Port Zangerios

[Old Duergar]

Once the quasi-beggar passes the men, one of them wrinkles up his alien nose slits, sniffing the air.

“Hey! Can you smell that?”

“Sugar!?!?”

Both of the tall men begin frantically sniffing around, apparently looking for the source of this odd smell.

Hastening his pace ever so slightly and slowly steering away from them towards the nearest passageway leading back to the seediest parts of the Port, Kumaglak calls out with his shrill voice: "Why, connoisseurs, aren't we? Do you enjoy such pleasures, good masters? Or do you prefer flesh sweaty, or spirits strong enough to shatter a Pict's crude axe to crumbs?! Fear not, the Port caters to all tastes and vices!". The Esquimaux chortles maddeningly.

If pursued, Kumaglak will run and will cast Freezing Hands (p. 178) at the general direction of a filthy and expansive seawater puddle and towards the Hyperboreans (if he finds a suitable one), hoping that the puddle under them will become frozen and they shall slip off on it, allowing him time to escape.

[OGRE MAGE]

Drest

"It will hurt a lot more if you don't scram. The only thing I have of worth is this sword and the only way your taking it is to the grave. Now scram and clean that wound before you get the wound sickness."

Drest will let him go, only striking if he must to defend himself.

Broad sword, subdual strike [1d20] = 12 to hit [1d8+1] = 2+1 = 3 damage

The young boy robber with his face painted red quickly decides he would be better suited to find a less dangerous mark. He hisses at Drest again before taking the Pict's advice and leaving him be. Pulling the closest flyer off of a post supporting the overhang that Drest was sleeping under, the boy crumples up the brown paper and tosses it in his face before leaving.

"You ain't heard the last of the RBB!" He exclaims as he scuttles away into the shadows.

[OGRE MAGE]

The pair of Viking bouncers gang up on the final squatter in the courtyard who is still trying to pull on his pants. Euripides passes Xenos on his way out, but then stops to say goodbye to the viking who kicked him, by asking Rel to dump 3 gallons of water over his head. Though he is a bit too far away from his intended target, the trickster god doesn't let his young disciple down, bringing the cold water cascading over the top of the brute, much to his dismay.

"You little shit! If I ever see you around here again.......I'll chop yer fish head from yer fish body!"

The other Viking just laughs at his large friend as Xenos rubs it in a little more before taking his leave as well. The pair hustle around the corner, leaving the courtyard behind, enjoying the foul cursing still escalating behind them. The narrow alley they are in is empty other than a few signs and flyers posted along the end that meets up with the busy street beyond. The pair look each other over in an awkward moment of silence.

[Rex]

Drest

Drest gives the urchin a few minutes then scoops up the flyer and checks it out. Thinking to himself, I didn't see this in the dark last night, wonder what it is.

[OGRE MAGE]

Hastening his pace ever so slightly and slowly steering away from them towards the nearest passageway leading back to the seediest parts of the Port, Kumaglak calls out with his shrill voice: "Why, connoisseurs, aren't we? Do you enjoy such pleasures, good masters? Or do you prefer flesh sweaty, or spirits strong enough to shatter a Pict's crude axe to crumbs?! Fear not, the Port caters to all tastes and vices!". The Esquimaux chortles maddeningly.

If pursued, Kumaglak will run and will cast Freezing Hands (p. 178) at the general direction of a filthy and expansive seawater puddle and towards the Hyperboreans (if he finds a suitable one), hoping that the puddle under them will become frozen and they shall slip off on it, allowing him time to escape.

The crafty Esquimaux isn't frightened by the immediate pursuit after his ramblings in the native Hyperborean tongue. The pair follow the masked man down a few back alleys and into some very sketchy areas without calling out to him. Kumaglak thinks he knows why, since these men are clearly not here for any purpose of good.

When he spies a shallow puddle ahead, the aspiring Cryomancer slows his pace and starts casting a frigid spell. Passing the puddle with his pursuit right on his heels, he magically freezes the water at his feet, just as he steps beyond the wet area. Then he makes the increase in his pace obvious. When he rounds the next corner without looking back, he hears cries of pain and anger from the men, pleased that his little trick worked this time.

With his magic finally working perfectly for once, the masked spellcaster sees plenty of ares where he can slink off into, leaving the dangerous Hyperboreans well behind.

Action?

[shaidar]

The other Viking just laughs at his large friend as Xenos rubs it in a little more before taking his leave as well. The pair hustle around the corner, leaving the courtyard behind, enjoying the foul cursing still escalating behind them. The narrow alley they are in is empty other than a few signs and flyers posted along the end that meets up with the busy street beyond. The pair look each other over in an awkward moment of silence.

Xenos looks at the Atlantean "Nice move there, with the spell. Do you know the quickest way to the waterfront? I've heard rumours of decent work"

[Howman]

Like most other newly arrived Vikings in Port Zangerios, Ragnarr quickly found himself lodged in one of the many buildings owned by Ozlo in the section of the docks dominated by Vikings. As an exceptionally large and strong man, he easily found work on the docks and spends his days unloading cargo from the many ships that come to Port Zangerios to trade. Wary of the frequent violence in the city, Ragnarr keeps himself armed, like most residents. Although not a malicious man, he has a short tempter that often gets him into more brawls than could be strictly considered healthy. He spends most of his nights in Ozlo's longhouse, drinking and singing with the many other Vikings who call the port their home. Despite his time in the city having been decent so far, Ragnarr considers his position here fairly temporary and waits for a more exciting or adventurous opportunity to appear.

[OGRE MAGE]

Like most other newly arrived Vikings in Port Zangerios, Ragnarr quickly found himself lodged in one of the many buildings owned by Ozlo in the section of the docks dominated by Vikings. As an exceptionally large and strong man, he easily found work on the docks and spends his days unloading cargo from the many ships that come to Port Zangerios to trade. Wary of the frequent violence in the city, Ragnarr keeps himself armed, like most residents. Although not a malicious man, he has a short tempter that often gets him into more brawls than could be strictly considered healthy. He spends most of his nights in Ozlo's longhouse, drinking and singing with the many other Vikings who call the port their home. Despite his time in the city having been decent so far, Ragnarr considers his position here fairly temporary and waits for a more exciting or adventurous opportunity to appear.

Ragnarr enjoys his time spent at Ozlo's Longhouse, drinking and carousing with the rest of his kind. The large Viking warrior feels almost more at home here then he did back in Vikland, where he realized at an early age that his willingness to fight got him into more trouble than he liked. Lugging heavy crates around the docks of Port Zangerios isn't exactly challenging work, so the man keeps his options open.

Lately he has been hearing a lot of information about some kind of meeting or gathering about to take place in the back courtyard behind the massive tavern this very afternoon. He isn't sure what it is about exactly, but he has heard that it will involve a wizard who is looking to hire some adventurers. Though he isn't exactly tight with the giant Ozlo, he believes his status as a fellow Norsemen will garner him a front row seat for any new opportunities that might present themselves.

Around mid day, a few hours before the meeting is supposed to start, he sees a lot of action from the employees at Ozlo's, carrying tables, chairs, and casks of ale outside and around to the back courtyard. Perhaps more information about this meeting could be gleaned from one of them.

[Howman]

Ragnarr

Eyeing the activity around Ozlo's longhouse with some interest, Ragnarr approaches one of the workers on his route back inside the tavern from the rear courtyard. His curiosity piqued, he asks the man, "What's this meeting about then, to deserve such big setup?"

[Scott308]

Euripides Nereos

The other Viking just laughs at his large friend as Xenos rubs it in a little more before taking his leave as well. The pair hustle around the corner, leaving the courtyard behind, enjoying the foul cursing still escalating behind them. The narrow alley they are in is empty other than a few signs and flyers posted along the end that meets up with the busy street beyond. The pair look each other over in an awkward moment of silence.

Xenos looks at the Atlantean "Nice move there, with the spell. Do you know the quickest way to the waterfront? I've heard rumours of decent work"

Euripides tilts his head as he looks at the Ixian curiously. Thank you, but, is this a joke? Do you get lost easily? Follow me. He walks Xenos 10 feet or so, getting out of the alley where it meets the busy street. Gesturing at the docks before them, he continues, I hope you weren't planning on getting a job as a tour guide, since you were only steps away from the docks. If you are willing and looking for work, you may want to check out some of the flyers. He pulls a flyer off the wall and gives it a quick glance.

[shaidar]

Xenos also looks at the fliers

I don't think the docks are quite that close, otherwise he would have walked past them to get to the courtyard, which only has one entrance, which he went down looking for the docks . Not that it really matters.

[OGRE MAGE]

You're both correct.

The docks are very close. (Ozlo’s is the largest complex in the Docks district)

And it doesn’t really matter at this point.

[shaidar]

It's all good

[Old Duergar]

With his magic finally working perfectly for once, the masked spellcaster sees plenty of ares where he can slink off into, leaving the dangerous Hyperboreans well behind.

Action?

Momentarily free from the unsavoury attentions of the Hyperboreans, Kumaglak would return with all haste to the decadent parlours and pleasure houses in the Port's seediest parts, taking care to follow a maddening array of side-passages and alleys as to confuse any further chaser.

He would then attempt to find out anything on Hyperborean newcomers to the Port, taking care to wash his mouth with the vilest of piss ales to chase off the precious sugar's sickly sweet smell before speaking with anyone. Alien, Hyperborean, unmasked newcomers are a priority to learn about for him, as well as any other newcomers that would kindle the beggars', thieves' and other seedy folk's attention.

[Bluetongue]

Valkrina

An introduction: The Esquimaux whaling vessel had reached Port Zangerios a few weeks ago. The culmination of a successful hunting season stretching several months from casting off the shores of Esquimaux Bay as the ice mantle retreated through to weighing anchor under the eaves of the city walls. The time between spent in backbreaking oarsmanship to navigate high waves and cross current under starry skies to hunt the whales on their migratory sojourns. Once every four years the ship docked here to relieve its cargo of salted whale meat and seal furs and most precious of all, essential oils drained from brain pituitary glands, rich in mineral and exotic enzymes. The seas harvest exchanged in trade for iron goods and staple foods lacking in the homeland.

At this time too, young Esquimaux ventured to leave the vessel and indenture themselves as apprentices to city guildsmen in order to acquire the skills and knowledge as their vocations called. Among them the raven haired bard with the ice-blue eyes.

Valkrina has spent her days seeking out the trinket bazaars and trawling the taverns. Paying her way through busking folksongs and reciting stories. Yesterdays audience of junior scholars marked a difference to the present mead hall congregants. Ozlo's patrons listened to the ribald song, joining in the chorus with a thump of appreciative flagons hammered on the wooden benches.

Songs and sagas. She had a plentiful retinue, off 'old worlde' legend and new history written as we speak. Though some things seen are best not to be spoken of, save huddled in candlelight rosary praying for dawns light. She had heard on the Vikland grapevine circulating the tavern of a wizard seeking brave souls to quest on his behalf. "Must be a songworthy cause to fret a mage away from his tomes." she thinks and plans to sneak among the courtyard attendees.

[OGRE MAGE]

Drest

Drest gives the urchin a few minutes then scoops up the flyer and checks it out. Thinking to himself, I didn't see this in the dark last night, wonder what it is.

In the growing morning light, Drest takes a look at the random flyer the boy threw in his face. It reads as follows...

viewtopic.php?p=504241#p504241

The rude and unruly Pict is pretty sure that today is Saturn day.

[OGRE MAGE]

Xenos can smell the salt and stink of the wharf long before the pair reach the end of the alley. It turns out that this huge building, and the courtyard they just left, must be the famed Ozlo’s Longhouse.

Seeing a few similar looking flyers hanging at the end of the street, the men pull them off the wall to read what they say.

viewtopic.php?p=504241#p504241

[OGRE MAGE]

Momentarily free from the unsavoury attentions of the Hyperboreans, Kumaglak would return with all haste to the decadent parlours and pleasure houses in the Port's seediest parts, taking care to follow a maddening array of side-passages and alleys as to confuse any further chaser.

He would then attempt to find out anything on Hyperborean newcomers to the Port, taking care to wash his mouth with the vilest of piss ales to chase off the precious sugar's sickly sweet smell before speaking with anyone. Alien, Hyperborean, unmasked newcomers are a priority to learn about for him, as well as any other newcomers that would kindle the beggars', thieves' and other seedy folk's attention.

Kumaglak returns to the places he both loves and despises, asking around about any seedy looking unmasked Hyperboreans. He gets nothing but turned up noses and screw faces in response, everywhere he goes.

When he finally spots a boy from the fish market that he doesn’t hate, he sits down with him to rest after his long daring escape, asking the young lad with the thin veil-like mask the same questions he was asking everyone else.

“Don’t know nuthin bout no tall ghost men, but maybe they’s here fer the big meetin? Lookin fer work, like everyone else is roun ere?”

“You herd about the big meetin, ya? Over at Ozlo’s place? I think it’s today!”

[OGRE MAGE]

Valkrina

An introduction: The Esquimaux whaling vessel had reached Port Zangerios a few weeks ago. The culmination of a successful hunting season stretching several months from casting off the shores of Esquimaux Bay as the ice mantle retreated through to weighing anchor under the eaves of the city walls. The time between spent in backbreaking oarsmanship to navigate high waves and cross current under starry skies to hunt the whales on their migratory sojourns. Once every four years the ship docked here to relieve its cargo of salted whale meat and seal furs and most precious of all, essential oils drained from brain pituitary glands, rich in mineral and exotic enzymes. The seas harvest exchanged in trade for iron goods and staple foods lacking in the homeland.

At this time too, young Esquimaux ventured to leave the vessel and indenture themselves as apprentices to city guildsmen in order to acquire the skills and knowledge as their vocations called. Among them the raven haired bard with the ice-blue eyes.

Valkrina has spent her days seeking out the trinket bazaars and trawling the taverns. Paying her way through busking folksongs and reciting stories. Yesterdays audience of junior scholars marked a difference to the present mead hall congregants. Ozlo's patrons listened to the ribald song, joining in the chorus with a thump of appreciative flagons hammered on the wooden benches.

Songs and sagas. She had a plentiful retinue, off 'old worlde' legend and new history written as we speak. Though some things seen are best not to be spoken of, save huddled in candlelight rosary praying for dawns light. She had heard on the Vikland grapevine circulating the tavern of a wizard seeking brave souls to quest on his behalf. "Must be a songworthy cause to fret a mage away from his tomes." she thinks and plans to sneak among the courtyard attendees.

Valkrina, hired by the massive Viking Ozlo himself, and no doubt because of her looks, notices the most obvious thing about the Longhouse tavern immediately. There are almost no non-Vikings inside the place. In fact, she can only see one, and there are definitely no other Esquimaux present. She continues playing and singing all the same, not wanting to upset the possibility of making a few coins before this is all over.

Though hired to entertain the drinking guests, she can’t help but notice the excitement building as the afternoon plays out, with most of the interest in the room focused on the meeting that will be held out back in a few hours. She watches as workers continually bring tables, chairs, and casks out the front doors to be carried around to the rear courtyard.

With Ozlo and his gigantic bodyguards constantly ogling her from the side stage, the pretty foreigner can’t wait to take her break once this hyped meeting starts, so she can slip out back to see what it is all about.

[OGRE MAGE]

Ragnarr

Eyeing the activity around Ozlo's longhouse with some interest, Ragnarr approaches one of the workers on his route back inside the tavern from the rear courtyard. His curiosity piqued, he asks the man, "What's this meeting about then, to deserve such big setup?"

A random worker plucks one of the many flyers off the wall of the building, handing it over to his fellow countrymen.

“I can read it for you, if you can’t, brother.”

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