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Dragon's Egg - Act I

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
I see a tiny man playing the flute for a couple. The woman is intrigued; her husband seems kind of annoyed. He tosses a copper coin, and… is the song over? The couple leaves the little one in silence.

I turn to Cadell. "He's adorable!" I say maybe a little too loud. I whisper, "He must stand mid thigh next to us." Then to Rydh I say in a low voice. "The little one didn't hear me, did he?"
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
I chuckle and nod at Baldhart's sentiment, watching the small man with interest. I have heard of halflings, but never seen one within the bounds of my home forest -- I imagine he is one of them, as he does not seem to be a dwarf. For one thing, he has no beard. But he plays the flute well. I smile, thinking of my friend Lóegaire: also a flutist in his spare time, and quite talented at it, as he should be after a thousand years.

I reach into my purse and pull out a silver coin, flicking it toward the little flutist. "How about another song?"
 

Sparkie

Dark Lord
In all my scant traveling experience I've never come across a halfling. My guess would be that they don't all look as bad as this one does. I too reach into my backpack, which I've been carrying on one shoulder, and pull out a silver.

"Here you are. Yes, play us another song."
 

Philip Overby

Staff
Article Team
Oh, a crowd. Don't screw this up. Just smile, smile, people love a smile.

"How goes it? You seem quite the hardy lot. How about a jaunty adventure song?"

I start playing Rogues of Seven Lambs on my flute. That's worth at least five silver.

"One gold for the tune!" I bow several times to make sure they all know how grateful I am. Grateful, grateful. Eternally grateful. This looks like a good lot. A good lot to--No, Nod. Stay on track. A good lot.

Latch on to the massive woman, Nod. It's your best bet.

"You are quite the woman. I would be honored to write a song especially for you!"
 
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Sparkie

Dark Lord
"But I'm not," I say rather pointedly. "I'd first hear our little bard's name before any of us are immortalized in song for money."
 

Philip Overby

Staff
Article Team
I bow with a flourish, trying to keep my smile intact. "My name's Nodrick Gnatcatcher, Bard of Ou-Bradice. Friends call me Nod. I've come upon some, er, bad luck. The last group I traveled with fell victim to cold, depression, and troll claws, so I am hoping to find a new band to travel with. In return for allowing me to accompany you, I will raise your spirits with song. It's a dreary world we live in, and my flute can give you hope, joy, and warmth."

I hope I didn't mess that up. I always get one part wrong. Is it "hope, joy, and warmth" or "hope, warmth, and joy?" Get it right, Nod. Damn, damn, damn--They're all looking at me.

"So, what say you?" I focus on the man that seems willing to separate with his coin. "You seem like a band in need of a bard. 'A Band in Need of a Bard.' Ah, that could be a new song!"

Smile, smile, smile.
 

Sparkie

Dark Lord
I cock an eyebrow at this Nodrick character, then look to my companions.

"What do you say, everyone? Are we a band in need of a bard?"
 

Ankari

Staff
Moderator
The group seems enamored by the mutilated tiny man. A song? That's all it takes to drop their self preservation instincts? The people of this town pass the runt by without a backwards glance, yet the people I've chosen to latch onto seem to want to eat out of his hand.

I join the bunch to put an end to their folly.

"Little man, how is it that your last group fell to troll claws yet you still live? Surely they didn't spare you because you offered a song. What skills do you possess besides your short stature and sharp-edged music?"
 

Philip Overby

Staff
Article Team
Ah, a mouthy one. There's always a mouthy one. Keep it together, Nod. Keep it together.

"Why, I'm a small one as you can see. I buried myself up to my neck in snow as the trolls went about their...business. It was the only course of action if I was to survive to pass on their story. I've made four hundred and thirty-seven gold to date on my song 'The Claws of Winter.' Each piece of it donated to the families of my lost companions. That is what I can offer. Compassion, charity, and immortality. Your deeds will not go unrecognized as long as I am in tow."

I smile up at the elf, trying not to let it falter.

"That and I'm a mean shot with a crossbow, I'm told." I kick the old crossbow at my feet.
 

Sparkie

Dark Lord
"Well, I believe the part about the crossbow. But you're not going to get very far in life by lying. Better to just tell the truth instead of spouting what you think people want to hear."

I glare down at the Gnatcatcher.

"I have a little coin, 'tis true. But I'm not here to make money and neither are most of my companions. We mean to end whatever curse afflicts this land. If you're willing to aid us in that, I see no reason why you can't tag along. I won't try to stop you, anyway."
 

Ankari

Staff
Moderator
"You're a mean shot with the crossbow?"

People who state their benevolence are, in fact, not. We may be traveling to lands populated by trolls. Would such an encounter see this halfling flee or bury himself in the snow to carry on our song?

"You watched your companions as they were butchered by trolls for their pots and you're a mean shot with a crossbow? Why were you unable to load a bolt and shoot one of these trolls in an effort to aid your comrades?"
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
My eyes narrow as I see the truth in Ankari's and Rydh's words, and I somewhat regret being the first of our band to offer coin to the halfling. I hold my tongue, awaiting an answer from Nod.
 
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Philip Overby

Staff
Article Team
Smile, smile, smile. I'd like to--

"I did not own a crossbow at that time," I say. "Therefore, I could not shoot one. But I can now."

The one named Rydh. He's the most friendly. Friendly, friendly, smile, smile.

"I would like to help smite evil wherever I can. I realize my past mistakes and I want to join a worthy band. It's my own tragic tale. To have lost so many friends. I promise to help preserve and protect you all to the best of my ability." I smile up at Rydh.
 

Sparkie

Dark Lord
This one wants something from us, I just don't know what. Yet. We'll see soon enough, I suppose.

"I've said all I'll say on the matter. I won't stop you if you want to follow along, but I can't speak for all of us..."

I look to Ankari as I say those last words. He's rightly suspicious, but I doubt this one halfling will try to murder us all in the night. Besides, I'd kill the little wretch if he tried to harm any of us.

"Do what you will, but I'd watch out were I you. Not everyone here is as willing to put up with your nonsense as I am."
 

Ankari

Staff
Moderator
My fists ache to punch the liar between the eyes. It's a wonder how the mind works. Focused on my hatred, an idea pops in my head. This little man claims he has been here for some time. Perhaps if I shake him hard enough, useful information will tumble out of his gilded mouth.

I calm my anger, unclench my fist, and clear the heat from my voice.

"Into the tavern, halfing. Answer some questions and you may earn a few coin. Lie to me once, and you won't even earn a copper. Stay in front so that I can keep you in sight."
 

Philip Overby

Staff
Article Team
"Sure, sure, whatever you wish." I follow them into the tavern. "I am but a humble servant."

I stay close to the towering woman who said she thought I was cute. Cute, cute, cute, cut, cut--
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
I almost trip over the little one. He looks up at me with an odd smile.

"Hmph."

A song, indeed! Not a chance I would have wasted a coin on the likes of him even if I had one. My father warned me about beggars!

And I can certainly resist his charm!


((charisma challenge roll))
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Squee! He's so adorable!

I smile back.

So much for resisting his charm.

But it's not so easy, Nissa! You have the form of a young halfling woman, so it must be even harder for you to resist his cuteness.

embed

He's creepy. His punchable little face makes me relieved that there is no mating in the afterlife.

Oh? Well... I wasn't really thinking about him in that way. More like cute in the way a gerbil is cute.

A gerbil that cuts its own hair. After being punched.


Huh. The little one does not meet Nissa's approval. I enter the tavern but will let Ankari and Rydh do the talking.
 

Steerpike

Staff
Moderator
Matthew: the little girl, Tyra, smiles when you accept the doll. The mother looks grateful as well, though she says nothing, simply holding her older daughter tight. She mutters something about making arrangements, and she and the older girl head back down the dock, dragging small Tyra behind them. The child looks back over her shoulder two or three times, looking satisfied that you are still holding the doll. Once they are gone, Bior grunts and says "You're welcome to get yer horse and other things right now, if you have a mind. Otherwise, I reckon it'll be a couple of days before we take on new cargo and if you want to leave the animal aboard for the time being, I'll see the creature is cared for. Least I can do, what with you and the others savin' me ship like you done." With that, he and Rodrico move to speak with some merchants gathered on the dock, presumably those waiting for the goods carried aboard the Bladnir.

* *

As you travel to The Hooded Crow, you notice the mood in the town remains festive even after the raucous reception of Bladnir and her crew at the docks. The arrival of the ship promises renewed food stores, ale, cloth for clothing, and other raw materials, and the mood of relief and thankfulness at the safe arrival of the ship is palpable.

The group does attract attention, however; rather, the elves do. Among children and the young, there is a fair amount of wide-eyed astonishment and mutterings of more elves!. The presence of elves in Holmgrad is unusual and most people seem to assume that the elves deboarding the Bladnir are in Srilkind to join the elves that are already present in the town. There are a few dark glances and grimaces, mostly from older folk, and it becomes clear that there are at least a few who believes elves should stay where they belong and that it's not Srilkind.

The tavern itself is a long, sprawling affair, seemingly large enough to house most of the town if you wanted to pack them inside. Most of the structure is on the ground floor, though a smaller second level is built atop the tavern at the end furthest from the entrance, the second story providing rooms for rent to those who need them. A chipped, frayed sign swings well above the door to the place, and it looks as though it may once have held the image of a bird painted onto the rough wood. Three separate fires burn in the tavern, the smoke drifting up to pass through slits in the high ceiling. As you enter, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim light. The smell of roast pork, ale, and human sweat mingles in your nose.

A bulk of a man stands behind the bar at the far end of the place, passing out ale and collecting coin. He is clean shaven and wears a woolen cap. His skin is ruddy in the firelight. A number of men are gathered around the bar, talking loudly and swilling their drinks. A stairway to the right of the bar disappears into the blackness of the second story.

All around the room are tables filled with men, and the celebratory mood of the town has swept into the place like a wind. People are laughing, cheering, and telling stories in various states of drunkeness. To your right as you enter, just near one of the fireplaces, a long table is filled with those Bladnir crewmen who headed for the tavern as soon as the ship reached dock. Judging by their drinking and the generally loud and slurred state of their speech, Bior is going to be in for a surprise if he expects his crew to start unloading the ship in a couple of hours.

A few barmaids bustle back and forth between tables, carrying drinks and food. A couple of them are young, a couple well past their most enticing barmaid days. Apart from these serving girls, Badlhart is the only female in the entire place. Or at least that seems to be the case, until you notice a girl of around twelve at one of the back tables, speaking animatedly to the group of men clustered there. Whatever story she is telling must be funny, for the men roar with laughter now and again, and the effect is to make her even that much more animated in her story telling.

As with on the streets, there are a few dark glances cast at the elves who enter, though most in the tavern seem content to enjoy themselves and let others be about their own business.
 
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