Located in northern Xhorhas on the banks of the Emerald Gulch and the Ifolon River, Jigow is an amalgamation of coastal villages that were originally settled by several nomadic clans of orcs and goblins. Jigow is now home to humans and other folk as well and the city gained a significant drow population after it became part of the Kryn Dynasty.

The village and townships that make up Jigow are loosely divided into three major areas: The Meatwaters, the main docks area on the shores of the Ifolon River; the Wetwalks, a collection of houses on stilts closest to the wetlands and marshes; and the Jumble. the most densely populated region of the city, where houses are built among mangrove trees or on the backs of horizonback tortoises and used as traveling homes.

Jigow has a council of elders who help its people resolve internal conflicts and a military presence in the form of the Aurora Watch-the soldiers of the Kryn Dynasty. The dynasty also has a political liaison in Jigow: a drow name Durth Mirimm serves as an intermediary between Jigow's elders and the court of the Bright Queen Leylas Kryn. Durth cares more about what Jigow can do for the dynasty that how he can improve the lives of Jigow's citizens.

The Jumble is the heart of Jigow and home to a colorful patchwork of local cultures. The tradition of ancient Xhorhasian peoples, many of them orcs and goblins live on in the peaceful chaos of the Jumble. The twisting unplanned streets give the district its name-a medley of homes, shops, workshops, athletic fields, amphitheaters, shrines, taverns, stables, and public spaces for lively gatherings.

Jigow was built from the sweat of its founders' brows, the strength of their muscles and the music of their voices. In Jigow, any chance to show off one's physical, social, or intellectual prowess is a welcomed one, and there's no opportunity better than the annual festival. On this day, friendly and not so friendly contests between residents are settled. Every public space is filled with festival games, food stalls, or other amenities for merrymakers, and plenty of shops, and private residences have flung their doors wide to join in the revelry.

The adventure begins with the characters entering the Jumble. A large district of tangled roads and single-story buildings in the town of Jigow. Throngs of people, most of them orcs and goblins move through the streets laughing singing and running and sightseeing. All are enthralled by the raucous sights and sounds of the town's Festival of Merit.

You hear snippets of conversations as people pass by: a goblin mother telling her children not to go near the baby horizonback tortoises, a drow guard in shining insectile armor complaining to his partner that his gauntlet was crushed by a hulking orc while arm-wrestling, and a pair of young orcs in swimwear hollering as they rush toward the banks of the Ifolon River.

All around you, colorful signs and banner point toward festival booths surrounded by cheering people. On this street along, you can see meat-pie eating contest near a shop mounted on the back of a massive tortoise and on the other side of the road a banner emblazoned with the words, "Riddles and Rhymes: Unbeatable Riddles!" That banner points toward a three-story temple in the center of the Jumble. The town is yours to explore-where do you want to go?

Lesstry loved every, single, thing here. He had already bartered for some festival food and now as he walked through the jumble his crocodilian mouth full of sharp teeth tore into a big leg of meat. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was deliciously smoked and he was very happy. His home town had a minor get together for the hatching each year, and everyone would prepare food, and there was dancing, and singing. This blew that out of the water in sheer scale, but it also made him a touch homesick.

With a final chomp on the leg of meat he finished it off and discard the bone in a bin. Upon looking down though he noticed a bit of the meat had fallen on his shirt and he shook his head as he swept it off with a flick of his green scaled clawed finger.

"Can't take me anywhere" he said disappointedly at himself. "This was my nice shirt too" he looked around for someplace he might be able to clean it, but then opted to simply close his long leather jacket around his torso to hide the grease stain from the meat. It worked nicely, and only left the collar of his shirt and the his five pointed star sticking out from the v tapered edge at the top of the jacket.

"I wonder if there is anywhere I could show off my shooting skills, maybe get a job..." Lesstry pondered to himself as he began to meander toward larger crowds looking for anyone putting on exhibitions of accuracy.

Romeroz hunched over, his large frame taking up more space than he desired.  He pulled his headband down on his brow, temporarily covering his eyes in hair, only to reverse and pull the excess above to keep his red eyes clear.

He was walking around in public again.  That was unexpected.  And when he passed a drow of the Aurora Watch, who eyed him.  He nodded back.  He knew the guard.  The guard knew him.  And Romeroz realized that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

This was a second chance.  The Elder had made it very clear this needed to be a serious change of heart.

Romeroz watched as many goblinkin passed by him.  Did he recognize any of them from the old neighborhood?  No one made any funny moves.  He chose not to stare.

There was a small troupe of goblins starting a line chant nearby.  They started out subtle, calling out fishing calls.

Slip Bait
Lines Broke
Tides Turn
Days End

Three goblins at the edge of the troupe took up the call and spread it to the edges of the crowd.  Children in the crowd picked it up, and kept it repeating.


Once the pattern was established, a duet developed between the female and male lead singers.

The female sung first

Come back to shore
The home fires call
Your labors done
It's time to dance

The male followed

The boat's tied up
The Monger's left
My purse is full
It's time to dance

Then the full chorus broke out

It's time to dance
Come dance with me.
Till moon is full,
Till sky meets sea,
We'll dance the night,
Till day is come.
Forget your cares,
Come have some fun!

And then the song spun apart.  There were other verses, other voices.  The chorus split, and the children on the edges kept up the fishing calls.  But the full chorus broke out, and people began to dance through the crowd, taking hands with people around and drawing them into the line.

Romeroz found himself with his hands taken up by a hobgoblin maid.  He smiled at her awkwardly.  And then when the chorus ended, he bounced to the side and reached out to a male  dock worker who might have had mixed orcish blood.  The two men bounded into the crowd, and then split again.  And Romeroz looked around for more hands to draw into the dance.

"Will you join me?" he asked.

[OOC: Open invite.  Who takes the scruffy bugbear's hand?]
This message was last edited by the player at 00:45, Wed 04 Jan 2023.

Among the colorful crowd, just another Orc probably wouldn't have stood out. But Thyra wasn't like other Orcs. Even for one of her people, she was a hulking mass of muscle. And even if it weren't for her sheer size, the strange and foreign tattoos and ritual scarring all over her exposed flesh would have drawn an eye or two. She looked like the kind of person that you would not want to meet on a dark night in an even darker alley.

But at the moment, Thyra Thunderstruck looked anything but dangerous. She had a wide grin on her face, tusks flashing white against the dark-green of her skin, and her eyes were half-closed in laughter and contentment. She had already consumed a few casks of ale all her own, and engaged in games of strength, like arm wrestling and tug-of-war. Today was a good day. The burly Orc was now wandering down the street roaring the bawdy songs the fishermen and sailors had taught her that morning.

"I had just come home and I took a room,
I was all settled down to recline,
When I saw a delectable maid go by,
To the room next door to mine
Like the bold pioneers then,
I set out to explore,
And I took up my position by
The keyhole on the door.

The keyhole in the door,
My boys, the keyhole in the door
I took up my position
By the keyhole in the door.

She first took off her slippers,
Her dainty feet to show,
And then she took her panties off
And revealed her so-and-so,
And when she stretched out on her bed,
I couldn't stand no more,
It was one, two, three, I turned the key
In the keyhole in the door

She didn't say a single word.
But she took me in her arms,
And pretty soon I was much engaged,
In charting all her charms
But just in case some other sailor
'D see the sights I saw,
I hung my trousers right above
The keyhole in the door.

That night I rode in glorious style,
And other things besides,
And on her lily white stomach, Boys,
I had such lovely rides
But when I woke next morning, Boys,
My instrument was sore
As if I had been using it
On the keyhole in the door.

Be warned by this, young sailormen
And listen unto me,
What I caught then, no fishermen
Have ever caught at sea
Beware the pox, the hidden rocks,
That lie in wait ashore,
It's safer far to bend your spar
In the keyhole in the door."

By the time she finished that hilarious bit of music, Thyra opened her eyes and found herself in a swarm of people, and proper music from a troupe. Without thinking, he hand flashed out and grasped the hair paw of the one person around who might tower over her if they stood up straight.

"Of course. Just hold on tight my furry friend. I am a tough horse to lead!" she laughed merrily at Romeroz, obviously teasing.

Among the crowd, one of the larger forms moving through was that of a Tortle. Gar was no stranger here to Jigow....though races were varied, Tortles were rare at the best of times. And, given Gar's demeanour, those who knew him either ignored him or moved out of his way

The tortle moved through the people, those moving aside for him. He stood at almost six and a half foot tall, and his look gave people pause Wether to approach him or not - Wether it was his dark grey/Green skin, his curved hawk-like snout and sharp ridged or his pointed shell, Covered in moss....perhaps it was his pure white eyes but whatever it was, there was something that made him look permanently irritated or mad.

And his demeanour often mirrored that. The tortle was kind when needed, often to children but to most he was surly and quiet - almost like a stereotypical dwarf in a tortles Disguise.

Gar moved slowly through the crowd, those niaeve enough to not know him trying to sell wares, he dismissed with a wave of the hand and snort.

He stopped right near the lizardfolk and managed a half smile that seemed more a grimace. "That why I don't wear shirts - why you dress like them is beyond me?""

He leaned against his staff. "....or you could wait like most of these fools and get drunk - then no one would care if you were wearing a dress, let alone a dirty shirt."

"OOooOOooOOooh," Chitterkit murmured as he pondered the meaning of the sign. Did the tent truly promise unbeatable riddles? And if he solved one, would that make him the first to solve it? Or would it force the stall owner to shut down right then and there. After all, how could they continue to call them unbeatable if someone found the answer?

Or perhaps it was just a tiny exaggeration, just to draw attention. Regardless, it certainly worked on this Kobold.

"Maybe want try riddles?" Chitterkit asked the group who was not busy dancing. "What you think, Kukoku?"

The Kobold's owl familiar burst into view with an audible pop and a small burst of feathers. The owl landed on the Kobold's crooked tail and puffed itself up before making a few clicks and hoots.

"Kukoku say yes, what say you?"

"Well, if nothing else, it helps keep my cold blood warm..." Lesstry said to Gar with a grin, an act which exposed even more of his menacing teeth, a disconcerting sight for most of the 'them' that Gar spoke of for sure.

"...I am looking for somewhere to test my skills and possibly attract the attention of someone who has work. Have you seen anyone throwing clay disks into the air, or with candles held in outstretched hands?"

Gar groans as the two speaks and has a grumpy look on his face. "Great....a Kobold who think's he's a worthy scholar of the ages and lizardfolk who's the height of fashon and wants to show off. Next thing you'll be telling me there's a dwarf dressed in drag and kenku poet"

He waved his hand while he looked at Chitterkit. "Go and fry your brain over useless questions gecko...." then Lesstry. "..and if you want to show off, maybe don't use those metal cylinders of death, especially if your complaining of coin"

he started walking, muttering. "If anyone askes me to dance, i'll blind them and set rats on their britches"

---

<OOC: Sorry guys - having fun playing the 'bad mood, surly guy' here>

Lesstry shrugged, Gar's advice was wise if not a bit grumpy. Though he didn't really help with the question of where to ply his trade.

"If you are looking for an audience to show off your knowledge, I'll happily watch, can't know too much I always say" Lesstry said to Chitterkit. "...and maybe afterwards we can find someplace for me to crack a whip or duel someone? I have an itch to show off, like the oversized bowl of soup said" Lesstry grinned to show he was joking about Gar...mostly, turtle soup was delicious.

Gar stopped and poked the lizardfolk with his staff. “Careful….or this bowl of soup will rip your arm off and see if it grows back.” He turned and made his way towards the riddles, hiding a smile.

Lesstry may be fun to be around after all.

Romeroz took up the hands of the orc woman, and smiled, a touch shocked, at her warning.  "I wouldn't call you a horse." Romeroz said, before realizing that she wasn't offended.  And she was smiling.

Romeroz smiled back.  She was an orc, unafraid, holding his hands, wanting to dance.  And he thought she might be smarter than him.

Romeroz was intimidated.

As they danced in the plaza, he reflected on her hands.  The hobgoblin maid had had rough finger tips that felt prickly.  And there was the smell about her.  A tang of salt and urine.    A tanner, most likely.

The half-orc dock worker had hard knuckles and calloused fingers.  Perhaps it was just hauling freight every day, or maybe he was also a musician?

The bold orc woman who had his hands was like iron.  Her fingers were also calloused and her grip was powerful.  A small group of goblin children raced towards the pair, and Romeroz anticipated their motion, drawing his partners hands up high, so that the children danced between their legs and past them.  She held his hands tightly, and it took most of his strength to both draw her arms up.  And Romeroz inherited his mother's great strength, so that was saying something. He watched her footwork, and her steps were sure and measured.  He realized she was no ordinary worker.  She was a warrior.

Perhaps he was outpacing her with his steps, but she was game, and that meant she was also fun.

She was fun to dance with.

Romeroz allowed himself a smile.  "You're not a horse, but you are a good dancer.  I... I'll be sorry to let you go."

Romeroz paused afterwards and realized that might be taken many ways.  And he had no idea how she would take it.

...We'll dance the night,
Till day is come.
Forget your cares,
Come have some fun!

The chorus was ending.  Romeroz brought his companion to the edge of the crowd.  "I hope you find another good dancer."  And he let go of her fingers.

"Riddles not silly!" Chitterkit yapped indignantly before amending his retort, "...well, sometimes silly. But Chitterkit like see what questions otherfolk think hard to answer. Maybe easy for Kobold." The diminutive wizard finished with a shrug and turned his attention to Lesstry's request.

"Hmmmm.... Hmmm, hmm, hmm..." the Kobold hummed to himself as he puzzled over a potential solution.

"Will 'tricks' work?" he asked. Chitterkit fetched his crooked green crystal and waved his free claw over it. An archery target flickered into view above the ground, angled safely so that any shot would go away from the crowd.

"Not real, just teensy, tiny, tricksy trick. Won't pop, but give something for Lesstry to shoot, yes?" To emphasize his wizard's point, Kukoku took flight and glided through the target before landing back on Chitterkit's tail.

Thyra accepted the Bugbear's lead with a fierce grin and an enthusiastic flourish. It was clear that she could have flipped a wagon if she wanted to, but in this instance she was giving a light touch. Not that it seemed to matter, as the Bugbear seemed to both be attentive and furtive at the same time. Perhaps it was a result of his clear agility and coordination, but the burly Orc got the impression that despite the merriment of the moment, he was keeping track of their surroundings almost as much as he was paying attention to his dance partner.

When the chorus finished their song, Thyra allowed herself to be lead to the edge of the crowd. As the Bugbear expressed sorrow at her leaving, a ghost of a frown flitted across her verdant features.

"I often have that problem..." Thyra replied, not with arrogance, but what sounded like mild regret.

"I'm sure I will. But what about you? I thought I had a keen eye, but you are practically counting the shadows. You wanted by the law or something?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow, intrigued enough to ask the question at least.

Romeroz stopped and looked immediately to the Aurora Watch guards nearby.  And the dance line moved past them as he lost the pace.

The guards swept their eyes across the crowd.  And they didn't blink at Romeroz.

He looked to the warrior woman.  "No, I'm not wanted anymore."

He paused, and pointed the closest guard out.  "That one, Taurun, he's the rougher one around here, but he's also really religious.  I don't know his partner.  But I probably know at least 5 others around here.  I'm good with them, though, at the moment."

Romeroz paused, and then considered again.  "No.  Elder Umreit said I need to be certain."  He closed his red eyes, and then reopened them.  "I have no problems with the Aurora Watch.  And I am a positive member of society."

He looked about, and then at his companion.  "My mother named me Romeroz.  People have called me many names, though.  I have a lot of nicknames.  So you may pick any you like."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
OOC: He pronounced the name /Row-may-rose/.  Many nicknames are possible.

---

Gar snorted at Chitterkit. "You want a riddle - why in the nine hells would anyone want to have a party that involves the whole damn reigon - i mean look at these people....buying stuff they don't need so they will sell it all again next year."

He walked on and as the kobold made a target, he groaned. "You do realise anything shot up there has to come down?" He shook his head. "Dasmn fools....you do  that and you'll hit the leader of this town - what would you call it, mayor, warlord" he shrugged. "...whatever"

"Well, now hold on there Soupy, it's not a bad attempt a solution to the problem. But I'm no good at fluffing a crowd..." Lesstry said to the grumpy Gar. "...Are either of you? If so then I can do an acrobatic shot like this..." Lesstry showed the two his plan to run and jump off some nearby crates, pull his pistol, and shoot at a downward angle at the target so that the bullet would strike a nearby hay pile instead of flying off into the air randomly. During his instruction he pantomimed, with sound effects, "...and then I end it by tucking into a roll and then back to my feet with my gun like this. What do you think, could be fun?" he had not pulled his weapon but instead just held two hands together with his clawed lizard fingers as the barrel of his revolver.

Gar glared at the lizardfolk, strange with his milky white eyes. "Soupy? Surely you have better than that buttercup" He watched as he went through the plan. When finished, the tortle clapped (clearly sarcastically) "Congratulations....you've now reached the status of a trained lizard. Do you eat meat on command?"

He slammed his staff against the ground with a snort. "Maybe for your next trick you can attempt to find what's left of your pride"

The tortle shook his head and looked at the Kobold. "C'mon tiny - lets see if you can outwit these fools."

Lesstry could feel his stomach rumble at the mention of meat, but took Gar's comment with a grain of salt. "Alright Shellback, have it your way. Let's go answer riddles instead"

Lesstry would find his time in the spotlight, but for now he was more interested with just having the companionship, that feeling of missing home didn't pull as hard at him around others.

Thyra looked around and made note of the guards and their personal information provided by the Bugbear. She wasn't expecting any trouble with the law during her revelry, but one should always plan for the worst. When the odd man introduced herself, the burly Orc clasped his forearm and gave it a vigorous shake as was common as a warrior's greeting.

"Hail and well met Romeroz. I am Thyra Thunderstruck of Boroftkrah. I don't have any nicknames, nor do I care to," she rumbled happily, the drink adding a bit more enthusiasm than usual.

"Well then, if you aren't on the run, tell me why you look for nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs? Maybe you should crack open a few casks of ale and relax. This is a festival after all..." the Orc asked with all the sagely wisdom of a reveler.

One of Jigow's elders is fond of making up riddles. He has come up with several new ones for the festival this year.

An elderly goblin in blue robes presides over a set of three tables. One table holds a wooden box, the second displays a glittering star map of the Exandrian sky, and on the third rests a row of colored bottles. A banner hanging over the setup reads,


Various challengers are trying to solve the riddles, including a thin drow male. The goblin Elder Colbu Kaz, stands nearby, watching over the challenge.

Table One

On this table are a locked wooden-box and four metal keys. On a placard beside the box is written the following riddle in Common:

Bronze, copper, silver gold-
Ancient ones from tales of old.
Match the key to the box's lock;
A mistaken choice begets a shock.



[OOC: Yay! Well done everyone. The riddle challenge will occur at the upper left portion of the map/image displayed. Please keep in mind that the streets are flooding with little (or not so little orc children) festival goers and creatures of all shapes and sizes.]

Romeroz's ears perked up as the nearby elder spoke.  Riddles were not his strong suit, but Thyra's suggestion to enjoy the festival encouraged him.

"I... will drink some ale with you, Thyra.  But not a lot.  I don't want to drop my guard.  There are people who don't like me."

Romeroz moved towards a vendor with an open tap, and fishing in his pouch he pulled out coin enough for an ale for himself and Thyra.  Handing the larger mug over to her, he walked slowly through the crowd.  "How do you get a great name like Thunderstruck?  That sounds like a story."

As he talked, he watched the crowd, but his eyes kept going back over to the boxes.  Opening boxes was a fun idea.