The eternal starry sky turned over the Rock of Bral as it has for untold eons, but this day the stars seemed a little dimmer than usual as they had to compete with the lights, fireworks, and brilliant illusory entertainments that filled the Great Market for the celebration of Crozar's Day. This celebration was held annually in memory of the the great King Crozar, widely recognized as the "father of the Rock" and the grandfather of the current ruler, Prince Andru.
The mansions of the High City were flooded with lights and people as each tried to outdo the other for one of the most, if not the most, widely celebrated holidays on the Rock. Consequently the Watch was on high alert and there were increased patrols and standing guards all over the High and Middle Cities. The Great Market was more crowded than it had been in years, and the smell and sounds of hundreds of various races packed closely together created a pungent miasma over the area.
On the dockside of the Market sits a tavern well known to many of the spacers and merchants that frequent the Great Market and various craftsmen of the area, the Keelhauled Scavver. This large tavern features two floors, the lower floor being an open eating and drinking social area, with a slightly elevated stage in the back corner, currently occupied by a elvish bard and a few backup musicians performing a long-form piece about the legendary Spelljammer herself. The upper floor offers rentable private meeting rooms, and larger group dining spaces. Two doors set in the wall facing the Market provide easy entrance and exit on either side of the large bar of glossy Torilian hardwood. The general floor is about three quarters full with a wide array of races and interesting people, and numerous waitstaff move among the tables.
In the other open corner of the main floor, near a rear exit that is barred from the inside, a large corkboard serves as a general information distribution center with notices in nearly a dozen languages about a wide variety of offered services, ships hiring crew, people looking for mercenaries of one stripe of another, advertisements for joining the Watch or the various other guilds of the Rock.
Having just returned to port, without his clan, and with uncertain prospects for his future, Rupert heads to the Keelhauled Scavver, for some drink , and to contemplate his next steps. He saunters through the door, orders a strong ale with the first waitstaff he comes across, then while waiting for his drink and scratching his prostigeous chin, he spots the General Information Corkboard, and decides to see if it holds any possible prospects fro him.
Melville considers his prospects. Just five gold, he clicks his beak, in annoyance. He was not expecting to be put ashore, he was still supposed to be a few months from completing the contract he signed on for.
Darn insular elves, turning away an honest merchant.
While Bral was not his home, he was no stranger to it, he knew about the board of postings. Indeed as an apprentice, he had tacked a few postings on it for his cartel when they needed to hire some muscle that they wanted for more \off the record\ purposes. Usually the dohwar went straight to the giff command when they needed mercenaries , but sometimes you wanted things less official.
He had never anticipated being on this end of the board though, looking for work rather than posting it. But there was no way he was going to go back to the Cartel in this state, a dismal failure, he needed to build a new stake, then get a successful trade agreement.
He has managed to work his way up to the board and is standing on his toes, straining to see the board (picture a 3.5' tall penguin straining, beak up, even hopping a little trying to read something that is at eye level for a human) when suddenly he is knocked forward a step by the bilk of a giff movinmg up to look down at the board.
He gives a hiss of indignation. But wisely just clacks his beak after that, stopping before he voices his displeasure.
"Careful, there are beings here a bit smaller than yourself sir giff."
(11-30-2020, 05:30 AM)Melville Wrote: [ -> ]Melville considers his prospects. Just five gold, he clicks his beak, in annoyance. He was not expecting to be put ashore, he was still supposed to be a few months from completing the contract he signed on for.
Darn insular elves, turning away an honest merchant.
While Bral was not his home, he was no stranger to it, he knew about the board of postings. Indeed as an apprentice, he had tacked a few postings on it for his cartel when they needed to hire some muscle that they wanted for more \off the record\ purposes. Usually the dohwar went straight to the giff command when they needed mercenaries , but sometimes you wanted things less official.
He had never anticipated being on this end of the board though, looking for work rather than posting it. But there was no way he was going to go back to the Cartel in this state, a dismal failure, he needed to build a new stake, then get a successful trade agreement.
He has managed to work his way up to the board and is standing on his toes, straining to see the board (picture a 3.5' tall penguin straining, beak up, even hopping a little trying to read something that is at eye level for a human) when suddenly he is knocked forward a step by the bilk of a giff movinmg up to look down at the board.
He gives a hiss of indignation. But wisely just clacks his beak after that, stopping before he voices his displeasure.
"Careful, there are beings here a bit smaller than yourself sir giff."
"WHAT? SORRY DID YOU SAY SOMETHING TO ME? I DON'T HEAR TO WELL!", exclaims Rupert rather loudly as he cups a hand to his ear.
"I SURVIVED A BIG EXPLOSION, BUT MY HEARING NEVER FULLY RECOVERED!", he announces to the bird he towers over.
"TOU LOOKING FOR WORK TO?"
"OH I AM SORRY FOR BEING SO RUDE! I AM RUPERT GLADSTONE, PLEASED TO MEET YOU, SORRY BUT I DID NOT CATCH YOUR NAME SIR!", he says while extending a huge ham sized hand down in a gesture of friendship.
Used to the bombastic nature of all giff, Melville looks up at the giff, trying to see any sign of insignia or rank. Giff of course connfused him, so he wasn't shure what he was looking for, he just knew the more medals and insignia, the higher the rank. He decided on just asking.
"I am Melville of the Chrysoco Cartel, what is your rank sir giff, so that I can address you properly?"
"I AM MASTER CORPRAL GLADSTONE OF THE RED REVENGE'S COMMANDOS! BUT MY FRIENDS CALL ME RUPERT!"
Among the flyers on the board there are numerous ship postings, although none on the top-most layer specifically for Giff or Dohwar vessels or guilds. There are several recruitment flyers for the Regulars and Militia of Bral, several artisan and general merchant guilds, and even an old IEN recruitment flyer barely visible underneath the rest. The most eye-catching advertisement is a page slightly larger than the rest with a full color illustration of a squidship, it's iconic ram painted a vibrant gold compared the the deep red and white of the rest of the ship. It is posted high on the board, making it quite difficult for Melville to see clearly without some kind of a boost. Rupert can see that it is a general call for sailors, soldiers, & spelljammers looking to sign on for an "18 month expedition of exploration, adventure, and bountiful wealth" signed by a Captain Revelio Threadvine at dock 34.
A young, attractive female tiefling wearing the same brown clothing (an ankle/hoof length dress and corset in this case) as the rest of the waitstaff and carrying a large tankard on a tray, steps up to the odd couple at the job board. She carefully positions herself just in the periphrial vision of the giff, but just far enough away that he is unlikely to abruptly smack into her if he should turn quickly. She reaches out and carefullly taps him on the shoulder while saying in a mousy voice that Melville can already tell will be too quiet for the Giff to actually hear, "Your drink, sir?"
{OOC: Are there particular jobs postings that either of you are looking for? the big poster is not necessarily a required plot hook as it may be read as. It is just the most noticable and arresting flyer on the board. the field is still wide open.}
"OH WHAT! THANKYOU DEAR! HEY MELVILLE! I CAN CALL YOU MELVILLE, RIGHT? THAT POSTING LOOKS INTERESTING". Rupert politely takes his beer and pulls the charter from the top of the posting board and shows it to the dimutive penguine aat his feet.
"It does indeed. Wonder if they need a navigator as well as a skilled pilot?"
"She wants to take your drink order." Melville flaps a flipper toward the waitress. He turns to look up at her. "How much is an ale? And do you have any fish based dishes tonight?"
[OoC Melville was looking for navifator or spelljamming pilot positions, as those would pay the best generally]