The Cumin Inn - In Character chat thread (14/8/1359)

A place for adventurers to meet and chat between adventures... When PCs are in downtime between sessions they can meet up here and IC-RP. I'll probably give (stackable) Inspiration rather than XP for fun roleplay. Mary, Serving Wench Cumin Inn A large coaching inn and surrounding hamlet on the King's Road, paying fealty to Cumin Manor. The Inn is run by Ostler Canton, aided by his niece Lina. Ostler is unmarried, but has quite an eye for the ladies. Ostler Canton Rosey, Serving Wench Lina Canton Joriun Whitefeather,  Blade Bard  of the King's Road Margrethe,  Glamour Bard  of the King's Road Cumin Inn

Anyone fancy a friendly game of cards? 

Matt said: Anyone fancy a friendly game of cards?  You're not there!

Tim M. said: Matt said: Anyone fancy a friendly game of cards?  You're not there! Ha Ha - Wanna make it a bet?

I'm not there!!

Matt said: Anyone fancy a friendly game of cards?  GM: Evening, Highsun, 1359 DR. Torgin the dwarf (Matt) sits in a corner of the Cumin Inn on the King's Road, playing a friendly game of poker with two nice ladies, Linda and Variette, who seem very admiring of his big axe. Over towards the middle of the Inn a large group of adventurers has gathered; including a halfling and half-orc woman; a dour looking elf-maid is feeding scraps to a large and shaggy dog belonging to old Cratch, a local farmer. A well dressed nobleman sits off to one side, accompanied by a heavily armoured bodyguard and his scantily clad female companion. He seems to be looking over the crowd appraisingly, hand always close to a heavy coin pouch. The Inn's buxom serving wenches bustle around, keeping the clientele well fed and watered. Things seem cheerful but the Innkeep, Ostler Canton, has a rather worried demeanour as he wipes clean the dishes. (tag PCs)

"What's the dog's name?" Bryn asked the farmer. 

Kimberly P. said: "What's the dog's name?" Bryn asked the farmer.  The old farmer takes a draw on his pipe. "I call 'im Dog... folks round here call him Cratch's Dog. On account of my name bein' Cratch, y'see."

She scratched the dog under his chin and offered one more bit of food to him. He was big and shaggy, but lean, a bit like the old farmer. Cratch had the warn look of old leather about him and smelled like it too. "What do you farm, Cratch? No offence, but seems like I see you in here every time I come. Or is it not the season?" (OOC I realise I have no idea what time of year it is) Bryn takes a look around the tavern as she speaks, memorising the faces, taking particular notice of the nobleman and his inappropriately attired "friend". 

OOC: It's (edit) mid August. Cratch's Dog enjoys Brynn's attention, happily wagging his tale while wolfing down the last bit of food. Cratch takes a draw on his pipe. "Wheat, mostly... but my sons do most of the work these days. They're still out in the fields tonight, bringin' in the harvest afore the weather changes." Cratch glances over to the kitchen, then leans over to Brynn and speaks in a low conspiratorial tone. "Between you and me, Innkeep Ostler's in a spot of bother. He's too proud to ask for help, but I heard him talkin' to Wench Mary earlier. They got rats in the cellar - BIG 'uns. The girls won't go down there now, and even Ostler, Jimbo and Raunce are afeared to take 'em on. Someone ought ta do somethin' - else this ale might be the last we're drinkin'!" Cratch raises his shaggy eyebrows at the fearful prospect.  

Bryn repressed an inadvertent shudder at the mention of rats. Filthy beasts. Still, it would be good to have Ostler owe them and goodness knew they had some experience fighting the nasty creatures after that trip to the tower. And no one would be happy at the prospect of no ale, except perhaps the Monk.  "I'll see about sorting that out," she said. "What's the use of a pub without ale?" She holds out a hand to Cratch. "Name's Bryn, by the way. I'm sure I'll be seeing you and Dog again."  

Kimberly P. said: Bryn repressed an inadvertent shudder at the mention of rats. Filthy beasts. Still, it would be good to have Ostler owe them and goodness knew they had some experience fighting the nasty creatures after that trip to the tower. And no one would be happy at the prospect of no ale, except perhaps the Monk.  "I'll see about sorting that out," she said. "What's the use of a pub without ale?" She holds out a hand to Cratch. "Name's Bryn, by the way. I'm sure I'll be seeing you and Dog again."   Cratch smiles gruffly and takes the proferred hand. He points to an old man in the corner nursing small beer. "Greybeard there is Old Rolf..." Rolf looks over and inclines his head. Two burly younger farmers come through the back door. Cratch smiles. "And here are my sons! Bernard and Jack - say hello to Mistress Brynn, if you please. She's goin' ta save our ale!" Cratch's sons smile a little bashfully at Brynn, and tip their caps. They sit, Mary the barmaid hurries to bring their drinks. At this point the nobleman Bryn has been eyeing stands up and walks over to her. He speaks with a Valls accent. "Mistress Brynn? - my name is Tyvin Hess. Would you be the one reported a man taken on the King's Road, nine or ten days ago now?"

Bryn gives a nod to the farmer's sons before turning her attention to Tyvin Hess. Strapping lads, the both of them.  "Yes, that was me. Saw him taken right off his horse by some kind of monstrous huge ravenfolk, at least according to Mistle." She motions towards the halfling, who seems to be enjoying the bar tonight even more than usual. "We didn't find his horse though." She still regretted that. She really ought to learn how to handle animals better. She'd never been much on horses, preferring to walk. That way, you always knew exactly where you were and how you got there and didn't have some beast trying to scrape you off against a tree when it didn't want to carry you. 

Kimberly P. said: Bryn gives a nod to the farmer's sons before turning her attention to Tyvin Hess. Strapping lads, the both of them.  "Yes, that was me. Saw him taken right off his horse by some kind of monstrous huge ravenfolk, at least according to Mistle." She motions towards the halfling, who seems to be enjoying the bar tonight even more than usual. "We didn't find his horse though."  Tyvim Hess nods gravely, glancing over at Mistle. "That was Chadwick Veter, a member of Arcata's Ducal Court. The Ravenfolk have sent word to Valls, demanding a large ransom. Duke William can't send soldiers here into Camarthan Duchy, but he and the Vizier Slytherin would prefer to see Lord Veter rescued, and the Ravenfolk brigands eliminated. I can offer you and your friends five hundred gold for the service, if you can locate and rescue Veter, and deal with the crows. Interested?" 

Bryn's ears perked up at the mention of the gold, but she carefully concealed her interest. "I'll speak to them, but from what I saw, those Ravenfook look quite formidable, even for seven of us. We are but recently acquainted, you know, and are still working out each other's flaws and strengths. I'm not sure the rest will go for less than 100 gold each. We're all just recently back from training with our masters and feeling a bit poor after taking care of that deranged acolyte in the tower." She lowered her eyes, looking up at the nobleman through her long dark lashes. "I'll certainly try to talk them around, though. We can't have the folk looking to the skies, wondering who'll be next. That's bound to be bad for trade, not to mention the Ducal Court. Who knows who they might grab next?"

Kimberly P. said: Bryn's ears perked up at the mention of the gold, but she carefully concealed her interest. "I'll speak to them, but from what I saw, those Ravenfook look quite formidable, even for seven of us. We are but recently acquainted, you know, and are still working out each other's flaws and strengths. I'm not sure the rest will go for less than 100 gold each. We're all just recently back from training with our masters and feeling a bit poor after taking care of that deranged acolyte in the tower." She lowered her eyes, looking up at the nobleman through her long dark lashes. "I'll certainly try to talk them around, though. We can't have the folk looking to the skies, wondering who'll be next. That's bound to be bad for trade, not to mention the Ducal Court. Who knows who they might grab next?" Hess nods. "Of course, these lands belong to the new Duchess of Camarthan... but by the time she sends anyone, Lord Veter will most likely be (edit) bird food. ...Anyway, if you're not up to taking on the Ravenfolk yourself, bring me word of their location and I'll pay a hundred gold once I've got someone else to rescue Veter. I plan to remain here awhile." Hess returns to his table.

Bryn wandered over to her companions and relayed the news to see what they thought...Rats? Or Ravenfolk?

"Bah!"  exclaims the dwarf as he tosses another losing hand onto the table.  Linda and Variette giggle seductively.   "Ladies, you have run old Torgin dry."  Says the dwarf loudly, this time tossing an empty purse on top of the cards.  He stands, bows, and kisses each woman's hand in turn.     "Linda, Variette, it has been my pleasure, but I must withdraw from your company until I have restored my funds."  He says loudly.  Linda and Variette pout sadly, beckoning Torgin closer for a whispered conference; as he listens, his tombstone grin broadens, and all three card player's heads turn to stare directly at the adventures.  The dwarf puff's out his chest and swaggers over. The minstrel hits a bum note; suddenly, the Inn is uncomfortably quiet.  Patrons and staff hold their breath, and sweaty Ostler slowly ducks behind the bar.    "Greetings, adventurers." The dwarf bellows, then bows.     "The name's Torgin" He jabs a stubby thumb into his chest.  "That's me." He winks and grins. "Hillsafar Torgin."  Torgin looks from face to face of the group, grin slackening, eyebrows arched in a pleading gesture.  Several awkward moments pass, then he clears his throat and continues.   "I'm an adventurer, specialise in dungeon clearances." He says, nodding. "Heard about your cellar problem, and lucky for you, I'm available." Torgin winks at Brynn, then with surprising grace,  whips out a crossbow, spins left, drops to one knee, and fires at a rat scurrying along the front of the bar. Twang! The shot goes high, wakes the bar cat, who howls and launches herself toward the ceiling as the bolt thuds into a cask above the ducking Osters head.    "Rats first, then ravens." Says Torgin.    

"Er...well met, Torgin," says Bryn. She holds out a hand, thinks better of it, and simply nods once, firmly.  "I'm Bryn. It's a...pleasure to meet you." She gestures around the table. And these are my companions, though we are but recently met. "Thibault, the paladin. Don't let his blonde locks fool you, he's no fop. And this is Xarius, a Wild Magic Sorcerer." She points out a brightly dressed fellow with long turquoise and purple hair falling into his eyes. "He hasn't fireballed us accidentally yet, so we're counting our blessings." "Gorlock the...warlock. Funny, that, but that is indeed his name." She points out a tall fellow with a craggy face half-buried in a pint of ale. "And this is Greeba." The half-orc half stands and gives a slight bow. "Don't....um...don't feed her any seafood. Just...don't." Greeba makes a small face but sits back down. "Oh, and this is Mistle. You might know her? She's a local." A petite halfling ranger gives a perky wave. "And there's Eamon." She nods at the monk sitting stoically in the corner, determinedly downing a glass of water. She leans down to whisper directly into the dwarf's ear, doing her best to avoid his beard. "He doesn't drink." The dwarf looks aghast.  "And that's it. Now, what were you saying about rats? Were you eavesdropping, perhaps?" Bryn carefully schools her face into as deadpan an expression as possible. 

OOC I've put Roll20 VTT back on the Cumin Inn for now so you can see the characters & their positions.

OOC How much can we do in this thread? Like, could we actually go after Ostler's rats? 

Kimberly P. said: OOC How much can we do in this thread? Like, could we actually go after Ostler's rats?  You could start (& I'd give combat XP), but unless all the players are up for it, their PCs won't be available for adventuring until Monday game. Eamon is off in the wilds self-training until Friday afternoon. :) Edit: I wouldn't mind running a short session Friday night, though?

Barcat the Bar Cat gives Torgin a very offended look and finds solace in the arms of Thibault's servant Estie Longossip, who is chatting animatedly with a King's Road trader. Linda & Variette giggle, stuffing their winnings- several of Torgin's gold coins - down their ample cleavages. Wench Mary looks up from serving Tyvin Hess's party and takes a step over to Bryn and Torgin. "Oh, you heard about our rat problem? They're gigantic !"  She casts a worried look over to the cellar trap door. "There's a door at the back of the cellar, Ostler always keeps it locked. But now there's a big rat-hole at the bottom - they've chewed their way through! And they seem half-mad - one chased me up the stairs last night! Lucky Ostler was there with a rolling-pin to chase it back down, or it could've been the death of me!" She shudders.

Torgin swaps crossbow for axe and shield and takes practice swings with axe. "Watch were you swing that." Says a tavern punter.  "Bloody dwarves." Mumbles another.  Barcat scowls at Torgin from 3/4 cover.

Matt said: Torgin swaps crossbow for axe and shield and takes practice swings with axe. "Watch were you swing that." Says a tavern punter.  "Bloody dwarves." Mumbles another.  Barcat scowls at Torgin from 3/4 cover. Wench Mary takes a wary step away from the axe swinging dwarf. Ostler Canton yells from the kitchen, his beard bristling. "Oi! No axes inside!"

Bryn pulls aside Mary. "So, tell me about these rats. Exactly how big are they? And how many?"

Kimberly P. said: Bryn pulls aside Mary. "So, tell me about these rats. Exactly how big are they? And how many?" Mary blinks. "I - I think I've seen three - but there were more noises from further back in the cellars. They're gigantic - three feet long, easy!"

OOC Oohhhhhh Rodents of Unusual Size...

Kimberly P. said: OOC Oohhhhhh Rodents of Unusual Size... "Inconceivable!"

* gurgle *

Kimberly P. said: * gurgle * "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Bryn Lethyr. She was the best of us, we shall not see her like again." - Friar Tooley Beriwether, 15/8/1359 DR.

The best-laid schemes o' wo-mice an' wo-men gang aft agley. :-(

[The Day of the Funeral] Arian was tired and hot. The trip down out of the mountains had been long and arduous and then Jaroo had sent her on almost as soon as she’d arrived. He’d had no one else to send and could, of course, easily spare her. Truth be told, she was a bit thankful. She’d only met Jaroo briefly before and was not comfortable with him yet. He had pressed on her the importance of finding companions to travel with but she had met few people on the road so far and she was nearly at her destination.   The path took a turn and she saw a dark-haired elf just ahead, walking slowly. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Well met,” she said, so softly that no one could hear. She was out of practice. She cleared her throat again and raised her chin. “Er, hello, fellow traveler!” Ah, and that time it had come out too loud.   The elf stopped walking and turned, waiting for her to catch up.

'Well met.... A snow elf? You're a long way from home! But then again, so am I!. What brings you so far south?' Wisteria's gaze has an unnerving, piercing quality, and her mail clinks as she flicks a strand of unruly black hair from her face with fingers crowded with silver rings, one of them sharp, like a claw. 

OOC think of Marique from Conan: very similar style, and only slightly less insane 😉

Arian bowed low, not sure what to say or which question to answer first. "I--I am Arian." She studied the tips of her dusty leather boots for a long moment. "I am seeking companions..." No, that sounded wrong. "Compatriots..." That seemed too formal. "Fellow adventurers..." she trailed off and straightened herself up. She was very bad at this...this talking thing. "And you are?" She stuck out her hand, hoping the other elf would take it.

'I am Wisteria, finger-bone of Myrkul. May you tread softly towards death'. Wisteria bows deeply. 'Forgive me, I will not take your hand... I have had some of my precious rings stolen by thieves and ruffians that way in the past'.  I would be happy to travel together, I do miss talking in the language of my birth! '. 

Arian pulled back her hand quickly and stuck it in her pocket, thought better of it in case Wisteria would think she was trying to hide something, and instead clasped her hands together awkwardly. "And may your path be clear and your heart be light." She bowed again. "I confess I do not know much of Myrkul." She hesitated a moment, feeling that was not enough. "I am a druid & I walk a different path, that of the Forest Father." She stopped herself from bowing again. What should she say? The day was growing late. "I do so solemnly swear that I will not relieve you of any of your precious items, should you choose to walk with me." She kept her silver eyes directly on the dark, heavily lashed ones of Wisteria, hesitant to even blink. Be forthright , Jaroo had said. Do not trust too easily, but do not fear as well.

Wisteria flashes a grin.'Ah, a druid! Nature always keeps the balance!  But the hour grows late: I suggest we find an Inn and a warm fire, I could use a glass of wine....'

"There is one called the Cumin Inn, just ahead. That is where I am headed. I cannot vouch for the drink, as I have not been there before, but it is said to be a good place to meet people." Jaroo had said the inn would be a good starting point, full of adventurers and perhaps, also with rumours. Arian was starting to feel a bit happy. She was keeping her pledge; already she had met someone! No promises had been made, but time would tell. She had a good feeling about the elf, there was something about her that felt familiar, though foreign at the same time. The two went on their way, one dark, one light.  (OOC Arian is an outlander and once she's seen a map or been somewhere, she knows where she is-- You have an excellent memory for maps and geography, and you can always recall the general layout of terrain, settlements, and other features around you. In addition, you can find food and fresh water for yourself and up to five other people each day, provided that the land offers berries, small game, water, and so forth .)

Torgin submits the 'Crows Nest' plan to his friends, counting of the point on his stubby fingers.  Limpy secures the rope to the (ceremonial) platform Fastest climber up first, secures platform with Limpy, good climbers follow, then the rest.   Limpy scouts, the heavy mob, that's us Thiabualt, Greeba and Torgin screens the artillery, that's you Gorlock, Xarius & Wisteria.  Mother & Arian you're the cavalry ;-D Save some good stuff for this Keeak if yer can

Good plan. Misty Step might be useful, but prefer not to use it.  I've got my full allotment of 4 healing light and up to 2 cure wounds if I don't use other spells.

The plan is very sound to me. I will load my heavy crossbow once we are on the platform, just in case some enemies shoot at us or fly towards us from another platform.

If the rope is sturdy enough, Greeba is strong and athletic - happy to climb up first!

I may be rolling terribly, but I do at least have athletics trained, so hopefully I'll make it up! I can also shapeshift now -- Arctic Wolf!