Of Wizards and Dragons - CH27 ET (Open)

[Motley]

Life on the street was often like a second skin for Motley, it was all too familiar and comfortable. Although he'd never walked the streets of the Citadel before, there was something easy about navigating them for the ugly little bard. He learned in his many travels, that many places were often like another. The sea meant docks and harbors, and harbors meant inns and taverns, and those who worked at both often lived nearby, so homes and shelters were close as well.

This place was not much different. The sea air provided a certain difference in smells than the Mer, but the cry of seagulls and the creak of rigging was largely the same, as were the stares of passersby, and the rough and tumble sailors rowdy ways. He meandered along until he found the Burpin' Dragon.

The Burpin Dragon is a two floor friendly Inn for those travelers down on their luck. Run by an odd couple, this Inn caters to the poor and kind of heart. Here a man or woman can get experienced advice, new jokes and a place to stay for a very low price. Bardic and roguish people tend to frequent this Inn the most. Bards share their talents and compete in a friendly atmosphere, while rogues can feel safe and secure for a night.

The well decorated foyer contains a grumbling old dwarf behind a desk, a place to hang your coat, a few comfy seats to rest in while waiting to check in, and a few baked goods to sample while your relaxing. A stairway leads up to the second floor and a doorway leads into the Bar, where sounds of merry fun can be heard.

Motley made it sure it was alright to proceed upstairs first by checking in with the dwarf behind the desk. Once he was by Bill, whom he learned was the dwarf's name, he made his way into the taproom of the dragon. The place smelled wonderful. After losing his earlier meal to portal sickness, he had found his land legs again, and his stomach rumbled with hunger. He ordered a meal and flagon of ale and watched the people of this new place in wonder as he waited for his food to arrive.

[Mikkel]

It had been a long day for Mikkel, lost and confused on the city streets; he had finally found himself at his destination: The Burpin' Dragon. With a sigh of relief, he stepped off of the cold and wet streets to the dry and relatively warm interior.

Scanning the room he soon spotted the dwarf sitting behind a desk. He made his way over and stood before the dwarf.

"Good tide, sir," Mikkel said. "I'm in need of a place to stay."

[Rhoddin]

It had been a long day and a half for the young bard. After leaving the dead scout and the aheil to his own devices, Rhoddin had headed into the Citadel further searching for lodgings and somewhere to lay his head. As it happened he chanced upon the Burpin' Dragon and had managed to secure lodgings for a while at least.

Following his first decent meal for days the young bard had retired to his room, and slept the sleep of the truly exhausted, only coming awake late morning tide of the 27th. After a brief meal, Rhoddin had decided to explore his surroundings and had embarked on a short walk, before returning to the "Dragon".

Entering the taproom he spied a face he was hardly likely to forget, and after ordering a tankard of ale from the closest waitress, the bard made a bee line for the small ugly man eating an enormous meal.

"Well if I don't believe my eyes it's the mighty minstrel himself. Well met Motley! How do you fare my friend?"

[Motley]

Lost in the wonders of his braised and buttered capon and wild, peppered greens, (which was actually a plain roasted chicken on a bed of wilted lettuce and old cabbage, but his imagination was a fertile place that allowed him to indulge himself in the fantasy of a much tastier, much more elaborate meal) Motley enjoyed his meal in content oblivion.

So much so, that even when a familiar face in this unfamiliar place swam into his vision, it took a moment to shake him out of his culinary reverie.

"Rhoddin!"

The ugly little bard's eyes must have been as large as saucers such was his surprise.

Motley gestured for his fellow musician and performer to sit with him.

"Please, join me if you can. I am faring quite well. Much better than the last time you saw me. I believe I had just taken quite a beating from one of those rust colored Roques and I was as bruised and battered as an apple that hit every branch on its way to the ground. How are you? Is Reise with you?"

[Meridiuz]

Bill hadn't been paying much attention to Motley and Rhoddin as they both gestured that they were going to the bar. He merely grunted and waved with his hand to say that it was ok.

When Mikkel came up to his desk, Bill was busy working through a small pile of papers. Mikkel could see te dwarf was having trouble handling the papers with his left hand. The right hand was wrapped in bandages and the dwarf did not use it. It was apparent from all the curses that left Bill's mouth that working with his left hand alone wasn't going so well. Finally he just shoved all the papers aside in one sweep over the desk.

Looking up at the young man he grunted. "Aye, we've got some rooms available to yah. 2 Lance a'night. Includes room and three meals. Pay in advance. Interested?"

[Mikkel]

"Two lance a night," Mikkel repeated, saying it more to himself than to the dwarf. He glanced in his coin purse and pulled out the appropriate amount, looks like he could afford to stay here for a total of two nights.

He needed to find work.

"Two lance," he said again, this time to Bill. He handed the coins over. The price included meals. At the mention of food he became acutely aware of the barreness of his stomach.

"Does that also include ale?" he asked. He'd had an ale only once when his uncle had come over with a cask and handed him a mug. If it weren't for the mug being handed directly to him, he was certain that he never would have been given the opportunity to taste it.

He found himself briefly staring at the dwarf's bandaged hand. Though he wan't sure he wanted to hear the answer, he had to ask. "What happened to your hand?"

[Rhoddin]

Rhoddin smiled as his former companion recognized the taller bard.

"I fare reasonably well. Nothing that effects me that is too say, although I seem to have stumbled into a mess that I'd rather be out of, still can't complain now can I."

The thought of Reise brought a slight wince to the bard."I'm glad to see you fare better than last we met. As for Reise, well I'm not too sure. We parted ways in World's Mouth. not long after that horrendous explosion ripped through the place.

"Seems she had a better offer. Still probably for the best, I seemed to lead her into situations I shouldn't lead a young woman into. Still I do miss her .." And for just a flicker or two Rhoddin was elsewhere with his thoughts.

With a small shake he brought himself back too the present. "And what bings a bard so talented as your good self to the Citadel Master Motley? Do you seek further fame and fortune, or has that already befallen you?" The familiar twinkle had returned to Rhoddins eyes as he jested with his fellow bard.

[Motley]

Motley carefully took in the hint of sadness and resignation at the other man's words. It was apparent that Rhoddin and Reise had a parting of their own. He decided not to push the issue as it seemed to be a scar still healing.

"Well she seemed to be a headstrong and independent one to me. Perhaps it is for the best."

After that, he vowed that unless Rhoddin brought it up again, he wouldn't say another word. His own heart still mourned for Phelissia in the now far away DragonsKeep, and so he knew how to tread delicately around a wounded heart.

He laughed Rhoddin's jest about his skills and purpose.

"No sir. I intend to have and lose several fortunes, as well as have several brushes with fame in my lifetime. I am still seeking the first in either, but actually I've come seeking a friend. Well, not so much a friend as a man I've heard of and want to speak with, but that is a story for later perhaps."

Motley took a long pull from his tankard and wiped the foam from his lips with a sleeve.

"Now then. Tell me of this mess you'd rather be out of. Perhaps it is something I can help with. I had not expected to see friends here, and now that I have, I may as well do what I can to assist. I'll not have fine, upstanding people in messes they'd rather not be in. What is it, and what can I do?"

[Rhoddin]

Rhoddin smiled as Motley spoke of his future intentions, it seemed the smaller man had an interesting future planned for himself.

At the mention of the mess Rhoddin found himself in, the taller bard sighed.

"I'll not speak of it in detail here, there are perhaps ears that should not hear the full story, yet.

"Let us say I met a man upon arriving in the Citadel, who I had perhaps mistaken for someone else. In fact the man I met, at least initially, was most unlike his reputation.

"Still it seems that others who perhaps knew him better than I, decided upon a course of action, to umm, remove him from whatever canvas they see as the Citadel.

"As it transpired, it was they who were removed, and although this man seemed to be injured, I'm not sure mind you, he did seem to slip away before any permanent harm befell him.

"But now I am left in a quandary. Which of these people do I believe, and what am I too do with what I know, well rather suspect, not actually know." The young man was silent for a flicker.

"Do you know what a Thufu feather is? I think it's a poison, but I'm only guessing really."

[Motley]

Motley listened to Rhoddin's relaying of the events carefully. Although his friend was clearly and deliberately leaving out the specifics and a great deal of detail, the story itself was still rather clear.

Seems there was some sort of attempted murder or assassination, and his friend had been a part of it, or at the very least a witness. Now a few yahren ago, the ugly little bard would have been completely shocked and surprised by such events, thinking they only took place in the songs and stories he made up for his performances. But over the past few yahren, Motley's eyes had been opened up to entirely different worlds. The seedy underbellies of cities and towns, and the game of thrones that their rulers played to gather and stay in power had brushed away his naivety and ignorance of such things. It was not the event Rhoddin described that was shocking, it was the fact that his friend had been involved at all that he found surprising.

"Well sir, that is a quandary indeed. You could base your belief on what you know of each, or perhaps it would be best to seek out more information on each party. Find out who they are and what sort of standing each has. Of course none of this makes any difference when lives are at stake, so it's probably best to go with your gut instinct about who you think is right."

"A thufu feather? I'm sorry, I've never heard of it. Is there a bird called a thufu? Poison you say..."

Motley rubbed the side of scarred nose in thought.

"Were I at home, I would seek out La Libram Excellance, and research it. Here in this city? There has to be someone who knows of such poisons and things. Some apothecary somewhere should know."

He wiped his chin on his napkin and pushed his plate away.

"I do not know what Gods you pray to my friend, but a temple is a good place to start. Healers and physics deal with poisons and injuries of all kinds. Perhaps a stop to you local temple might be a good place to turn to now. I can likely help if you wish..."

[Meridiuz]

Bill accepted Mikkel's payment and he grabbed the coins clumsily with his left hand. "Thank ye. Aye, Ale is included. Two mugs with every meal. Beyond that, it's all on you lad." He grinned, knowing that after two ale, practiaclly everyone went for a third, most for a fourth and a fifth. The real tough guys evn went for a sixth or more.

The dwarf grabbed one of the keys from under the counter and placed it in front of Mikkel. "Up the stairs, passed the bar, third door on the right."

A grimace appeared on his face as he thought about what happened to the hand. "Fire" He grunted. He wasn't really in the mood to go over that story again since Mikkel wasn't the first to ask, yet he knew that the customers meant well, so he just didn't say anything more. Hoping that Mikkel would leave it at that and would be going into the bar or to his room.

[Mikkel]

“My thanks, sir,” he said to the man. That fire he had heard about before, apparently this dwarf was a victim of whatever had started it. “I’m sorry to be a bother, but there is something else I need help with. I’m new to the area and in need of work. Do you know of anyone who may need some help? I don’t care what the work is, so long as it pays.”

The smell of food from the kitchen hit his nose and his stomach began growling. The last time he ate was… Well, that was yesterday. It’s was good to know that his meals would be of no additional cost, and all he had to do was place an order. Mikkel had a feeling that the order for his meal would come soon.

[Rhoddin]

Rhoddin nodded at the smaller man's suggestion. "Aye, a temple does seem a good place to start, but which one? I have familiar temple here for myself. Purchance the temple of your God may be of assistance to lonely traveller?" The young bard smiled, he really was happy to have found the smaller man again.

As too the other matter, well thinking about too much set his head to aching, and by K'Tan he had had enough of that of late.

"Still, I dare say there's time for an ale first!" And Rhoddin looked to find a likely barmaid to bring him an ale.

[Motley]

"My God? Well I'm afraid I have no God, not in a singular sense anyway."

Motley had been born and brought up in the West where talk of other Gods besides the One seemed alien and sacreligious. But here in the Empire? Where the number of Gods were practically as numerous as stars in the sky, Motley surmised much talk of his beliefs would barely raise an eyebrow.

"I don't pray to any one, but rather to all in some fashion. Praying to one seems to be rather exclusionary of the others, and for whatever reason, that simply doesn't sit well with me."

Motley sipped his ale and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Which means any God's temple is as good as any other as far as I'm concerned. But you are right. There is time for an ale and to enjoy being alive."

Motley held up his mug for Rhoddin to toast with.

"Cheers!"

[Meridiuz]

The dwarf grunted as he gave the tall, muscled lad a good look over. "Aye, actually I think there's a job that's perfect for ya, lad. They're lookin fer some strong lads like yerself to help clean up the rubble of the Red Rose Guild. Don't know what it'll pay, but you might wanna check it out. Ask for Sergeant Gerrard at the Palace gates. He'll tell ya all the details."

[Rhoddin]

Having received a tankard of ale himself, Rhoddin drank for a burn or two with Motley.

"Maybe we could find a suitable temple to visit. I think the Temple of the Mother would be a good place to start.

"Do you by chance know where that might be? Me, I have no idea." The bard took another swig, awaiting Motley's reply.

[Motley]

"No sir, I have only arrived just a mark ago myself. I can't imagine it would be too hard. Churches and temples like to be found."

He took another drink and pondered over how easy and free it seemed here. In the west, speaking of such things out in the open as they were would have one forcibly removed to live in Pax Balthasar. Motley snorted in silent derision.

Pax Balthasar! As if peace could be found by shunning those of a different faith and locking them away. Idiot king!

"The Temple of the Mother is as good a place to start as any other I can think of."

Truth was, Motley knew very little of Gods or their worshipers outside of the Church of Dominicus. It was his very real concern that all religious people were devout to the point of zealousness. He'd heard of many different Gods and Goddesses, so many that they seemed as numerous as the stars, but knowing their followers and their ways was alien to him. He hoped that any Temple they visited would yield helpful, benevolent followers, and broke the mold and tradition of brutish and cruel priests of the One that Motley had known all his life.

"So tell me. What does your gut tell you of this man they tried to remove? Did he seem cruel or black hearted?"

[Mikkel]

Picking up rubble.

Though the violence in this city was a bit intimidating to him, one positive thing that could be said about it was that it created work. Mikkel thanked the dwarf at the desk and resolved to look into the manual labor, and the possibility of catching a glimpse of the palace from the gates while talking to Sergeant Gerrard was more than a little intriguing to him.

He made his way over to the bar and sat down upon one of the stools. Things weren't so bad really. Sure he'd lost himself in the streets and been briefly caught in a storm, but in his first day he had already set up residence and uncovered the prospect of a new job. Things were certainly looking up.

If he were at home right now he'd likely be working hard on the farm, making up for the slack of his siblings. No, that's not right. If he were at home right now he'd likely be hanging from a tree with a rope around his neck. It had only been three days since he killed his brother, smashed his head open on a rock.

Mikkel shook his head clear of such dark thoughts. He was far away from Dort now, and there was nothing to worry about. This was a place to start over, start his life anew. He needed to focus on the present, not the past.

"I'd like an ale and a meat pie, please" he asked of the barkeep when he was approached.

[Rhoddin]

Rhoddin put his tankard down, taking a flicker to scratch at his chin as he considered Motleys question.

"Hmm, what does my gut tell me. Well to honest I sort of thought he was somewhat, umm, evil or at least cruel. Maybe the way he held himself, like a snake coiled ready to strike.

"But his demeanor to those he met, was well, civil, if a bit calculated. He certainly gave off a an appearance of being, well if not exactly friendly, then approachable?" There was a question in Rhoddin's voice as he tried to put into words his rather mixed impressions of Silk.

"One thing though, there were others I met who seemed to know the man, and had very strong feelings about him, almost without exception these feelings were not of the friendly type.

"As I have already said, I think, they were hell bent on sending him to another plain of existence."

The young bard thought over his earlier experiences. "In fact, it seemed that at least one person had gone to some little trouble to have him disposed of. This makes me think I'm dealing with a fairly important person, with some pretty well connected enemies." Rhoddin shuddered a bit, it seemed someone had walked over his grave.

[Craghley]

Skilled and archived.

Mikkel: Gained Conversation

Motley: + to Philosophy and Counseling

Rhoddin: + to Logical Analysis