RPG Addicts | We Know You're Hooked

One of the oldest taverns in Torch, the Copper Coin stands right on the western edge  of town. This fixture nightspot fills up with patrons almost every evening, and it is especially popular with laborers and artisans looking to relax after a hard day’s work. Siblings Lawton and Katina Rimos run the Coin as a quality establishment with good food at reasonable prices. In fact, much like their father, who ran the tavern for 30 years before passing away, they pride themselves on claiming everything costs “just a few coppers.” Lawton runs the kitchen, cooking up signature dishes like spiced lamb and lentil soup with sourdough bread. Katina tends bar, serving up popular drinks like Rusty Ale, Wineberry Mead, Steelforged Stout, and Black Hill Whiskey.

Squinting against the sun, the girl's eyes fall on the tavern sign. Hoisting what is left of her gear into a better position on her shoulder, she heads inside.

The girl, who looks to be barely a woman, is obviously of Kellid descent, with something else thrown in for flavor. She wears a simple traveler's outfit, basically a tunic and pants, which look like they haven't had a washing in at least three days. She seems to have no armor, only a walking stick for weaponry, and little gear. And she looks a little roughed up. Still, her demeanor seems unusually sunny as she crosses the bar. She's been through Torch a few times, back when she traveled with her family. There are some good memories here.

She nods to Katina as she sits down. "Morning. What's the word, today?"

((Learning/Knowing Stuff rolls))

Diplomacy: 1d20+1 19

Knowledge (Local): 1d20+7 26

The caravans were running dry and, more importantly, he thought if he kept after the same type of target the League would send hunters after him. I need to change targets. The death might be honorable but there is much more damage I can do.

And that's when he came across a merchant on the road, who said the fire at Torch had gone out. It seemed to the slave this was a perfect opportunity. The human had thought him an idiot and, the slave conceded, it wasn't entirely unfair. He spoke the common trade language horribly. But that was his speech, not his comprehension.

A few days later, the slave arrived in Torch, walking up the side of the hill and into the first ring of the town. Defensible. Elevation, angles of fire, choke points. I could destroy a lot of the League's metal men here.

One night at the bunkhouse, listening to conversations, and he'd learned all he needed to know. Indeed, the torch had gone out. None knew why. And an axe such as the slave's might come in handy. I will wait. They cower and simper just like slaves. They are afraid. The League will come. I have a new target. I will wait.

The next day, as he had the night before, he went to the Copper Coin for food and drink. In their trades language, he said to the serving wench, "More burnt beast and weak ale." She seemed offended. He didn't care. It was over cooked. And the ale was weak. If these "free folk" did not have the strength to handle real spirits, that wasn't his fault.

Many of the other patrons stayed away from him, averting their eyes. It looked like there were still bits of...something, once living, hanging from his axe. He noticed the source of their immediate concern, picked it off the axe, studied it, took a bite of it, then popped the rest down his gullet. In their language, he said, "Is no problem. Just ox pulling cart. Is...ox tar tar." He scraped the flat of the axe against a bench, dropping the last of the rotting flesh to the floor, then sat and waited for his ale.

In Town Diplomacy Check (DC 5): 1d20-2 7

Satisfied that his pack mule is well cared for, and that he has a room to rest his road-weary head when he is done exploring the town for the day, Reawyn goes in search of food. 

As he wanders through town, the non-descript young man tries to politely ask the locals where to get the best, affordable meal, and when he does manage to get someone to actually stop and talk a moment, he asks them as well what they may have heard regarding the Torch on the top of Black Hill, and whetheranyone has any idea why it might have gone out.

[New in town Diplomacy (DC: 5) [1d20] = 19]

It may be that people are a little more open here. Or maybe they are so worried about what the Torch going out might mean, that they are willing to gossip a bit more with a stranger than normal. In any case Reawyn gleans enough information to get a pretty good idea of where he should at least go for some lunch.

Soon the nondescript young man enters the front doors of the Copper Coin. Those who notice him at all see a young man with medium length brown hair, garbed in much stained leathers, a cudgel and dagger hanging from his belt along with dozens of small pouches on a bandolier. The only thing that really seems to stand out about him is the acrid fumes that permeate the air around him. He seems to not notice teh caustic miasma, which stings the eyes and noses of those that linger too close.

He watches with a raised eyebrow as a dwarf scrapes rotten meat off an axe and decides he will find somewhere to sit that does not place him too near the brutish fellow.

Sitting near the kitchen it takes him some time to get the attention of one of the serving women. despite her not seeming to want to stand too near, he puts on his best smile.

"Might I ask what the cook has prepared for the midday meal? Stew or soup perhaps? I''ll start by getting something nice and cool to drink, the road has been dusty and hot."

As he says this he fishes a few copper coins out from a pouch that holds a handful of copper and silver coins.

[OoC: he has left much of his gear in his room that he rented, rather than walk the streets of the town with a spear and packs full of gear.]

According to all the stories Eva had ever read about adventurous types they almost always started in places just like The Copper Coin. A place where not so like minded individuals would set out on grand quests unearthing strange magics, saving townsfolk, entire cities and sometimes whole worlds. Stories like that thrilled and terrified the young woman but she hoped one day some little boy or girl would be reading stories about her and her future band of miscreants. But first she'd have to find the place.

Unfortunately one of her bad habits was walking around with her nose in a book. Not the kind of thing that made getting around any easier. After several incidents of stumbling into strangers and one encounter with a particularly unfriendly doggy she wandered into a place called The Marrymaid by mistake. Needless to say she no longer had to wonder if Androids could blush. They could. Luckily her destination lied just across the street from her latest encounter with misfortune.

After one last momentary struggle with her overburdened pack she stumbles into the tavern with high hopes for her future.

The woman brought a wooden plate with a steaming bit of stew on it and a tankard of dark liquid. With a nervous smile, she said, "It's a stout, and we added some whiskey to it. I hope you like it." Ursk eyed her suspiciously as he lifted the tankard to his bulbous nose and sniffed the brew. If she's trying to poison me, she'll die before she reaches the kitchen. But the brew smelled fine and after a cautious sip he decided she was right, it was much better and the whiskey gave it a nice kick.

"Is fine," he muttered in a gravelly voice, still not trusting her smile. She walked off, somewhat deflated by the dwarf's flat response but also relieved to be getting away from him.

Rather than using the provided wooden spoon for his stew, he picked chunks of food from the plate with his fingers. As he ate, he watched the people stroll into the tavern and listened to their conversations. A small dog slipped under the table, finding the remains of whatever it was Ursk had scraped off his axe, and lapped it up off the floor. Ursk watched the dog for a moment with a furrowed brow, then tore off a piece of his bread and gave it to the mongrel, speaking quietly in Dwarven:

Perception: 1d20+4 19 (Watching and listening to people)

Reawyn slides the copper coins toward the server, but it is obvious that the new entrant to the tavern has caught his eyes, with her too perfect face, and the faintly glowing lines on her skin.

A contsruct? Or what are they called in Androffan?.. An android? Yes that was it.

He had heard of such beings, but never seen one.

[Knowledge (Engineering) [1d20+5] = 13+5 = 18]

After chatting with the bartender, Katina, for a bit, the girl orders some stew and water. While waiting for her food, she turns and looks around the room. First, her eyes fall on the scarred dwarf feeding scraps of meat to a dog. She smiles slightly at that. Then her eyes wander, stopping on Raewyn. Her eyebrows furrow with faint concern over the waitress avoiding being near him. Then her eyes wandered to Eva. She looked... surprised? Confused? She quickly averted her eyes and turned back to the bar, to avoid staring.

As it happens, Ursk is also watching Eva, her arrival having caught his attention while the dog was licking some of the stew off his fingers. Odd skin. Glowing lines. Weird eyes. Aspects of her have disturbing similarities to the League's robots but... otherwise, she looks human. The robots have not.

He looks around the tavern and sees that nobody else is reacting or, at least, not in alarm. He tries to project an aura of calm, to imitate everyone else around him, pretend he's looking anywhere except at her... 

Bluff check: 1d20-2 1

He turns his head as if to look over his shoulder but his eyes turn the other way, trying to continue to track the strange woman. The result is a wide-eyed, cross-eyed dwarf with muscle spasms. This is good, he thinks... Very subtle. Nobody will notice I'm watching her. If she's with the League, she'll probably reveal it very soon. Then, when she does, with the element of surprise, I will kill her.

OOC: I absolutely will not start intraparty conflict, promise, just working this through Ursk's world-view.

[Perception [1d20+4] = 16+4 = 20]
[Sense Motive [1d20] = 11]

Reawyn sees the burly dwarf twitch and spasm with seeming surprise at the sight of the android. Is that fear?

Hen quietly waits for his bowl of stew and mug of ale, listening for any rumours or talk about the flame of the torch going out.