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Post by Orion on Feb 11, 2019 21:02:53 GMT
The twang of fiddle and lute and the rhythmic sound of drums could be heard out on the streets by passer’s by. It was a jaunty tune that proclaimed, “Yes! We are here! Come and have ale and feast with us!” It was music steeped in the highland traditions of the far north, and beckoned all to come and sit a while, and listen to the ballads brought down from the colder parts of the world.
The Sleeping Wench was filled to the brim with patrons, with many taking to the streets in jovial song and dance just outside the door, their bodies awash from the lights burning within the place. It was a cool night, the breeze crisp and smelling of the early blooms of spring, amid the smell of salt water and fish rising from the bay, but it was a fine with a splash of warm ale and spirits. Stepping inside of the tavern brought a rush of sensations.
The fire on the far side of the room and a dozen candles and sconces lit up the room. The smells of wood smoke and tobacco smoke intermingled with the scent of roast lamb, duck, and chicken stew brewing in the kettle. The floor was covered with saw dust, stained in places from the spilled drinks and clumped, and the tavern staff mingled about serving drinks and food, and cleaning when patrons left so more might find purchase. There were three long tables as one entered the front door sitting parallel to one another, with a half dozen round tables dotting the room. Four columns held up the second floor, which could be accessed by a stairwell to the right of the door, and the bards were set up on small stage to the left of the door that was raised about six inches off the ground. A bar with stools was positioned across one half of the back wall separated from a line of private booths along the opposite side of the wall, where men were playing games, by a door a door that led to the kitchen. There were stag heads and other trophies mounted to the walls, paintings, plaques devoted to the dead, and a myriad of other decorations.
This was the place Kaleb found himself night after night. It was his second home growing up, the place he’d had his first drink and his first woman.
Seated at one of the private booths, Kaleb was engaged in a rousing game of Three Dragon Ante with a pair of sailors. They, like him many of the people here, had come strolling in from the docks earlier in the day, and so far… well, Kaleb had not been kind to them. He’d been beating them with some bastion of decorum, however. He’d wagered low several times when he’d had a hand that should have easily won, and claimed ignorance. As if he hadn’t noticed he had one card or the other. And when he had won, his victories had been by such pitiful margins that they hadn’t noticed how much they’d actually lost. Slowly but surely, he was grinding them both down. Their coins were disappearing, and he kept his strategically placed so they couldn’t really tell how much he’d taken from them. It helped that they wagered the next drink on a losing hand, and that they’d had six or eight stout drinks to his one watered down ale.
Also it helped he was cheating.
He had, of course, several cards stuff into the inner pocket of his vest, and with a quick laugh or a yawn or drink he swapped out the ones he needed. Kaleb had a system; drinks, food, good stories, and lots of well-timed card swaps. The way he worked his marks would leave much happier than when they had come in, and with far lighter pockets. So he smiled and played the game, cheering and laughing with the men as he slowly emptied their coin purses.
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Post by enchilada on Feb 12, 2019 0:00:24 GMT
Dhaunmyr was not necessarily an honest man, but he never really lied like, for fun, just to get along. Some white, some black, some big and some small, but all of them have informed his survival, all of them had brought him here today. He was thankful to himself, his wits and to Eilistraee for his existence through the Underdark, through the hills and mountains and his seemingly natural ability to convince these surface folk. Something in the water. Maybe it was all the fresh rain. Rain that irked him so, it was so dismal, drenching, disgusting. He didn’t enjoy the mixture of freezing air and quickly falling rain.
His hair was still a little damp when he sat down. It wasn’t his usual tavern, but he’d given up trying to wait out the rain under a rather small piece of cover, and surrendered to the poor delights of whatever this establishment was named. He didn’t particularly think it made a difference. Same crappy wine, same tasteless decor and same tacky general atmosphere. There was a rustic charm, but Dhaunmyr didn’t consider himself common enough to truly enjoy the frivolous nature of heading to a loud, candle-lit room, fulll of strangers all sweating together. He kept his eyes low. He didn’t want to challenge a man, and he wasn’t presentable to a woman until he was dry, or at least dryer. He drummed his black nails against the table, slowly, and flicked an ear to the door. The rain stopped as suddenly as it started. How did these people even know when it was about to rain? He’d have to learn.
A game of cards caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes as the clearly superior male moved in an... odd manner. Further inspection made him realise the game, and Dhaunmyr looked at his glass, and sighed. He couldn’t chug it, and he may as well wait until his coat was done drying. He shed it, ruffled his hair a little, and stepped on over in his mirror-shine heeled boots. No magic, just elbow grease. He was proud of that shine. The drow leaned forward, next to Kaleb.
“Do your lovely friends know exactly what game you’re playing?” He whispered, as friendly as can be, although with just enough of a hint to point out that he knew exactly what game Kaleb was playing. He thought it was funny, truthfully. He straightened up, standing tall... ish, and swilled his glass slowly in his hand, staring into it. He took a step back, enough that the more feminine features of his appearance wouldn’t be overwhelmingly androgynous on his skinny frame. Drunk people made the silliest comments. Not that he didn’t enjoy the humour of it all. What was the point in anything if you didn’t laugh?
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328 
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Post by Citrine on Feb 13, 2019 16:27:26 GMT
((I failed my will save… #ThreadNumber11… hope you don't mind a 3-person scene, figured since it's still a new topic newcomers would still be welcomed. If not? I'll pull Citrine out, no harm no fowl XD))
The transition from winter into spring was always a messy one. Cold rain one day, warmer winds the next, and mud. Lots and lots of mud. But the sweet scent of plant buds and warming soil was in the air! And tonight? Tonight was no exception. The rain had come and gone without too much warning on and off again throughout the day, and continuing into evening. It was hard to walk the streets without being dumped on at least once - but that didn't bother the Dock Ward's local firebird at all! When the skies opened up to disturb the crisp night air? Her wings and feathers puffed up, just like a songbird in a birdbath, as she let the clean unsalted water dive through her feathers, hair, and skin.
Her warmer body temperature handled the shifting chill of being drenched well, but that didn't mean she enjoyed standing in the middle of the street compared to say… sitting inside a lively tavern and drinking, meeting new people, or finding someone to share the night with.
The Sleeping Wench. A place she'd heard about from Amelia but hadn't gone into yet. It's reputation was decent, known for a higher collection perhaps of bards and minstrels playing that had a higher influence from the more drum-beat centric sounds of the North. Oh darn. Stepping inside, shaking like a dog would to kick off the remaining water, her feathers immediately poofed up again - much to the disgruntlement to those who were standing hear her when she shook. Grinning a sassy grin she wriggled her wings and feathers in greeting before casting a wide-spread prestidigitation over the group and herself to clear away the water and scent of wet bird.
Inside proper now, feathers settling from their spell dry, Citrine sauntered up to the bar. She was an eye catch, she knew, and always used it to her advantage inside taverns. Wearing full leg lace up black leather pants, jesse-cuffs around her ankles, green chest wrap, with her sleeveless blood red coat open fully in the front, and her burnt orange dancer scarf around her waist. Tonight her hair was free to cascade as it wished, no bandana or hat keeping anything out of her face. Feathers, braids, dreads, waves, and trinkets were free to catch the light. She wasn't one to pass up free drinks or a pick of who to spend time with. Some time passed and now, with a drink in hand, she leaned against the bar to see what most exciting thing happening inside was.
There. Against the wall. Games of cards and dice had taken over that edge of the establishment, and the anthesis to her eye catching reds and oranges was the reverse - dark purple and black… bending to speak with… she whistled slowly to herself. Now there was someone who reminded her of an old friend! Bandana around his head, facial hair, bare-chested with scares. It was like looking at Zuzu all over again - just… less tattoos. Walking closer Citrine began to creep on their game of cards, like many onlookers. And if she caught the eye of either the drow or Zuzu lookalike? She'd wink a hello.
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Post by Orion on Feb 13, 2019 21:46:43 GMT
It was not uncommon to see other races in this part of the city, especially in the taverns and ends that dotted the city. The harborfolk were often some of the most pleasantly accepting people, poverty often did that, of course there were many who had more vocal opinions. However, human, drow, merfolk or bird-person, mattered little to the owners of the Sleeping Wench. Gold spent the all the same despite the hand that held it.
Kaleb empathized fully.
Losing another small stack of gold, the rogue shuffled the cards. Six he dealt to each of the players, before placing the deck face down on the table. He fanned his own cards out before him, brandishing them so that only he could see their inked drawings, and smiled to the two. It was only then he noticed someone approaching, and further sets of eyes observing their game. The two sailors, however, noticed and addressed the drow long before he could.
“Aye, never seen a lass like you in the flesh,” the one closer said, eying the approaching figure. It was a drunken attempt at charm, but before he could see the effects he felt his friend jab him in the ribs.
“D’as not a lass ye’ damn fool.”
The first looked horrified as his eyes focused, and the realization hit him hard.
“Ah! I’m sorry, ‘suh.” His eyes shot down to his cards in an attempt to disengage from the conversation.
“Gents, I doubt our new friend here took any offense,” Kaleb looked up at the door, eyes smoldering volcanic blue beneath his brow, “Did ‘ya?”
The rogue was an interesting specimen. He carried himself with an air of pride, assurance, and dignity, yet it was painfully obvious from his dialect he was not some well-bred noble. He did not attempt to intimidate or make anyone feel out of sorts, his aim was to disarm. He wanted those around him to be at ease, untroubled by his presence, and it was clear by the growing piles of coin on his side of the table that he’d been doing just that. Few people disliked the man, and those who did had good reason so. Most found him easy to be around, which made his work all the more easier, and despite the elf’s implication he intended to make sure these two felt the same until he was done with them.
Luckily it seemed their own idiocy blinded them to the drow’s comment, so he glossed over it with a wave of the hand and smile.
“But aye, where are my manners. We’re playing a game of Three Dragon Ante. Do you know the game? Would you care to join us?”
Before the drow would be able to speak the rogue had stacked his cards neatly before him on the table, face down, and had begun drawing another hand of six for the elf. He also scooted over in the booth to offer him a seat at the table.
For a moment Kaleb had sensed a stillness in the bar proper, as if they were aware of the brief moment of tension, although perhaps it was just his own self-awareness projecting on the rest of the patrons. Still, he took the moment to glance around and take good measure of the room. Nothing seemed amiss save for his drink getting low. He caught the eye of an unfamiliar being across the room behind the drow, one who winked as their eyes met. She was as unknown as this one to him, but he couldn’t help but let the slight smile on his lips curl into one slightly more flirtatious.
The air of the night seemed to be growing more interesting.
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Post by enchilada on Feb 13, 2019 22:21:24 GMT
“Ohohoh~” He was thoroughly amused by being called ‘lass’ - something he would probably cling onto for a little while, even if the man who said it wasn’t particularly as amazing as himself. “If the candle is out, perhaps, and the moonlight is low, I can be just about anything, as you are able, but perhaps, just perhaps, I would make a prettier lady. I am much cursed by such gentle features, and such a well toned figure you see. Maybe I shall return again in a maiden’s gown!” Dhaunmyr laughed at his own joke. It was, of course, hilarious to him, as all things should be.
Gracefully, Dhaunmyr slid into the space made ready for him. He had perked up and blushed slightly at the lovely comment about how he looked - such a comparison was a great compliment. Women were all utterly divine beings in his eyes, from the most mundane, greasy barmaid to the siren princess in a lost tower. Both were absolute angels to him, beautiful creatures of unobtainable perfection. Or at least, that’s what he had been taught for the last fifty years. It meant that to some, his place was here, swilling down some dodgy moonshine while yelling and generally acting like a buffoon, but these men were... tolerable. Their company would certainly keep him entertained for a short while, until he was dry enough to worm his way in between some more tasteful company.
While the man who he sat next to was... nice... he was rather common looking. He didn’t exactly act in that way, but definitely below Dhaunmyr’s preferred company. Yet, his preferred company was busy, and they had not yet made it to Waterdeep. Soon, they would come, but not right away. Thus, he was resigned to creating himself a new circle. It wasn’t exactly brilliant, but he’d live another day, certainly. These girls were hardly going to keep him waiting any longer than they had to. He knew they enjoyed watching him adapt to the new world he’d discovered up here - and they knew he needed them.
“It isn’t my game, but I’ve played a little of just about everything. But maybe I could do with some handsome young gents like yourself refreshing my memory?”
Flatter, flatter, flatter. It was all one had to do to make a sale. And social interactions were all taking and giving, exchanges of goods for other goods. A rumour for a truth and a juicy truth for a secret. In this way, Dhaunmyr could understand why certain types of salesman were disliked, to a degree. It was certainly due to the somewhat squirmy, slimy attitude one had to have, because if you flatter enough you can always get something for nothing off the right person. Dhaunmyr wasn’t sure what he wanted yet, but if it came up at some stage, they’d all be reminded of the funny drow who made them feel nice, and would most likely help if he asked. Small things to start with, return the favour, then keep them owing. Above and beyond what needed to be repayed. It was usually smooth, but if it didn’t work out, no loss. They’re just people. And people are common as dirt.
He felt the need to follow the gaze, the smile was what set him off. His jaw almost dropped but he kept his funny little smile on his face for the men he was with, but let his eyes travel to the woman. Oh Eilistraee - the woman. What a beautiful woman. What a strange creature, with such a wonderful presence. How - how imposing. He bit his lip - if she came over here then he’d... pass out? Go mute? He had no idea. Dhaunmyr shook his head lightly, and returned his gaze to those at the table. He placed his glass down, realising it was still aloft in his hand. That captivating woman was something else - something entirely fresh, but just in a whole other league. She commanded, she was confident. He imagined her voice to be sweet and smooth as honey, or to be like sandpaper - exotic, patterned, magical sandpaper, and even though it rubbed and tore the skin it felt like heaven and-
“Aha- the game?”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 14, 2019 0:24:16 GMT
When she wasn’t immediately shooed from the table like an annoying housecat Citrine took a drink of her dwarven fire whiskey mixed with dry cider and leaned against the booth's seat edge of the side opposite of the drow and Zuzu-lookalike. Call her sentimental, but ooooooh did she enjoy looking at him. She wished she'd worn her bandana now, to match.
"'ello Lads." She said to the group at large, having seen enough drow to know the subtle differences in bone structure. Her voice was like the dwarven fire whiskey she had in her drink, paired with a swagger and teasing that matched her open pirate coat and sassy grin on her face. Taking a drink she peered over her stein to look them all in their faces - the ones nearest to her were the more obvious drunk ones, a hand was already reaching out for her waist. She'd allow it, for now. Seemed to be a steady pile of winnings here at the table already, if not-Zuzu's pile was to go by. Maybe there'd be a bit of win-win-win for certain parties if they all played their hands right.
And the two on the opposite side of the table? The one lad was nowhere near as drunk as she bet the two fellows here thought him to be, while the other had just joined as well, but had no drink in his hand. Perhaps she'd buy a round for the table when she finished her first?
"See ye've all been playin' 'ard taenight. Care fer ah bystander? Ye don’t mind, o' course lads, tha' Aye lean 'ere an watch ye all ah bit?" She looked to the other two, one of her arms stretched out across the back of the booth seat, slightly taloned hybrid finger dragging down the neck of the closer one (her arms weren't that long after all) in a coy sort of tease. And… underneath the table where no one was the wiser? A faint shimmer of orange flashed a moment before hiding deeper in the shadows of the table. Her mage hand was out to play.
((For social threads I like using passives for little skill things, especially as roles aren't needed in social threads. So for any slight of hand checks Citrine would make? It's a passive 13 (+3 s.o.h.) DC for perception to see it or sense it. If you two are cool with that or not, let me know! :3 ))
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Post by Orion on Feb 14, 2019 21:15:22 GMT
The sailors, riding a wave of ale and spirits, were disarmed by the eccentricities of the drow. His was a curious personality, especially compared to the other drow that one could encounter in the city, rare as an occurrence as it was. Kaleb smiled a bit broader in spite of himself, picturing the drow in a dress, and noticed that the two men across from him did as well. While his thoughts were purely amusing, he saw a twinkle in their eyes that hinted that they’d just realized something about themselves they’d not thought of before. Or perhaps they had, they were sailors after all.
“Well then,” he said, adjusting himself in his seat. Kaleb slid a small stack of cards to him, six total, and then counted off ten pieces of gold from his piles, and slid them towards him. “We typically start with fifty gold for wagers, but I’ll spot you the first ten and if you feel like keeping going you can add your own.”
Picking up his cards and fanning them out so Dhaun could see them. At that time he noticed the female who he’d spotted at the bar approach and gave her an acknowledging nod. The two sailors both looked up and grinned a goofy grin, immediately smitten with the woman, and even Kaleb, who often was more taken by wit than appearance, had to admit she was an exotic beauty. However, he was on a time crunch. He had a boat to get to in the morning and needed to wrap this game up sooner rather than later so he could get some rest before the morning’s work. The crew of the ship he was own didn’t appreciate him being late, especially considering he was the Captain’s aid.
So, in an attempt to get the ball rolling, he used that moment to slip one of his coins into his pocket (DC15), and then cleared his throat.
“So, the game is basically one card draw, but with three rounds. We all place a wager, then put down one card each, and draw two,” he placed a card with an intricately drawn red dragon down. It had a ten written in the top corner. “Each creature has a power assigned to it. There are quite a few hands that can win, but ultimately whoever has the best flight with the highest power after three rounds wins the game and the gold. Then you begin again.”
There were also other cards in his outstretched hand, a thief, a druid, but their power levels were much lower than the four dragons in his hands. They had their uses, but he didn’t go deeply into the rules regarding them. So far he and the two sailors hadn’t really used them, though homebrew rules allowed mortals to be used in a special flight of their own.
“There’s also a benefit to using all good or all evil dragons, and don’t forget that both Bahamut and Tiamat lie within the deck, and can completely change the flow of battle. However, they goodly dragons can’t win fighting alongside Tiamat, and vice-versa, despite being much more powerful than the other dragons in the game.”
“Now, how about a fresh hand?”
Collecting the cards, Kaleb shuffled them with incredible dexterity, and after a few moments of various shuffling’s began distributing them again. Once again the human glanced at Citrine, and there was a curious look in his eye; suspicious, perhaps, but definitely observant. He was always cautious of onlookers in his card games. He would, perhaps, have to change his strategy and be forced to play fair, if only for a moment.
“Let’s get back to it…”
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OOC:
I’m fine with using passives. Lets say if we do something that might need a check we put it in ( ) next to it, like I did above?
Also, if you want I can roll a few “games” of Three Dragon Ante and we can just skip through the actual playing since it’s pretty complicated. Shoot me a PM on Discord and I’ll throw those out. Say like… five games or some such.
Sailor 1 (Bob): 15 gold
Sailor 2 (Joe): 23 gold
Kaleb: 66 gold (he should have 112, where’d it go? Ooooooh.)
Dhaun: 10 gold (unless you add more)
Soooo…
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Post by enchilada on Feb 14, 2019 22:13:58 GMT
Nodding along, Dhaunmyr let the men be humoured. The more stupid he seemed, the less of a threat he was - plus, it made people feel... good. Others liked to have their egos petted, although he kept his hands firmly away from actually touching anyone. Usually he’d drift a hand to a knee, or a shoulder, lean slightly and ask questions, but he stayed a little reserved and aloof, even if he wanted to completely flourish. Maybe he would have if the dress comment hadn’t been such a hit, but he doubted it. He’d have to put a handkerchief down first, and that was rude, but he couldn’t help not wanting to touch these dirty men directly. They were so below him - unlike the woman, who Dhaunmyr peeked at through the strands of his hair.
Dhaunmyr again drummed his stiletto-filed nails against the table. A nice clicky, clunky sound, but one that showed obvious anxiety. The drow could absolutely not shake the feeling that he should respond to this lady as his matron would expect from him if she were to see him - he almost wanted to crawl under the table. But, that would probably be worse. She’d seen him now, and even if she were more interested with the gambler, Dhaunmyr had no hope of overcoming his fears until he had properly addressed the woman, at least, and done what he ought to have done the second she was walking over to them.
He slipped out, almost as soon as he had slinked in, of the booth, standing stiff, almost to attention, and immediately following up with a deep, swift bow. “My Lady, I ought to admit I am improperly... um... dressed, currently.” He knew not how to speak of his slightly damp hair. “And also I must apologise that you find yourself standing, perhaps you ought to allow me to find you a seat? In fact, you may, if you like, take mine! I can stand. In fact, perhaps you may prefer to play, and I can watch, it’s up to you, or um... everything is obviously your choice, my Lady.”
He was a little rusty with the old gentleman thing, although it was hardly reserved for such folk - any man who wanted to keep his head would be overly polite. It was simply the way things were done. Well, maybe it was the way things were done in the Underdark- but this lady seemed well travelled, and if she knew of any intricacies within the Underdark, his guts were as good as his own noose.
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passives are good! And I have no real preference on the games. If you’d like to roll them up I’m fine with it!
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 14, 2019 23:33:37 GMT
The redhead shook her head, toasting her drink with her held glass, and continued to run a finger down the one man's neck. "Nae, Aye'll pass tanight ef ye dan't mind. Just gonna sit 'ere and nurse me drink." She patted the booth back then let her free hand drink into her hair, where she started to twirl a piece of twisted copper.
The drow standing and offering her a bow made her trill a pleased little whistle - of which she gave an upward nod of approval at the greeting. It wasn't as uninterested as a drow woman might have given back, the sort of non-impressed nonchalant females of the same race directed towards the males. But it had a nod of at least basic understanding that she knew, he knew, his place even outside of the Underdark. A complicated twisty she-said-he-said sort of convoluted respect of a vastly different culture than her own that she at least respected enough to not push his boundaries…. At least not yet.
"Ye're fine as ye are Lad, nae many can control teh winds an' rain after'ull!" She laughed as she took another pull of her drink, then continued. "An' Aye'm afraid booth seatin' like tha's ah right hell fer me wings, sae really ye de me ah favor by takin' teh seat." She assured him of his assistance he was providing for her, even if it left a strange taste on her tongue. Drow society. It wasn't for her.
It was during the second drink from her mug, as she continued to twist the copper, that Citrine sent a mental message, just as a ventriloquist would, towards Kaleb. (15 perception to see the coins) "Ye're sly there, ain't ye Lad? Aye sae ye nip ah few coins there." The message spell was for his ears only. "Nae, ef Aye were ah bettin' woman… an' Aye am… Aye'd bet ye have cards en ye pocket 'ere?" The mage hand, hidden, poked him on the hip, then made a small circle where the skin was - mimicking the same motion she made against her mug with her index finger. "Sae how's about we work tagether ah bit 'ere? Aye'll tell ye their cards - Aye can' see 'em perfectly well ferm 'ere. An' ye pull us ah nice profit." She moved her cup down a bit from her mouth, grinning ear to ear. Her eyebrow said it all. 'We have an accord?'
The subtle threat was there too, as her mage hand matched Dhaunmyr's finger drumming along his hip and upper thigh (13). If she wanted to? She was sure she could find and slip out some cards from his pockets.
"Sae! Ye're all gonna start playin' o' what?" She flicked her tail feathers as her message sending hand dropped back to run down the neck of her press-ganged opponent.
((Feel free to gloss over the games, you can assume you get 100% accuracy from Citrine on the cards they have, and do what you will with the info she gives you between number taps by the mage hand or mental messages.))
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Post by Orion on Feb 16, 2019 1:47:27 GMT
At first, Kalebs sole attention was on the game at hand. He calmly surveyed the situation looking for an opening, and found that after the first two hands one of the sailors was up three gold pieces, he was down two, and the drop was up by one. It didn’t bode well. Having some measure of luck and a vast amount of skill, he half expected to be up quite a bit already, even if it was due to his own gold loaned out. However, the bald headed bastard across from him, smugly grinning into his cards, had managed to one up him already, drawing Bahamut and a pair of gold dragons. He tried not to let frustration stew in his mind, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit perturbed.
All his hot air was immediately dispersed, however, when he felt the prodding on his side, and heard the voice in his head. He tried to stifle his surprised by feigning a long, raspy cough, and immediately grabbed his drink. The two sailors looked up at him curiously, and one of them, the older one who’d been losing, asked him, “Are ye’ alright, son?”
Nodding behind his cup, Kaleb finally stammered our, “Yeah, fine. Just...” he coughed again, “Choked on my spit.”
Throwing out a black, half rotten dragon card, Kaleb took the hand with a flight of evil dragons. He flashed a brief, momentary look at Citrine, and in that moment sent thought a brief reply to return to her, ’Aye, luck be a lady, then. Thirty percent.’
The rogue wasn’t sure if she heard him or not. He wasn’t a mage in any sense of the word, and, in fact, wasn’t sure if she had used magic or mysticism to implant her voice in his mind. However, he was wavering she could hear him. If not, he’d play that hand later. Either way, he would gladly trade a few pieces of coin for a bit of assistance, as the table began to feel much more focused. He noticed the two men had stopped drinking their drinks, likely feeling sedated enough, perhaps even on the verge of drinking too much, and that meant they were honing in a bit. Or perhaps they’d crash out in a few moments and he could simply take their gold. Either avenue would be just as profitable, and Kaleb wasn’t too picky.
As they continued to play a waitress came over and asked, “Can I get anybody’ a refill?”
Kaleb made a circular motion with his finger and said, “Another round for my friends and I, on me.”
“Nah... we’ gotta’ be goin’ soon. I t’ink we’ll pass, but thankee.”
Kaleb nodded and motioned to the Dhaun and Citrine, his offer still on the table. He wasn’t particularly interested in paying for more drinks, though he’d brought several already, but he had to keep up his act. He had to keep up the facade of a fun loving tavern goer, which was becoming progressively more difficult.
“So,” he said to Dhaun, “If ya’ don’t mind me asking, how long have ye’ lived on the surface? I ‘ssume its a newer thing?”
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Ok, so I rolled the wins out:
Baldy
Baldy
Dhaun
Kaleb
Old sailor
Kaleb (advantage starts)
Kaleb
Kaleb
Dhaun
Old Sailor
Kaleb
Baldy (old guys out)
And that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Feel free to progress through a few rounds.
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Post by enchilada on Feb 17, 2019 10:28:05 GMT
Dhaunmyr stood, still quite shocked at the response he recieved. Wordlessly, he slipped back to join back into the game- his skin turning a far darker, deeper shade around his face. He took a long drink from his glass, and despite deciding earlier it was far too cheap to comfortably finish quickly, tasting it so much for so long, found it quickly empty. It wasn’t too strong, and he slightly wished it was - he needed to get back on track. The winged woman had completely thrown him off. He shook his head, hoping it would just subside. He was sure that she didn’t care - that no one cared. And if they did, he’s from a different culture, so it’s fine, of course it’s fine. Dhaunmyr sat with his hand over his mouth, resting his head in his palm. He wished he had some of Fae’s delightful, funny attitude. Dhaunmyr just laughed, he often found it hard to spin jokes, but his dear friend was capable of making anyone laugh, anytime. Oh when she’d scurry off and throw on a coloured robe, and underneath would be a silly costume, he wondered where she kept them, since she rarely brought a bag - probably with the third wandering merchant in the... yeah.
He wasn’t trying too hard to win, in honesty, but he knew that Kaleb was doing his card thing. Maybe because he knew about it, actually. Cheating was so Underdark, and he only cheated at games of the market. Even then, it’s just bartering. If he deployed a few tactics to incite pity then so be it, it’s people’s choice to relinquish more gold than normal. He’d done it all, but not tonight. Well, maybe later. He needed a confidence boost, quickly. It probably didn’t come in a double shot, flute of bubbly or a watery ale. He didn’t like where it came from, in truth, but if he could just silver some words for the woman who, likely unintentionally, pulled him down, he’d be fine again. Maybe she’d like a necklace- did he have any left? His hand flew to his pocket, he didn’t feel anything inside his coat - it’s drying. Whatever.
“Darling, let me cover the round.” Dhaunmyr put a gentle hand on Kaleb’s shoulder. He kept sure to always be gentle and delicate, since otherwise, well, people liked their stereotypes. “You boys seem to have been at it for a while.”
You boys, distant. Dhaunmyr was a different species - in more ways than one. Careful breeding, deep cut etiquette, and general superiority. It was a simple spell for being generally better. Not to mention, he was far more attractive, no doubt in his mind.
“And you, my lady?” Dhaunmyr didn’t touch Citrine.
He drew his hand back in surprise. The question felt jabbing, prodding, prying. He was used to subtler company. “I um.” He couldn’t lie, now. People usually asked where he came from, so he told them the town before. But he couldn’t exactly get up specially to bow to a stranger because she was a woman and pretend he didn’t come all the way from underground.
But he could avoid the question.
“If that’s your way of asking how old I am, I’m old enough to do everything I do.”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 18, 2019 18:57:01 GMT
"Luck es always ah Lady, Lad." She smiled into her mug of spirited cider as she responded - signaling she had heard his thoughts back. "An' 30? Tha's ah fair an' gentlemenly amount ye've decided tae keep fer yeself. Therefore? Aye accept ye accord o' 60 percent en return o' lettin' ye knae ye opponent's hands." Even though she didn't bow or make any flourishing gestures at the table - the teasing and twisted way in which she accepted the offer was heard like a fog horn through the message spell.
As the games continued Citrine kept up her script of passing on hands and cards to Kaleb, offering suggestions and opinions whether or not they were wanted. The mage hand sometimes tapped out the card face with a quick stick figure like drawing of what the face was or she'd send another message with a curl of her cooper wound braid. It was a fun alternative way to enjoy a game of cards. As the night progressed and the hands soon fell bigger and bigger into Kaleb's favor, she sent him another message, "Aye'm feeling generous Lad, ye can keep 35 percent o' teh coin we've won. Includin' teh pile ye've got en ye pockets." Her mage hand patted his leg like one would a puppy.
It was like teasing Zuzu all over again, the rough and tumble brute of a mountain who could never back down from one of her challenges. The wagers they'd gotten themselves tied up in… literally and figuratively. No bond of crew family to crew family could surpass the binding of needing to keep embarrassing secrets to yourself and to not let your Commodore know who was at fault for his hat being stolen… The memories overlaid her vision as the night went on, made even worse? Better? When the waitress came around for refills.
Not stepping into the ring of offering to buy a round, two had already offered and she wouldn't say no to that gift, Citrine beamed. "Nae need tae call me lady, Lad. Ye can call me Citrine though, as ah substitute." Offhandedly she introduced herself, "Captain, ef ye must feel like ye want tae be formal." She added as an afterthought. She was now trying to claim a place in the Mariner's Hall - a lavish guildhall that only allowed Captains and their chosen First Mates (or similar) to even cross into the building. She loved her room in the Ship's Prow Inn - but, greedily, she wanted more.. And in order to be recognized as a Captain, particularly since she was without her ship and crew to back up her statements of title, she'd have to start being recognized around town as a Captain. Easier said then done.
"But aye! Aye'll have ah-nohter firewhiskey mixed with cider, ef ye're sure about buyin' ah round." She was curious as to why a drow was out and about, and as the night went on another ghost of her past, Sana Feathermore, began to overlay across Dhaunmyr. Though the two were utterly different - Sana being female for one, and as drow as drow came - it was easy enough to envision herself, Zuzu, and Sana swindling some poor fools out of their gold.
"Aye don' think he meant offense." She didn't want tension ruining the night of cards and drink -hopefully soothing the ruffled feathers of the drow. "Et es rather uncommon tae see ye folk up on teh surface. Just as ye rarely see me birdfolk kind around teh shores!" She compared the oddity of drow to the oddity of the 'aarakocra' most assumed, so at to hopefully show that she really didn't mean offense at pointing out the…. Rarity of his race.
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Post by Orion on Feb 22, 2019 1:58:22 GMT
In his experience most elves were pig headed, often callous, and had a low opinion of humans and other races in general, and judging by Dhaun’s reaction as he saw it, the drow was not going to disappoint in that area. The malaise that elves seemingly thrived was horribly dull, at least in his mind. He couldn’t do it. Kaleb hated to think poorly about anyone, but their kind was not enjoyable to be around. However, he didn’t blame them, per say, and he wouldn’t slander or curse them. He did scrutinize them severely. He didn’t think a creature that could live for over a thousand years and feel so... superior... could be trusted.
He narrowed his eyes at the drow, and glanced over to the girl at the end of the table, before turning back to his cards. With a bit of a grumble he grabbed his tankard and downed the rest of his drink, before wiping his mouth clean.
’You are me’ type o’ gal.’ the voice in his mind was the same gravelly voice that parted his lips, though much less formal, ’Yer mad if ye’ t’ink I meant I’d be given’ me self only thirty percent. But I’ll tell ye’... I’ll give you fifty percent of the take since yuh got here. I done took most of their coin before ya’s showed up and I could do the rest without ye.’
Another hand passed, he lost that one, and when the waitress returned with the next round of drinks he used that moment to shuffle a red dragon into his hand, and a green to his hidden pile.
Taking his refilled tankard, he turned back to Dhaun, placing the red dragon down on the table next to a black.
“Aye, I meant no disrespect. And while I appreciate ye’ can do whatever you want in the bedroom, I meant how long have ye’ been learning the customs of the surface people?” He put his hand on top of Dhaun’s, waiting till he tried to give the waitress money, and continued, “For example, something you might not know. Unless yer Da’s de’ one paying, you don’ try and offer up yer own silver. I could’n be a good host otherwise.”
It was, perhaps, a little rude on his part, but he couldn’t help let a slight shimmer of prejudice show through. However, when people were watching his face and eyes, they weren’t paying attention to his hands. Drawing another card from the deck on the table, Kaleb didn’t bother looking at his cards yet. He had three more chromatic dragons in his hand, and this round would be a win for him no matter what. The two sailors across the table were chuckling amongst themselves, laughing at their own poor hands, delighted knowing they were going to lose this round. That, indeed, was what the rogue liked to see. When losers felt like they were having a good time that meant they’d likely not be coming after him once they lost. His quarry from a few nights ago, however, was a different story. He averted his gaze to the door for a moment, and then scanned the bar. The aarakocra was partially obscuring his view, but he didn’t see anyone he recognized besides the bar employees yet. Still, the brief thought caused him to shift restlessly in his seat.
“Never da’ less, I think we all appreciate it. And I appreciate yer gold.”
Dropping his third card on the table, a white dragon, Kaleb picked up the small piles of coins. One of the sailors laughed and shook his head, and climbed up out of the booth.
“Bah. I hate this game anyway. I’m gunna piss and head back to bar.”
His friend nodded, “Aye Aye, I’m going to try and win a few more of my coins back.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” smiled the rogue.
Kaleb eyed the balding bastard, and began shuffling the cards.
“What types of things do yer people do for fun in the Underworld, Mi’lord.”
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Post by enchilada on Feb 22, 2019 4:38:11 GMT
Dhaunmyr just laughed. “You understand nothing of the elves, then, my dear! I don’t suppose you would understand anything of the fairer races, humans are stubborn.” He very gently booped his index finger against Kaleb’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you for it, though, I enjoy the company of someone who would probably see me as well experienced, rather than, say, a child. It was my birthday about a month ago so- about a month.”
Dhaunmyr was still looking for like nice Underdark, where everything was the same except drow learned basic decency. The fact that such an idea sounded less likely than giant winged lizards spitting fire was extremely troubling to him. He’d really trapped himself up here, huh? He had time to go back, yet, but he didn’t want to, so he wouldn’t. To think, he finally decided to do something for himself and it was this goddamn drastic. Never change, Dhaun.
He was a little shocked at his behaviour, but he just allowed it. He invaded others’ spaces, so to have it reflected back upon himself was something completely fresh, new, maybe a little exciting. These surface people were so odd. To not offer to buy would be rude, and in fact, he wouldn’t feel right not chipping in just for one round. “I’ll bear that in mind, my heart.”
It was a loaded, sarcastic little comment, dripping in slight malice, but moreso it was waterlogged with a gentle, offhand kind of flirting. He didn’t care what came of it so long as it was recognising that he might look fresh, he’d been in enough fights that he didn’t need this handholding treatment. Hopefully he’d understand quickly.
He contemplated putting his other hand on top, it was like those little handshakes you do when some smug idiot thinks he’s going to get this great deal off of you for some bizarre reason. They shake too close to the wrist in greeting, so you enclose the hand and give it back to them, it puts them off but it simply wouldn’t be polite to run off because they know you know they initiated that. But he didn’t go in for it this time, instead opting to spread his leg out further until it touched Kaleb’s, just to keep the same points going as before.
“Well, I’m pretty sure fun is illegal or something. But, I was taught to write, read, clean, cook, and I briefly sampled a range of crafts. I suppose drow women like to know their consort has something to do all day while they’re busy... I don’t know what they do.” Dhaunmyr shrugged. “I don’t really care, either. It’s irrelevant. Lots of sacrifices, lots of killing entire families, and just a sprinkle of demon worship crammed down your throat. Oh, yeah, and the few parties. You get to watch the ladies have fun and such, it’s a way to get your face out and- well, I met someone there. She... yeah.”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 24, 2019 20:59:57 GMT
"Aye've been told Aye'm mad as ah hotbox at times." She spun her hair again with a teasing grin on her face. "Aye'll take teh fifty an' another round o' drinks from ye purse… As fer doin' et by teh by? Would ye wanta tae do et alone? Ye're breakin' ye Lady Luck's heart Lad." It had been only about two danys since she'd tried to wager her way into a deal like this, two days too long.
The one card player took his leave, and as the one slid out so the other older sailor could leave Citrine ducked in and snagged a place on the bench before the remaining betting man could sit. Tucking her back against the corner of the booth, wings shifting to fold down her back and tail feathers settle down the length of her leg, Citrine set her drink down as she listened to the conversation going around. She hadn't waited for an invitation to sit - it didn't matter to her one way or another.
Watching the game, listening to the Zuzu-look-alike and the drow male quip back and forth Citrine just chose to wisely stay silent on the whole thing. She had opinions, of course - who wouldn't. But some parts of drow society were a bit too close to her original home, things that she did in fact agree with, but for extremely different reasons than the matriarchs prided themselves on.
"Least ye've enough skills tae 'ave nae problem up 'ere on the surface then." Her only comment for the most part, spoken during rounds of cards being shuffled between the other players at the table. One trailing thought spoken by Dhaunmyr couldn't be left un-mentioned though. "But ye said ye've met someone at on o' ye Matron's events? Good meetin' o' bad meetin?" She asked with a sly inquisitive whistle spun on the end - she loved hearing stories of romance and similar relations.
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