Session Summary: ‘Take those if you’re done, good sirs?” Charissa ‘Char’
Cousland said to two rough looking Dwarves sitting at a table in the tavern getting
blasted on good ale. They looked Char over approvingly. She flashed a friendly
smile and waited until they nodded. After catching a silver piece one of the Dwarves
threw her, Char picked up the plates that had held their dinner and headed back
towards the kitchen. She didn’t really work at the tavern. But with no way to pay
room or board, Char sweet-talked the barkeep into letting her sleep in the
stables and bus tables for tips. It cost him nothing and freed up the wenches
to serve ale quicker. That led to more profit and less fights between the rough
and tumble customers. When Char got behind the door, her friendly demeanor shed
like a snake’s scales. She quickly devoured what was left on the Dwarves’
plates, ripping the little meat left on the bones and savoring the broiled
potatoes. Then she inhaled the bland boiled vegetables the Dwarves hadn’t
touched. It wasn’t much, but she’d been surviving on it since she got to town. She turned the charm back on as she walked down the small hallway
and into the kitchen. Char smiled at the other tavern wenches as she slid the
plates into the dishwater. Back from the Lighthouse, there was the gold in her
pocket. A better amount of it than the tavern waitresses were likely to ever
see. And that felt damn good because Char had come to the Savage
Frontier on the run, and it had been a long time since she’d heard anything jingle
when she walked. “How was your first adventure?” asked one of the serving wenches
who’d been friendly to Char. “It went well,” Char replied with a guarded grin. “About a
day’s journey south. That old lighthouse was filed with bugs and rats and bats.
But that was no big thing. We took care of them without any fuss. Then, we met
the ghost of the old…I dunno what you call a guy who lives in a light house.” “The Lighthouse Keeper?” asked another wench. She was an older woman who was jealous of Char’s youth and
looks, and her voice made clear she thought Char was daft. Char tried not to
smile. She knew that her magical acumen could far outstrip anything this broken-down
old bag could ever manage to learn. “Yeah,” Char replied in a tone that suggested she didn’t
know she was being insulted. “A lighthouse keeper. We met his ghost and he
asked us to clear out the basement. We thought it would be like a squatter or
something. It turned out to be a dude with tentacle for an arm who could
literally invade your mind and just tear it apart from inside with his magic.” I know something about invading people’s minds , Char
thought with the hint of a smirk. And tearing them apart with my magic. “He was some kind of cultist to an aboleth,” she went on. “It
was close. We almost lost that elephant who claims to be a lawyer and the
undead lizard thing that just creeps me the hell out. Oh, and we killed his eyeball
monster, too.” “That sounds profitable,” the wench replied with a hint of
suspicion. “Not really,” she lied. “The goody-goodies I went with gave
all our gold to the town to rebuild the Lighthouse, damn it.” The suspicious wench’s eyes narrowed. Char screwed on a
bitchy smile. “If I had gold in my pocket, would I be eating table scraps?” That silenced the nosy wench. I have a lot to buy , Char thought as she quickly
scrubbed the two dishes. Robes, weapons, a mount. And I don’t wanna get robbed
or lose this job because someone realizes I have gold. “Oh, that’s alright, Char,” said the cook as he put down a hearty
plate of stew for her. “You’ll get a reputation for being an asset to this
town. That’ll help when you need it, sweetie.”
“I hope so,” Char shrugged, pretending she’d been part of
the charity. “Oh, I’ll be right back. The bard’s been letting me help with his set,
in exchange for teaching me how to play. And how to weave magic into music…” "Everyone wants to be a bloody bard," the old wench muttered bitterly as Char trotted out of the kitchen with a spring in her step.
