The City of Stormhaven is big, really big, and bustling.  Everyone has something to do, somewhere to be, and the pace is fast.  Ships and crews come and go, cargo is loaded and unloaded, merchants sell, crafters make, hawkers hawk.  It is like a large complex living creature.  The midday morning of Mid-week, the city takes a deep breathe for a few hours.  It is the time for the holy to attend church, the bells ring the faithful to their doors.  The markets are near empty, most shops stay closed till noontime.

   For the ambitious though, the city can be difficult.  Jobs a plenty, skinning hides, cutting meat, guard duty,  apprenticing to a merchant, dock working.  For one with adventure in the blood, it has all the appeal of a prison life.  A city at peace, one on the rise, what opportunity for glory.  And in the meantime, it's expensive.  A poor inn still costs 4 gold a week, just for a room, clean linens once a week, a bath twice a week, and an evening meal with one glass of ale or weak wine.  Funds could quickly be exhausted in such a place as this!

    For those looking, the word may be found.  Mid-week breakfast at the Hogs Head Tavern, work might be found for those who can cast a spell, or fire a bow, or swing a sword.  Mostly grunt work, but coin to be made, perhaps contacts as well.  Ask for Gorblin Thar, he's tough but fair, takes a cut of the jobs he hands out, but a fair cut.  He's been doing this for long stretch and will not fall afoul of the Guilds, or the law in the process.

    And so, you have found yourself the crisp Spring Mid-week morning, picking your way through the most rundown alleys in the Narrows you've ever seen.  There are alleys a large person would need walk sideways down, and more than once, you wonder if this is some set up to be robbed.  Confident in your own abilities, you press on and are rewarded (in a way) by finding an entrance along one such narrow way, above it a weathered sign with the head of of hog, chopped off, bristled about its face with faded red paint dripping from its neck.

    The door is open....


ooo:  Welcome to the game!   Please use ORANGE for ooc:.   You may pick any color for your own speaking voice, but once you pick, please stick with it.  I hope this to be short and painful death for you all......er, a fun and long and profitable game!! Good Luck!
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:02, Thu 02 July 2020.

The door to the Head swings open, but one might be forgiven for thinking it had blown open on it's own, at least until a person looked down a bit and spotted the silverly hair and broad smile of the gnome at the door. She stands a not so mighty three foot five, but she sports a broad smile and curious, engaging eyes.

"Hail, hail one and all, Delta is my name, and I come looking for a bit of extra work, and a hearty meal."

Her clothes are well kept, the a keen eye might notice the numerous patches. The lute over her shoulder, and her worn dark-green fingerless gloves speak to being a singer of songs and teller of tales, while the short sword on her hip, in it's well worn scabbard, shows she can probably take care of herself.

"A plate of mutton, and a glass of stout please," she calls to the nearest server, if she spots one, heading for a handy table, though she grabs a barstool on the way, so that can sit high enough to see the top of the table while seated.

Her face is pleasant, but plain, sparking blue eyes set wide above an overly large nose. Her smile shows a gap between her top two teeth, and her brows are thick and bushy, yet she is in no way masculine, nor childlike. Confident, but with darting eyes, aware that the crowd is not all ladies and fine gentlemen...

Delta's entry echoes in the place and as her eyes adjust to the inside, she finds it nearly empty.  There are only four tables, and only one occupied with three very muscle bound human with leather armor.  They sit together a table with cups of grog and a plate of sausages, hard cheese and bread, and barely glance at her entrance.

One of them laughs, and says, "Gotta get here early if ya wants first pickens of the work, although ya' might just be here to scrub the undersides of the tables, eh?".

There is no one behind the bar, the place is otherwise quiet as tomb.

There is a sound at the door and it swings open once more. A human woman enters. She is taller than average, dark in hair and eyes and undeniably a good looking woman but her clothing and stride mark her out as more warrioress than any street girl. Indeed 'clothing' might be the wrong word for though she wears a fine cloak cloak enough of it is parted to show this woman wears armour that many a man might have found two heavy to lift let alone wear with the ease and comfort she does. What draws the eye more than the armour though is the hilt of a hands-and-a-half sword in its scabbard across her back.

'Well met,' the warrioress says in a husky voice, its accent pleasant but vaguely foreign sounding - one of the northern barbarians more known for brawn than brain perhaps. 'I am Vala and I am looking for one Gorblin Thar.'

As she enters properly an expression of surprise and disappointment flickers across her face at the near empty room, though as her large brown eyes fall on the gnome with the lute her expression turns more friendly. 'Greetings skald. I know a sister adventurer when I see one.'

"Hail Vala. you may call me Delta, as it is my name these days."

She gives the newcomer a long appraising look, for from the perspective of the Gnome she is even a taller glass of ale than normal.

"According to these gentlemen..." she says, gesturing to the men around the one table, with a hint that she suspects they may be less gentle than the term usually references, " we may be too late to find work today. If that is true, I suspect we might find a better place to sup, as the staff here seems less than interested in customers, tall or short."

Her warm smile belies that fact that she is more interested in having such am imposing figure at her side as she leaves the Narrows, and it's less than gentile citizenship than she is anything else.

A figure limps out from a darkened hallway.  For a moment, its size, shape, and strange walk cause a bit of worry.  Then, a huge hulk of man shambles forth.  One leg is stiff and straight as a board, he has a massive barrel chest, wide shoulders, and despite wearing a cooks apron, hair bristles out from, well almost everywhere.

His voice though is deep, "Ignore those brutes, Ms. Delta and Vala, grab a seat.  They've not a kind word for anyone and if you've a mind to pay them their dues, I'll not blame you.  Have a seat, I'll bring out some breakfast soon enough, you've come this far to meet Thar, might as well meet him, eh?"

The three other men scowl a bit but bite their lips.

Fascinating figure of man, Delta though at the sight of the barman. Glancing about she looked for the table furthest from the brutes, and tried to find some way to get a seat high enough not to have to stand in her chair.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Thu 02 July 2020.

Vala smiled at the hulk, displaying excellent teeth. 'Breakfast does sound good friend. I'm hungry enough to eat the table.'

The barbarian warrioress took a seat, instinctively placing herself protectively between Delta and the bar bullies. 'So Delta are you from this city? I've never seen so many people in one place!'

The door opens, and a white-haired elf slips in.  Quietly; he says nothing, and there is no sound from his steps as he enters the establishment.  Were it not for the door allowing increased sound from outside, his entry may have gone unnoticed.

He sports a very blank expression; his mouth is exactly horizontal, not tending toward smile or frown.  And eerily, no muscle in his head, neck, or face seems to move -- save his eyes.  His eyes dart everywhere, taking in the scene.

After a moment, he heads to one of the empty tables.  The one furthest from anyone else.  And he sits in a position (moving chairs if need be) that lets him see as much of the room as possible.

"Me? I'm from a little town called Glittering, but I am pretty far from home, in more ways than one!" Her laughter is pleasant, not high pitched, as some might expect from her size, but rich and warm.

"I've been in town for a week or two though, and yes, the crowds are large. And numerous!"

As the door opens her eyes drift in that direction. Her smile vanishes at the sight of the pale, emotionless man, and she mutters a small prayer under her breath. Her eyes follow him as he finds a table, not thiers, much to her relief. With an effort she regains her composure.

" So Vala, where are you from?"

'The Northern Kingdoms,' Vala answers, her own eyes focused on the odd looking stranger albeit with more curiosity than anything. Blinking the warrioress turns back to Delta and smiles proudly. 'I am a swordsmaiden of the Drakesbane kindred, bondsmen of the Kingdom of Jarn. My ancestor Janak came this way four generations ago and made his name and gold in the strange and soft southern lands. Now it is my turn.'

She hesitates a moment, the expression strange on her proud features. 'I've slain Orc and boar and bandit but this city is so new to me. It is strange and confusing but exciting. I'd appreciate having a companion in arms here.'

Seeing nobody who looks like they might be Gorblin Thar, the elf remains quietly seated.

"I am always looking for new friends," Delta replies. "I have never heard of the Drakesbane kindred," she said, wrapping her mouth around the word, as if sampling a new flavor. Does that mean your people fight dragons?" Clearly she find the idea exciting.

The large man limps back in brings glasses of juice, and two plates with potato hash and eggs for the two ladies seated at one table.  He is carrying a scroll under his arm, and heads over to where the three men sit together before noticing the elf in the corner.

"Ah, sorry sir, didn't hear you come in, breakfast coming up in just a moment, I need to do a bit of business first". 

Pulling up a chair with the three men, he unrolls the scroll.

"Sorry lads, haven't had anything for you and a few weeks but that's how it goes sometimes.  This here isn't overly exciting, but it'll put coins in your purse, bit of cellar dwellar job."

"Naught tha sewers, I hate them, they stink and give me the creeps!"

"Nah, think dusty and musty, the crypts below the Temple of Bahamut needs some cleaning out."

"The clergy eh?  Well, they pay top dollar usually. Normal terms, pay plus extra for everything we clear out, here let me see that".   The leader of the three takes the scroll studies it.  "Clean up our messes, eh, 10 percent for old Thar that don't even get his hands dirty, how's that fair?"

The large man shrugs, "You could argue about it with him..."

"Naw, he'd just likely show us the door and not share no more jobs with us, and knowing him, he'd sully ours names all over town"

"Seems likely". The three men nods, and each rubs there fingers on the tip of the burned out candle sitting on the table and then press them to the scroll.

"Report to the Temple in the morning, they'll be expecting you.  After you are done, come here the following day and your payments will be waiting".

The men all seem in good spirits about it and grab the remaining sausages up tucking them in their pockets and head out the door.  The large man leaves and returns in a moment with juice and hash and eggs for the elf.  "If you three are looking for a job, why don't you join the ladies, and i"ll be out in a few moments, had a sort strange contract come in this morning, I'll join you since I don't know any of you, see if you might be right for this one".

Eyes wide with delight, Delta digs into the hash and eggs with gusto. After taking a quick bite, she digs into her pouch and pulls out a small spice container, from which she adds a pinch to the food.

"Would you like a pinch Vala? Salt, pepper, a tiny bit of herbs. Nothing spicy."

Taking another bite, she smiles in agreement with the flavor, and takes three quick bits in succession before taking a sip of juice to swallow it down. When she hears the large man suggest the pale stranger join them, however, she chokes a bit, and sputters a moment as she takes her handkerchief to wipe up the mess. She very carefully avoids looking in his direction.

If the elf has any feelings -- pro or con -- about the man's suggestion, they aren't revealed on the elf's face.  He merely get up and goes to the table where the women are seated.  He looks at the gnome, and nods; then at the human, and nods . . . and then at an empty chair, which he pulls out and sits in.

"The big guy serving food said I should sit here," he offers by way of explanation.

'My ancestor slew a white dragon,' Vala says wistfully. 'Someday I'll equal that feat.'

Interrupted by the arrival of the bartender with food she happily begins eating, nodding at Delta's offer of spice. She pauses in her enthusiastic eating as she registers her new friend's reaction to the elf.

'Are elves or white haired men bad luck in this land?' Vala asks quietly (for her). 'I have a talisman to ward off evil luck and dire omens.'

She reaches down the front of her armour apparently to achieve this pendant when the elf strolls over and introduces himself.

'Well met friend. What do they call you?' Vala asks, trying to keep her tone friendly even as she looks over to Delta to see how her friend is managing.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Fri 03 July 2020.

The elf hesitates a moment, then says: "I'm Tanyl.  Just here looking for a job."

Eyeing Vala's pendant, the normally verbose gnome suddenly goes quiet, and focuses on eating her food.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:14, Fri 03 July 2020.

Vala looked at the gnome and elf in confusion and and after a moment turned her attention back to her breakfast and the wait for Gorbin. The ways of the southerners certainly seemed peculiar!

A few moments later, the large man limps back out, a large plate of breakfast in one hand, which he sets at your table, and a small keg under the other, maybe a gallon size of fine wood with two cork on top. He sets it down before walking to the door.  Which he shuts, and bolts.

Coming back over, he sits.  He has a broad face, and dark eyes, and a single spiky brow, but the rest of him is so hairy, it doesn't look out of place.

"I was wrong, I do know one of you, at least know of you, and you are okay by me.  Before I talk about this contract, anyone here wanted for a crime, you look like you know your letters, can you be polite when need be?  Do you know what this here symbol on this keg is, the T with three scratches under it?"

Swiftly gulping down the eggs in her overfull mouth, Delta glances at the symbol curiously. Having no clue, she still opts to wait and see what anyone else might say, rather than leaping forward with her ignorance.