Before Vaelron can react to any of this. He just gazes with his mouth slightly opened in awe at what seemed to be a surprisingly hasty monk. After he realizes his mouth was still full of food, he quickly finds back his manners. It almost seemed like mere seconds that Kal smashed the food into his face and out of nowhere stood up and left.
“By the gods and goddesses! This man can eat and leave faster that The Grey Master can steal!” Says the Half-elven bard with a frown upon his face.
He remains looking at the hasteful monk for a few more seconds and returns quickly to his food. While enjoying the stew he regains his focus on what’s happening on stage. His eyes rapidly move from left to right as he is witnessing the intriguing performance on stage. A sudden smirk starts playing upon his face!
“HAH! Such splendor! I’m so fond of this tale! For it is filled to the brim with heroic Valor!”
His facial expresses abruptly changed back to a pondering one as he softly hums a melody trying to dig far into his memory of what it sounded like. While the bard is thinking heavily of the tale, the stage performance seems to be entering a break. A man with a wide horn loudly presents the audience that they will return in a few minutes.
Vaelron sees this as a chance and puts down his food as fast as he can and grabs the old lute from the backpack.
With a non-human finesse he tunes the instrument and starts to play a soft tune.
The murmuring of the crowd slowly disappears when the young half-elf starts to sing
“Oh, Eres. Oh, Eres where have you gone?
May thine wings still protect us from the shadows to come
And the rain that keeps falling, may it bless us and fall
on the knights that have fallen in battles of old
Oh, the knights that have fallen in battles of old
Oh Eres, Oh Eres don’t abandon us all
Show us the way and the clergy of the fall
that the light still shines on your silver shield
And may the gates to the Shadows forever be sealed
May that gate to the darkness forever be sealed.”
In passing, some of people donate small amounts of money to you and the stage-show players. Some workers shrug and others eye you up for a while.
Vaelron nods gracefully toward the people that are giving him the small tributes and while the last note of the well-crafted lute slowly dies. A smile plays his face and a soft “Hmmmm.” hums out of his throat. Then as if it was a ritual often executed the half-elf packs his lute back to his backpack, picks up his tip and returns to his chicken meal once again.
He smells it with his eyes closed.
He then finishes the last bits of his stew and opens his eyes speaking softly with a tone that sounds very relieved and rejuvenated.
“So…Vitor and Vylreene.. Have you finished your rations yet? I think we shouldn’t let our expeditious friends wander off too far? Are you guys ready or do you still need something from the market?”
"Finished? No, this will last me for a while, wouldn't want to eat it all in one sitting. Fine playing just then, Vaelron. You seem familiar with whatever story these people were telling, I bet you're a well travelled man."
Vylreene puts the bread back into the wrapping and shoves it in her backpack.
"Well..." she says as she stands up and straightens her coat. " ...I don't need anything from the stalls, so I'd best be moving."
Vylreene beckons and walks off to meet up at the Rusted Rat
"You coming along or will I see you there soon?"
"Coming along right away! Off we go!" says the bard enthusiastically as he immediately joins her side.
The Lumbering giant of a man silently joins the collective in their walk to the Rusted Rat.
Even the people seem to lose energy as you move on. Bright colourful dublets and gowns are slowly replaced with more earth coloured garb. By the last steps before a large, grey gate, even the stone roads become more fractured and cracked.
A guard gives a passing glance as you trudge onwards, but doesn't inquire. As you pass out the other side, your view is changed. From once clean and almost pristine stonework, you find yourself staring what you would almost describe as a construction site. Many small wooden shacks are placed untop of eachother as they almost rise over the surrounding walls. The stench of garbage fills your nose and different volumes of screams and yells fill the air. While it is later in the afternoon, the sun doesn't seem to reach the Southern District much. Shaded alleys, whole market courts blurred in the shadows of the rickety housing. Along the houses build up and towards the walls, small bars and inns dot the sight.
Closeby to where you entered to the Southern District, there is an almost faded map on a notice board. From here you are able to pin point the location of the Rusted Rat Tavern.
“Look over here!” Kál walks up and inspects the faded map in an attempt to locate the Rusted Rat Tavern
The Monk traces his finger over the map trying to orientate himself and his destination, with a look of concentration on his face.
With a suprise, it's seen that it's not very far from your current location and almost in eye sight! Build in the wall, spanning 3 floors and supported by stacked houses on the side, the Rusted Rat Tavern illuminates the darkness and breaks any silence that may have been near it. Joyous songs, creaking boards, swinging tables and the clatter of mugs marks this place as a welcome home for many types.
The front of the homely tavern finds itself littered with drunks and various types of wood to hold the light and joy behind it. The place eyes like it has been rebuild and reworked millions of times, despite it resting on the place it spews out it's customers vomit and other waste, it stands stronger then almost any other construction within the area. Above the creaky doors hangs a old iron sign. With thick crusts of rust strewn over the perhaps once wonderous sign, it reads "The Rat Tavern". You can certainly get an inkiling this place has been around for a long time and has had a change of name from it's original inception.
The walls line themselves with missalligned wood and painting done by various masters and amateurs. Sailboats next to obese dragons eating knights, a simple landscape and the duke of Ulf with the body of a pig are just a few of the many sights to see.
Behind the bar is a team of Half-Orcs and Humans, reconized by a uniform consisting of blue pants, boots and a black shirt with a small emblem of a copper-coloured rat. Behind them wanders an Elven woman in a more refined version of the regalia. It's easy to see who pulls the strings here and seems to be easy to hear aswell.
"Get those plates from floor 2! If I see you feeding people off wooden boards again, so help me Densa, I swear...!"
Vylreene takes a look around the crooked yet charming tavern.
"A bit crowded, but I like their style..."
She sniffs up the smell of ale
"... and what they're serving."
"Anyways..." She says, as she does a quick shake of the head to get her focus back. "...shall we see if our contact is around? Don't want to keep him waiting, we've already taken the scenic route here."
Vylreene scans the tavern for a short human with grey hair, wearing a black cloak.
As Vitor glances at his surroundings his eyes lock on to the portrait of the Duke of Ulf pausing for a second the corners of his mouth curl up into what barely passes as a smile.
"I agree, they've got a nice sense of style. Especially the scenery..."
Vitor lets the smirk slowly die off as he almost instantly reverts his gaze to his surroundings. Locking eyes with many patrons that meet his gaze. Vitor seems to be peering right through them looking for his target.
"Aye, Callus should be around here. And I don't fancy waiting around here any longer either."
You eye the room and stairs to the 1st floor. While black cloaks seem to be popular, you attempt to search for Callus.
What you do notice, is a few figures in the corner who seem to sometimes look around almost nervously. They look to be wearing similair cloaks to eachother and circled around a table covered in sprawled paper notes.
Vitor squints his eyes with some effort and in a frustrated tone says.
"Like staring at a whirlpool... any luck on your end?"
Kál stands silently behind the pair; hands settled behind his back.
Slightly leaning towards her companions, Vylreene asks:
"That table over there, do they look like people associated with the Guild to you? Maybe we could ask them?"
Vylreene grabs her contract letter from her coat's inner pocket.
"I'll keep this handy, hopefully they'll recognize it quickly."
Vylreene walks towards the table, gives them all a quick glance and shows them the letter, hiding most of it, but showing the stamps at the bottom.
"Any of you fellows able to point me in the right direction?"
Vitor sits down at the bar and adjusts his barstool so that he is facing Vylreene in her inquiry. Leaning on his elbow he awaits the result.
"Pffff..Hey lads did you see the size of that toad? And the song it was creaking had an impressive baritone! Uhh ---"
As Vaelron now look around is seems to be quite hard to spot his friends in the what seems to be the usual day in the tavern.
He quickly spots the tall man at the bar and hurries toward him.
After a short journey toward the bartender and clumsily almost knocking over mugs and bumping into people, he arrives!
"Well..what a sight! What a lively audience! I think I need to adapt quickly. Hey Bartender! Two ales please! and give one to my big friend over here!"
Vaelron gives a soft tap on Vitor's shoulder to let him know it's obviously him."
Vaelron then immediatly scans the tavern! Also to see if there are some aesthetically pleasing men and women.
The lumbering man squints his eyes, bracing after hearing the clattering cacophony of mugs and plates knocked over by the frivolous sprite.
"He meant the ale for the one with the ponytail." As he motions toward Kál.
With mild agitation he adresses Vaelron while remaining focused on Vylreene.
"The lass might have an inkling to our contact, I gathered she can handle this.."
"She can sure handle this and as she does Snips his fingers charmingly Bartender! Add one more ale to that. It seems that this bard made a little mistake!" Vaelron lets out a loud "HAH!"
"Ah, so you're the group for Callus his mission. Interesting." A half-Orc says to you.
"Don't mind us if you will. Just some after-work... work." The Half-Elf says, mug of ale in hand.
"You should find Callus upstairs, Best of luck my friend." The eldery, grey Dwarf tells you.
They nod a goodbye with a smile and return to their hushed discussions.
As you fumble towards the bar and leave patrons to grasp their drinks and shoulders, the smiles fade and the stares increase. The bartender looks you over and meets you with a expressionless face. As he puts your order on the bar, he taps the wood and says "4 Copper."
As you eye the tavern, you see many folk. It would be almost garantueed to meet your requirements in aesthetic.
Your fingersnap is met with a light growl as your 3rd ale is placed on the bar. "2 Copper." he exhales in a sour tone.
Annoyed, Vitor grabs the third ale and plops down 8 copper pieces and waives the remainder.
"Please lower your profile a bit... How you carry yourself in private is none of my business but as long as we're together I prefer some discretion. We don't need the attention of this entire tavern."
The bard ignores the growl of the barman for now. ""Ughh...Fine. Vaelron responds with a demoralized tone "I shall just blend in a Tavern like how I always do". The now grinning Vaelron walks away with proud posture and looks for a table with a lot of joyous and drinking people sitting at it. He then summons his lute with the usual finesse and starts playing and singing an energetic, drinking-song.
I’ve been gone under rock, I’ve gone under sand
I’ve been gone to the boiling fire lands
My head was high yet me spirits were mad
For I looked all wrecked and thirsty
I walked through the forests. I’ve worked the land
Until me wan-der-lust was spent
Some company and a Lovely bed
Is all I ever wished for.
One night I ran from the wolves and the Tawn
Me boots were broken for I ran till Dawn
But I couldn’t grasp what I stumbled upon
Twas a tavern warm and cheery
The sounds coming out were jolly and bold
And songs were queer and sung by heart
And swear I could smell the ale flow cold
A rusty rat was it’s sigil
Never carry me back! Never carry back!
I’ll never show my back!
Twards the rusted rat’s old tavern!
Never carry me back! Never carry me back!
I’ll never want to pack again!
Ooohhh The Rusted Rat’s old tavern!
Lute solo while stomping with his feet on the bench
Yir Mountains High Yir mountains Low
I’ve got enough copper for me ale to flow
By the beard of the longaxe and summit’s snow
I’ll might be hammered as a glowing pommel
But then I saw her standing there
Her bouncing bosoms and her flame-kissed hair.
I was going to ask her hand right there
But to my fright I saw what’s yonder
I giant shadow cast over me
Her husband didn’t want the best for me
He got me prone all black and green
Oh how I wished I never bothered
Please do Carry me back! Please do carry me back!
I cannot show my face around
In the Rusted Rat’s old tavern
Please do carry me back! Please do carry me back
I connot show me face around
In the Rusted Rat’s old Tavernnnnnnnnnn!
Vitor swiftly walks away as soon as he hears the first chord being struck and joins Vylreene at her side.
Kál follows suit, leaving his ale on the bar, focused on the task at hand and keeping a close guarded eye on Vylreene as she speaks with the rough looking group.
The rest of the crowd away from the lone table stares at you.
Some simply give a neutral glance while other still stare with an angry face from when you walked through them. The theatre groupe in the back has their eyes light up like fire. Murmurs and throat cutting motions are exchanged amoung them as they grip their drinks firmly.
Behind the bar heads are turned. Neutral faces and 1 annoyed expression meets your eye as you also see the Elven woman with arms crossed staring at you, seemingly talking through clenched teeth at some of her employees.
A few stray people seem to be into it, they form a small circle and clap along as they move closer to you. Through the circle some of the drunk and joyous lock arms and swing around.
The jig you play seems to not impact the tavern as a whole. While the few people near you who are dancing and cheering seem to enjoy themself, the majority of the bar doesn't seem to be in the same spirit.
The Half-Orc lets out a hard exhale and slams his mug of ale down. "Ha, I love it!" he exclaims! "You don't get this type of entertainment here that often anymore, I like the guts on this kid!" As the person next to the Half-Orc puts a hand on his shoulder to lower his tone, he continues. "I'm amazed he's still standing in a place like this after that grand entrance! Now that's confidence to live on!" He burries his tusks back into his mug and chugs on happily.