for the table, love? One for you too, if you have the time to join us."

She takes a seat without being invited and grins mischievously at the massive bugbear and goliath across the table. "I know this little man here," she laughs as she nudges Izayah, "but Burning Stag was the first time I have really seen you two  around. I am Tiria Nailo but most call me Tears, what do I call you gentlemen?"

"I am Verbannt."

The Bugbear answered, his voice low and rumbling. If she spoke the Goblin tongue, there was perhaps meaning there, or perhaps there was not. Strange lands led to strange customs.

"I have been here since the founding, when the Gambit was little more than a gathering hall, but I have been away raiding."

He paused, contemplating her, bringing a massive paw up to scratch idly at his neck. He had taken off the massive cloak of ram's hide, the ram and dire wolf skulls that held it in place obscured by his bulk where they rested on the seat back.

"Now I seek those clever with words, to unify the tribes here under the banner of Smith. Do you know of any such as that?"

Izayah frowned and projected a look, a gesture and an air of hurt. "You too, Tiria? He shook his head, still with the mock-hurt look. "Carmen? Tiria is NOT on my tab."

Then he relented and smiled. "Well, alright, one of her drinks is on my tab."

To the other two at the table he said, "Cause she bores you to...TEARS. Kidding, kidding!" He winked at her, leaning in slightly. "That's for the little comment."

He stopped almost invading her personal space and took another drink of his ale. One small part of his brain said he should probably stop drinking soon and head to his cabin for sleep. One of his hands at that very moment was absently sneaking a bit of his meal, some of his bread, in to a pocket.

He shook his head at Lukas. "Ain't me, for sure, even sober."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Sat 25 June 2022.

"I am Sovok, small Tears!". He booms out, his deep voice filling the area.  "From lands far North of here!". He finishes his first pitcher of beer, the poor thing looking like a humble cup in his massive hand.  "I will need more drink Hallwarden!". He looks at the only slightly shorter bugbear.  "Why seek you those skilled with words Verbant!?". He booms.  Speak yourself, plain and clear!  Be honest, keep your word!  This is how you win friends and brothers!"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:51, Sat 25 June 2022.

Tiria smiles at the good natured banter from Izayah and replies to Verbannt's question, "Nice to meet you then. I am afraid I do not know any of the local tribes but as far as people around here, Elisar might do well enough... That warg-rider had a certain presence to him too."

She nods at Sovok in greeting then continues, "If you travel the wilds surrounding the pillar of the world, a giant tree with featherlike leaves, there was a halfling druid called Radagast that Izayah and I met out that way. He probably knows all the tribes so might be worth asking."

"Where can I find this Elisar?"

Verbannt asked, noting the woman's words well.

"Can you take me to him?"

Izayah spoke again, having been thinking and recalling his encounters and what he'd heard in his time here. He began ticking fingers off on one hand. "Well, let's see. There's the Redfoot Tribe - you met them." He grinned and then continued. "There's the White Worgs, a goblin tribe, some o'which you met - they was organizin' the assault on the Redfoot we were all just in."

Another finger. "There's a tribe o'humans, a nomadic group o'hunters called the Blue Scars. There's the Fierce Hearts tribe. Hexia's people. They're...already kinda united with us I guess." He let out a chuckle. "There's the Swift Tusks tribe, I think they're all orcs but can't say for sure. They're...northwest I think?"

Verbannt nodded.

"You are seeing the path I seek to walk. I can speak the Goblin tongue, of course. We will need someone who can speak the tongue of Orcs."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:00, Sat 25 June 2022.

Tiria shakes her head, "I had thought to see Elisar here but he is likely resting in the Frosthide Inn. You will know him when you see him, he wears a feathery hat and carries his instrument across his back."

She idly scratches the side of her nose, "As for Radagast, he found us. He has no home and no tribe, he wanders and tends to the Rimewood by himself. I can show you the path we took on a map but there is no guarantee you would see him there."

She closes her eyes and thinks for a moment before continuing, "There was an orcish woman I saw around the town a while ago but I do not know her. Hexia of the Fierce Hearts sells magical scrolls that might help you to learn the language."

"It was I who first met the White Wargs, after killing the Warchief of the Redfoot, Muzzrink, and claiming his armor as right by blood. I spoke to their chieftain Gruznak of fighting the Red Foot under one banner. "

It was not a boast, just a statement of fact. If it were truth, it certainly explained the studded leather he was wearing beneath his furs. It fit perfectly, but looked eerily similar to the mail the Red Foot had worn.

"I tried to be clever with my words, and earned the eternal hatred of Brohm of Clan Stoneheim in the doing. Not even my blood on the field of honor would quench his rage. So it is that I seek one who might be clever, who can make friends without also making enemies. It is not Lore I possess, it seems."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:54, Mon 27 June 2022.

"Who is this Brohm, of Clan Stonehelm!?  And how is it you earned his eternal hatred for words!?". Sovok said, his booming voice filling the room.  "What insult could you have spoken that your blood would not answer for!?". He slammed the pitcher down on the table, the drink within sloshing over, almost leaping from the mouth, but landing, luckily, back in the pitcher.

Izayah looked over at Verbannt with a bland face when the truth was told about the White Worgs. "Ah. Okay." He gave a shrug and smiled. "I thought you were askin' about what tribes there were like you didn't know. I wasn't namin' off the ones I made first contact with an' personally brought t'Smith or anythin', just namin' off the ones I knew 'bout. I 'pologize fer misundstandin' an' yappin' fer no reason."

Then Sovok started yelling and angrily asking questions. Izayah leaned back from him. After a long moment, he finished his ale. "Think that's my cue t'head t'my warm an' cozy cabin fer some shuteye." He stood up and nodded. "Gents. Ladies. G'night."

Carmen ensures that the drinks are flowing and continues to sit with the likes of Verbannt and Izayah. "I heard a rumour that the mayor has posted up some new jobs. I'll be heading over to check them out sooner rather than later." she says.

She relaxes somewhat and takes a large sip from her own ale tankard. "Might be a good way to blow off some more steam." she adds.

 Verbannt nodded.

"My thanks for the drink, Izayah Hamadrell."

Then he turned and regarded the Goliath.

"The fault was mine. I sought to claim that we are all united here under a new banner, and spoke to say we were gathered Clanless under it. I should not have used such words, the anger of the Dwarf burned. He challenged me to a duel of honor..."

He paused, grimacing.

"… and with the terms he set, I lost. I thought it would be over then. It was not. He hates me still. So it is that I seek those more clever with words. Do you know of one such as that?"

Tiria gets stuck into her meal and wine after surreptitiously making an arcane gesture over them, raising an eyebrow briefly while she listens for the response to Verbannt's question.

"So you called him outcast!?  A duel should have settled it!?  You were wrong!  You lost!  Why the burning hatred!?". Sovoks' eyes get a distant look, as he takes a long drink from the pitcher.  "I remember Gorg Skycaller, Skald of the Clan that was.  Great were his words.". His voice softens, and lowers substantially.  "His words could call up the water from rock, or call down the fire from Sky.". He pauses, then resumes.  "Wise was his lore.  No chieftain dare silence him.  If it is skill with words you seek, find him.  If you are lucky, he may teach you something.". He is silent for a long moment, his eyes distant as he drinks, and absently tears into the meat before him.

"I do not truly know."

Verbannt answered, and he sounded saddened for it.

"I have missed something, and do not know what I have missed."

He looked at the massive Goliath, and noticing the respect he paid the Skald, lowered his own voice as well.

"Where will I find this Skald?"

"You must go to the mountains, and seek the old paths between the wind and the ice.". He says, his normal booming voice still reserved and (comparatively) quiet.  "It will be a long search.  He does not stay long in one place."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:42, Wed 29 June 2022.

With all the busywork completed it was time to take a rest before going out to make camp for the night. It had been a while since he was able to hang out on the hill, but first came the celebrations from a successful battle and liberation. Inside the tavern were many whom Nutcracker had seen at the battle as well as those from the infiltration group. Everything seemed kind of tame to what he had been used to in the forest back home, so it probably didn't warrant a loud call for wine. Instead, he found a space where he could off to the side and ordered a pitcher of wine. Any raucousness could wait til the alcohol set in.

Lately, a lot of activity has been going on around the Dragons Den. It seems that somebody thought it would be wise to start building a brewery on the side, and for those of a dwarves nature, the rumour was that the local dwarf brewer of Leadarm was going to be expanding his  operation on a grand scale!