The Firstborn — IC

[ratwizard]

The longhall roars with chatter, laughter, and a few hostile words -- though drunk and likely unmeant. Outside, the spring evening air might be chilly, but inside it is humid and warm from the mass of bodies and several fires burning.

Close to the docks, the longhall is situated at the edge of an elvish slum and a similarly poor district of mostly orcish makeup. A long, heavy table lines the center of the establishment, with dozens of orcs seated along it -- dining and drinking. It appears to have been constructed of a massive log split in two, each half bound alongside the other to form a wide, flat surface. Judging by the impossible fit through the mundane doors, it might not be that insane to wonder which was constructed after -- the table, or the longhall?

While most of the people here are native Kurnish, pockets of elves sit crowded and clustered in groups along smaller tables to the sides. Strangely enough, you do not sense a hostility in the segregation that has organically occurred here, but more of an air of apathy between groups. Most around here stick to their own, regardless of whether they be orc or elf.

Following that, the seven of you crowd around a circular table in a far corner. Through the dim lighting, you recognize a handful of the other faces as members from your community. Cymril may have been the one that invited you all here, but there was no doubt that she was only the face of Aeron's idea and planning.

An orcish woman comes by with a few heavy pitchers of ale. She pauses, giving your young faces a queer look, before setting them each upon your table with a grunt. Not a moment later, she returns with several mugs, putting them next to the pitchers. "Serve yourselves," she says with a neutral tone, already moving on to the next table. With a look back, the orcish woman gives a weary smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "And fetch me if you want food or more drink."

Passing the mugs and pitchers out, Cymril looks around the table. "Good to have everyone here," she says with a giddy grin before turning to her cousin. "Aeron, let's do introductions."

[sblock=Party OOC]Dockside Longhall: Aeron, Ember, Alierin, Sisera, Erevan, Vaylen, Cymril[/sblock]

[Scratcherclaw]

Pouring himself a mug of ale with a subtle grin, Aeron's eyes pass across the faces of the other elves seated before him. It had been a long time planning, so the elf is glad to finally see his idea come to fruition. Heeding his cousin's words, he begins, "Aye. But first I'd like to thank all of you for actually showing up tonight. I was worried Cymril and I would be finishing this pitcher ourselves by night's end." With this, he lets out a jovial chuckle, partially out of joy and partially out of anxiety.

He continues, a twinkle in his eye, "I know it can be easy to just keep doing the same thing each day and just continue the mediocre existence that a lot of our kin have settled with, so I'm glad you've all chosen a different path." Taking a sip of the ale before him and clearing his throat, he says, "Anyways, enough speeches. I know you guys didn't come here for that. For starters, I'm Aeron for those who don't know me, or don't know me well. I guess you could say I'm the one behind this plan, but I wouldn't have gotten this far without Cymril's help."

He flashes a wide smile his cousin's way before turning his attention towards the elves before him, some familiar and some less-so. "I'm sure some of you are already acquainted, but before we get down to business, how about we go around and formally introduce ourselves. That'll beat sharing drinks and awkward glances with strangers, eh?"

[Fialova]

Sisera quielty pours herself a mug of her own as the two other speak. She knows few of the people she sits with, mostly only from passing them in the slums at one time or another. All young, all seemingly fit. She had not been keen on the idea of joining with Aeron when it was first proposed to her, but she trusts in Tesni, and her friend told her it would be good for both herself and the community, so here she sits.

I wonder what we will be doing? she thinks to herself, as she sips on her mug. She winces initially, still not accustomed to the flavor or strength of the orcish ales. She hopes that the attractive young man - Aeron, was it? - will begin by getting to the point, and frowns slightly when he instead suggests making introductions. Let's see what the others have to say, she thinks, hoping to not be the first to speak.

[Vaylen]

Vaylen glances sheepishly around the table. Groups of people are certainly not his thing, (nor are people in general) but this seems promising. Vaylen waits a bit to see if anyone is going to say something. After a little time passes Vaylen can no longer stand the silence. He pours himself a bit of ale but after bringing it to his lips he decides to put it down and just speak. "H-hi, I'm Vaylen, uuhh.. Ya." Vaylen pulls his clothes tighter around himself and slouches a bit in an attempt to make his presence less known. He then pulls out a dagger and begins to nervously fiddle with it. I should've waited, I should've waited. He says quietly to himself.

[Neovenator]

Fidgeting a little with her half-filled mug, Ember looks about her at the assembled group. Only a few that I don't know at least a bit. Still, I suppose Aeron and Cymril wouldn't have called them here if they were bad people.

Glancing briefly towards a window to the open sky, she immediately wishes she could have brought Cloud with her. Stroking the hawk's plumage was always so calming that it helped her think, not to mention she had grown used to his reassuring weight on her shoulder. With a slight shake of her head, Ember pulls out of what is threatening to become a daydream. Don't get distracted, girl! You need to put your best foot forward and be supportive! You know this is an important meeting!

After the gloomy looking boy introduces himself and begins muttering, Ember folds her hands in front of her, draws herself up a bit in her seat, and flashes her friendliest smile. "Hi", she begins. "I'm Ember. I think I know most of you, at least a little. I hope I get to know all of you better and that we can all work together to help our people."

[Namelessjake]

Alierin grabs a pitcher and a mug for herself. "You didn't say this was Aeron was behind all this," she says to Cymril as she sits back down and pours herself a drink. "Although I probably wouldn't have come if you had," she adds, shooting a glance at Aeron.

"Alierin," she says to the group, raising her mug slightly to the couple of people in the group she doesn't know, before leaning back in her chair and silently taking a swig of ale. As she drinks she looks over the group sizing them up and wondering what Aeron has planned. A fairly capable looking group. This could be interesting. she thinks.

[TheZoar]

Enjoying the atmosphere of this tavern Erevan scans the room looking for anyone in particular that he might be able to sell some of his carvings to. Just because I'm here for this meeting doesn't mean I can't be finding customers at the same time. Spotting a very attractive elven woman across the tavern he stares for a moment too long and catches her eyes. Embarrassed by this he quickly glances back to the table that he is sitting at and decides it's his turn now.

First looking at Vaylen and giving him a small nudge to hopefully ease his nerves. He then turns back to the rest of those sitting with him..."I'm Erevan, and personally I'm just excited to see what this big spectacular plan is." Shooting a quizzical and amused look over to Aeron. Cause I mean They are acting like we are about to join a secret cult of some-kind. Pondering this for a moment and leaning back in his chair. Huh, would that be something.

[Fialova]

"Yes, much interested," Sisera says, nodding in response to Erevan's words. Remembering that she had not yet given her introduction she gives a forced smile and motions to herself with her right hand. What was the word again? These orcish words are so strange, she thinks for a moment. "I, Sisera," she says, glad to have remembered the correct phrase.

"It is happy to meet you all," she continues, nodding to some of the others at the table. She knows only a few, but the others seem decent enough. She notes Alierin's apparent distaste with Aeron, curious to know the story behind it. Habitually, she raises the mug back to her mouth and, as before, winces slightly at the initial taste.

[ratwizard]

"Right, then." Cymril brushes a lock of messy hair from her face, peeking around at your faces. "We're here to look for jobs. Minor security work. Oddjobs. Anything better than fishing for me... The longhall has a posting board down there, on the wall," she says, pointing to a board on the eastern edge of the building. There are dozens of stained, old, and tattered looking notices pinned to it, with a few fresh ones atop. "Can't promise what we'll find there."

Nearby, an orcish man who is swaying in his seat claps his friend on the back. "Fuck 'em. Fuck all of 'em, 'ey? He'll turn up." The friend sits, hardly consoled, shaking his head.

Close to them, a pitcher falls to the floor and shatters on the ground. "Damn roughnecks," the server from earlier mutters as she passes by. She turns to a plastered orc and points an indignant finger at him. He appears not to notice her, consumed by his terrible impression of -- something -- as he sings and waves his arm in the air. "Kainon!" she screeches at him. "Mind yer clumsy hands,"

Cymril turns back, raising her eyebrows at you all. She leans in, speaking low. "Of course, you could always listen to the folks around here. When these Kurnish drink, they complain about their lives. Could be a good way to bargain into employment -- offering to fix their problems." She shrugs, giving a smile. Back in a normal speaking tone, she continues. "Might help if you take another swig. That ale is good for one thing -- no, not taste." The elf makes a disgusted face, shaking her head. "Courage."

[sblock=Mechanics]Impromptu, Casual Skill Challenge. Look for some jobs! Feel free to use Perception to listen in to people, Streetwise to chit-chat with people and learn rumors, or any other relevant action that would be in character.

The job board is there, but look around, too. There may be some more intriguing work available if you seek it out.[/sblock]

[sblock=OOC]Dockside Longhall: Aeron, Ember, Alierin, Sisera, Erevan, Vaylen, Cymril[/sblock]

[Fialova]

Sisera frowns as she watches the drunken fools in the distance, having never been fond of rowdiness. She listens as Cymril speaks, and once finished she quietly stands and places her mug on the table. She approaches the server, noticing her earlier frustration, and - nodding towards the rowdy orcs - asks, "you want them gone?"

[ratwizard]

The server gives Sisera a look of serious consideration, before smirking and shaking her head. "Might pay money to see that," the weary-looking orcish woman says. "But they're just drunken fools. Drunken fools whose coin goes into the owner's pocket -- and hopefully trickles into mine, too."

The orc shrugs. "Besides, can't have your kind throwing that idiot Kainon around. You're welcome here -- long as you pay, like the rest of 'em -- but it would look bad. And I don't think his uncle would appreciate that."

[Scratcherclaw]

"Exactly," Aeron replies to his cousin's mention of the plan. "Fortune and fame or whatever we seek is out there. We just need to take the initiative. It's better than working at the docks, or the inn, or whatever." Taking another sip of ale, the elf stands up, beckoning his companions to join him.

Heeding his cousin's suggestions, the man walks towards the sorrowful orc, curious at what the commotion is. "Sorry if it's not my place to ask, but what happened?"

[sblock=Mechanics]Streetwise if necessary for chitchat/rumors: 7(1d20) +5 = 12
Diplo so they don't hate me: 1(1d20) +12 = 13[/sblock]

[Fialova]

"Uncle is important?" Sisera asks, mildly intrigued by the woman's words. An important orc could mean good money. We could certainly use whatever we can get, she thinks, curious to chat with the man if he is indeed related to a man of status.

[Neovenator]

As Cymril finishes, Ember does not immediately move from her seat. Hmmm...we're looking for jobs? I guess the idea is to be seen contributing. Its too bad Davrall doesn't hang around here much. I'll have to ask him to keep his ear to the ground for anything promising next time I visit the shop.

Glancing around the bar, she spies Sisera talking to the serving woman and Aeron approaching some patrons. Alright, time to get to it. Maybe I can hear something that'll be helpful from here. Concentrating, the huntress closes her eyes and listens as carefully as she can to her surroundings, trying to catch a conversation that may lead to a potential quest.

[sblock=Mechanics]Perception to listen for potential quest options: 13(1d20) +12 = 25[/sblock]

[ratwizard]

The two orcs turn at Aeron's words, regarding him with a frown. They share a look, before the one being consoled earlier speaks up. "It's not your place, stranger. But it's fine," he says, waving Aeron off. "Just flappin' lips."

"Who are you, kid?" the drunker one asks, taking another sip and looking Aeron over with a bored look.

Nearby, the server nods at Sisera's question. "Kainon's kin to Makeos. May not sound like much to you, but that name rings out around other parts of the city." An orc calls for more ale nearby, and she sighs. "Look, elf, I gotta work." She steps off to do so.

[sblock=Ember]In addition to having a fuzzy but mostly accurate following of Sisera and Aeron's conversations, you hear a group of orcs nearby talking about a man's home along the docks that had been taken by force -- but they speak in vague language and it's hard to grasp whose home, where, or by whom it was taken.[/sblock]

[Scratcherclaw]

"A stranger, yes, but a concerned one," the elf says with a sigh, glancing at the orcs with a touch of sadness in his eye. "I won't overstep if you don't want me to, but I'm willing to help if you need help." The elf is about to walk turn away, though he stops in his tracks, adding, "Is a friend of yours missing?"

[Namelessjake]

"Well I suppose I could use the coin," Alierin says, taking another swig from her mug. She watches the others start striking up conversations and finishes her drink. I guess I'll check the one place there's guaranteed to be jobs, rather than talking to random strangers. She pours herself another mug of ale from the pitcher, before standing up and making her way towards the posting board Cymril mentioned.

Dodging a couple of rowdy Orcs and spilt drinks on the way, she reaches the board. Sipping her ale she scans the notices looking for any that might interest the group.

[TheZoar]

Still sitting Erevan watches as the group he is with disperses to find jobs. Had he been faster he would have went over to the job board first...Although it would be nice to just let them do all the searching, after all I've been working all day anyway.
Trying to convince himself to stay seated he notices again the spill that was created by that orcish fellow across the way. With a sigh under his breath he gets up and makes his way over toward the job board in a slow manner. As he passes by the big spill that happened earlier he slightly waves his right hand and casts prestidigitation to clean up the spill. After that on the way over to the board he cleans up any other spills that he passes in a discreet manner.
As he approaches the board and Alierin he says "Well, anything look promising?"

[ratwizard]

[sblock=Aeron]The second orc gives a sigh, clearly reluctant to go further -- but he does. "My kid. Probably same age as you -- what, twenty winters?"

"Damn shame," his friend says. "But he'll turn up. He always does."[/sblock]

[sblock=Alierin & Erevan]Upon the board appear to be three notices that aren't stained and too far gone to be of any use.

Code: Select all

Lost an amulet dear to me -- somewhere at this longhall. Little value to try and sell, better reward if returned.

Iron locket with a brass boss on the center. Inside, an engraving -- name starting with a J. Don't bother trying to forge a copy.

Look for Menros on the southward docks.

Code: Select all

Looking for some security while unloading a shipment of goods on an overnight shift at the docks. If interested, bring no more than 8, carry only 1 torch, and meet at the ruined fountain at nightfall. The pay is worth it.

Code: Select all

In need of a musician troupe for a wedding at the Garden of Goben. Please forward inquiries to the Dockside Longhall's owner, Tomendi. Your payment will be commensurate with the skill displayed.

[/sblock]

[Namelessjake]

"Any musical abilities?" Alierin asks with a laugh, tapping the wedding notice with a finger, pointing it out to Erevan. "Not really our group's forte I'm guessing... This in the other hand might be what we're looking for, she says, pulling the security notice off the board. "Security isn't the most exciting job in the world but if all goes to plan we'll be getting paid to stand around doing nothing."

"Shall we go see if the others have turned up any leads for a wondrous treasure hunt or epic monster hunt from the local drunkards?" Alierin quips rhetorically, still not fully convinced by Aeron's plan. Folding up the notice and pocketing it, she takes another drink from her mug and sets off back towards the group's seats, indicating with a nod for Erevan to follow.

[Scratcherclaw]

"Where and when did you last see him?" the elf asks, concerned about the son's well-being and eager to help the distressed father. "My friends and I could always look for him if you're worried."

[TheZoar]

Erevan lets out a laugh before bowing slightly, "Absolutely no musical ability at all, sadly. But that does sound promising indeed!" he says. Then follows back to the table, and on the way quietly says "That would be fun, one can only hope." although more to himself than to Alierin.

[ratwizard]

"Friends?" the drunker orc says, looking past him at the table he came from, where Cymril and Vaylen are still seated. "Three of you, hm?" He cocks an eye at the other man.

The other orc sighs, leaning in. "Look... I dunno, son. You're young and you look like good kids. But my boy got caught up in... well, let's just say it ain't a law-abiding, good-natured sort of business, down by the docks. Rough folk. I worry for him, but I can't step past my boundaries. Boy's gotta learn on his own, sometime, hm? Even if... even if it's painful." He shakes his head. "I don't want anyone else gettin' hurt on account of my boy's recklessness."

Back at the table, Cymril greets Alierin and Erevan with a smile. "Find a lead already?"

[Namelessjake]

"Just a security gig at the docks tomorrow night. Nothing too grand but should be a good start if the others don't turn anything up.", Alierin replies, returning the smile. She sits back down and starts refilling her mug, fully intending to make the most of the pitchers of ale.

[ratwizard]

"Security, hm?" Cymril nods, impressed. "Guess that board did work out. I've checked it a few times, only to find the strangest of inquiries..."

[Scratcherclaw]

"Seven actually," Aeron responds to the drunker of the two orcs. "But if he's caught up, he may need help getting out. And if that's the case, I'm sure he's more than learned his lesson." I'm sure this father means well, but this is far from the time for tough love.

[ratwizard]

The drunk orc coughs on his drink. "Seven?" he manages, his voice weak and strained. "Seven of you tall fuckers might be enough to scare any of those idiots off."

The more serious orc stays silent, looking back at the table now that Alierin and Erevan had returned. "I see." He looks to be in a state of uncertainty for a moment, before he speaks again. "Fine. Bring your elves to my home tomorrow evening after my shift. We'll talk then. And if you're looking for a payout on my kid's safe return, you're going to be sorely upset. I ain't got much." The orc looks around carefully. "But I do have connections around the docks. Help me this one time, and I'll owe you a favor."

He scribbles what seems to be an address on a piece of paper and a name -- Beamon -- and hands it your way. "Have a good night, hm? Now let us drink."

[Scratcherclaw]

Aeron nods to the orc, taking the paper from him. "A favor has as much value as coin," he replies, glad that the orc father has finally conceded. "We will see you tomorrow night. Enjoy your drinks." With this, he beelines it back to his table, grip tightened on the paper so as to not lose it.

Catching the beginning of Alierin's own uncovered job, the elf says, "Tomorrow night? I've found us a job during the same time." Holding out the paper for the others to see, he adds, "Turns out that upset orc's son is caught up with the wrong crowd and in danger. Could use our help. Not much of a payout in coin, but a favor can be worth twice as much in gold."

[Namelessjake]

"Or it can be worth very little. Two times nothing is still nothing," Alierin replies with a smirk. "Still, you might be right. Contacts and reputation could lead to more jobs down the line, " she adds, not wanting to competition dismiss Aeron's lead. He is annoyingly right about things a lot of the time...

[TheZoar]

As Erevan sits down again he grabs a mug and fills it will ale. After taking a drink and hearing Aeron finish his statement, he says. "Absolutely it is. It's too bad they are scheduled for the same time. I think either is a fine choice, although I'd lean more towards the favor reward personally. Even though it has a chance of being pointless."
Having said his piece he adjusts his cloak and then chilling his drink sits back and enjoys it while looking around the long hall casually. Waiting to hear what the others think.

[sblock=Mechanics]Prestidigitation: used to chill his drink[/sblock]

[Fialova]

Sisera intends to shadow the rowdy orcs, with plans to listen in on their conversation to gather information. Before she can begin, however, she notices the others gathering back at the table once more. She pauses for a moment, but eventually returns too, quietly taking her seat.

Catching only the tail end of Erevan's words, she says, "you find jobs?" she asks, curious to hear what sorts of tasks the board had to offer. Hopefully it is not more menial labor. I think I've had enough of that for awhile.

[Scratcherclaw]

Aeron nods to the Quellam-Native as she rejoins the table. "We've got two possibilities, both tomorrow night, so we can only choose one," the man says, hoping to fill the woman in on the situation. "Either a security job at the docks, or helping an orcish man find his son. The second job won't pay much, but I think our connection and goodwill gained will be well worth it." A shame they couldn't be separate nights, but a life is worth more than a pouch of coin."

[Fialova]

Sisera nods as her companion gives her the options. It is not a hard decision for the woman, she's been in enough situations where life and death was on the line that she always aims to aid those in need. "we help orc child. safety better than shiny metals," she says, expecting the others will agree with her without question. Anyone can guard cargo, cargo is not important.

[Vaylen]

Vaylen through all of this just sits at the table thinking. What have I gotten myself into? I trust my friend, but I prefer to work alone.
After the discussion about the jobs starts Vaylen decides to join in. "While I am down to do whatever yall want, money is money. Plus, the security job sounds quicker and easier. Again, I'm down for whatever, but keep in mind that this fellow might not be able to help us much with his favor, (if he even follows through) and, again, this could take a lot longer than we expect. Vaylen chugs the rest of his ale. Why did I say all of that, what will they think of me now? Eh, it doesn't really matter... If this doesn't work out there is always working alone...

[Namelessjake]

"The security job did say to meet at nightfall. We could always see what this Orc has to say before hand and then decide if we go for the security job or not," Alierin says. "I took the notice so it's not like anyone else is going to show up," she adds, patting her pocket containing the folded up paper. "Even if we're late, we'll potentially be the only ones to show up."

[Fialova]

Sisera raises an eyebrow as the previously awkward boy speaks up. Yes, money is important. But what about community? We will gain the acceptance of these locals faster if we actually aid them and their loved ones, not if all we do is seek a larger coinpurse, she thinks. Frowning at the thought that she does not quite know how to fully express her concerns in this new language, she simply says, "ok. we help orc child then we do guard."

[Neovenator]

After the other elves return to the table and mention their options, Ember considers before speaking. "Sisera is right. A life is at stake. That is paramount. Plus, if we're looking to make a name for ourselves, its the more advantageous route anyway, so its a win-win."

[ratwizard]

"So we're in agreement, then?" Cymril asks, looking between the others. "At least, most of us."

[sblock=OOC]Do you want to job hunt or interact any further? Or should I move forward?[/sblock]

[Scratcherclaw]

"It would seem so," Aeron replies to his cousin, glad that most of the party is in favor of helping the orc with his son. "I've got his address. We can either all meet there, or we can meet up ahead of time and head there together. The latter may be preferable so no one gets lost on the way."

[Namelessjake]

"Meeting up beforehand makes sense," Alierin agrees. "Showing up together will make us look more organised and competent. If we actually are... I guess we'll see tomorrow," she adds, taking another swig of her drink.

[ratwizard]

With your two leads set, the rest of the night passes -- but not before another round of beer. You go home under the moonlight, chatting more easily after warming up with both conversation and the presence of alcohol.

The next morning and midday are a slog. It's hard to get your mind off of that itch in the back of your mind that this can work. Eventually, the day gets late and you find yourselves standing in front of the orc's home. The sun is sinking, but there is at least another hour of daylight left.

Beamon's home seems squat and mediocre, but it's certainly better than the huts and hovels you come from. Upon knocking, a young orcish boy answers -- he couldn't be more than eight or so. He itches behind his ear as he looks up at you in confusion. "Hi," he offers, a little intimidated by the several elves before him, towering over him. "Who are you?"

[Scratcherclaw]

With the first real night of action on the way, Aeron is glad to see that the rest of his elven companions haven't had second thoughts about the plan. Thank goodness they showed up. That would be embarrassing if they hadn't. After knocking on the door, he is slightly surprised to see the young orc answering it. Hoping to not scare the child, he replies, "Is Beamon home? He asked us to stop by." Could this be another son? Or maybe a grandson?

[ratwizard]

The young boy shakes his head initially, but then a smile creeps across his face. He simply points ahead, past you.

Behind you, Beamon approaches, a bag slung over his shoulder. He approaches with wary eyes, greeting you with a solemn nod. "So, you showed. All seven of you," he says, slipping past you and shooing his son back inside. He stands at the threshold, facing you once again. "You still interested in searching for him? I'll remind you again that the pay ain't gonna be worth it."

[Fialova]

Sisera smiles at the young boy as he approaches, but remains silent. She steps aside as Beamon approaches, eyeing the man curiously. So concerned with payment. Are all orcs so focused on these coins they seem to love? She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again after a moment, figuring it may be best to let those more fluent in the orc's language do the talking. If only these orcs spoke our own tongue, I'd not sound so out of place. I suppose no one is perfect.

[Scratcherclaw]

"Of course we showed," Aeron replies to the orc man as he appears at the doorway. "We all agreed that your son's life is more important than a pouch of coin." Or at least most of us did. But better he doesn't know that. Eager to get started on the job, he adds, "So what all can you tell us about this situation?"

[Namelessjake]

Alierin leans against the wall of the Orc's home a little to the side of the door as Aeron knocks. She hunches slightly, dipping her head, to avoid the slight overhang of the roof. Good to know we look imposing to a child. It's a start, she thinks, smirking slightly to herself as the young orc reacts to the group.

She rolls her eyes, as Beamon mentions the lack of pay. Hopefully this doesn't take too long and we can make it to the Security job.

[TheZoar]

Smiling at the young boy and observing the situation, Erevan thinks to himself. Seeing as we have so many and Aeron has already talked with this man, I best stay quiet for now and see where this goes. He then proceeds to glance around the area to examine the woodwork of his surroundings. Mostly out of habit, which he quickly realizes and returns his focus to the one giving them their task.

[Vaylen]

Vaylen listens, standing near the back of the group a little off to the side. He (while listening intently) starts fiddling with his dagger. But slowly Vaylens attention is lost and he is consumed by his own thoughts. Hmm.. While I do think that the security job is more worth our toil, this job might be more entertaining, and entertainment is worth a good bit. Vaylen leans towards Erevan, "Hey, what do you think about this so far? I hope we can finish this in time for the security job..."

[ratwizard]

Beamon sighs at Aeron's question, pursing his lips and looking past the elves toward the setting sun. "My boy's always been a handful -- I'm sure his mother would agree. Bright kid, but trouble. About as tall as me, but built like a sapling. Called him Berek on his nameday."

"His name is a start," Cymril says, before frowning toward Erevan's whispering.

The orc grunts in acknowledgement of her comment. "He pulls shifts for some smuggler fool down in the Southward Docks. Goes by the name of Kiros, but I doubt that's his real name." Beamon squints, thinking back. "My boy came by a few nights ago, said he was gonna be gone a few days. Smugglin' run and all. He seemed... off. I suppose in retrospect that was a sign of somethin'." He shakes his head. "I'm no oracle."

[Fialova]

"What is... 'smugglin'?" Sisera asks, having never encountered the concept in the grasslands of central Quellam. Is it some sort of race? Why would that seem to suggest something bad?