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[sjm9876]

T'skrat heard the song, and stood. He towered above all present, except perhaps for Kerr'tan. He advanced towards the growing group, before crouching slightly before the bard.
'A ssssailor? Do you know thissss -' He paused for a moment, searching for the word. '- port, well.'
The p came out as a hiss rather than a sharp noise as it should have been.

[scapheap]

A Blonde gave a look at the bard "That song, one of that, what his name? Voltage or something? I prefer 'good night demonslayer' myself."

(Literary Arts, Lore, Cultural Sciences and Play Instrument means my character should be familar with at least some songs.)

[AlleeCat]

"Not that strange t'be this quiet, really." The weathered-looking dwarf behind the bar speaks up, "Th' inn empties pretty quickly when there're more ships comin' than leavin'. Happens 'bout once a week. It'll fill up again soon, don' you worry."

Jerold looks like he's seen his fair share of combat; the large facial scars and prominent eye patch tell tales of a life lived hard at sea. He looks to be at least 300 years old, but he boasts to only be 243. His long gray beard is kept relatively neat, although it looks to be the only hair on his head. He usually spends his time making drinks and chatting with regulars, but during this kind of downtime, he actually takes the time to clean some tankards and wipe down the bar.

Suddenly a younger looking sailor stumbles in, panting and stammering. "G-goblins!"
Jerold sighs, "You been havin' a few too many again, haven't ye, Marlow? We got plenty o' goblins around town. One of 'em runs the bunkhouse, remember?"
The sailor looks about to collapse, blood runs down his side and drips onto the floor. "N-no... They're d-dead! C-came in by ship... Started attacking..."
With that, he falls to the ground, still breathing, but unconscious. Jerold moves from behind the bar to the sailors side, turning him over and attempting to wake him. "Move aside ye petty gawkers! Give th' lad some room!"
((Would've posted this sooner, but my internet decided to give out on me halfway through.))

[Sarrak]

"Heh. Perrrhaps. My name is Shal'kerrrr'tan. Therrre only two 'rrr', by the way. A bit difficult forrr me to prrronounce."
Shal'taka growled and downed another mug of water. He was not quite accustomed to heavy-drinking and after first try decided that sticking to water would be for the best.
The next moment a huge, muscled figure of his peer was towering over a bard. Perhaps, that one shal'taka was even higher than him - Kerr'tan couldn't say for sure - but his figure seemed rather slim compared to the seer broad body.

"G-goblins!"
"Oh well..."

((Ninja'd three times in a row  ))

[kj1225]

"I've been here a time or two. It is a rather big trade center. And the name is Voltaire."
Kyle says putting his guitar on his back and leaning forward in a slouch to accomodate it. When the commotion happens he gets up and clutches the whip at his side looking out the door if possible.

[sjm9876]

At the commotion T'skrat glanced towards the door, hand raising towards the hilt of the blade sheathed across his back.
'T'sssssskrat.' He added to the bard - who he believed to be called Voltaire.
He approached the messenger, glancing down at him and grunting, before crouching as low as he could and addressing him.
'Where?'

[AlleeCat]

'Where?'

The young man looks up at you foggily, "Wh-wharf..."
Jerold stands and looks around at the staring patrons, shouting, "Well, what're ye waitin' for? Get to th' Wharf District! Repel boarders! Th' Mast's closed 'til further notice!"

[kj1225]

The orders prompt Kyle to run to the wharf.

[Sarrak]

Slowly, Kerr'tan rose to his full height. Indeed, T'skrat was a bit closer to the ceiling than he ever was. But it was such a little difference that Kerr'tan was still obviously a bigger one.
"I'm seerrr. I can help lad with a prrrayer", - he addressed barkeeper.

[sjm9876]

A slow grin spread across T'skrat's face - a fearsome sight as his features were draconic even for a Shal'taka.
He started to jog steadily towards the wharf, great sword drawn, its point passing a few inches above the ground.

[scapheap]

The woman sighed and got up.

With a shake of her hands, she followed the others to the whalf.

[AlleeCat]

"I'm seerrr. I can help lad with a prrrayer"

"No, lad. I'd rather ye tend t' the wounded at th' Wharf District. I'll get this one to a temple." With that, he and another dwarven patron lift the sailor and carry him out of the inn, as the others begin to file out, most with weapons drawn.

[Sarrak]

"Verrry well..."
Barehanded as he was, Kerr'tan followed others. His strength might not be needed this ti e, but his healing skills sertainly would be.

[Dwarmin]

Tali grumbled and finished her drink in one large draught.

"...s'better we get paid for this...Goblins AINT near Dragons...grumble, grumble..." She said, emerging from the under the table with the rest of her gear-a long forked polearm, four handaxes on her belt and a long blackpowder rifle in her hands, with a hexagonal barrel and a well oiled wooden stock.

She followed the growing group.

[ShadowHammer]

I don't usually fight for free, but I might as well help out; they'll probably pay us afterwards.
Garashn made up his mind, drawing a javelin in his right hand and a dagger in his left, and set off to follow the crowd.