The early day of March wasn't looking out to be merry. Ugly gray clouds have been rolling overhead ever since daybreak - or maybe before that, but it couldn't be seen in the moonless night. The fishing boats were mostly tied down, very few of the hardened folk decided to go out to sea this morning.

Kjorff, the most prominent fish trader, with a small fleet of his own, was already hawking his wares, from cold fresh fish to pickled ones, and the only attractive part of the day seemed to be the roasting fish stakes sprinkled with gratuitious amounts of pepper, a favorite of seasoned boatmen.

Most of the merchants were just setting up their stalls, though of course, they would sell any time someone came up to them.

OOC
For some reason or other, all PCs need to be here. Buying stuff is just one of them, you might be selling, or looking for news, or a ship, or anything else that justifies being near the docks but not exactly there.

Also, I'd like a Perception check for everyone, called "market opening perception". No need to post them.

Ilimak

The hulking armored figure of Ilimak neared the dockside market as the first light of day lightened the seas. He came regularly, searching for something. Two or three times a day he walked the docks looking for some clue of something, though he rarely spoke to people and his size intimidated most from speaking to him.

One of these days... I will find you, he thought to himself. He was eager to reach the docks and search through the ships for something to go on.

He had been in town and making his presence known for weeks now, so he drew less stares than he had before, but still his armored form tended to give most people pause. He paused to looked out over the market and heaved a sigh as he thought to himself, vengence is best served cold, but on days like today, I could use some fiery vengeance.

Ragnfridr

The problem with sneaking up on Fate was that Fate was ALWAYS watching.  So, the trick was to do something else until Fate got curious and WHAM! you spring the trap.

So came a tall man--wiry and gnarled like the pine tree--to the dockside market, pack heavy with furs to sell.

He set down his pack at an empty stall and adjusted his owlbear cloak to better cover his tattooed limbs, "Dead animals skins...get you dead animal skins." he said with an utter lack of enthusiasm, "Make them into coats...or leather or something...I really don't care."

He was never going to get customers at this rate...

Steinkel
The early chill of March invigored Steinkel's soul as he marched into town toward the market. The ugly gray clouds were just as much a part of nature as beautiful, radiant dawn, so Kel took a moment to reflect upon it to see if there was any information there for him to divine. Moving through town, he looked out toward the docks and noticed the fishing boats mainly were tied down, very few of the hardened folk enduring the weather and going about their business. These people's stoic endurance was why Kel could not give up on the Vanir, for not all of them could be corrupted by the soothing balm of luxury and excess.

Kel had a wide circuit which he had claimed has his territory, and entering town; he looked a little wild-touched. He had hunted,  received the blessings of the land (as his kinfolk had instructed those of the blood generation after generation), and today he would share that bounty. Returning to the market, Kel found himself drawn to Kjorff's stand upon which he unloaded all manners of bones and stretched tendons.

"Kjorff!" Kel said.

"Kjorff, you know me, and I come to offer you fair trade. Strong bones to hook your fish and to lighten your spears and more materials for strong nets."

"This meat is a gift from mine to yours so that you do not wither and die from eating less robust meats." Kel said with the beginnings of a smile.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:06, Mon 29 Mar 2021.

Molos

The half-orc necromancer strode through the crowd with people unknowingly moving out of his way without paying attention to him, almost as though it was choreographed. He wore simple clothing, a charcoal-gray robe held closed by a belt of grouping of leather cords knotted into segments. Hanging from his belt were a dagger and tome on one side, and large and small pouch on the other. He carried a staff topped with an onyx stone and a short branch of twisting wood that jutted off to the side providing a perch for an odd bird that seemed a mix between an eagle and a vulture, with yellow too-large eyes.

His appearance made him stick out enough as it was, but he also carried a pack loaded with weapons. The tops of two shortbows stuck out from the main pocket, and a quiver of arrows hung from either side. Strapped across the front of the pack were four shortswords in their scabbards.

Today he searched the market, but not for wares or trinkets or baubles. Today he searched for warriors who sought more than life in this shit place and serving those who sought to lead them. Molos had had his fill of it all, and there were...things out there in the world.

Things so far beyond raiding and looting, beyond...

Things...

Molos realized his eyes had been staring at a boy who now laid curled at his feet, hands guarding his face. Molos's mind had been elsewhere entirely, and he had no memory of even noticing the boy before his thoughts had run away with him. He felt the presence of the sun on his back, not its heat just the presence, noting it was merely three minutes that had passed. Still, he had no idea when in that time his gaze had settled on the boy. He waved his hand, and the ground beneath the lad leapt in a swelling wave from his feet up to his shoulders, leaving him standing and stumbling to catch his footing so as to stay that way. cast Mold Earth

With a jerk of his head, he motioned for the boy to be on his way, then broke eye contact with him and carried on in his search for others who were ready for a different life, one that would see them Chosen. Chosen to share their stories as they feasted with gods, and to see them wielding axe and sword in the last and greatest battle.

He looked up at Räsvelg, meeting the bird's large eyes, then made a small circular motion with his off hand. The bird spread its wings and shot forward, flapping and rising above the crowd to circle from above, looking for evidence that warriors worthy of such a cause could be found this day. His own eyes turned black, filled as though with a quick pouring of tar, and the bird's eyes became his own.

One stood out almost immediately, for obvious reasons, but there would be no losing him in this crowd, so Molos continued his search. The giant of a man had something important on his mind, and Molos wished for a moment that he could read minds as easily as he could lips. That was a warrior Molos would like fighting on his side.

Finding that one again would not be a challenge, however, so the bird continued to circle and search out others.

Hrafn

Hrafn, moved through the market with caution. He hadn't been well received in this place. As such he kept his cloak close about him and the hood drawn. He stopped at a few stalls to inquire about recent ships arriving. He mostly got hard stares from the venders. A few waved him off with a word of threat. Thus the day seemed to match his mood. Grey and cold. Letting out a heavy breath, Hrafn leans against a building as he scans the market. He didn't expect to find them wondering about the market, but at least he was looking. How long had it been since he left the safety of his homeland? He had traveled further than he would have expected, and still was no closer to going home. Looking up, Hrafn scans the sky for the Hawk that accompanied him. Seeing it circling high above brought a brief smile to the mans face. At least he had one friend in these far off lands.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:33, Sat 03 Apr 2021.

Steinkel

"Here, check here." Steinkel said as he stuffed a bone dagger into Hrafin's hand. "Barely the weight of a whisper. A fine blade to fend of threats of nature or to still the tongue of a drunkard." Steinkel said as he urged Hrafin to try out the weight of the blade.

"See, feels good does it not?"

As to defy Ilimak's wish, the wind picked up and sent a chilling wave all over the market. The veteran residents just shook themselves, warming up, but some cast an angry look up the sky.

A person in tattered clothes stopped at Ragnfridr's little 'shop' and checked out what he was selling. "You don't happen to have any skulls, do you?" he asked with a crooked smile. By his accent, he was not a native, and the hermit has never heard an accent like that.

Kjorff shot a suspicious glance at what Steinkel offered. "Hmmm. Let me see first." and he reached out with a hand.

The boy stumbled out of the way of Molos, and he could easily follow now the large warrior.

People openly eyed Hrafn with suspicion, some with disgust, and he heard one already drunk sailor spit in disgust after passing him.

Ragnfridr


Rag was watching the sky with consternation.  The clouds were jumpy today and not just in a 'oh! that one kind of looks like a bunny' sort of way.  Nope, that was definitely a snake made out of weather.  He couldn't tell if it was merely the WORST omen he'd ever seen in his life or an actual monster about to descend from the heavens, but he wasn't about to dismiss it as 'not important'

Speaking of not important, Rag had a customer.  He tore his eyes away from the sky and looked at the man like he'd grown a second head, "Now why would I have skulls?  What farmer or sailor is going to take a look at my shop and go 'hmmm, these furs are nice and useful, but what I really want is the box a weasel keeps its brain in'?  Sorry, friend, but any skulls I had went into the stock pot for bone broth."

In retrospect, maybe he should have brought some of THAT up...everyone needed good broth in their life.

Oh wait, he was technically trying to make a sale.  He forced himself to keep talking while giving the heavens the stink-eye, "However, if you give me a week and a list, I can certainly get you whatever animal bits you need--skulls included..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:55, Wed 07 Apr 2021.

Molos

"Keep an eye on him for me," he sent his familiar telepathic instruction as his own attention was drawn elsewhere.

Molos glanced down at the now swirled earth before him, leaning down to get a closer look. He moved a hand across the air between him, fingers moving as though writing or drawing as he went, "Veils do part, and eyes go keen. Scents and touches then are seen." cast Detect Magic, sense all around me, then focus on what I saw previously
This message was lightly edited by the player at 14:09, Tue 13 Apr 2021.

Steinkel


Steinkel produced his literal bag of bones. It might have been a rough sack before but now it was coated with blood and all other times of fluids. "See, look here-you are welcome." Steinkel said with a smirk.