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Post by Ossular on Jan 19, 2019 19:54:37 GMT
"Three gold dragons say the wizard doesn't come back!"
"Five on the fighter being the only one coming back out within a tenday!" "Two on the halfling!""Four on the lot of them never coming back up!"
Roars, laughter and bets were shouted and called out amidst the creaking of a used rope-and-pulley system that was lowering the first of a group of new adventurers into one of the most iconic locations in Waterdeep (or under it, to be more specific)- Undermountain. Music played, drinks were poured and the older proprietor, a human with dark hair and thick mutton-chops that ran into an equally thick mustache that combed over his generally tired, wore a grumpy and strained expression from lowering the bucket into the wide, aged stone shaft in the middle of the room before finally stopping, wiping a layer of sweat from his brow and quickly rolling up his sleeves to return to the customers across the length of the wooden bar. Walking up and down, quickly moving and exchanging gold pieces for quick notes and tabs, this bartender would move toward the end of the bar, stopping at a recent arrival. Dressed in common clothes, worn dark leather boots and a long coat loosely hung on his frame, the man gave the bartender a small upward nod. His hair was pulled back into a braided tail, the sides recently shaved. The thump of a pack heavy with armor, equipment and weapons was heard at his feet, and a great-sword that was leaned against the front-side of the bar. The human would lean forward, folding his arms to talk to the bartender.
"Mr. Aliester," the bartender would speak, a rough, deep voice heard over the ambient ramblings of everything around him.
"Durnan," Aliester would respond. "You got any rooms available?"
"A couple. Ain't gonna be quiet, though," the bartender would lean forward, grabbing a mug and a rag, wiping clean one of the mugs. "You know how it is."
"Aye," the fighter responded. "As long as it locks, it'll be good enough for now." Durnan would turn, handing over a key, and Aliester would give over a couple of gold dragons before nodding. Picking up his equipment and lugging it over his shoulder with both hands, he would walk toward a set of the stairs. Up two floors and across one of the landings over-looking the well in the middle of the room, along with a view over the populace of the Yawning Portal below him, Aliester would take a breath of stale air, fresh meats and fresh ale before moving toward a room, opening the door with the simple lock and then entering the small room with a bed, a table and a couple of blankets. It would work for now- the bed would catch the pack of equipment, and the fighter would groan, stretching out his arms and rubbing his shoulders in a relatively silent moment to himself. One more breath and he would move back out of the room, lock the door and head back down to the bar, returning to the seat where his great-sword still rested before sitting back down on the seat he was previously at. A pint of Shadowdark ale was set down, by Durnan, who nodded to him before walking off.
"Thanks," Aliester would take a breath, running a hand across his face. There was no shift, no job, no patrol anymore. There was just a sense of freedom and uncertainty in his mind, and he would take an almost solemn moment to himself in the middle of the relative chaos that was the Yawning Portal. It was the first step that he had taken into becoming a proper adventurer, and in a way, it was scary, but also exciting. For now, though? Aliester would take the free drink to his lips, sipping it at first, and then taking a proper gulp of it before bringing it back down and turning in his seat, and looking around the tavern. He figured he would just let whatever happened happened, and whatever Tymora would bring him, good or bad, would be the start of something of an adventure within one of the most popular taverns in Waterdeep.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316 
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 20, 2019 2:16:18 GMT
She'd been in Waterdeep for a few days now, extended her stay at the Sail's Prow Inn another week - same room as before, room seven, on the third deck. She rather liked it there all things considered. And if her performances the last week were any indication? She wouldn't have to worry too much about income here. Moving up into the officer level quarters was something she considered, but with bath, cleaning services, and a few other extras already tied into her current rent? There really wasn't any need to move. Plus… she'd have to have her trunk moved, and that was a pain in the ass.
The first week had gone well. She'd gotten to know Malakbel more, investigated a graveyard, and was spreading her reputation through the Dock Ward and the general skies above Waterdeep. The Griffin Calvary had finally caught up with her the other day. The large looming wingspans of the fierce mounts circled around her, four of them, and their riders called out for her to follow them down to the ground. Not wanting to be arrested quite yet (though she was sure it would happen eventually… chaos magic never stood still for long) she'd flown down with a friendly posture. All in all? It was the Calvary introducing themselves and wanting to know more about her. She wasn't fooled, it was a profile inquisition, so they'd know exactly who she was if the blame ever had to be focused on her. But she answered their questions and got to know them in turn. The phoenix had learned some of the airspace, particularly around the castle, was off limits. But beyond that? To stay safe and have a good day - and stop trying to tease and bribe the griffins into aerial competitions.
And all during this week? She'd heard, from several sources, the whispers and outright boisterous conversations, about a very intriguing inn. The Yawning Portal. The stories were wide and far-reaching as the biggest fish tails and maps of treasure she'd heard out in the Inner Sea. It was also one of the premiere locations for continual, reliable, and completely at-will, no House to interfere, gambling.
And she wanted in on it.
So with a coin purse full of electrum, a handful of silver, a few gold, and five platinum pieces she ventured out of the Dock Ward to sniff her cat-like curiosity into the Castle Ward between the Castle and Snail Street, not too far away from her home base on Fish Street - to Rainrun street. She liked the street name.
Decked out in a mix of her performing outfit (she never knew if there'd be a chance to play, especially at such a popular inn like this!) and her casual clothes Citrine chose to walk instead of fly. Her black leather calf-high pants were there, fitting like a glove, attached as per usual (as all her pants were) in a corset-style tightened and fastened together on the side-seam of the leg (it was impossible to put pants on in the traditional manner). Instead of traditional boots she wore jesse-styled cuffs of leather around her ankles which left her jagged and dangerous taloned bird feet open for all to see. An off-white shirt, open in a loose scoop neckline (showing plenty), hugged her torso tight but was much looser in the shoulders (nearly drooping off one shoulder completely) and had sleeves which were baggy up until her mid-forearm before tightening snuggly as if wearing bracers. Synching her torso into even a more hourglass shape was a high sitting corset, copper brown with brass buckles and gold lacing on each side under the armpit, keeping her chest up and secure while also keeping her shirt secure. Her dancer skirt -a deep burnt orange, gem shards, and with all the gold and silver embroidery- was tied tightly around her waist in a pirate-like fashion. And to top it off? Her Captain's Coat. A deep ruby red calf-length sea-worthy coat with all the brass and buttons and buckles you'd expect. Gold thread phoenixes in flight flew up from the bottom hem and the collar lapels. There were no sleeves, the coat either made without out them or modified by a skilled hand. Slits let her wings and tail move freely without restraint.
There was no doubt the coat, and really, her entire outfit, were pieces that were designed and sewn with her specific body size and accommodations in mind. She looked both wealthy and successful while also appearing like someone who worked nearly every day. The leather was so well worn it was only due to oil and aftercare it shone like it still did. Her shirt seemed a little more threadbare than at first glance, and the coat? Well… okay, the coat was near priceless looking. No denying that.
She spotted the chain-dangling sign well after the shouts and smells from the Inn reached her senses. The vibrancy. The waft of booze. The acrid sweat.
Yes. This is where she wanted to be.
Stepping in the inside was just as glorious as the sounds made it out to be. Loud, chaotic, shouts and jeers. A wave of joyous drunken laughs went up as something happened - someone was clambering up a rope that had been put down the well. Kreeing her own laugh and jeer to the wave of sound around her Citrine wished she was taller so she could see past the heads around her to see what was going on. It was too close quarters to hover up…. She did not want anyone pulling on her feathers!
Much too sober and very much too short to see what was going on, Citrine tucked her violin case close to her chest and began to duck and weave under the excited arms and sloshes of drink to snake her way towards the bar. She needed to have a drink in one, if not both, hands and fill her flask with whiskey.
Lucky for her, with the excitement going on? The bar was mostly clear. A few people sat at the bar but more were at all the circle tables scattered about in the…. whhiiissssttllllleee. The place was huge once you walked in! Two floors expanded upwards with a clear balcony all surrounding the Portal. Still not having a good view of anything except asses (though, not an all bad thing either) the musician clicked and kreed at anyone who bumped into her and wing-buffeted anyone who tried to keep her from a drink.
Finally, finally! she made it to the bar and smoothly, as if second nature, claw-jumped her way onto the higher barstool and clicked a few coins down on the counter as pre-payment. She never had a problem with the bartender recognizing her tab - she was rather unforgettable after all. From the bar proper now she could see a gargoyle like fiend mouth of a fireplace near the bar, and sorta-kinda see the Portal better. Feet tapping and tail shifting back and forth as the atmosphere started to seep into her blood she waited her turn with the bartender patiently and spun back around to sit proper on the chair, then leaned her elbow down on the bar top to look at the lad next to her.
" 'ello there Lad!" She struck up small talk as easy as breathing. Seeing his empty mug? "Aye take et teh ale Aye've 'eard rumors about es as gooud as Aye've heard ef ah pint tha' size es already gone." She eyed his pint with a considering eye, judging the condensation on the side still shining but the drink gone. "Es et worth orderin' then?" She asked, now looking over his profile with her raptor eyes. He was fit, that was clear as day, but seemed to hold his posture a bit more stiffly then most of the folk jeering in the tavern. As she looked back from his hands, well worn from work, and back to his face she gave him a smile and a bit of a tooth-showing grin. She was here for a good time, good drinks, and hopefully good conversation - had to start somewhere!
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Post by Ossular on Jan 20, 2019 3:25:20 GMT
There was some kind of shuffle next to him, and out of the corner of his eye as he brought his ale back to the counter after a second drink, he saw something- no, someone- that required a full observation to disgest the appearance of. Large, raptor wings, feathers and all with reds, yellows and oranges of some kind of fox. Hair of the same colors with braids and trinkets like a sailor, but instead of the aarakoca that he was expecting, he was met with the face of a woman with pleasant features and dark freckles that contrasted against the eyes that reflected the fires of the torches and mantles on the walls and above them on the chandeliers that dotted the open area above them. Aliester would take in everything, the stout appearance, the reds of her sea coat and the dull shine of the metals that hung at her hips, and it was all fitted to boot as well, matching her body and proportioned properly. Compared to him? She was a beacon.
She spoke, and Aliester chuckled to himself. Now she was talking to him? What in Tymora's luck had he done in a past life to- "Aye. I always make sure to get at least one when I come in," his voice would carry across, talking a little louder to compensate the bar around them. Aliester would smile back, shaking his tankard for emphasis before setting it back down on the counter of the bar before them. "It's called Shadowdark if you want one," he'd motion to one of the keg barrels on the other side of the bar from them- tall, wide and all shapes of barrels, made of different kinds of woods and metals, all painted with what was in them and where it was from, as well as the date to reference how fresh the keg was. One of the reasons the Yawning Portal was so popular was the consistently updated taps as well as the various kinds of seasonal foods available to guests of all shapes and sizes. Of course the prices were a bit higher than normal taverns in other parts of the city, but who else could claim they were essentially the hub for most active adventures worth their coin in Waterdeep?
F*ck it, Aliester. Go for the long-shot, right? What's the worst that could happen?
"I could get one for you, if you wanted to try?" the fighter would offer, turning a bit more to... whatever she was. Some kind of eladrin? No, didn't have the ears for it. Maybe some kind of tall halfling or dwarven sorceress? That didn't fully fit, either. Possibly even a warlock? He wasn't sure- Aliester would note to ask if their conversation got any further than the initial drink. Whatever it was about her, though, it had caught his attention, that was for sure.
"Oi, miss," Durnan's voice would call to her, and Aliester's eyes would shift over toward the bartender. His expression was the exact same as it as for every other patron that had come into the Yawning Portal as he leaned onto an elbow. Stoic. Damn near unimpressed, spoken with a permanent purse of the lips. "Can I get ya' anything?"
"Refill when you get a moment, Durnan?" the ex-guard would ask, his only response a simple nod from Durnan, who spent the next several seconds looking over the new customer. He never forgot a face in his bar- or the tabs that they may or may not have owed.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 20, 2019 4:20:01 GMT
Her soft coo and clicks of approval were matched only by her widening smile and a light in her eyes. "Oi! O' course ye can buy me ah drink Lad. Aye'd love tae try teh local wares." A sly wink was added to the end, a playful punctuation to start the evening out with no embarrassment or hesitation. Free drinks meant her own coin purse would last that much longer. With nare a thought to the personal boundaries her mage hand - a burnt orange with bright fire-spark like fireflies caught within - reached out and snagged the empty tankard to bring it closer. Sniffing the cup, eyes closing, she sorted through the smells. Barley was there, and hops - as a beer should - but with deeper undertones of something darker. Chocolate? Molasses? Hell.. Even some honey could account for the richness she was picking up. The only way to tell for sure? "Aye, Aye want tae try ef ye are being so kind as tae hail one down fer me." She set the cup down, mage hand disappearing as if it were second nature for her to summon and de-summon the third limb. It was then the no-nonsense voice of the bartender drew her notice, head sharply turning bird-focused style and cocked to the side to hear better. "Aye, tha' ye can bartender, ef ye'll be sae kind." She pushed the pile of coins, electrum and a few pieces silver (not at all organized), towards him with the hungry grin of someone who knew exactly what and how much this would end up buying throughout the night. "An' ef et runs out? Jus' letme knae. Oh!" She paused mid-sentence and tugged a flask off of her hip, "Fill et with ah whiskey ye'd want ah newcomer tae teh city tae try." With the flask was a gold piece. There was no cutting corners on whiskey. She then gave the lad next to her a double-checking look before turning back to the barkeep - Durnan she realized when his name was said and she matched up the rumors and stories she'd heard of the Inn. "But first? This lad 'ere said Aye must try one of ye're Shadowdark Ales - on him o' course, ah right proper gentlemen he's bein'." She teased him without sparing him a glace even out of the corner of her eye, focusing on Durnan for now. "Tis much appreciated, an on ye own time, Durnan es et? Pleasure tae visit ye inn. Et's already living well past teh stories Aye've heard, en all teh best ways." It was second nature to complement and -hopefully- set a good first impression. Especially if she was going to get as drunk as she hoped to. And by saying to take his time? Showed she was in no rush and had full intentions of staying here several hours if things went well. There was gambling to be had. "Sae, me gentleman." She was speaking again to the other patron next to her - finally returning her gaze to casually met his. "Ye often buy drinks fer lasses ye just meet? O' am Aye an exception?" She teased him and crossed her ankles - not that it did much. Her feet swung like a child who couldn't reach even the support bar of the stool… which… her feet didn't. But that was nothing new. "Tis much appreciated. Might Aye knae what ye're called? Et's only fair tae be able tae thank ye properly. Can' just keep callin' ye Lad all night - unless ye plan on leaving soon?" She would have said more had there not been a sudden series of shouting and excitement coming from those who surrounded the Portal. Ears immediately perked up at the sound, the feathers in her hair rising up like a dog who was told they were about to go for a walk. "Oi!" She shouted as she sat up higher in her chair, then giving up, and with the urgency of not wanting to miss anything hoisted her weight onto the bar table and stood on her chair. Her tail feathers curled down now to where her feet had been and her wings expanded above her head to match her excitement. "They're shoutin' for the rope!" A patron yelled, to the ecstatic shouts of some and the defeated groans of others - jingle of coins throughout the three stories exchanging hands. Whistling in a series of upbeat sharp pitch-rising steps, due to the bustling atmosphere, Citrine added her voice into the mix - despite having no idea what was going on. It was just too exciting to not join in! |
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Post by Ossular on Jan 20, 2019 5:54:46 GMT
Aliester, with a small smirk of amusement on his face, would watch as the mage hand spell with the crackling fireflies like knuckles within an actual hand grabbed his tankard, moving it to her so she could take a whiff of what was left of the ale at the bottom of it. He was familiar with the spell, and seeing as it didn't seem like she was trying to trick him or anything, he would patiently wait for the mug to be returned before taking it back up to actually finish it off. He would watch the exchange of money, and his eyes would come back up to Durnan's stoic figure with a nod. "I did," Aliester would respond to Citrine saying he was paying for her first one. Unblinking in the face of compliment and complaints alike, Durnan simply took the fighter's tankard at the same time fetching one for the amber-colored aarakocra, all while acknowledging what she had said with a gruff, dull mhmmm. "Durnan can be-" Aliester would pause for a moment, think of the right word, then continue- " stoic, at the best of times," he would offer. "He appreciates the compliments nonetheless, I'm sure." At least the fighter would like to think so. The woman with the wings next to him spoke up, returning her amber gaze to him as he chuckled a little bit. "Call it an exception," he would at least be truthful and honest, leaning on the bar a little more as he himself adjusted on the stool. "I'm celebrating my... retirement," Aliester would offer, at least in a vague sense of the word. "Figured I'd just pass on the good luck and the good vibes and see where the rest of the day takes me since I don't have anywhere to be in the morning." The fighter had a place to be- his bed, sleeping in for the first time in... forever. No patrol. No guard routes through the City of the Dead. No delivering bad news to parents or standing at gates for hours on end. Though she did bring up a good point- he hadn't given his name. He was about to, but there was a sudden uproar from the Portal as it caught both of their attention. With her standing on her chair, people turned and got closer, with people on the balcony looking over in wonder and curiosity, with the exception of several patrons here and there, having their own private conversations within the corners and private booths of the rooms that made up the floors of the inn. "They're shoutin' for the rope!"
"Not even an hour?!" "They just went down!" "Told ya so!" Shouts came from every part of the room, with a snarl and a roar echoing from the cave, stopping the merriment across the floor. The only thing heard was the almost Wilhelm-styled scream of something unfortunate happening to the wizard before everything fell silent from the well. A thump was heard, and the bartender, Durnan, as if on queue, would hop over the bar with a massive double crossbow, moving toward the well-portal itself, stopping on the ledge and aiming down. Pulling the trigger, a heavy THUMP would sound off, echoing into the well, where there would be a snarled roar from the bottom of the well, followed by retreating footsteps. Only once the footsteps were gone would Durnan would look up and around his tavern. "Like it's anythin' new! Start the music back up," would be his only almost quiet words before most everyone, without so much of a second thought, would go back to what they were doing beforehand. Money would still exchange hands, and a small halfling bard would stand up on a table, holding up a human sized tankard in his child-sized hand. "To the fallen," he'd offer simply. A couple people would remove hats and raise tankards, and almost on queue, two thumps would be heard on the bar behind Citrine and Aliester. The fighter would set a couple gold pieces for his own tab, take his own tankard and raise it in the toast. "May we never forget that we're soft and squishy when it comes to the gold dragons." A couple of agreements would echo out and that would be that. People would drink, and the music would pick back up, with the bards back to playing their instruments by the roaring fire of the mantle across the room from them. "So, on that note," Aliester would look back at the winged woman in the chair next to him. "I'm Aliester- James Aliester," he would introduce himself by offering her the drink he had bought for her. |
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 20, 2019 6:45:55 GMT
Citrine was enraptured by the events going on. The rumors were true, just like the tall tales of the Ship's Prow Inn. By now? Anything she heard about Waterdeep she was going to take as fact. Holly would be annoyed and just sigh with a roll of her eyes - all facts were worth triple checking after all. But she wasn't the studious type. Nae. She was an instinctual type. And her instincts? Said it was all true. The shouts for the rope. The roars of a creature trying to come up. Durnan - who moved much slower than she'd ever wager - kept the peace.
"Gus am Brus an Latha." Citrine added her own addition to the small wake for the unknown adventure who seemingly had passed down below - the smell of burning leaves perfuming the area around them, coming from… her wings?
The moment only lasted a wing beat before returning to the festive cheer, taking a bit of a rolling start to get back truly to the level it was before. And the leaves? The smell returned to candlesmoke, ash, and clove - but that scent was everywhere in a place that smoked and had fires an torches everywhere. Her tail twitched with a barely contained curiosity still focused on the well - her head snapping down to look at her companion when he spoke again. Plopping down back on the stool, it tipping slightly before her wings spread to re-balance herself on the chair she hoisted two fingers in a salute. "Nice tae meet ye James. Ye can call me Citrine, Citrine Redbriar." She still had the wonderment and excitement of witnessing her first portal victim. And that excitement was beginning to implant an idea in her head.
Swooping up the tankard she took a deep draft of her ale - she still couldn't place the dark taste… "Aye have tae say - et'll be another drink o' sae fer me tae pinpoint teh taste Aye get from teh ale." She looked over the rim of her mug with a sparkle in her eye, "Ah cryin' shame, aye?" Returning the mug to the counter for now, she had to pace herself after all. This was no Anchor Day.
Even with wanting to pace she took another pull from her drink, snagging it back towards her check and taking a peak around James to see if her flask had been filled yet. She was excited to see what sort of liquid gold it would be filled with. It wasn’t often she got to try new spirits like it seemed the Yawning Portal seemed to have. Not many taverns in the Pirate Isle was this expansive – and for fair reason. As Robin Hood as she tended to be? There was another not so generous. Any tavern or inn so well stocked would just mean the next ship in harbor would become just as well stocked. Maybe it would seem like a lot, someone so small like her planning on drinking so much. But she had decades upon decades of practice.
“Glad tae be ye exception, tis an honour Aye’ll take with me tae me gravestone.” She made as dramatic of a sitting bow as she could towards the northern-like looking man, though the effect was ruined by her taking a side glace to the Portal again. It really was fascinating thing. “Teh bartender Durnan seems as unique as teh bar an’ portal ‘e guards.” She commented casually on the scene with the crossbow. It was then his words that he had said before registered in her head. “An’ …. Wait Lad.. did ye say retired? From wut exactly?” She inquired in her whiskey-an-rye accent. “Ye don’t seem ah day past… well… tae old.”
She heard too that he had no where to go the next morning, or more precisely, had no where to be the next morning. A multitude of questions ran through her head at that statement, some positive and grand reasons! Others? Others got quite sad. Instinctively she cooed in the back of her throat, as if she didn’t even realize she was doing so, to sooth the sudden idea that it was due to perhaps a family death or other such tragedy. But the song tapered off when she matched the potential sadness to his comment on the comments of ‘celebrating’ ‘good luck’ and ‘good vibes’. In that case? She rose her hand to signal she wanted to place another drink order – colored wax now scenting the air around her - chirping excitedly when Durnan came around. “Tae shots o’ ye most burnin’ and throa’ scratchen rum ye have! We’re celebrating!” Precisely what she wasn’t sure. But it never took much to inspire and encourage Citrine to celebrate anything.
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Post by Ossular on Jan 20, 2019 22:37:40 GMT
Aliester would, of course, take a drink with the toast- not Citrine's, mind you- the general toast. Whatever language she had spoken was lost to him (maybe dwarvish?) though the faint notes of burning leaves caught his attention. It was almost the same potency of lighting a torch in the night on patrol in the City of the Dead.
The fighter would introduce himself, and the woman returned the favor in kind. Citrine Redbriar, a woman with wings clad in reds of all kinds. She took a drink, and he did as well, watching her trying to pinpoint the taste it in the ale that the two of them now had. "Well,' Aliester spoke with a small smirk, "I won't ruin the surprise for you." He had been shocked about the secret ingredient his first time here, too, but if it wasn't poisonous and wound up tasting good, who was he to question the final product? Though, as if on queue, when Citrine started to look for her flask, though from the other direction that what she was looking, Durnan would appear with her flask, setting it down with a quiet thump behind Citrine's tankard before moving off with little more than a nod of recognition before he was off again to a different part of the bar over by the demon-faced fireplace in the wall.
Aliester released a small chuckle at the dramatization of the honor of being an exception. "Well, hopefully that's a long time for now," though he could tell, enough, that she was glancing over toward the Yawning Portal in the middle of the room. It made sense- it was definitely a unique attraction, and adventurers far and wide came to test their mettle for the promises of riches and unique, magical items. "Yeah. If you catch him at the end of the night, he tells stories if he feels up to it. Hear he's a magical storyteller when he wants," Aliester would inform his new acquaintance before what he said sunk in.
"Oh, thanks," he'd chuckle more after Citrine's comment, taking another drink of his own ale. "No, I'm retiring from the City Guard," Aliester would be more specific. "Seven, eight years, about? Decided to take up adventuring. Figured their would be plenty of opportunities around Waterdeep of all places for jobs, you know?" he'd shrug a little bit. "Last shift on duty was, well, today. Ended about three hours ago. Emptied all my stuff out of my bunk and chest and brought it across town to, well? Here," he'd explain, then take another sip of his ale, of course, before Durnan popped up at Citrine's hand call, taking her order.
"Comin' up," Durnan would move back away for a moment, then appear with two small glasses and a bottle that had dwarvish script across the label that neither patron could read. "Start with this," the bartender would offer, sliding both glasses to Citrine (as she was the one that bought the drinks). With that, he was gone again, down to the other side of the bar once more where a group of other adventurers had come in, a half-orc, a gnome, two half-elf and a human. During this, though, Aliester tilted his head toward one side.
"We're? As in I'm getting one of those shots?" he'd make sure. "I can't, I gotta be up in the morning for-" for what? Nothing. There was really no rush nor reason to be up at the crack of dawn and in armor in time for any kind of patrol shift. This was a new start, though old habits were hard to break, right? It would definitely take some getting used to, having all of this free time on his hands. He got to make his own schedule, so almost as quickly as he detested? Aliester changed his answer to- "actually... maybe one can't hurt, right?" What's the worst that would happen tonight?" Tymora, please don't answer that.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 20, 2019 23:30:51 GMT
Listening to his story with the same focus she'd give to any storyteller Citrine nodded her thanks to Durnan when her flask was returned, but didn't make a sound so as to not interrupt. At the rumor about the bartender? She did a second peak towards him with one eyebrow raised. Didn't seem much the storyteller type, but, she wasn't one to judge via appearances. And as she just vowed to herself? She took it as fact. Durnan was a great storyteller when the mood hit him.
"City guard aye? Ye ever get tae go up on one o' teh griffins teh aerial guard 'as? Or were ye always on teh ground?" She asked, curious. Having had a 'discussion' or two with the flight-bound riders she had a personal interest in the elite group of riders. "Either way - seven ta eight years es ah good length o' service. Be proud o' et." Her own terns of service had been full of variety over her extended life - and the last day of any commitment? It was always something to be acknowledged. Anything else she would have added was cut off by Durnan setting down two shot glasses, and a whole bottle. Yes, she'd be coming here again. Durnan could read her like she'd been a lifelong patron here.
Fingers tapping excitedly against the bottle, running her fingers along the script feeling a token whisper of loss and not comprehending what was written, Citrine's posture shifted to something melancholy a moment before snapping right back to childlike glee at trying something new. "Aye Lad!" She kreed with a chuckle and gave James a side-eye roll of a laugh. "Aye came 'ere tae make some bets, drink some drink. And hopefully, perhaps, nae return tae me room either until teh wee hours before dawn o' nae ut-hull." It was a simple plan. Simple plans got accomplished.
She clicked her disapproval when his immediate response was that he couldn't. Staring, unblinking, she waited for it to dawn on him that….. Yes… there it was. Like a cat who caught the canary Citrine's grin widened until there was a sassy, clever-like, predatory toothy smile on her face. Pouring two shots right to the brim of the glass the phoenix picked up one for herself and mage handed the other to James - the hand materializing without effort. If there was one simple pleasure she enjoyed most in the world? It was getting people to push their boundaries, try new things, break their own rules, and, most importantly, drink much, much, more than they were expecting to do so on a given night. " 'Ere ye are laddie, a shot o' Durnan's mysterious dwarven sprit tae signify ye retirement o' bein' on teh proper side o' teh law, and jumpin' head first enta teh life o' an adventurer!" She sniffed the contents and trilled at the burn already tingling in her nose. Yes. This was going to set fire to something - and not in a 'warm bedside fire' sort of way. But in a, there will be moments tonight she won't remember kind of way. And as long as she tasted no nutmeg? She was on board to parley, wager, and bet her way into any situation tonight.
-Click, thunk, swish-
Clanking her shot against his, knocking it hard on the table (mage hand covering the top so as to not miss a drop) then tossing it back with such well-practiced ease Citrine downed the shot like a pro. The burn lit her insides, turning her wings into the acrid smoky smell of alchemist fire and crayons. Ooohhh yes, it burned like smoke and fire and dragonbreath. Empty glass slamming down she immediately poured herself another. Durnan wouldn't be getting this bottle back unless it was empty. And the bottle right now? She set it between the two of them, with a clear nod that he was to pour another if he wanted it.
Even with the booze now starting to ignite her blood, there was a tension in her body still, like a bow across strings or an arrow notched in a crossbow much like the one Durnan showcased. It was clear she had other questions, excitement keeping her wings smelling like crayons. Rocking lightly on her stool she shifted to actually perching on the stool top vs sitting on it, tail fanning out behind her to keep balance. And even with being perched? Her height barely broke even with others of proper height sitting at the bar. Focusing on James again now that she'd settled, she began to trill a curious and questioning whistle in the back of her throat, "Saaaaeeeeee….. Wut ef teh fellow down there ain't dead?" She asked with a quick bird-shake of her head towards the pit. "An' ef 'e es? Es what's en his pockets an' packs free dibs fer someone tae go down an' take et? An ef sae.." She leaned in closer - the excitement too much for her to contain as the 'perfume' around her thickened to rolling sea-storm worth of static and shock of ozone. "Ef sae… how dae Aye sign up tae gae down next?" It was a stage whisper she asked him then, her mouth a bit closer to his ear than a lady would call proper.
A wild portal to dangers unknown? Riches untold? A place where cunning and speed only got you so far so'long as the monsters were less sharp and slower? It was like a ship battle, but one on one. Putting wits against instinct. Cleverness against sheer dumb luck.
Chaos.
After all, what was the worst that could happen?
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Post by Ossular on Jan 22, 2019 16:28:38 GMT
"Aye," Aliester would respond with a nod, "though I can't say I ever made it up to the sky. I'm definitely more of a ground person myself," he'd admit. Hell, even being at the top of some of the guard towers around Waterdeep was a little much at times, depending on the day. He always made the classic mistake of looking down, no matter how hard he tried not to. Pulling his thoughts back from the edges of his memories, though, he'd agree with Citrine once again. He was proud of his service, but the human lifespan wasn't that long, and he wanted to do something... more. At least while he could. Humans never had long compared to the elves and the dwarves.
The fighter listened to Citine's plan for the night, and while it was in his mind, he wouldn't say anything about the plan. It seemed pretty simple, though as he decided to say "maybe one can't hurt, right?" Citrine's expression changed into a toothy, mischievous smile. It was then that the guard should have known something was up, but he had already committed, and he would flip Tymora's coin with this one and see where the night got him. He would take the shot into his hand, nodding to himself, taking a breath, and then, as she clicked her glass on the table, he would do the same with a half-second delay, minus the mage hand, and he would tilt it back into his lips, downing the shot just as fast before setting it down, pursing his lips as he swallowed.
"Definitely dwarvish," he'd release a single cough and chuckle at the same time. The burn, like a busy dwarven smith's forge, with the smoky after-taste of the woods used to keep the temperature regulated through the cold of nights. It took him back, however briefly, to his singular experience in Sundabar as a child with his mother as she bought a new axe. He remembered watching the hammers and the sparks and the smells. Damn, the dwarves made good whiskey. His eyes watched as the bottle was slid between the two of them, and after a moment of contemplation, James Aliester came to a conclusion, which was that one more couldn't hurt, could it? Taking the bottle and pouring it, after her nod, he'd set the bottle back down, but not down that drink just yet.
"Well," James would think about it. "In my experience, if they aren't dead, they aren't very happy," he would speak, looking back at the Yawning Portal once more. "Worst off? They're dead. If not? They'll figure out a way back up after they wake back up... pending whatever the hell that was earlier didn't drag 'em off for dinner," he'd shrug. "It's kinda how it works." Now, though, his nostrils were taking him to the stormy edges of Waterdeep, lightning crackling in the skies above the clouds. He'd inhale, looking around, then back to Citrine. He didn't ask, but he wanted to inquire if that was, in fact, the winged woman next to him.
Either way, he would inhale, then exhale before realizing how close Citrine had gotten to ask that question. He would turn, carefully, to face his new friend. Aliester wasn't one to get shy, but there was definitely a small amount of shock in his features once he did realize that she was as close as she way. "You would talk to Durnan," Aliester would whisper back, leaning to her side a little bit in order to do so. "Gold piece to go down. Another to come back up, I think. But he has to approve you going down. Usually doesn't allow people to come down by themselves, either. Says it's too dangerous. He's not wrong," Aliester would look, out of the side of his eyes, toward the Portal in the floor. "You're not thinking about going down there, are you?"
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 22, 2019 17:37:36 GMT
Nodding sagely, adjusting so she could better hear his whisper as he returned her invasion with one of his own, Citrine considered what he said even as she smirked at the reaction she'd gotten out of him due to her proximity. It was the little things in life that made it grand. And finding that line of being just annoying enough it was enduring yet still disruptive to keep someone on their toes was one she often got wrong for all her wisdom. His return whisper was a good sign though - she hadn't found that line yet. The dwarves would help with that, she was sure. "Aye, tha would be 'ow tha' sorta thing works." Itchy fingers curling and unfurling to grab back the ale, leaving the shot glass alone to give the tankard some love. Even though her fingers now distracted themselves with the ale her toes kept the pattern of lightly fidgeting with the air around them.
She'd lift her head a bit away from James to peak at Durnan again, her opinion of him going up with each little tidbit she learned. At the news though he didn't let individuals go down she snorted to herself, she couldn't help it on their own? Her excitement deflated a bit, ozone dissipating like a storm calming. There was still that line of tension, but that too was fading. "Aye, he'd knae best then, seein' as et's his tavern 'ere an' all tha' rot." The firebird sighed and dejectedly exchanged her ale for the shot and double tapped the bottle by taking the second shot she'd poured earlier.
"Me? Think abou' somethin' as crazy an' wild as heading douwn t'ere just tae see wha' et's like?" She questioned , breath like a dragon's as she exhaled (helpfully, away from James' face). "Nnnnaaaaaaaeeeeeee. Nae lil' ol' me! Aye'm just ha smol burb. Way tae fragile." She snorted then, unable to keep up the pretense (as convincing as she was sure it was. "At least, nae taday then. Aye love risk, but, Aye like tae be ah-lil more sure o' me chances before takin' ah gamble with as high o' stakes such as tha'." Hopefully no one dared her to dive down tonight. Her pride would make her pay the gold, no doubt.
Running her tongue over her teeth to savor the dwarven fire in her mouth a bit longer as she relaxed her close proximity to her drinking companion. Perched a more respectful distance again from his person Citrine slumped one foot to hang, then ultimately let her arse plop down onto the stool once more. Bar stools were always awkward for her to sit on. Perch? Sit? Stand? Clucking annoyed at herself as she twisted to look down she flared her wings to lift herself slightly to fix her tail - it had gotten pinched between her and the wood. Flicking said feathers to the side to let them lay nice over the edge like a waterfall the redhead finally settled, wings collapsing nicely. For now at least.
"Ye ever want tae go down an' see wha's inside?" She asked him, no longer looking at the portal as she was sitting with her back to it. Wings didn't fit comfortably if she were to lean her back against the bar table. "O' knae anyone who's gone douwn themselves an' come up again?" She took the bottle, with her proper hand this time, and poured two more dollops into the pair of empty glasses on the counter. She wasn't feeling the effects yet, but within the hour she was sure to welcome the wave of comfort the bottle gave. There had to be a reason a newly retired guardsmen had chosen the Yawning Portal to have his first adventuring drink. Or maybe not - adventures flocked here it seemed, just as rumors had it. Where better to mark your start then where so many others had as well?
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Post by Ossular on Jan 24, 2019 15:47:06 GMT
Citrine questioned, and a little bit of James' guard training shown through. The ex-City Guard would watch as Citrine sat there, dragging certain words and almost chuckling before breaking into a snorted laugh, dropping the pretense. It's not that Aliester didn't enjoy the attempt, giving his own little smile as she decided (at least for now) that she wasn't going to go into the Yawning Portal. Citrine would adjust and slip into the seat, giving him enough time to adjust himself, turning back to the bar, he would watch the wings come down as the redhead finally got comfortable on her perch at the bar of the Yawning Portal.
"Of course," Aliester would take a second shot of the dwarven whiskey before giving that Sundabar burn, low and smoky, a moment to coat his mouth, throat, and warm him up a little bit on the inside before taking a sip of the Shadowdark ale. Funny how the flavors meshed in some places and fought for control in others. "I think everyone dreams of going down the Yawning Portal and coming back up with stories and riches and whatever else might be down there. Hell... admittedly, it's part of the reason I chose to stay here," he'd admit that, too. "Between the random people from random places and a decent amount of jobs come in through this place? Figured it'd be a good start. But eventually? I want to head down, for better or worse," he'd say with a more quiet, grim tone, though not enough to damper the mood of the moment, at least.
"And... I know Durnan has," he'd motion back to the bartender once more. "Went down, came back up, hasn't really spoke about what he saw all that much, and built this place afterward. Some say that was decades ago," Aliester would watch Durnan for a moment before turning back to his drinking companion, taking another sip of his ale. The bartender didn't look a day over thirty-five and could still move like he was twenty. "But he doesn't really speak on the matter with most people either way," the fighter would tell the sorceress with a light shrug of his shoulders.
"So, I got a question for you, now, if you wanted to answer" he'd smirk, turning to face her, though wasn't as intrusive of her personal space as she had been with him a few moments earlier, the end of his elbow resting on the edge of the counter, the fingers of his other hand wrapped around his tankard to bring the drink up to his lips before he continued once more. "What's your story?" Aliester would ask, curiously. "Like, where are you from? How'd you wind up in Waterdeep?" She was free to not answer, but with the wings, the accent he hadn't really heard and her general appearance, there had to be a story there somewhere, right? Aliester wasn't the most intuitive person, but he figured with as much as Citrine's appearance was littered with little intricacies (most of which he probably hadn't even picked up), he could get some kind of story from the winged woman in red.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 25, 2019 4:34:14 GMT
Taking the words about the barkeep to heart - appearances were always deceiving after all - Citrine kept a note about how he'd lived decades without looking like it. If he'd lived decades already? It wasn't a stretch to think he'd lived longer. Maybe even much longer. A tail twitch was the only thing betraying her curious thoughts as she made the wise decision to not press the barkeep. Particularly as this was only her first visit here. It was a busy night. And if one did figure out a way to live 'forever'? Well… it was a hard kept secret - and for good reason.
"Aye?" She asked when he began to inquire as to a question. "M'lways up fer entertainin' ah question, don't ye mind about offendin' me." She mirrored his position, adjusting so her one hand curled protectively around one mug of ale, the other supporting her head, and her wings relaxing to drape to the floor instead of remaining tight to her back. The elegant curled hair-like feathers that did nothing but look pretty catching the wisps of air caused by the celebrations and hurried footsteps of servers behind her.
The question surprised her, but she supposed it shouldn't have. Adventurers came here, after all, to boast about their accomplishments, trophies, and spoils. "Me story?" She parroted, in almost a mimic of his own voice with her own whiskey twist. "Tha's ah high tale, ye sure ye want tae waste ye time really listenin?" She wanted to confirm before she began. At his nod to continue? The firebird coo-hummed into her ale to figure out how to start.
"Well, Aye'm sure ye've heard o' teh Inner Sea - Sea o' Fallen Stars. Nice sized sea fer bein' all landlocked. Woke up one day en teh sand an' surf, nearly drowned" She sounded personally affronted and annoyed at the very thought. "Ah nice 'ol fisherman there got me up an' going. Tw'asnt long befer Aye was back up tae rights, found me hat floating ah few currents away, an' was on me feet lookin' fer ah ship. Aye'm ah sailor by skill, free-employed merchant by choice. Perhaps ye've heard rumors o' stories o' ah ship Aye've encountered while sailin'? Ah ship with crimson sails an' ah hull as rich as blood?" Her grin grew a bit more wicked as she paused to take another pull of her ale, eyes holding a lust in them that had nothing to do with romance, and the way her tongue ran over her upper canine? There was an aura around the lass that hadn't been there before.
"Stories say teh ship t'was one o' teh fastest en teh Inner Sea, nigh uncatchable." She thunked her tankered down as she began to get into the story, voice thick like molasses. "'Especially when teh seas were roaring like Umberlee was out tae get ye just fer darin' tae sail. But naethin' could take down Teh Blood Red Rose. Teh Captain, villanious, infamous, ah true Pirate Queen. Oi, she's was devious - willin' tae take risks nae ship should be takin'. Plundering merchants. Plundering pirates. Seemed tae be nae rhyme o' reason." As she weaved her story Citrine began talking with her hands, her orange magic making pictures in the air as they began sending out small motes of fog and sea upon which a sailed a brilliant galley ship. A swirl of her hand created clouds while a puff of air from her lungs sent winds down for the sails to catch.
The interactive story was starting to draw the eye of other patrons. Her always perspective eyes caught the inquisitive looks, and the lil' firebird just couldn't help herself. Pouring a third shot and downing it like a pistol cleared her throat she made a split-second decision. Opening her wings wide to lift herself up to stand on the stool, 12 foot wingspan spreading high to skim the wooden beans above her drew even more eyes towards her - the childlike bard at heart.
"Oh I'll tell you a tale of a pirate queen! A she-wolf who reigned within' the Inner Sea.With dual pistols-ah-ready and ah cutlass keen - The villainous, infamous Rain Redbriar." Citrine began to rouse the crowd with on-beat heel-thumps and talon-clacks on the wooden stool, giving a mix of a drumbeat. In the corner? A few bards picked up the tune and started to chime in with spoons and tambourine.
"Born en' Cheliax, scandalously. Ah bastard daughter o' ah raggedy violinist - shunned ferm 'er family all fer 'er love o' teh sea. Sae'd fallen en love with teh sea an' searchin' fer 'ah Lass - sailed off en ah life o' piracy on teh ship - Teh Blood Red Rose. Oh she plundered an' murdered an' raised teh sea. With canons roaring. Pistols warring. She ravaged galleons mercilessly. Oh Rain Redbriar." Her tale was widely growing, more sassy sway to her hips, a limelight gleam in her eyes.
"Fer teh Rain had met ah Hurricane! A pirate siren, female tyrant. Together they would've terrorized the sea, ah buccaneering team. Tea plunder an' murder an' raise teh sea with twin pistol-ah-ready an' ah cutlass Lord!" She flicked her wings, the scents of ozone and clove and smoke heavily perfuming the air. "With plans tae' take ov'er teh sea, revenge against thouse who'd betray ah Daughter o' teh Sea. Neve' did they think they'd strike teh shoals."
But then her tone took a turn. A sorrowful turn. "But et twas nae all plunder an' gold' an' rum - nae." She paused her heel thumps to draw a relative silence (as silent as their little section of the bar could get). Her eyes closed and her wings drooped. In a much more sullen but no less enwrapping, tone of a voice lightly sung a sea-shanty, reciting a poem of sorts. "Teh wagers claimed. Redemption borne by brigand's blood, ah blight upon the darkness. Teh pact embraced, a road unsought The Maiden of Death won't be unwrought. Her wrath is knaen throughout teh black, teh gardens o' death she es tending. Vengeance es 'er only ward. Beware the Blood Red Rose's Thorn."
Her fingers curled as if seeking the hilt of something at her waist, but finding nothing, simply went into a light fist before snapping her wings back up - the sound like sails catching tight in the wind. "Sae tha' be teh tale of a Pirate Queen! A she-wolf who reigned the Inner sea. With dual pistols-ah-ready an' ah cutlass keen. The villainous, infamous Rain Redbriar."
She bowed then, to the cat-calls and wolf howls throughout their section of the Portal. Pleased at the attention like a jealous lover the phoenix trilled her thanks in a rather egotistic way - twirling her fingers in replace of a hat as she took her bows to all four corners… all still perched atop the stood she'd been on the whole time. The only way it could have been better? If she'd managed to weasel out her violin at the same time. She'd brought it for this very reason after all - you never knew when a spontaneous performance would strike. But there'd be time for violin in later nights.
Calming down slightly Citrine cracked her back before twirling on her talon-toes and plunkered back down on the stool she'd claimed her own. It seemed the drink had hit her a bit faster than perhaps she thought it would have. Dwarven sprits - they were no joke. Pushing her hair back, fingers threading through the mane of feathers, hair, and trinkets she gave James a pleased-with-herself grin.
"Tha' answer ye question Lad?" She quipped and sipped at the ale, pleased to see that at some point it had been refilled. "Quite ah story ef Aye dae say so meself…." In some ways she's answered him exactly as events had happened. In others ways? It sounded nothing more than a tall tale that was shared among sailors after drinking too many drinks. She had her entire attention on him once more, this time with the racing heat of whiskey mixing in her blood. "O' did tha' make nae sense tae ah Lad sae wrapped up en his schedule o' constant patrols an' watches he only just nae es tastin' freedom?" An eyebrow raised as she both complemented and insulted him at the same time. By doing so? She was tempting him to step out of his shell, take a breath of freedom, and perhaps get a taste of what it was like to do naught but what you wanted to. "But o' course ye asked tae what brought me tae Waterdeep as well. Simple really. Heard rumors o' et being a beautiful city. Me ship was land-locked, an' there was somethin' about teh thought tha' kept naggin' me 'ere. Almost like me sister goin' on an' on about some scroll she wanted me tae read. Sae I packed up an' came 'ere! Hopin' teh reason fer teh siren call shows etself soon. Et's like ah bothersome itch between me shoulder blades."
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Post by Ossular on Feb 5, 2019 0:42:09 GMT
Let it be said that when Aliester had asked about her story, he hadn't been expecting such an answer, though whether it was the eldritch knight not expecting such a detailed account or Citrine knowing how to craft and weave a story. Even still, though, before they had dropped into the thick of it, Aliester had responded to her initial question with a curt "if you're willing to waste the time tellin'." He would initially keep his posture, but as the story went on, Aliester would lean more and more on his elbow, moving it up to be a forearm.
Sailor? Sure, Aliester could see it, he supposed, with the general appearance. He would think about the ships he had seen. A ship with red sails? Didn't ring a bell in the knight's mind, offering a meager head shake at her question, not wanting to interrupt as she was moving on. Apparently, Citrine here had been a pirate queen? Her magics caught his attention, but Aliester tried his best to keep some attention on both Citrine and the scene she was weaving, her fingers moving and weaving like a puppeteer above a stage; like a raptor opening and closing around prey.
Citrine had poured a shot, slammed it and shot up to stand on the stool above the other patrons. Aliester would reach out, miss the bottle, look and catch Durnam's still stoic, unimpressed flat-pressed demeanor as he cleaned a glass. Body language alone gave away the impression that this happened too often for his liking, but it's not like he could really do anything- well, he could, but that would imply the man cared in the first place.
The bards would clamber and fumble, but join in bit by bit. She kept mentioning this Inner Sea, but Aliester wasn't entirely sure about where it was exactly- at least not on any memory he could muster or map he could reference quickly. The name Cheliax was also lost on him, apparently a city or village of some kind? Aliester was also conflicted on the fact that here was this woman, bragging about plundering and murdering all that she came across, with little to no mercy, but she took a turn that Aliester wasn't expecting- one of somber depression, of loss and pain. Still, though, through everything, several people howled and whistled as she wrapped her tale up, the bards continuing to play once again, but shifting the song into their trained musics and stories, moving away from the improvisation of a spontaneous whimsical story.
Aliester would decide, at least for now, he would take it for what it was- a story. True or not, it wasn't his job to reprimand pirates and not mingle with people based on their past. He would simply pour her another shot, matching her smile with the addition of a slightly surprised nod before taking his own shot of the whiskey- filled to the edge of the rim- and pouring himself another shot as well.
"Question thoroughly answered," the fighter would smile, his speech a slight bit more announciated thanks to the alcohol, though he would chuckle. "It made 'nough sense. Followed it- like a patrol," Aliester would chuckle again, more to himself and more of a exhale of air. "Though I can't say I've ever had freedom like that. Probably wouldn't make a good pirate, I think," he'd return to his ale with a sip, still keeping his posture leaned over and loose, it had gotten more comfortable in the last several minutes. "They don't call it the City of Splendors for nothing, though, lass," he'd mimic her speech pattern, keeping the smile across his face.
"What kinda siren call called you here?" Aliester would ask with a tilt of the head, curious, taking another sip before setting it back down. "If ya don't mind me askin', that is. I'm perfectly content to sit here and talk about other things if you want to change the subject. I got nowhere to be."
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Feb 6, 2019 19:56:15 GMT
Giving no heed to the unamused nor unimpressed demeanor of the barkeep Citrine enjoyed another draw of her tankard. Looking at James out of the corner of her eye as she drank she awaited his verdict - the one she'd been trying to show off to, to begin with. It'd be no fun if the target of her inspiration for her ballad hadn't enjoyed it. "Like ah patrol? Surely et wasn't tha' boring!" She teased as she set her drink down and wiped the foam away from her lip.
"Up tae ye tae decided what's story, what's exaggeration, an' what's real." She further hinted, a playful scrunch to her nose and brow. "Either way, tis teh best sort o' freedom - bein' on teh seas. Dane' need tae be ah pirate tae enjoy teh breeze, surf, an' salt." The concept of sailing on fresh water never even occurred to her. At his mimic of her phrasing towards her? Citrine laughed and winked. He called her lass, how charming.
The good mood stayed though her posture shrank into itself by a hair. "Ye're fine tae ask - an' Aye'm assumin ye mean what drew me tae Waterdeep an' nae teh Portal 'ere." She confirmed before taking a deep breath and behaving as if she were going to stand up and sing again… before letting all the air out as a deep sighing whistle, deflating. One of her crest feathers drooped to hang in front of her eyes. Brushing it aside with a second follow-up puff of air she grinned - the rouse as if to sing again simply a joke pulling his leg.
"Nae, et's fine ye ask. Et's 'ard tae sae fer sure." She began. "Aye was ah few years en teh Inner Sea - also knaen as teh Sea o' Fallen Stars. Turns out teh blasted sea es landlocked!" She commented dryly on the poor ocean-like performance of the aforementioned body of water. "But ne'er mind tha' point." She waved the annoyance away. "But sailed there as Aye pleased, didn't really knae any other life at tha' point, an' felt lost sae Aye stuck with what Aye knae -sailin' an' finding those who went against teh Code o' teh Sea." 'And took care of them' was definitely implied though not outright stated. "But tehre was always ah feelin' like tha' wasn't where Aye was supposed tae be. Which… Aye wasn't…" she grumbled, clearly something more to that comment. "Though Aye suppose et can' be 'elped. Teh feelin' wouldn’t gae away. Et's like… like teh feelin' ah parent o' naggy sibling constantly pullin on ye tailfeathers tae do somethin' but ye're taking ye swell time doin' et."
It was a poor explanation to the question, but it was what she had. "Ye phrasin' et as ah siren call es an apt one. Et's lessened nae tha' Aye've made ah home 'ere. But et's still irritatin' as 'ell on me wing joints, like there's somewhere else Aye should be helpin' someone out instead o' drinkin' an' playin' with me money 'ere in Waterdeep. But teh though o' leavin' teh city long-term?" She shuddered. "Nae, Aye'll not tempt teh Fates fer something ill-will by leavin."
((Word Count to this point, 6,580))
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