Chapter 0: The Grinning Lizard Taproom

Grinning Lizard Taproom: Westgate, Avalon

You find yourselves sitting around a battered table in the Grinning Lizard Taproom. You've got a lot of company this evening, and that company is only swelling as hoards of dockworkers and teamsters file in from the day shift. The bartender is keeping pretty busy, slinging frothy mugs down the bar at a staggering rate. Barely floating over the din of the crowd is a light, jaunty tune courtesy of the Grinning Lizard's in-house bard.

You are meeting this evening with a small group of other people ready to head out and make a name for themselves as adventuring heroes, though who knows if any of you actually know how to pull it off...

Eldoran enters the crowded bar and looks around for the table that they had decided to meet at. He's rather excited to meet the group, and also apprehensive. Dressed in his traveller's clothing, he inches through the crowd, ducking around other patrons, and pauses at the bar to get himself a mug of ale. He doesn't know if he's the first to arrive or not, but if he has to wait a bit, he wants something to justify his presence.

Reaching the table, he takes a seat and offers anyone else sitting there a quick, slightly shy smile. "Hi."

Zazi counts herself lucky that she arrived at the bar earlier, because as crowded as it was then, it's worse now. If she hadn't gotten here when she did, they probably wouldn't even have the table. She is sitting forward in her seat with her gloves laying on the table before her, as she removed because she got too hot. Aside from that, she is wearing a clean-as-she-could-manage-on-a-short-notice linen shirt over her studded leather armor, leather breeches tucked into her boots, bow on her back, dagger on her belt, and greatclub at her feet. Her eyes watch the crowd, wondering who else among it might be a potential companion.

She nods to the man who joins and returns his smile with a friendly one of her own. "Hey. You here for the adventurin' group?"

To say that the elven lands had absolutely nothing like a crowded taproom was to state the bleedingly obviously, but being obvious doesn't keep the sudden reality of the statement from striking home. Tarathel paused in the door, not out of fear but simply surprise; what got him moving again was simple awareness that he was blocking traffic.

As he stepped in, he performed a quick and rote gesture with his hand, tapping first a small pouch at his belt, then the holy symbol at his neck, then the tip of his unstrung bow where it projected above his shoulder. Abstractly satisfied that each was in order, he slipped through the crowd with a grace that was credit to any tales of his people to join the table where the people who were, let's face it, fairly obviously adventurers had gathered.

"Good evening," he said, making a motion with his hands that was a highly-circumscribed gesture of benediction to the pair.

Oh thank goodness, friendliness. He'd been half-expecting a surly bunch of grizzled adventurers and that would have just been embarrassing. Eldoran grins at Zazi and jumps up to offer her a bow, then looks at their newest member. He looks Tarathel up and down and - with a tiny, inner eyeroll at the holy symbol, he resumes his seat.

"Evening to both of you. I am here for the adventuring group. My name's Eldoran Thorinson, and I live in town here. And you, miss? Sir elf? Do you live in Westgate?"

As Ski come in she has to shoulder her way through the crowd because it wouldn't be take lightly if she unsheathed her weapon here. So she tries to make for the table and as she gets there leans her sheathed weapon against the table, makes sure she won't sit on her hair and sits down.

"Hi, you guys are the adventuring group. I am Ski."

Zazi (haha we've been forgetting the header!)

People are starting to show up in a steady trickle. Zazi turns her friendly smile to each newcomer in turn. "It's good to meet you, Eldoran, Ski, sir elf. Call me Zazi." She inclines her head, partly because a proper bow would require more room than she'd be able to get if she stood, partly because this is just plain easier. "To answer your question, Eldoran, no, I'm not from around here. I'm not new to Westgate, though."

Tarathel

'Sir elf', an interesting phrase. Implying both that he had been knighted in some fashion, and that his most distinguishing feature was his race.

Well, on second thought, it was, and that brought a brief smile to his face.

"My name is Tarathel," he said, taking a seat at the table like flowing water. He might have said more in that breath, but he found himself looking at Ski with no small amount of surprise. That weapon was not to be believed! He wasn't entirely certain he could lift it.

Clearing his throat and withdrawing his gaze from her astounding blade with some effort of will, he placed his hands on the table, palms up. "I am itinerant; I suppose I could always return to my family, but that is not the place I would call 'home' now. I make no pretense of being knowledgeable or skilled in 'adventuring', but I would like to learn."

Khirrish

Khirrish is no stranger to the clamorous, crowded nature of taprooms; in fact, it's an atmosphere she prefers. Wearing a smile under the veil, she darts between patrons with an ease not usually reserved for one of her stature. Before reaching the table she takes a moment to eye those already assembled. Her gaze bounced from one to another, attempting to match faces with the expectations her mind had previously readied.

Close enough.

"Greetings," she said, when beside the group. With a polite nod, she took a seat at the table and crossed one leg over the other.

Nodding and looking curiously over each of them, Eldoran offers greetings to each of the newcomers, giving his name in return. "Is this all of us, do you think?" he muses. It certainly does seem like a sizable party, enough to go adventuring with.

[Congratulations, Malathyne. You have earned the first Action Point of the game for remembering the header.]


"Not just yet," a masculine voice states, remarkably clear over the din of the crowd. A man, hovering somewhere in early middle age, materialized out of the crowd, taking a seat at the table. He is dressed in heavily worn leather armor, and sports a rough beard over a pock-marked face. "I believe you have one more guest arriving before too long."

You all recognize this man, in some fashion, as the person who organized your meeting. He never gave a name, simply promising to introduce you to the kinds of people who would make the adventuring lifestyle a bit easier to take to.

He reaches out into the crowd and snags a tankard from a passing barmaid. "My name is Kendall Berrik. Drinks'll be on me tonight."

Tarathel

Would questioning if this taproom had anything that would pass for a suitable drink for someone with actual taste buds be trite, cliches, and perhaps casually speciesist of the elf? Probably, but that wouldn't stop him. Still, determined to adapt to the human world rather than insist it adapt to him -- and not precisely slopping over with money to burn -- he nodded his thanks to the man.

They hadn't immediately rejected him... which he ascribed to them possibly not knowing any better, but nevertheless, he had more listening to do than he did talking at the present.

Zazi

Zazi returns the veiled newcomer's nod and offers her the same smile she greeted the others with, but before she can respond, the man responsible for their gathering appears and draws her attention. "Thank you, Mr. Berrik." Her smile turns into a grateful grin.

She swivels in her chair and cranes her neck in an attempt to locate a barmaid. Once found, she stands to flag her down. While waiting for the barmaid to push through the crowd, Zazi turns back to the others. "Barmaid's comin', if anyone else wants to order."

Eldoran relaxes slightly at the arrival of someone at least somewhat familiar. He doesn't know for certain if he can trust this man, but he doesn't really trust anyone in business further than he must anyway. He smiles and inclines his head. "Good to see you again, Mr. Berrik." He does have an ale already, and he doesn't need another, so when the barmaid comes, he's ready to wave her on to serve the others at their table.

Talon

The last bodyguard job had taken longer than he would have liked. He disliked being late to a meeting but the fates had deemed it that the day had to have plenty of distractions in the form of unsavory encounters. Nevertheless, the imposing figure finally ducked into the taproom and looked around.

He hadn't had a chance to wear something more 'casual' but in reality he would have come in his work armor anyways considering he was in 'civilized' lands. With a nod for no particular reason, the tall figure stepped through the crowd, almost seemingly parting it with his will instead of them simply moving aside as they noticed him approach. He wasn't a stranger to the reactions his kin got, but at this point in his life it bothered him little.

Once there, Talon gave a curt nod and took a seat before saying a simple work in his gruff voice, "Evenin'."

Ski

"Hello Berrik." Ski waits as patiently as she knows how for the barmaid to arrive, she did after all have a long walk today and is rather thirsty and not amused that she didn't think to get a drink when she arrived.

Berrik nurses his ale, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, since it looks like everyone's here, we might as well get started. I've brought you all together because you have potential as adventurers, and that's something that I have a keen interest in. I have my reasons for getting effective adventurers out in the field, but you don't need to worry about that. And I don't ask anything in return for my help, save a mug or two of decent ale should you strike it rich."

Berrik leans forward, thunking his ale down on the table. "So, what can I do to help you folks out?"

Tarathel

Great Corellon! Tarathel nearly kicked over the table in surprise as Talon approached. He bit down the reaction quickly under the cover of Ski's greeting and Barrik's opening words. Hastily composing himself -- after all, if this group is willing to allow an elf in, why shouldn't it allow.. others? -- he touched the holy symbol around his neck for focus, then spoke.

"I, for one, am quite new to both this area and this business. I can reason out most of the basics, but perhaps some advice on where a group of adventurers might be most needed would not go amiss?"

Berrik shrugs. "Well, there's plenty of work to be had, if you've got a mercenary streak. You won't have to look far, between the merchant's quarter, the Guilds, and such. If you're more into the helping the poor and defending the weak thing, there's several major temples that I'm sure would be appreciative of the help." He nods at Tarathel's holy symbol. "Not that I had to tell you that."

He leans back again, stretching. "If you're into more traditional adventuring, the Wayfinder Association might be your style, though they're typically invitation-only, so you'll have to buddy up to one of their members."

Zazi

She can't help but blink rapidly at the arrival of the last member of the group. She recovers well enough to keep herself from staring. It's not her first time seeing a half-orc out in the open like this, and besides, there are more important things at hand, the least of which being the arrival of her drink.

"Happen to know if anyone in the Association would be willing to let us run an errand or two for them?" Not that Zazi is especially against the rest of the options; this is just the one that interests her the most. She wouldn't shy from normal freelance work, but the idea of belonging to a dedicated adventuring group appeals strongly to her. Besides, that would likely open up resources they wouldn't be able to access otherwise. She takes a drink from her tankard. "Though, I suppose if not, we could make a name for ourselves through other means and hope we catch their eye..."

Eldoran barely blinks at the arrival of the half-orc, just greeting them the same as the others before focusing on Berrik's words. "We should probably all share our areas of expertise, as well, though I don't know if Mr. Berrik needs to be here for that. If we know what we're good at, it might help focus our search for work."

Talon

The idea of belonging to a group mildly interests the tall half-orc, however, he wasn't expecting the variety and if history were to repeat itself, being amongst the 'normal' folk wouldn't last long for someone like him... Or seemingly the other half-orc in the group?

Regardless, the one who gathered them together had piqued the nomad's curiosity and if the winds of fate had brought him here, he'd at least listen to the whole story before making a decision. For now, he remained silent, studying the group as they spoke.

Ski


Ski sighs and says in a measured tone "So long as Ski does not have to watch and protect babies and invalids Ski is happy."

Tarathel

At Eldoran's comment, Tarathel smiled, just a quick flash. "Well, I think some of our areas of expertise are obvious," he said quietly, both touching his medallion and glancing to that whopper of a sword again. Yes, it continued to fascinate him, though when Ski spoke it raised more questions. "Out of curiosity," he said, diplomatically, "why those objections?"

Privately, Tarathel wondered if her third-person references were an affectation or a sign that she'd been born to another tongue and only come across Common later in life.

"Some, sure," Eldoran agrees, smiling wryly. "But I'm sure we all have surprises." He glances at Ski curiously. "Some objection to babies?"