The Shameless Horned Horse (IC - Tavern)

[Paladin]

The sign above the door reads, "уятсыз мүйүздүү ат". Anyone familiar with the regional dialects of the eastern steppes might translate it as "The Horny Horse of Shame" or, more appropriately, "The Shameless Horned Horse." But as you enter, a booming voice welcomes you to The Vulgar Unicorn.

The voice belongs to a towering giant of a man, or at least half a man. The other half might be orc, ogre, or even hill-giant, given his seven-foot frame and crude features. His cheeks are ruddy and his bare chest is covered in a pelt of reddish-gold. A great tulwar, naked and gleaming with oil, is thrust into a broad silken sash at his waist. He grunts and gestures at the girl(s) Gil brought in and their eyes widen. They hurriedly writhe free of the barbarian's grasp and bolt for the door. Before Gil can protest, a dazzling beauty with porcelain skin and almond-shaped eyes slips beneath his muscled arm and smiles up at him, a knowing smile born of long experience.

"Bad for business to bring in outside competition, you understand," the man explains. Tattooes writhe and swirl around both heavily-muscled arms and loose-fitting pants billow to his knees where they are tucked neatly into a pair of calf-skin boots. The giant's shaved head gleams in the light of myriad torches and a drooping mustache sweeps down a hard jawline.

"Come, travelers!" He grins savagely and beckons you into the dim, smokey interior of the tavern. The sprawling common room is blessed with thick walls of rammed earth, and alcoves are carved into the wall to accomodate tables and chairs. Each table boasts a tallow candle (lit only if the table is occupied) and a ceramic mug at each place-setting.

"Priest," he says with a nod at Barlow. He measures himself briefly against Jasmine and Gil, his hard gaze lingering over Jasmine's solid frame. His eyebrows rise and lips curl into a grin as he spreads his arms wide. "Welcome to the House of Kazak. My home is your home. Drink at my hearth. Shower gold upon my girls or lose it at my gaming table. Spill your blood in my arena. Seat yourselves and be welcome."

He gestures for a veritable army of serving girls to attend the new arrivals. Even at this time of day when the streets are packed with humanity, you find no respite within the tavern. Most of the tables in the wall are packed with patrons. The center of the room is occupied by a swirl of dancers barely dressed in colorful silks and jingling silver bells. Music skirls from the far end of the room and many voices are raised in song. Some patrons drink, some roll ivory dice or move pieces on game boards, and others clap in time with the music.

Drink flows freely and gold clinks at every table. No one wears a mask here. In a back room separated from the common room by an open archway you glimpse a circular arena of sun-baked brick. It rises waist-high and is topped by a ring of torches. A throng presses close to the wall and shouts encouragement at the pair of combatants locked in savage wrestling match.

Both combatants are male, stripped to the waist and pouring sweat. Their bruised and battered bodies strain each against the other. A growing mound of gold awaits the winner. Raven-tressed beauties linger to celebrate with the winner or console the loser. Others work the crowd to discern which customers are possessed of the gold to occupy their time.

As the pulsating hum of life and revelry batters your senses, the bevy of servants directs you to a table in one of the empty alcoves. One lights your candle and gestures grandly for you to be seated. "Your drinks?" She inquires in heavily-accented common. Her pale skin and blue eyes mark her as a foreigner in Nuz Edrak.

Barlow, Cleric 26/26
Jasmine, Barbarian 55/55
Gil, Barbarian 39/39

(Here you may rent rooms, drink anything your heart desires, eat rich food--or common fare, as your purse dictates, or any other diversions which please you. Games of chance, wagers, combats, entertainment--all is at your fingertips. Don't be shy. The girls aren't. So far, you see nothing of Jasmine's admirers from outside.)

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

Eyeing Kazak up and down like he did they, she nods in appreciation, not interest.

Turning to Barlow and Gil and gesturing towards Kazak. "Now that a real man, see? Not puny tiny men like ones looking me",

looking at Kazak she speaks in a tone of respect "I just meaning you man, take care of self, A Warrior. I not wanting snu-snu, just paying.. um give

.. compliment, yes, a compliment."

Turning to the serving wench "Goats milk and roasted boar pleez." As an after thought "Oh,, must trade

coins for food and milk," with a quizzical look she reaches for her pouch and awaits the damage.

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

Gil grabs new harlot flesh.

"Sit with me girl
your arms around me curl."

The barbarian breathes deep the smells of the tavern, hears the hub-bub of people.

"Ale and quail!" Gil snaps at the serving wench as he and the girl take a seat next to Jasmine and Barlow.

The northern barbarian drinks as much as to forget as for enjoyment. Though Gil's cursed verse often implies a light-hearted man, the reality is darker. The skald's family and much of his tribe was decimated by the far-reaching plague that has been striking far and wide. He has seen much death in the past year, be it disease or the violence that follows in the chaos when society is breaking down.

And so Gil's drifting to Nuz Edrak, along the edge of the Emptiness, the rumored source of the plague. The barbarian has little to lose now, and if he has a chance at striking down the wizard Nolazar Bone-Caller, he will try.

Gil quaffs three ales quickly and his speech begins to return to normal, though his spirit becomes moodier.

"Jasmine, perhaps Kazak is man enough for you?" says Gill with a smile, while stroking the hair of the harlot on his knee. In these past months of adventuring with the barbarian woman, he has thought of bedding her. But he's found it best not to mix work and pleasure. Though having seen Jasmine's seemingly inexhaustible endurance, he wonders how she may be between the furs.

Gil downs three more ales, his speech slurring but not rhyming, his mood not improving.

"Good priest Barlow, will you lend your healing touch if I get bruised up in the arena?" asks Gil, nodding to the indoor fighting circle. When the barbarian first met Barlow, he was suspicious of the cleric's magic and would often refuse any blessings and healings. That is, until he was knocked unconscious in a battle with an owlbear. Gil awoke to find himself almost fully recovered under Barlow's divine ministrations. Gil prayed to Kord for forgiveness. There seemed to be no after effects, so Gil decided the priest's magicks must be acceptable to Kord.

A man two tables over looks much like Gil's dead brother. The skald drinks another ale as he tries to repress the memories. He struggles at it and moodily pushes his harlot away. He has been down this road many times and knows that if he puts his despair to song, it helps evaporate the pain. Gil gathers up his lute, stands on his chair, strums the strings and sings:

"I know the rain is not profound, and autumn's not symbolic
And the wind does not make lonesome sounds
Yes, I know it's meaningless
Yes, I know it's meaningless

But let's go out and play now
Cause the sun and the sea and the sky
They will never make you cry
You can love them and they don't die
They don't just die

You can wait for god all your life, he's coming any day now
Any day now for two thousand years
Yes I know, it's trivial
Yes, I know I'm shallow

But let's go out and play now
Cause the sun and the sea and the sky
They will never make you cry
You can love them and they don't die
They don't just die."

[Leitz]

Barlow helped Jasmine with the payment, ensuring only the right number of coins are taken. In truth, he enjoys helping, and responds to the waitress. "Just a decent beer for me, local. Some bread, cheese, and meat. No sauces, thank you, I've heard tales of the spices from this area and I'm not sure I'm ready for them just yet."

"Jasmine, just so you know," Barlow leaned over and spoke quietly to his friend. "The one pleasure girl I spoke to earlier wanted coin for something I don't really want to do. While I appreciate our friendship, I let her believe you would be jealous. She left, thankfully. I appreciate your help in keeping myself unentangled."

Nodding when Gil asked; "Unless I'm already unconscious, certainly. Of course, if you're just worn out by the beauty here, well, that suggests you shouldn't drink so much."

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

"I Ok with dat, Barlow. I protect you from easy wimmin.

Turning to Gil "I not interested in snu-snu with Kazak. I snu snu when I meet man I make my mate, not before. Besides,, too much fun killing zombies and undead creatures."


Not even wanting to wait,,, the Barbarian wolfs down her food faster than humanly possible and lets out a loud belch.

Standing she looks at the arena and after finding Kazak she asks with purpose "I want show man fighters how a real warrior fight in Arena,,

you make happen, Kazak?"

[Paladin]

The hulking tavern-keeper grins beneath his mustache at Jasmine's bold gaze.

"From a woman like you, I'll take it," he booms, then laughs like a peal of thunder and wades into the press of customers bearing twin trays overflowing with mugs. His forearms bulge as he deposits one tray at a full table and grabs the handles of three mugs at once, dishing them out as quickly as the thirsty men will take them.

Your serving girl nods efficiently as orders are taken and whips around to vanish into the equally-raucous kitchen. She returns moments later with a platter of steaming pork and quail wrapped in strips of marinated beef, several mugs, and a beaker of goat's milk. Steaming bread and a broad selection of thinly-sliced cheeses accompany the meal, along with several sauces and tiny bowls of various spices for those who wish to partake. It is a rich repast, indeed, and the price matches the presentation.

"Price is six gold coins for the whole table," the young woman relates with an apologetic frown. "Food is dear during this plague. All suppliers are charging more coin for the same food, claiming it is a danger to enter such a crowded city and that they must be compensated extra." She shrugs helplessly. "So we pay what we must. And prices go up. It is two gold per head--one for food and one for drink."

No one around you seems to balk at the prices, though they are inordinately high. Perhaps the gargantuan proprieter's ever-watchful eye and bare blade have something to do with that. Or perhaps they have accepted that the world is a different place after the plague.

During a lull in the house music, Gil begins his song and many eyes turn to watch his performance. Only a few lines in, mugs are raised and encouragement shouted from multiple tables. Though the sun shines outside, many here are deep into their cups and show no signs of slowing down. The young woman at Gil's side claps and grins broadly, clinging to his arm and sharing in the acclamation. A few coins are cast at his feet amid the drunken applause. (12 silver pieces)

When Jasmine approaches Kazak to inquire about the arena, his face glows with sudden pleasure. "Many men would pay good coin for the chance to face you in my arena. And women besides!" He rubs his meaty palms together. "There is an entry fee of 5 gold pieces for your first fight. If you win, you take ten gold pieces plus a small share of the winnings from each bet placed on you." He leans close to whisper conspiratorially. "And if you entertain my customers, your food and drink is on the house and a room is at your disposal. I reward my fighters for spilling their blood."

He motions to the arena. The winner of the previous bout, a long-limbed tribesman from the jungles far to the south, is collecting his winnings. He rakes in a sizeable mound of gold, silver, and copper pieces. The warrior is bloodied, limping, and one eye is swelled shut, but his triumphant grin is unmistakable. His opponent, a tough-looking dwarf, lies groaning and shaking his head to clear the starbursts from his eyes, wiping blood from his broken nose. He spits a tooth onto the now-crimson sand and pushes himself upright, staggering out of the arena and nursing a bruised jaw.

"I will find you an opponent, if a fight is what you wish."

(If Jasmine or anyone else wishes to fight or watch a fight, we'll pick up in the arena thread. Those who remain at the table may continue posting here as you like.)

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

Jasmine is a bit confused about the gold coin count and beckons Barlow over to her so he can help her pay the 5 gp.

Though she has good Int and Wis, paying with coins is like pulling out teeth for Jasmine. SHe is more accustomed to paying with ... or better put, trading goods for services, etc etc.

"I pay and you find me someone to beat up is good trade, I like it."

[Leitz]

Barlow happily helps, and then bets five gold on Jasmine.

[Paladin]

Excellent! And now to the Arena thread!

viewtopic.php?f=1017&t=10428

[Paladin]

Continued from the Arena...

"Now...this is better." The proprietor waits until all have been seated, then takes a look around to assure himself no one in the noisy common room is paying too much attention. Finally, he looks back at you and sighs.

"Two warriors and a man of magic. Your priest friend would have been valuable to such a mission as ours, but he said something about his temple and had to leave. Perhaps you might round up another of his kind? The city does not lack for god-botherers. But the three of you might be able to pull it off."

He empties a mug and wipes a hand across his great mustache. "I have a problem." He levels a hard gaze at you. "Some time ago, I availed myself of the charms of a lovely young woman. It was not against her will, and I thought nothing else of it...until I saw her again in the market square upon the arm of one of the king's magistrates. I learned very quickly that she was his wife--and that he knew of our brief affair."

"Ever since, things have been going wrong for me. Shipments from outside the walls have been stolen and cost me quite a bit of coin. My men have been harassed by the king's guard. The tax-collector confronts me almost daily with some new demand." His expression darkens. "I know the magistrate is behind it. I could crush his skull like a grape, but to maintain my business here"--he motions to the packed tavern and busy arena--"I must be subtle about this."

He eyes you speculatively. "If anyone asks, I know nothing of this conversation. But suppose an outside party, like you, was to send a very clear message to the magistrate that his actions will not be tolerated?" He winks broadly over his mug. "The robberies of my shipments always take place on the edge of the desert before the road turns South to Nuz Edrak. I know the thieves are hired killers in the magistrate's pay, but I hesitate to lose more men rooting them out. The plague has taken too many from me already."

He leans back in his chair and contemplates his empty mug. It is quickly refilled. "I want them dead. I want their heads on a pike for all to see along the road into the city. I want the magistrate to see what becomes of those who push Kazak too far." The big man falls silent, then looks at Gil, Jasmine, and Heath in turn. "Can you do this?"

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

The Barbarian actually pays attention to what Kazak has to say. Intelligent enough, but not big on words she frowns.

"Tax collecting man. Where we find him? We not wait for him, we surprising him. Him having puny friends help him? Me crush them.

Problem solve. But I having thought. " She purses her lips, scratching her chin.

"City having rules...Me understand. But if we kill collection man and him pro-tec-tors,, we in trouble?"

She rubs her stomach as an afterthought ... " I hungry! More food pleez.. and yes me wants to help you, Kazak. You nice ...

and a real man, not puny robed chicken man."

[Paladin]

Kazak waves at one of his staff and orders more food for his guests (and potential new allies) and commands a whole pitcher of mead and another of ale be brought to the table. His gaze shifts from one to the other and he is silent for a long moment.

"You are a strong woman," he says to Jasmine. "I fear for those thieving fools once you find them." He sighs and curls a hand around the hilt of his tulwar longingly. "I wish my time on the steppes and riding the deserts had not ended so soon," the former warrior admits. "Some days I consider leaving this life to return to my home, but I've built something here. It may not look like much more than a ragged tavern, but it's mine. I started it from scratch with gold I took from the hand of a dead storm-wizard--" he glances at Heath with a slow grin--"no offense, my friend."

Kazak drains his drink again and belches, thumping his mug down on the table. "If you all agree to this, there is obviously a reward." He flicks a glance at Gil. "As I said, I have plenty of gold. The tax man is a minor annoyance. The Unicorn makes enough to appease him for the rest of his miserable life. The real problem is my shipments. I am willing to part with a large sum of old-kingdom gold, the good stuff, if someone rids me of these pests. When I can't take my shipments, I can't satisfy my customers in the city. My name suffers and I lose face. Then my business falters. I will not have it. It will not be said that Kazak stands idly by like a coward while he is robbed blind!"

He makes a slicing motion with one hand. "The magistrate knows I cannot move against him openly, but neither can he close me down without legal cause. And he has none. So we continue to play this proxy war. I like it not, but I have yet to find a better option."

He stabs a finger onto the table to emphasize his point. "Track down these thugs. They must have a lair somewhere near the route. Find them and slay them. Present me their heads along the high street into Nuz Edrak, and I will have a fat purse of coin for each of you. On top of that, you may keep whatever you find on your mission. I am sure they've hidden some of my shipments somewhere--cached it away for the future. Consider it yours, if you do this thing for me."

[NJWilliam]

Heath

he glances at Heath with a slow grin--"no offense, my friend."

Heath chuckles slightly, ”none taken at all.”

Looking at Kazak, he adds, “Have you set others to this task before us? I’d like to know what they met up with, if so. Regardless it sounds like a good proposition for both us us, at least as far as I see it. What sorts of things were in your stolen shipments so we might know we’ve gotten the right bandits?”

Heath fills his tankard from the pitcher of mead, checking its temperature as he does so.

[Grognardsw]

"I want them dead. I want their heads on a pike for all to see along the road into the city. I want the magistrate to see what becomes of those who push Kazak too far."

Gil, barbarian skald

"We will crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of the magistrates," announces Gil.

The barbarian is beginning to feel the rhyming compulsion. He starts drinking another ale. Gil steals some suspicious glances at Heath. That self-admitted wizard will need to be watched carefully. Gil tears off a piece of left-over quail and puts it in his pocket.

"Aye, and I would see Darius' head on one of those pikes," says Gil. "Where does this slaver work? Where are are his people?"

[Paladin]

(Keep in mind, too, that if you don't wish to take quests I present to you, there are always others. I will not take offense if you head elsewhere. The city is massive and adventure lurks in every corner.)

"Take the Desert Gate to the north and follow the trade road north and east. The last two shipments have been hit within a half-day's ride of the city. Right under my very nose." He frowns. "I never sent many guards, since the trade roads are heavily patrolled by king's guard, but these reavers seem to know exactly where to wait and when to strike to avoid those patrols.

"After the first time, I sent a half-dozen trusted warriors to keep watch. Neither they nor the caravan returned. The next caravan to pass through found my wagons with no beasts, no drovers, and no supplies. And no tracks to follow after a sandstorm. They've taken rich spices, olive oil from the islands, wine from the west. Furs. Ingots of purest steel. I trade in many things here, and every order lost hurts that facet of my business."

He spreads his arms wide. "Gold is plentiful here, but men you can trust? I have but few, or I'd have hired them by now. Perhaps Kazak can trust you." He produces a pouch of gold--the very one snatched by Gil from the slaver--and sets it on the table.

"Take this--if you require balms, salves, potions, or anything else, the Bazaar has it. You must haggle or be cheated. These people will take every advantage."
The tavern-keeper grins. "You will find the former owner of this purse in the Bazaar, as well, auctioning slaves at the block. But I should warn you, he is connected in very high places and supplies flesh to some in the palace. He is always under guard. But if you take his head from those narrow shoulders, no one here will shed a tear."

[Paladin]

Once you finish up here, provided Kazak'a quest suits you, you may return to the streets here:

viewtopic.php?f=1017&t=10415

--and finish any shopping, exploring, or troublemaking you'd like to do. I am going to make us a new thread for the quest as a placeholder.

[Grognardsw]

Gil, barbarian skald

“Six men lost? They must have numbers, and wagons themselves to transport their stolen goods. Can you mark on a map where your caravan was attacked?”

Gil orders a pie for dessert and washes down with another ale.

“Do you have shipments coming in soon? If not, perhaps we should we set a trap with a false caravan?”

Playing Gil to character, he wouldn’t bother with a cleric hireling for the group. But if someone else wants to, that would be wise.

[tarlyn]

Jasmine

"I am ok helping Kazak.. but I need Shaman, heal Mr Chin damage. Kazak you know place I fix my hurts?"

[Darklin2]

Alec

As you sit and discuss your need for a healer. A rather large Wood Elf walks from the bar to your table. He wears Black Studded Leather armor and his belt is adorned with hand axe and warhammer. He carries a Long Sword on his back visible over his right shoulder.

Did I hear you needed a healer. I am Alec, Priest of Solonar, Father of the Woods. I am able to cure most wounds. What do you need help with?

[Paladin]

Kazak produces a hand-drawn map of the area. It's rather crude and basic, but it shows you where to head to investigate the raids on his caravans. "One step ahead," he replies with a grin. "This marks both spots where the last two raids occurred. Another caravan is due tomorrow or the day after, depending on the weather."

He glances up as Alec approaches, taking in his appearance and quickly judging him to be another outlander like his current company. "You see..." He says with a gesture at the elf. "Fortune favors the bold. A healer appears as if from nowhere." He gestures to an empty chair. "Join us, comrade. We discuss a joint venture between myself and these fine folk." He gives no particulars until he can get a sense of the elf, but sees no harm in involving him in a general sense, at present.