(Bluh, stupid internet provider.)
Adwarf
Talk with the people here, and try to get them to trust me, conversate, drink, have fun anthing it takes to get them to trust me.
You begin to talk with the group about topics of everyday life, they complain about the Queen, the prices of all of the goods in the city, and most important the large influx of refugee's in the city.
Draignean
Ladwian bowed is head in thanks to the innkeeper, any place willing to have him was a good place to play these days and he was loathe to use the small stash of coin that he'd been able to garner here and there. Despite that thought he didn't like the look of the crowd, reds and whites this close together was begging for a brawl... The white had the queens men outnumbered in the city, if the red decided it was time for take vengeance... Taking his citole from his back he lay it across his lap, picking his way through the opening notes of a tune that flickered across his thoughts whenever he looked at the division that was building in Caemlyn.
He sang neither fast or slow, letting the rhythm carry itself through the words,
Soft, the winds, like springtime's finger.
Soft, the rains, like Heaven's tears.
Soft, the years roll by in gladness,
never hinting storms to come,
never hinting whirlwinds' ravage,
rain of steel and battle thunder,
war to tear the heart asunder.
As moved through the song he observed the crowd, a trick he'd picked up not long after starting to sing for his supper. When it came time to rest he'd see if he could choose an opportune spot to listen for news, he missed the country of his birth and any news of it in these troubled times would be welcome.
The crowd looks intently at you as you finish the song, they clap and then go back to their discussions. Looking through the crowd you spot a group of men sitting at a table gambling, by the looks of them you assume they're merchants.
Squishynoob
Jor asks for a mug of ale, sits alone in a corner and observes the people inside, looking for unguarded purses and interesting faces.
Scraping his short beard, his attention is caught by a singing gleeman, and a tall silver-haired man, who looks like an Illianer, sitting in another corner, with a thoughtful look on his face.
The Inkeeper walks over and hands you a mug of ale as you observe the people around you. The inn seems to attract all kinds of people, you see a few merchants sitting in the corner, along with a few soldiers walking around. You also spot a rich looking man with a large amount of money in his purse, as you get up to follow him you bump into a tall man. He pushes you back and yell's at you "Watch were your bloody going.", you hit the wooden floor below you and he begins to walk towards you. But with a stiff look from one of the Inkeepers men, he swears and walks away.
Da Dwarf Lord
Kain looks about the inn, searching for those likely to have news of the borderlander and the countries far abroad. Counting his coin he figures he has enough for one round of drinks, so he had better choose wisely, and not waste the coin.
You look around the inn, slightly doubting anyone in these lands would have any news of the Borderlands. You walk up to the Inkeeper and you ask him of any new's of the countries outside of Caemlyn, he say's "I haven't heard much, but oddly enough a begger came in here yesterday screaming of trollocs in the forests outside of Caemlyn."
Talarion
Justarr sighed, his coarse black hair pulled back into a ponytail, his eyes darting this way and that. He was currently sitting outside, somewhere in the middle of the two conflicting groups. He had the urge to go sit with the supporters of the Queen, but resisted the urge; It was none of his business. He scratched his small patch of hair on his chin, while his cheap meal arrived. His funds were running low, and he had naught but his bow, the clothes on his back, and the enjoyment gained from listening to the gleeman. He took a small sip from his ale, enjoying the taste and feeling as it ran down his throat. He thanked the person - He didn't pay much attention to who and/or what they were - who brought him his meal, and started eating. It wasn't much, but it was enough to sate his hunger. As he ate, he looked around at the crowd, looking for people of interest. A random hobby, he had to say, more of a test of his skills in picking people out of a crowd. He was a bounty hunter, but he was a good judge of character. He had a general idea of what people were trying to do, and his skills at finding things were generally superb, compared to the average person. He could feel the tension in the air, but he tried to ignore it... tried to look deeper. If he couldnt even see past such a petty thing as hostility, then how would he find his target in a riotous crowd? Not that it was likely to happen, but it was an excersize nonetheless.
Finishing his meal, he sat back, his sharp, dark eyes fully aware now. They darted from person to person, landing on each for only a moment, before moving on. His meal was finished, and so the real excersize commenced. His focus, fully on his self-set task, was near-unshakeable.
Your eye's dart around the crowd, looking for your target. You see no one out of the ordinary, at first. But then you spot a thin, fragile looking man drinking at a nearby table by himself. He cautiously looks around, and continues drinking. You didn't get a clear description of your target, so you can't be sure its him. You do know that he has a large tatoo on his chest though.
Author
Topic: The Wheel of Time (Closed) (Read 14006 times)