Notice: This thread follows from msg #88 in Chapter 1 - Part 1 and continues in msg #149 Chapter 1 - Part 1.

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Rhydd had company on his way to the Three Flags Sailing. Many of the bystanders had been local fishers, and at this hour of the evening, many fancied themselves a drink or many among colleagues of friends. The bickered among themselves, but paid Rhydd little mind.

The atmosphere here was much less subdued than Ethen’s inn. While the Luskan Arms had always been a refuge for weary travelers with little energy left for carousing, the Three Flags Sailing provided just the opportunity. The place was as rowdy and boisterous as ever, Rhydd could spot through the window. As he entered, he noticed the taproom wasn’t packed to the brim, but the fishers there made sure to make enough noise for it to seem like it. One bellowed before tossing back a stein of whatever it was everyone drank. Mead was common, as well as many types of fortified wines and hard liquors. The Northfolk tended to prefer their alcohol strong. A few of the patrons were engaged in a game of dice — thabort, by the looks of it — along a longtable.

The tavern was decorated like expected of one that would lie dockside, with nets draped on the walls, and a few adorning harpoons and sickles mounted on the walls. The preserved carcass of a huge octopus hung on display above the bar, it’s arms extending to the tavern’s joists.

Vegord stood idle behind the counter. The mustached, spectacled man nodded at Rhydd as he entered. As the fireplace was a fair bit smaller, the room was colder than the Luskan Arms had been, and most of the men still wore their coats inside. “Evenin’ to ya. Ain’t got no food if yer wonderin’. Drinks to go ‘round, tho’,” Vegord said. He seemed to be the only man currently on shift this evening. Not surprising, as that was the way he always seemed to prefer it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:46, Sun 03 Apr 2022.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 1):

Rhydd stood just inside the door of the Three Flaggs for a moment, using the time to push the hood of his cloak back off of his head and brush the loose snow off of his shoulders. He also glanced around, taking note of who was in the tavern. Insofar as he knew he had no serious enemies in Targos, but he knew from experience that some men became more aggressive when they were in their cups. Seeing no one that gave him pause -- at least not at first glance -- he strolled over to the counter behind which Vegord stood.

"Evenin'," he replied to the tavern-owner's greeting, nodding to the other man.

Rhydd was not a particularly heavy drinker, and unlike some others, he did not drink with the intent of getting drunk. And so it was that he said "I'll have a mead," instead of choosing something stronger.

While Vegord was filling a tankard, Rhydd turned to face the floor area of the common room, resting the small of his back against the counter.

"Any news since the last time I was in town?" he asked the tavern-owner.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:07, Sat 23 Jan 2021.

The tavern-owner shrugged as he went to pour Rhydd his beverage. "Nah. Ya know. Been snowin'." Vegord did not have the reputation of being the best to keep an ear out. "New speaker, I 'spose. Some troubles here and there, but what can ya expect. As long as people keep showin' up to buy drinks, I'm not one ta break out in bouts."

The bell rung behind Rhydd and Salim entered. He nodded to both the outdoors-man and the proprietor before placing a silver piece on the counter. "Mind if I take this one? Mead for me as well."

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 3):

"Imagine that!" Rhydd said, feigning surprise, when the tavern-owner passed along the news that it had been snowing. Unlike some bar-keepers whom the archer had met, Vegord tended to keep his thoughts to himself.

Rhydd was just to ask about the new Speaker when Salim came into the tavern and made his way over to the counter. Rhydd returned the other man's nod of greeting, and his eyebrows arched up in surprise when the man-at-arms put down enough coin to cover both of their drinks.

The archer did not know Salim very well -- they had worked up a passing acquaintance when both men were with the caravan, but the other had not become what Rhydd would think of as a friend. He knew that Salim was a fellow-Northlander -- the man's weathered face and take-it-as-it-comes acceptance of foul weather and the ill luck that always seemed to be just around the corner during the long winters of the Far North had told him as much. Southerners tended to start pissing and moaning as soon as the temperature dropped a few degrees or the wind picked up.

"Thanks. I'll get the next round," Rhydd replied to Salim's offer.

After a few moments of silence while Vegord filled Salim's tankard, Rhydd spoke up. "You did good out there when the wolves hit us -- you an' Mikel both. That could have gone a lot worse than it did."

Salim grabbed his mead and took a sip. "You give us too much credit. If you hadn't been there, there's more than a decent chance we would be laying dead out in the middle of nowhere, all of us. Me and Mikel would not have been enough." He paused for a moment. "I had heard of Targos' new speaker and what they did here. To actually witness it... I should have stepped in as well."

He pursed his lips and clapped Rhydd on the shoulder. "I won't bother you. I just felt like I owed you." He took his mug with him and headed for an empty spot on the bench near the back of the taproom.

"At least no-one's bein' burned alive at the stake," Vegord shrugged, commenting on the coversation. "Like 'em do in Easthaven."

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 5):

Salim's comment about the new Speaker caught Rhydd's attention, and the archer would have continued speaking to the caravan guard, but the other man took his leave and steeped away from the counter.

And so it was that Rhydd turned to Vegord. "The new Speaker and what they do here? What was he talking about -- especially if it causes you to speak of burning people at the stake?"

Vegord shrugged. "At Easthaven they burn 'em at the stake. Offerings to Auril, or somethin' like that. Here we hang 'em. We all had a say in it. I voted against, mind you. New speaker is Naerth. The fishers' like 'im. Keeps the coin flowin', somehow."

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 7):

Rhydd's expression was a study in contrasts -- his eyebrows arched up in suprise, and the corners of his mouth tilted down in a frown.

"So. . . that hanging that we saw on the way into town was some sort of a sacrifice, and not justice being meted out to a wrongdoer?"

The archer shook his head in disapproval. "I do not hold with sacrifices of either people or animals. 'Tis my opinion that they may serve to amuse the more hard-hearted of the gods, but nothing more. The gods are the gods, and they will do what they will, notwithstanding our efforts to sway them by ill-favored sacrifices."

Rhydd thought for a moment, then asked the tavern-owner "So, Vegord, tell me true -- have these sacrifices made a difference? Have things improved around Targos as of late?"

The bespectacled — but by no means scholarly — barkeeper stayed silent. "No," he finally answered. "They 'aven't."

An older, patchy man wobbled over to the bar. He seemed far too drunk for the wee hour of the night. Steadying himself on the corner, he wiped the corner of his mouth and held up another finger. "Ol' Herve... had what was coming! Herve... voted yes," he moved the finger toward Rhydd, trying to steady it. "Then he cries and cries, wah, wah! When his name gets picked from the list and Kelemvor comes to collect... He should've hung!" the old fisher said and shoved his finger into Rhydd's chest.

"How 'bout we stop the drinks, Vash? At least 'til ya've sobered up a bit," Vegord said to the man.

The drunken man lingered, his finger still in the air. "...fine." He went back and sat down with his cohort.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 9):

Rhydd seriously considered seizing the finger that the drunkard used to poke him in the chest. It would have been easy to grab and bend it backwards until the bones broke. If the fellow had been sober, Rhydd would probably have done it.

~But it's shameful to pick on a drunken old man,~ the archer thought to himself. ~Hells, it could be that he was just trying to steady himself to keep from falling down.~

By then Vegord had spoken up and cut the man off any more drinks until he cooled down a little.

"Thanks," Rhydd said to the tavern owner. The outdoorsman palmed a silver piece and placed it atop the bar. "That'll cover Salim's second round, and another for the old fellow . . . Vash, I guess his name is -- assuming that he sobers up enough at some point to be able to handle any more drinks."

Rhydd took another sip of his mead, nursing it along.

"Doesn't sound like there's much news," he said after a moment. "Guess I'll finish this one and head back over to Ethen's place."

Snapping his fingers, Rhydd said "I almost forgot. What the hells is wrong with Ethen? If I had bumped into her out on the street instead of over in the Luskan Arms, I'm not sure that I would even have recognized her."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:11, Thu 28 Jan 2021.

"Ethen's fallen down on it ever since the Sunset. Hardly eatin'." Vegord answered. "Naerth practically runs the inn for her at this point, too. Dunno if it helps or not... if ya see her, send her my regards."

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 11):

"That's a shame," Rhydd said with a shake of his head. "I remember her as being such a cheerful, happy person. As I say, I hardly recognized her when I saw her a bit earlier."

"You'd think that someone with her personality . . . well, the way she was before . . . would be less likely to get down in the dumps. But I suppose that Auril's Bane -- or whate'er you want to call it -- has cast a pall o'er everyone in some measure, and everybody reacts to it differently."

The archer shook his head again and fell silent for a moment, taking another sip of his mead. "So,"he said after a short lapse, "tell me about this Naerth. I can't recall ever meeting him -- not that I know everyone in Targos, of course."

Vegord went to tap a new mead for another patron. "Naerth came 'ere recently, a year ago maybe. From Waterdeep, he says. He's got a good head for business, that became clear to the fishers pretty quick. Apparently got strong connections in the south."

"It wasn't really close when it was time to elect a new speaker. Many of the fishers see him as a man who's willin' to do what needs to be done. Somethin' that couldn't be said of the last speaker. Half-measures everywhere." He glanced to either side and hesitated. "A rumor's been passin' 'round... never mind, I shouldn't say anythin'."

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 13):

~So . . . this Naerth arrived about a year ago and soon moved into a position of power,~ Rhydd thought to himself

~The Sunset happened a couple of years ago, more or less -- so I don't see an obvious connection. Although it does seem a bit odd to me that someone would want to relocate from Waterdeep -- if the man is being truthful -- to Targos. That would seem like quite a come-down for most people.~

~Now I'm curious about this Naerth taking over the running of the Luskan Arms. Is he doing it because Ethen asked him to, to help her out? Or did he muscle his way in and take over a profitable going business -- the only inn in Targos? Is his taking over possibly the reason for Ethen's . . . issues? I need to ask her about it, and try to figure out a way to help her, if that is what happened.~

Without putting his thoughts into words, he simply shrugged at Vegord's characterization of the two Speakers -- the former one, and Naerth. "Sometimes caution is warranted, and sometimes ruthlessness is required. It depends upon the circumstances, I would say."

Given the unspoken thoughts that were roiling around in his head, the archer's ears perked up when Vegord mentioned that there was a rumor going around town, about Naerth. Rhydd lowered his head, putting it close to the tavern-owner. "So . . . tell me about this rumor. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone where I heard it."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:51, Fri 29 Jan 2021.

Vegord adjusted his spectacles with a sigh, then leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "It's not that no-one knows... it's more that no-one talks 'bout it. But these contacts of his... they might be Zhentarim." He stood back up. "It's just what I've heard. Probably ain't true."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 07:23, Fri 29 Jan 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 15):

~The Zhentarim?~ Rhydd thought to himself, surprised at what Vegord's response had revealed. He knew that many viewed the Zhents as honest -- if hard-nosed -- merchants who were aggressively eager to extend their spheres of trade and influence.

But the archer's friends among the bands of Elven rangers -- who, perhaps understandably, had long memories and tended to take a long view of things -- had warned him against such wishful thinking, cautioning him that the Zhentarim had changed only their outer garb, so to speak, whilst remaining as darkly intentioned as ever at their core.

And thinking it over, Rhydd could now see how a man who most likely had ties to the Zhentarim might be interested in migrating to the Far North. With a disgruntled population suffering from dire hardships, it would likely offer fertile recruiting grounds for the Zhents. ~I wonder -- did the Zhents see a possible gain to be had from the Frostmaiden's doings -- meaning that they are unintended beneficiaries of Her trouble-making . . .  or have they found a way to entice Her to work with them to make common Cause?~

~These are dark tidings, if true. When next I see my Elven friends, I shall have to ask them whether they can put me in touch with any Harpers. Harpers can be officious busybodies and meddlers. But from all that I have heard, their hearts are in the right place, and they are very efficient at gathering information -- at knowing what is taking place deep within the shadows.~

Rhydd straightened up from his forward-leaning posture and drained the last of his mead. "Good day to you, Vegord. I am headed back to Ethen's place -- I will pass along your regards to her, as you request."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:12, Sat 30 Jan 2021.

The tavern keeper nodded. "Take care, Rhydd. These be harsh times..."

Rhydd made his way across the floor of the tavern, and after pulling up the hood of his cloak, headed out into the darkness and snow outside . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 18:15, Sat 30 Jan 2021.

Midnight came and passed. The seafolk were no less done with their evening out, and drinks continued to flow. Though the mood had started more somber than one would typically expect of a tavern with this type of patrons, it had steadily climbed and become rowdier over the hours. Laughs were had, and chumminess returned. Even Vegord's mood had brightened. One fisher rose from his seat and stood atop the table, spilling his mead about. Arched over and grinning a smile that missed a couple of teeth, he surveyed the crowd as he began tapping his foot, drawing their attention. "And we all haul~!"

"To the west and to the east~!" the other fishers joined him in shanty and flinging of drinks.

The lead reared his head. "And we all haul~!"

"For every man and every beast~!"

"AND WE ALL HAUL~!"

"For thereafter comes the feast~!"

"And the Bitch Queen stays the storm!" they all finished off collectively.

"To another Tenday!" The lead finished by thrusting his drink in the air and the crowd erupted into cheers as the door to the tavern slammed open. The half-orc mutt stood in the doorframe, turning most every head in the tavern.

---

A snippet of this that was too good not to share.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:45, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

As she stood silently in the doorframe, observing the celebratory, joyous atmosphere of the three flags sailing tavern, Mojrah's body became overcome with disgust and disappointment, and the grimace on her face made that fact more than apparent. Moyrah then, rested the harpoon in the pit of her elbow, before adressing the patrons, very loudly. "GOOD FUCKING JOB LADS!" ...She started clapping dramatically... "YOU HAVE MANAGED TO SURVIVE! GOOD FUCKING JOB!".

The sound of the blunt end of Moyrah's harpoon hitting the wooden tavern floor, followed her footsteps, as she made her way to the tavern-keeper. "Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, As the lifeless body of one of our own is swaying back and forth, slowly becoming raven food, you are in here nose deep in your ale, singing and jumping on the tables from joy". Very thought of that scenario, sent chills up Moyrah's back. The memories of her father's corpse, hanging off of the rope, getting pecked at by the scavenger birds, began playing through her mind again and again, and again, and her inability to do anything about it at the time, both saddened and angered her simultaneously. A mug of ale was more than necessary to soothe her aching nerves. "Vegord, A mug of good old amber and foamy please", she turned her attention to the tavern keeper, slamming a coin on the counter.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:29, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

"I'll give ya a drink..." Vegord said. "If ya promise to not make a commotion. Leave yer harpoon at the door, too. The last thing Targos needs is more spilled blood..." He went to pour her some mead.

The drunken fishers were rapt at attention. Most had come to distract themself from their cold, brutal reality, and a distraction had just presented itself. As the fisher's clearly seethed, one had the reason within him to pass on some vital information the half-orc had missed due to not attending the execution. "Herve didn't-"

"SHUT UP, MUTT!" the man atop the table yelled over him, the insult directed at Moyrah accompanied by spit spraying from his mouth. Some others joined him in yelling, flinging every derogatory term they'd managed to scrape together over the course of Moyrah's existence in Targos. "FLAT NOSE! PORK-CHOPS! BOAR-FACE! BEAST-WOMAN!" Even an uninspired, squeaky-voiced 'whore' found its way in there, which even drew some disapproving stares from the fishers around him.

"Maybe we can convince Naerth to hang you next!" the man on the table continued, pointing at her. "Ya can join your pa! Good riddance, I'd say! To the both of ya!"

A stein came flying at Moyrah.

---

Give me a Dex save DC 8, please.

"You know Vegord good and god damn well that this harpoon hasn't left my side ever since my father's passing..." Moyrah said, caressing the runes haphazardly etched, in halfway along the shaft of the harpoon "...But for you, I will leave it outside.". Vegord's sentiment echoed the way Moyrah felt, she was tired of death too, and would gladly wash away the stench it has left on Targos if she could.

As the glass stein flew over her head, and shattered in million glass shards, Moyrah held hers firmly as she turned her back to Vegard to face the crowd "HERVE... WASN'T HANGED... HA HA HA" Moyrah began laughing loudly while slapping her left knee with an unoccupied hand. "That smart son of a knucklehead trout, HA HA HA" She continued to laugh. Elation she felt hearing about the failed execution, threw Moyrah into a laughing fit and made her completely gloss over the insults, which would have otherwise infuriate her.

"Half-breed, She-boar... I have heard it all..." She continued to list other monickers, bestowed upon her by the townsfolk "You all better save up your energy for the tomorrow's fishing. Who knows what awaits us now that we have failed to provide Auril with our weekly offering" Before heading outside to put aside her harpoon, Moyrah tossed another coin to Vegord "Another mug for the brave one, up there", she said  pointing at the man on the table.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:04, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

Vegord looked more than a little annoyed when his stein broke against the wall. "Perhaps this isn't yer place to be, Moyrah," he said upon her return, eyeing the crowd with concern. "Not t'night." Some of the other patrons had turned their backs, but some still stared at her with furrowed brows — including the one atop the table, who stood with his arms crossed over his protruding belly. He looked far from done.

"I don't want your charity, mutt! Especially if it's just a measly coin of silver." He once again revealed his missing teeth as a devious smile crept across his face. "Here's another proposal! You like barking, but we've yet to see you bite. I bet my season's earnings you you'd lose in straight up brawl!" He spread his wings, addressing the crowd as much as the half-orc herself. The man himself looked well beyond his good years, if he'd ever had any. "One on one. No harpoon, no tricks. Fists only."

"Perhaps you are right Vegord, May I have my second coin back?" Moyrah came to terms with what this night might bring, and she didn't want to spend any more time in a place where her presence was not welcome.

After putting the coin back into the brown leather coin pouch, which hanged off of her belt, Moyrah approached the table the man was standing on, while looking him straight in the eyes. Her pace, no matter how slow and calculated it may seem, beamed with bravado and confidence. "Listen to me well, you old, shriveled up shell of a man, if you ever managed to put your hands on me, I doubt you would be able to feed, not only, your wife and children, but yourself too, as both of them will be broken in ten places, beyond any point of healing. Do you understand? And, honestly, It's not like you deserve any less after talking about my father like that" Her voice hitting an antagonistic tone at the end of the sentence. "Lucky for you, If I spent my time fighting ale soaked dried prunes like you around Tagros, I wouldn't have time to focus on
the things that really matter. Bringing fish into this wretched town". Moyrah then turned her back to the drunken man, before adressing him once more as she swung the door of the tavern open "I wouldn't be the one to start a fight, but if you are hellbent on getting the living soul beat out of you, come, and I assure you that the few missing teeth would be the least of your problems by the time the night ends."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:06, Wed 03 Feb 2021.