RP What taverns are good for

Being a bit anxious about the first time actually leaving the safety of haven Marokin thinks of doing what he is most used to: talking to strangers.  He walks around the city to the different inns, offering his service as a singer and entertainer in exchange for board and lodging. And hopefully the one or other interesting conversation. After a few trials, there is a perceivable contempt towards Tieflings, he finds his chance after giving the innkeeper the concession that if need be he will stop at his sign. Having downed his first cup he pulls out his lute and starts with a simple, popular instrumental song from across the sea. Reminding the one or the other guest of their homeland. A piece common enough to cause memories in most. After having shaken of the stage fright, thus being sure in his step and beat, he starts pulling out the small drums to perform his favourite trick: Playing the lute while drumming the rhythm with his tail. A first time for most of the audience. After having gotten some of the crowd into dancing. He changes to some songs of old legends, of the noble and the jealous king. Of folk that lost their home and the drifter that can't find a new one. Eventually, after having overheard some conversations here and there about the death of one of the many adventurers, he closes with an upbeat song about the heroic death of a quickblade that tried to be faster than arrows, having made up most of the story due to lack of personal information. A ballad with a chorus that allows the crowd to sing along: Darn Vorn. Vorn is lorn: the shadowman: shadow! not man. Closing with: All the archers had their bows while he had just the hilt. But every child, dear archers, knows: a shadow can't be killed. After the last chord is struck. He bows and hops down on the floor, looking through the room to find anyone he deems particularly interesting or knowledgeable, or willing to buy him a drink. The drunk after all tell  the best stories.

What is Marokin hoping for here PK? Information or to increase his reputation?

As you make your way back home one early morning after being out and  about you see Syvil walking with a blank stare down the street. He carries a basket laden with various groceries. Unlike the other residents of Haven he simply passes you by; no curious looks, nor any sign of fear or disgust. Rather you are treated as just another face in the crowd, which might even feel good for once. You walk past each other and the moment passes.

@stephen Information would be more the thing, but nothing in particular, i just felt like writing something :) any stories or lores ppl have to tell can become new songs. And new songs mean drinks at the taverns ;)

About 30 foot after Marokin passes Syvil he begins to halt and to stroke his beard. Pecuiliar, he thinks to himself. Too well dressed for a simple servant, but who would be carrying food baskets around the city that early? Along weapons? Something is very peculiar about this fellow. After having gone through divers thoughts he turns his head just to realize that the booze induced thinking most likely took much longer outside his mind than inside his mind. The character has vanished and only a vague picture remains. Only now he realizes that there was no reaction to his own appearance and it is most likely none of the people that saw him in the tavern. Ah well, there is always a second meeting where questions can be asked, now it is time to sleep and dream of new songs and stories. While walking home he whistles a melody that once came to him in a dream.

After having returned to haven Marokin takes the next opportunity to search for another bar and try out a new song he wrote, the Dromen: a maid went off one night// her hair was gold and bright// her eyes were glowing in strange light The men they followed in the wood// the searchd as well just as they just could// it did not do them any good many years had come and past// when they saw her again at last// all who saw her were aghast they realized she had been maged// they looked at her - quite engaged// not a day she'd aged After the performance he sits down among the common people and asks them for their stories and whether they had also heard of these Dromen creatures. Drinking with them, to loose not only his own tongue.

A man comes over to you after your song and speaks to you in serious tones. His name is Kellen and he is from Netherfell and so from outside the Empire proper. He tells you that once, we he was a boy, his parents lived in an isolated farm close to the Mysts in Normarch. One day, another boy came to live with them after some strangers visited. His parents adopted this boy; Dannith and boy looked ordinary but there was something about him. He stayed with Kellen and his family for about ten years though he hardly spoke a word  and often wandered alone in the vales above the farm, though Kellen was never allowed to go up there.. Then; one night, the sheep broke out of the barn. Kellen woke his parents up and they went downstairs to find several men outside in the dark, as if waiting. As the family lived near the Mysts, they feared the men were Myst-tainted and fled but then men followed and their burned with terrible power and the family could not move. Suddenly the boy Dannith was there and he cried out in a fell voice 'Oh no my fine friends. You are hounds of Cernas! Filthy Dromen, and the Blood of the High Men is not yet spent! ' And so saying; did the boy fling a dreadful power at the men and they all burned to ash in an instant and the boys eye's blazed with power. As the family lay weeping with shock, did Dannith say to them 'I have used my power and now if I stay, you will never be safe, for Dromen can track a spell wake as easily as a dog can follow a scent. Speak of what you have seen to no-one' and then he fled into the night and Kellen never saw him again. Yet when his parents died, he found a secret chest hidden under the floor that held hidden notes. His parents had been part of something called The Circle and had been helping to hide children of a certain bloodline from the Dromen. he never discovered any more, but one day a man came and took the chest and all it contained away, giving Kellen much gold for it. He knows no more but says that Dromen are terrible things and warns you to flee from them if ever you meet one.

Beldak approaches Marokin, he slaps Marokin on the back and offers to buy him a drink, he sits down and lowers voice a little. "All this talk of dark magic, Dromen and the like. I just can't make sense of it. Maybe my old kin could but alas I'm afraid I've become used to the mundane issues of human folk. No unaging maidens in forests or men with burning eyes."  He looks around to make sure no one is listening.     "I hope you don't mind me overhearing your conversation but secret circles protecting a blood line, that sounds like something worth investigating, at least we can only find more information about Dromon and I dare say they have something to do with the Goblins and other strangeness about." He holds his glass up to Marokin "cheers for your aid today my friend, I feared I wouldn't make it, that was quite a blow I took.Though to tell you the truth it's made me feel very much alive, exhilarated even! Anyway if I should happen to stumble upon anything I shall be sure to find you." Finishing his drink already Beldak heads back to the bar.

Before you can leave Marokin grabs you by one hand and pulls him back to whisper: "I fear you are right. And maybe you can find a way to revive your ties to your old kin. I feel stupid for having thought of this as a children's tail. It strikes me as strange that I here find more knowledge about this kind than in the heartlands of the empire. I'll let you know more should I hear more stories. For now it starts to form a circle of songs. "You were brave today and I was only repaying the favour of all of you taking care of the greenlings and their pets. We will venture again soon, I can feel it." While he talks to you can swear that his pupils are directed at and focusing you, though there are none. While holding up his glass that you offered to pay for, he looks at the people around him and says: "To the noble spender! That's the spirit! No, not the one in the glass! The one to buy me a drink..." After a few hours Marokin returns to the tavern, taking a few notes about what happened today and regarding the story that was told to him by Kellen. Wondering if the use of spells really was that easy to track by the Dromen, whatever they may are. "How come this old bedtime story of Cernas is connected to such a cult. And how come this child knew the same of this king. If that king really existed he must be ancient by now. And formost: How did they come to this island or how did the story come from the island to the heart of the empire??? It would be best to do as Beldak proposed and investigate what these circles could be. I really need to find out what is up with this place, this vision and all. Maybe Adolpho, this weirdo, knows if there is a scholar available to be consulted. Common room... I really hope noone gets to drunk and steps on my lute..." worried, Marokin falls asleep    

Considering the preparations of the next assignment for going to the ancient tomb Marokin thinks of the thongs of dead that he heard. To his mind comes a somewhat older and in it's years very popular chanson. He starts practising and singing to himself in the tipsy mermaid room: And another corpse is moving a disapproving undead and the bones they all rattle like a cattle boiling it’s the same old theme with the old undead queen without head, without head she’s still moving with their swords and their bows and their bows and their mauls without head, without head… zombie, zombie without her head yeah her head zombie, zombie, zombie... And another body's turning it is yearning for rest And it's reeking, blood is leaking from what it does digest but you know, there this drow rotten flesh, not for show in your head, in you head it's still walking in the graves in the tombs in the tombs and the rooms In your head, in your head it's still fighting in your head, in your head zombie, zombie, zombie what eats your hand eats your hand zombie, zombie, zombie

Marokin; a noble is listening in the tavern as you sing. He is obviously out of place and is surrounded by discreet bodyguards. At the end of your performance he shouts 'Oh how delightful! What a wonderful ditty! Do come and play for me when you are next in High Town ' and so saying he snaps his fingers and one of his hulking Kullish bodyguards hands you a writ to enter the Upper City (one time use). His name is Hans of House Kleiber and you notice a Rose embroidered next to his house sigil.