Fallcrest stands amid the Moon Hills at the falls of the Nentir River. Here travelers and traders using the old King’s Road that runs north and south, the dwarven Trade Road from the east, and the river all meet. The surrounding ridges shelter several small valleys where farmers and woodsfolk live; few are more than six or seven miles from the town. In general the people outside Fallcrest’s walls earn their living by farming or keeping livestock, and the people inside the walls are artisans, laborers, or merchants. People with no other prospects can make a hard living as porters, carrying cargo from the Lower Quays to the Upper Quays (or vice versa).
Fallcrest imports finished goods from the larger cities downriver and ironwork from the dwarf town of Hammerfast, and exports timber, leather, fruit, and grain. It also trades with the nearby town of Winterhaven. The surrounding hills hold several marble quarries that once produced a good deal of stone, but the area has little demand for ornamental stone these days, and only a few stonecutters still practice their trade.
You find yourselves headed to the Blue Moon Alehouse. Inside, the regulars are at their unofficially claimed seats at the bar or booths around the room, serving girls are hastily bustling about the room, dropping off full tankards of ale, mead, or other personal drinks to the patrons. The bartender, a man of fifty years or so named Par Winnomer, greets guests and seems to always be flustered and overly busy. You can see Kemara Brownbottle in the small room behind the bar, no doubt trying to perfect her numerous ale and beer recipies.
There are several of the halfling traders and other well-off town merchants in the Alehouse tonight, as well as the familiar faces of Teldorthan and Sergeant Murgeddin, the old dwarves that seem to always be so fond and friendly of everyone they meet.
Through the streets, everyone is excited about the Wizard's Wonderous Weaving of Wickedly Witty Wonders, a demostration of the Arcana from the Wizards of Septarch's Tower. Namely just Nimozaran, the host and sole wizard of Septarch's Tower, and several magic-users from traveling companies, here to gather a bit of coin for entertaining the cityfolk.
It is a bright and sunny day, with a cool breeze coming in off the Nentir River, and the possibilities for what today brings seem endless.
Ehud sits in a corner out of habit, where he can clearly see people coming in. After a hard days work, he happily sips some beer while smearing the last bit of gravy from his plate with a roll.
A serving girl approaches his table, "Done with this one already? Would you like another?"
"No more food," he downs the rest of his beer. "But another ale, aye."
Sober watches the serving girl leave till she disappears into the crowd, and sighs.
"I saw that," Neptali pouts sitting across from him.
Ehud sighs again.
Belimir slowly entered the city, and the Blue Moon Alehouse. He felt uneasy. This is not a way to live a life. Crowded in small spaces, confined by walls and roofs. What did possibly drive men, halflings and dwarfs to such places. I can understand dwarves, but others? It takes Belimir some time to sit (and he sits at a bar), as he is very uncomfortable, and even when he does, he looks like some cornered or trapped beast.
The bartender cheerfully approaches him: "What'll ya have?"
Belimir doesn't know how to answer him. He takes a look at the bartender, studying his face, then says in a simple voice: "I don’t know. What can I have?"
After a short discussion, and a few attempts to order spring water and berry juices, he takes his chance with a tankard of dark ale.
Bronn entered the alehouse, as he did everywhere else, with his book in hand. He calmly walked over to a corner booth and sat down, studying the massive tome he held. Hmm, interesting...this spell can be used to create an illusionary army. Suddenly, the bartender walks over to Bronn and asks, "Well, are you going to have something, or sit here reading like always?"
"Today, I feel like some ale, just plain ale", Bronn said, looking up from his tome.
The door swings open, way more light than is comfortable floods into the Alehouse. A stout silhouette of a dwarf in the doorway is all that can be seen by the patrons of the Blue Moon. Sergeant Murgeddin stands and is already in motion towards the faceless figure. As the door shuts and eyes adjust to the blast of light they was just exposed to, many lose sight of the stout figure as he works his way thru the crowd towards the Barkeep. An onlooker can watch the crowd be parted by the bellicose figure and hear his grumblings and curses. Becoming frustrated at the crowd, the Stout dwarf steps up on a low chair and climbs atop a nearby table, that a few non-descript patrons where using to enjoy their dinner and ale. As the Dwarf finally has a clear view of the barkeep he holds up 2 short and pudgy fingers. The Barkeep nods his direction and within moments a pretty young barmaid delivers two tankards of bubbling stout mead (a special brew that Kemara came up with for the dwarves that frequent the establishment) to the disgruntled dwarf. As the Dwarf skillfully dismounts the table without so much as spilling a mug, Sergeant Murgeddin has successfully navigated his way to the still grumbling but much happier dwarf.
Varro greets the Sergeant “Ol’ Mur-geed-eden… how de hell are ya?”
“Look Varro, We don’t need no trouble in here tonight.” Murgeddin states plainly and matter-a-factly. “If you are looking for trouble…”
Varro replies in a condescending and mocking tone as if he knew what the sergeant was going to say. “I reckoned I’d just step in and get me dinner befer heading down to de ol’ gubby gnome for me dessert. I don’t figer I be causing any trouble fer ya, ol’ murgy. Now if any dees fellers start sumting den I recken I gotta be finishin it but these fellers look nice and friendly like.”
Varro slaps the shoulder of the nearest non-descript patron, nearly knocking him over spilling a bit of his ale on a white haired blue eyed beastly looking elf just as he is tasting his own tankard of ale. The assaulted Patron spins to answer the slap and is greeted with a stern look from the usually smiling Sergeant. The situation is easily defused … this time.
Nuit walks slowly into the bar, glances around catiously before sighing. His hand whips to his throat, and draws from under his shirt a black feather on a necklace and clutches it gently, eyes closed for a second before looking resigned and closing the door behind him and moving to the bar. In hesitant speech, he tells the bartender "A mug of ... whatever you recomend ... to drink."
Belimir slowly turns to Varro: "Not a nice way to treat others. Apologize." He points at the spill on his armor, his eyes not showing any emotion. "Bartender, give me something to clean myself." He then murmurs to himself, Dwarfs.......Reckless creatures.
“Ya not be needing anythin ta be cleanin it up wit, ya wee lass, ya nice white mop seems to be soakin it up, just fine” Varro replies to the perturbed elf. “I be Varro Orkenshield, can I buy ya your next round lassie? … ta be making it up to ya … and maybe a wee bit later we can get a room and ya can make it up ta me.”
Belimir looks at the dwarf. "I wasn`t talking to you dwarf.....Varro Orkenshield. My name is not Lass." He turns to the bartender, takes a piece of cloth and wipes the spilled ale from his armor.
The tavern door opens as an mildly cheerful looking dwarf wanders in. Brann heads over and says to the Barkeep “A mug of your fine ale young lad”. The Barkeep grunts and pours out some dark ale for Brann and slides it over to him. Brann looks at it with relish and downs half the mug with his first long gulp. 'Ah that hit the spot, a tad on the mild side but it will do indeed'.
Brann looks around the bar and spots a few dwarves in the gathering over at the corner. He makes his way across the tavern, avoiding jostling too many of the patrons and steps up to the table. “Greetings”
Varro turns from the white haired blue eyed sally who is obviously on her monthly. “And Well Met to you, brodder. I be Varro Orkenshield, mighten I be helpen ya place a more appitizin tankard order?”
Varro turns up his nose at the swill that is in the dwarf’s mug. “What ya be wantin is de Bubbling Stout Mead.” Realizing that the sergeant is still lurking nearby, Varro places a maul of a hand on the sergeants shoulder “and dis be Ol’ Murgy … de local harassment committee …” Belly Laugh “oh and dis lass over here is … ummm … all I know is her name isn’t Lass… oh and she gets pissy if anyone spills a bit of ale on her delicate blouse”
"It`s not lassy dwarf, and I`m not pissy." Belimir is still calm and undisturbed at the dwarfs attempts to irritate him. He turns to the other dwarf and just looks at him. After a few seconds, he greets the dwarf with a nod and then returns to his drink.
"See what I tell ya ... pissy" the sergeant shoots a quick stern look to Varro between smiles and greetings to other patrons. varro catches the look and replies "WHAT?! the lass is pissy and I am jus tryin to drink me dinner here and socialize with de brodder."
"Now Varro, ol' boy, try to behave yerself in 'ere. I let ye get carried away in tha Lucky Gnome, not much I c'n do there. But tha patrons 'ere are a respectable lot. Why don't ye try makin' a few friends'r two while yer here."
Murgeddin takes a second and looks at the trio now at the table.
"An' I'm not fer thinkin' this "Lass" is a lass at all Varr. If I'm not mistakin', yer 'she' is a 'he'. My appologies sir. You'll get used te Varro's humor 'ere soon."
Murggedin turns to the newcomer, a dwarf.
"Always good te see a fellow dwarf in Fallcrest! I dun recognize ye, but I'm sure yer a fine sort. Varro, why dun ye get te know yer new friends a bit better, and come see me a bit later on. I'll be watchin' the Septarch's Wizard Show in a few. Gotta keep tha rabble contained, but at least I'll get te be watchin' some fancy finger-wagglin'!"
Murgeddin then turns and walks out of the tavern door with a few passing hellos.
"Bah ... finger-wagglin is for nancy girls" Varro comments as the sergeant walks away. "De better have some good drink der or I won't be stayin long, I tell ya"
Varro turns his attention back to the "lass" who isn't a "lass" or so the sergeant claims. Varro looks him/she up and down while stroking his long beard. Varro grumbles under his breath and them lets out a "hmmm" and the occasional tilt of his head as he looks at the he/she
Varro continues to stroke his beard but then becomes distracted as a pretty barmaid walks by ... Varro gets up and follows the maid ... the Dwarf soon returns with two full tankards of the Bubbling stout mead. "well dat lass says ye ain't no lass and since I know fer a fact dat she be a lass I be inclined ta believe she be right. I recken I ain't sure if ol' Murgy can be tellin a lass fer a lad or de udder way around." Varro strokes his beard a few more times then announces "Me applogies ... lad ... it must have been dat hair dat threw me, anyway, I be Varro, and you be?" before the elf can answer Varro asks "Are ya sure ya ain't a lass?"
Belimir again takes a long look at Varro, before he starts speaking in a flat voice: "Apology accepted. My name is Belimir. So do you always sniff others` crotches or am I in some way special to you? I be a he if you are so eager to know. Now sit and drink. I heard stories about dwarves drinking. Never had the chance to see one."
Ehud has been watching the dwarf and elf with amusement, occasionally shooting beer out his nose.
"In prison there were often men wishing the more pretty lads were women. The dwarf should maybe have few more beers and he won't be so picky, no?" Ehud laughs to Neptali, loud enough to be overheard. Neptali sniffs, and continues to sulk. Ehud sighs.
Varro continues a more cordual conversation with those at his table and to be honest Varro doesn't give two shits what gender the silly elf is but he does take some relief in knowing what to call the lass turned lad
Varro downs his fourth Bubbling stout Mead and asks "So what be your story belli?"
"Since I be knowin it be taking ya a minute ta be gathering ya thoughts ..." Varro gets up from the table and follows another pretty young barmaid back towards the barkeep. As they disappear into the crowd a sharp squeal can be heard from their general direction and a girlish giggle from the barmaid ... Shortly the dwarf re-emerges from the overly crowded establishment.
"Well, ye fingered out an answer bella?" Varro tries out several new nicknames for the easily perturbed elf. Not getting a reaction from the white haired blue eyed pretty elf, he turns to the other dwarf and asks him "ya enjoying dat mead me brodder?" Varro continues something else in dwarven to the fellow dwarf which loosely translated would be some comments regarding the elf's demeanor and what it might take to get him riled up.*Belly Laugh* "well ya know what I mean." Pats the dwarf on his back as if he found his new bestfriend.
Belimir is amused by the dwarfs behavior. He's as silly as a wild goose. He drinks his dark ale and answers the bearded thing. "No story. Not one worth telling. I just came from the woods, looking for information, on what, I have yet to find out." He signals the bartender to refill his tankard. Dwarves do make drinking more fun.
"I do prefer a nice strong dwarven tasting mead. Although I've spent some time sampling the attempts of other races I've yet to be convinced. Tell me my friend, how have you found yourself in this tavern tonight? You look like you've had some interesting adventures lately."
"BAH, Everyone has a story, might not be wantin ta tell it but everyone be havin one. as for mine, I not be wanting to tell it and I not want it ta be told. since reaching this fine congregation here in Fallcrest, I frequent this mess hall. but ta be honest wit ya, the food ain't bein dat good and ever since dis damn finger-wagglin convention came around lookin fer me hard earned coin, this place has been damn right crowded"
Varro spins to his rear that happened to be exposed to the crowd at that time, since he really hadn't taken his seat as of just yet. Passing behind him is the same young barmaid that Varro had followed into the crowd a few moments earlier. The barmaid giggles and goes back to her appointed rounds.
"If ya be going to grab me arse, then do it like ya mean it Lass!" Varro yells above the crowd noise to the giggling barmaid. *Belly laugh* Varro turns back to his compainions "What da hell was I saying?" *Belly Laugh* Varro looks in the direction of the barmaid to get another view of her fine assets *Belly laugh fading into a chuckle* Varro strokes his beard in silent thought as a smile forms on his normally gruff face.
Bronn looks up from his tome to view the commotion. "Yeesh, another rowdy group of dwarves..." Why is it I even come here?
Ehud, very warm and fuzzy now, slips his arms on to the top of his booth resting his head on the wood and staring at the ceiling. The wine Neptali has been consistently sipping, seems to be taking some effect-- instead of pouting now she's looking around at the people and telling Ehud about some bard she's heard about, or something. Ehud's not too sure what she's saying anymore.
Belimir continues talking to the dwarf. "Could be. I don`t think i`m much of a story teller. The forest doesn`t use words for stories, and I wasn`t raised with the rest of my people. I heard elves know quite a few good stories." He pauses, taking another sip of dark ale, then continues in a lower tone. "Things are slow in the forest. Things are natural in there. Simple. Not at all like this confusing mess." He points at everything around him, then takes another sip from his tankard. "Certainly no asses to grab in there. Or if something does grab your ass, you`re probably not going to find out what did it."
Beginning to enjoy Brann & Belimir's company Varro lets out another *Belly Laugh* but cuts it short. Varro whips his head around and stares off in the direction of a particular dark corner booth. Varro sniffs the air pauses then sniffs again. In a much softer voice then his boisterous tone that he normally uses while enjoying his dinner, Varro states as if speaking to himself "I smell dragon" Varro sniffs the air a third and then a fourth time then climbs atop the table and sniffs a fifth and sixth time. then leaps to the ground with such percision that onlookers might think he was part cat (in actuality it was just blind luck he didn't bust his ass and end up with a severe concussion) the dwarf crouches and continues to sniff the air as he makes his way towords the dark corner booth in the back of the establishment. In the same talking to himself tone "where ya hiding dragon ... I smell ya ... ya can't hide from me" tankard of ale still in his hand like some special weapon that he is going to use to slay the dragon.
"Uh huh..." Ehud continues automatically backchannelling Neptali's innane gossip about bards.
Brann finishes his tankard and looks around. Settling on Ehud, he moves over and seats himself next to him. "How about trying some of this fine dwarfish mead? I'm sure you and your lady friend would appreciate the quality and you look almost sturdy enough to handle it."
Ehud's eyes pop open in surprise. "Sure, couldn't hurt." He takes a large gulp and nearly coughs it all over Brann, "Dwarves sure do make it strong." He pauses for a moment and grins, "I'm sure Neptali would love it."
Before she can refuse, Ehud has the glass in her hands, almost to her lips. Neptali seems to pale slightly but never the less raises it to her lips and sips tentatively. "Hey, this isn't so bad," she takes a larger swig. "This is great! I've never had better! Ehud you really need to grow some balls." She slurs slightly as she says this last bit and begins to sway a little.
Ehud looks at Brann and sighs.
Brann chuckles and winks back at Ehud, "The dwarfish method may not be subtle but it gets the job done." He gives him a thump on the back as he chuckles and takes another draw from his tankard.
"So, has anyone heard much about this wizarding do-da going on tonight? I've seen the occasional impressive bit of wizardry in my time but I'm not one for poor imitations by tricksters."
"No, I've not heard anything. I'm not interested much in matters arcane either, but they can be handy in a fight. Sometimes. Well, usually only against large numbers but still..." Ehud fingers a tattoo at his wrist.
Bronn, noticing a dwarf searching for something, likely Bronn himself, approaches the creature. "Hello, young dwarf. Why is it you search for me?"
Varro sniffs the creature ... then looks the creature up and down .... then sniffs him again then shakes his head and smacks himself a couple of times as if trying to fix a loose connection ... sniffs the air and the creature one more time "Dragon?"
"Not quite, my dwarven friend....not a dragon, but a dragonborn." Bronn eyes the dwarf
"Well ya smell like a bloody dragon." Varro dips his fingers into his tankard and splashes the dragonborn with Bubbling stout mead and then resniffs the creature "der ya be ... dats better" Varro grabs the creatures robe and starts to lead him back to the table with the others to show off his find. "come wit me dragon and I will buy ya a drink."
"A drink? Sounds fine to me!"
Varro Approaches the table where he left his drinking companions and notices the missing dwarf "where did he bugger off to?" Looking around Varro notices Brann socializing with a couple off in a far booth. With Bronn in tow, Varro marches over to the table where Brann is now at "We drinkin over here now?"
"Scrunch over... Make room fer da dragon" ... "SANDSTONE"
"I left Nancy sitting over der sittin byhimself. Dragon, Sit, and I will be back wit dat drink" Varro makes a trip into the crowd looking fer dat pretty young barmaid again and soon re-emerges back at the white haired blue eyed elf druid, four tankards of Bubbling Stout Mead in hands "We're drinkin over there now ... move ya ass ... come on, I'll let ya meet me dragon"
"I`m not even going to ask if you sniffed him properly." Belimir gets up from his stool and goes where Varro showed him. He walks to the table, puts his drink on it, nods to everybody and sits.
Bronn thinks to himself about the dwarves he has met today. Hmm, these dwarves are an interesting lot, they are. I guess I`ll have to accept their kindness and drink whatever odd mixture they bring back to the table...
Varro comes to the table and places two of the tankards on it, one in front of Bronn and one in front of Brann. " See found me dragon ... he was hiding in da back corner boot, He was. He claims to not be a dragon but he smells like a dragon he does." Varro chews on his Mead, starting on his fifth tankard.
"I did say I wasn't a dragon yes, but I did tell you why I would smell as such." Bronn takes a sip out of the mead, then drinks the rest in one gulp. "Wow, that is some good mead, that is."
"If ya be telling me such, I musta missed ya sayin it" ... "And it isn't da best I have had but it will do fer dis town ... I need ta take ya ta a place someday dat you can get a feel fer some real dwarven mead ... dis halflin does what she can but ya ain't had nuttin till ya had a helpin of mead from a true dwarven brewmaster"
Belimir was patient. He listened to the conversation and observed the strange group of creatures that was before him. If someone would tell me that I was to sit at a table with dwarves and humans and dragonborn..........I would have thought the man-dwarf-elf-dragonborn was crazy. Enough drinking for me. They say this stuff can bring down a Hill Giant, and make even the fomorian pain priestess look pretty.....That`s an ugly thought........
As the group of newly-made acquaintences continues their drinking and bantering, the door to the Blue Moon Alehouse bursts open.
In walks Sergeant Murgeddin.
"Alright folks! Time to grab 'nother tankard o'ale and head out to tha Wizzerd's Won...err Wizzys Willy, ehmm...the dern'd finger-wagglin' event o'er at Septarch's Tower. Me'n me boys 'er closin' down tha taverns and bars for the show. It'elps us keep tabs on the riff-raff! E'rybody out!"
Murgeddin and several city guards, standing in the front of the tavern, direct everyone out of the establishment, leaving Par and Kemara to close up shop.
"Up an' at'em Varro! Bring yer friends there too." Murgeddin ushers the group out of the tavern, closing the door behind them.
"Yer'all in fer a treat, lemme tells ya! I'm def'ly not a fan o' finger-wagglin' but this'n gonna be a good one fer sure!" Murgeddin walks beside the party, whilst they chat amongst themselves along the way to Septarch's Tower
