Your travels have brought you towards the northern reaches of the continent, to a land where it is bitingly chilly but not enough to make the frequent rains consistently become snow. There is rumor of recent magical treasure hoards in the nearby mountains and even more tales of uncovered ancient portals that can take you to exotic lands on this and other planes. Such things are of course appealing to any adventurous sort and on your way up you've ran into a few, some less of the hero sort.

It's been a long and soggy late autumn day today for each of you and the promised warmth of a tavern hearth is a welcome one. A sentiment seemingly shared by a large amount of the traveler's in this region for the Torment's Sigil tavern you now find yourself in has a large fireplace in the middle of each wall, though most of the patrons are grouped around the fire in the center, which is encircled by a ring-shaped stone table with summoning runes carved into it. Runes that surely root the fiery, horned outsider inside the ring that is fueling the flames both in the actual fire pit and the hearts of the men (and some women) sitting at the large table watching her serve food and drinks with such grace that she is all but dancing as she does so. She is the famed efreeti main attraction of the tavern named Zatrini Siss, often called Triss. Voluptuous, vivacious, and dressed to leave the very perfect amount to the imagination with a smile that could brighten any room, it's no wonder she's the star of the bar. The elementals manning the other hearths (and literally  being the fire in them) can't compare to her and even the attractive, mostly ifrit staff go unnoticed by the main table as they go about their work.

There are many people of interest in the tavern, so many that stand out that it would almost make you stand out more if you didn't stand out. A few of those people are you. Who are you, what do you look like, and what are you doing in the tavern?

The Kobold moved about the tavern, providing heat to all who asked. As most of the drinks where fire based...at least at first, Flamescale could heat any thing that was needed.

Granted the elementals could easily do the same, but they where busy with other tasks. Such as heating up the food and the tavern itself. Flamescale's efforts allowed them to focus on those other tasks.

Needless to say, the heat of where the little kobold worked did not seem to effect him. Still, it kept out the cold, and his work kept him from watching the flame for its secrets. He could hear it trying to speak to him, but the cries of 'I need a new drink!' And 'need some fire's and finally 'move your scaly tail!' Kept him firmly in the moment.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:06, Thu 08 Oct 2020.

An elven man in gold, silver and bronze jesters' garb is balanced on a tipping chair as he juggles a trio of juggling clubs, all start black with fancy accents. The accents on each vary in color, one is gold, one silver, one bronze. Solely in shade and not in how it's made. Periodically one of the clubs black portions have changed color as he flips it in some fancy way like around his back.

"Hehe, heyhey. What ye see? What ye say?" he hops from the chair and faces one of his audience, "It was a real journey gettin' to this place. Lots of folks on the road. I spent hours just sitting in traffic. Though in hindsight that's probably why I was run over by those wagons! HEHE! HEYHEY!"

There is an audible boo.

The jester turns, "Shut your trap over there, woodsman! No, I mean the one over there and literally! Someone could step in that thing! HEHE! HEYHEY!"

The gruff man simply rolls his eyes, not paying any mind to the fact that the strange traveler knew his profession.

"That one was about as well received as that one I told my last crowd about my spine. It was about a weak back. HEHE! HEYHEY!

Despite his terrible jokes, the fellow seems to have gathered a small crowd and nobody's leaving.

One Chelaxian man stay away from the crowd, but watches the elf's juggling curiously. The flames of the tavern makes his chain mail glimmer, while a sword-shaped medallion seems to glow on his chest. He waves at a waitress for another drink... only to nudge the long halberd leaning against his table, forcing him to lunge at it before it fell and harmed someone.

Julius shakes his head. The rumors of portals to other worlds drew his curiosity, but he'd seen stranger things in just this tavern then he'd seen in the rest of his life so far...

A lone humanoid pug dressed in a long coat and matching hat sits in the corner smoking a thin cigar and watching the efreeti work the main bar. She didn't seem to mind working the place but how could such a creature be happy living in the middle of a table? Perhaps the sigil let her go to and fro between this plane and her home plane.

Such creatures also tended to live for ages longer than normal mortals. There were a multitude of ifrits running around. Could they be her kids with one or more mortal lovers? Not that it was any of his business.

He wasn't incredibly fond of the place on a professional level. Too many outlandish people. The troublemakers wouldn't stand out. There were several lurking types like himself sitting alone and being odd for that, so even that wasn't odd. There was rumors of portal magic and treasure though, and that would bring adventurers of various kinds, troublemakers of even more kinds.

Come to think of it, how did the tavern protect the efreeti from evil people? Efreeti are genies, they can grant wishes. Surely any number of people would want to come for her. It was a mystery. Perhaps these servers were more than they seemed.

Though the tavern was warm and welcoming within, cold and soggy was the day outside. A chill wind blew into the tavern as one of the doors flew open. A small figure, just over two feet tall, staggers in before the door closes once again behind it.

The little thing is draped in a tattered cloak and drags a bag nearly twice its size behind it. Each step it takes squelches like a sack of drenched socks and the bag it drags clunks with the sound of rusty metal. Clearly this pathetic creature has seen better days...and those days were long past.

Staggering into the tavern, the little creature squeezes through the tree-like legs of the crowd to get near to some warmth, shivering and hunched over. It didn't say a word and didn't ask for any food, drink, or aid, despite its movements hinting that it is injured.

It seemed to get lost in the roar of the crowd, whimpering softly like a frightened child. Black beady eyes peer through the shade of the cloak watching hungrily as others feast, drink, laugh, dance, sing, and...juggle.

What walked when next can only be described as a vision of loveliness. The attractive elf looked as if she had walked from the dreams of those around her, as if the gods themselves had blessed her with their grace and beauty. And that may well be true, because walking next to her was...an Angel!

On her right hand, and the Angel's left hand was glowing identical sigils clearly showing that the pair were bound somehow. To make the matter even more interesting, was the elven woman wore no armor. She was well armed though, an elven curved blade, a morningstar, and a dagger just to name a few of the weapons she had.

To make matters even more interesting she would look towards the Angel, and speak to it in a strange language causing it to chuckle.

Finally, she would speak in common. "Let us get a drink, yes Raxiel?"

Leave it to elementals... taproom is too damn hot. That was Vynyc's first and lasting impression of the Torment's Sigil. The gnome had arrived before most of the other guests and was grateful to get out of the rain. The kind of rain that brought back childhood memories of slow harvests, sticking mud, and cold fingers. After moving repeatedly around the common room, Vynyc found a corner table near a window that he found himself pressed against now and again. Damn, it's hot.

As the evening dragged on, the gnome was regretting not bringing Havel inside-- that wolf wouldn't stand out-- but he wouldn't like the heat either. So Vynyc kept to himself, watched the various characters as they made their way about the tavern, and sipped his ale.

A well but not opulently dressed elf strides into the room. His outfit is of the sort you would expect from a lower lord of a land that prospered off the bounty of the woods. Fit to go on a hunt or foray into the wild with a higher ranking guest, formal yet very practical. The elf is also burlier than common elf stereotypes and carries himself like a man that has seen more than his fair share of battles. Any familiar with elves would also note his age. He doesn't look any older than the average elf to the unaware, but those that know his kind would see him for the middle age elf he is.

He's about as rugged an elf as can be. As if any elf could grow a beard, it would be him, but pretty much nobody has ever seen an elf with one.

Outfitted with a sword, shield, bow, books, and a holy symbol of Besmara, it's hard to tell what his preferences in warfare are.

"Aye...you...bear...thing?" Says a hissing voice behind Theodore. "You want ale? Food?" The kobold paused. "You...uhhh...eat? Drink? You...you hurt? Need help?" Flamescale does not get too close, lest in his inner fire accidentally burn the being of seemingly very flammable substance. "I can heal you if you need it."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:39, Sun 18 Oct 2020.

Startled, the little thing seemed to jump and beneath the cowl was indeed what appeared to be....an animated stuffed teddy bear. No more than that...it seemed genuinely alive.

"Oh..." it spoke in a soft child-like voice.

"I could use some drying." it put out its paw which appeared to be drenched and dirty.

Shivering from the cold, the stuffed animal was soaked from the journey outside, explaining the soggy steps it took stumbling in. Clearly water was not the little guy's strong suit and he wasn't having a very good day.

Upon his approach, Flamescale will see the little guy has some metal clanging under the cloak. Some armor, a mace, and some other gear. Despite his fragile appearance and timid personality, the little guy is armed like any adventurer.

In reply to Theodore Bearington (msg # 11):

"Hmmm...ok. Drying I can do." The Kobold said. Flamescale breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and smoke poured from his nostrils. He then opened his mouth and breathed out. Theodore could see fire from his throat, but none actually left his scaled muzzle.

Instead, the heat came from the small Kobold, washing over the stuffed bear creature. Doing its best to dry the dampness and send stray water into steam. Then he stopped. "You need to sit by the fire now, because I keep doing that I might accidentally unleash some flame." He gestured for the bear to follow, and the kobold led him to a large shielded fireplace.

The burning pit did not have a physical barrier, but instead was surrounded by a invisible barrier that kept the fire within, and let the heat out. Most likely it had something to do with the elemental animals moving around the pit, mostly just laying about the flames and burning without a care in the world.

"You sit by fire, you dry." The Kobold said, padding a stone seat near the pit. "No worry about burning." Someone called out, and the small reptile man looked back. "I still got work, I check on you later." He said. "I called Flamescale. Cause...flame...on scale." He shrugged.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Tue 20 Oct 2020.

The teddy bear nods and seems to perk up a bit now that someone has offered him some kindness.

"Gee, thanks so much Mister Flame Skail! I won't forget your kindness!"

Looking around he starts to grow more vigorous and full of life as he dries off and starts to get his bearings...everyone was a potential friend.

"I'm Theodore. Sir Theodore Bearington! Friends call me Teddy! I'm a knight, so if you ever need my help, just give me a holler!"

The little teddy bear was indeed dressed like a knight underneath the cloak with armor that seemed like it was fashioned for more appearance than functionality. But despite his small stature, even for a small-sized creature, he stood tall and proud now that he'd made a friend.

"A... knight?" Julius turns to look at the small bear. "Wow... I'm guessing you're not a Hellknight... unless you somehow went way overboard on the 'spiky' trend, until turned all the way around and ended up in 'fluffy'."

A small goblin, small even for a goblin, is seated over in the corner of the room with a lute in his lap, playing it for any who would listen with an enormous smile on his face. His size is not the only oddity, as this musician is clearly dressed in the vestments of Sarenae, the goddess of healing and the sun. Not an incredibly common deity for goblinoids.

His play isn't that bad either.