Outside of Boltic: Chapter 1

Walking into the way house looking the part of a man a bit rough around the edges Graddy probably didn’t catch many eyes. Travel had taken longer than expected to get to the location of the meetup and for all intents and purposes he was late. With no one at the area he thought the meeting was supposed to be he either missed the meeting or botched things in the wilderness and went to the wrong location completely. He scowled a bit his mood a foul due to his bad luck and misfortune. But here, right now, he was just another bloke wanting some mead and to forget the worries and troubles in life for another night washing them into the fog of his mind, although the place seemed busy the vibe was friendly enough as he moved through the crowd.

Pulling off a hood and shaking shoulder length blond hair free the man ran fingers over his face and a scraggily beard that hide the jawline too angular to be just human. Figuring he was presentable enough to not be deemed a beggar he’d slap a hand down in front of him on the bar when the bartender looked his way, "Oy, gimme a mead mate." a gravelly voice requested putting money on the bar before he set his jaw in place. A few days on the road and missing his meeting might have made it seem more of a snarling request than polite but Graddy was never known for his politeness. While waiting for his order of mead at the bar he’d turn around and survey the area trying to find out who didn’t seem like a local, they’d probably not look dirty or like they shoveled dung for a living someone with the look of defeat and/or depression in their eyes… actually Graddy in retrospect figured if he didn’t have a sword on his belt and a bow on his back he probably would look the part of a local…or a highway bandit he thought to himself smirking at his own self-reflection and ridicule.

For now he’d just survey the area and see where the night took him.

OoC: Perception check looking for other adventures and if there is one any gambling going on if I don't find anyone or work room for the night won't pay for itself.

A need for income makes strange bellows.

Graddy thought to himself as he wondered about the woman in the foreign armor. She definitely stood out in this crowd, with the dwarf behind him getting his attention Graddy broke his gaze from the bar’s patrons and the woman that stood out to see what it was. Accepting the horn with a grunt Graddy motioned to the table. "’nother when ye get a minute mate, to the table, if you please." he requested tapping the bar with two gloved fingers that slide away as he moved from the bar, he took a long pull of the mead swishing it in his mouth before making his way through the crowd towards the table, mead was decent, granted when you’re on the road for a few days and the dirt seems to have gotten everywhere even inside your throat even trough water wets the whistle. In that regards this was definitely the better option, once there he’d move taking a seat directly across from the lady.

"Since you don’t seem like one of the local type love," Graddy began looking around, "What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?" Graddy asked as he took another pull of mead keeping eye contact with the woman as he did so, he didn’t seem on edge but he wasn’t relaxed either, it didn’t sound like a pickup line as much as general curiosity in a rather direct tone.

(OoC: Is there going to be a posting order or is it hodge podge and we post whenever? If there’s an order I don’t mind waiting.)

Tall people always seem to be in a hurry. The witch looked back smugly like she had somehow won because she would get to the wayhouse faster. Halflings enjoy a life of simpler things, slower speeds, tastier foods. Somewhere inside, even though his order has done a steady job of drilling discipline into him, Bek still craves the slower paced lifestyle of his forebears. You should not fight who you are. He can no longer think of home without remembering the day the hexers attacked and burned their smials out from the inside. He was almost not found by the inquisitors that chased the witches as he hid among the wreckage. It was because of that they figured he could be of some use.

As he arrives at the wayhouse, he looks inside and sees the bustling scene. It is not really his gig. All the people and the pretentious platitudes they give each other. He does not even drink. The order forbids imbibing on the principal that one must always be ready to recieve an attack. And so instead he takes a deep breath, heads inside, and stops by the bar to ask for his room. He orders food and asks for it to be sent up instead of eating here in the common room. As he looks about, he sees the hag flirting. He can see through her transparent ploy and curls his lips in disdain. "Would not expect anything less from her manipulative kind," he thinks to himself before making to leave the common room.

Graddy’s ears perk up with the talk of opportunity especially since one had been supposedly found. Money seemed to have a way of motivating him if there was enough of it for the task at hand. Graddy smiles a bit around him horn of mead still on his lips at the exchange between the lady and a Halfling who seemed to also be out of place compared to the locals and her reaction to him.

"I guess looking for opportunities o’ work ‘s well, I missed my boat in the night this time around it seems, could find the meetup for the job. Bloody shame I guess, so… time to get drunk." He explained around the horn thumbing at the door taking another sip, "Name’s Graddy. If the pay outs good, I work and do my job." he explained lowering his horn and wiping his mouth and beard with his free hand before swirling the rest of the contents a bit as he stared at it before letting his gaze drift to the Halfling that seemed to be busying himself with his own agenda of tasks which didn’t seem to involve the lady or the local patrons.

"What’s yer story with the we’ bloke." he inquired nodding towards the Halfling doing his own thing, "Too much spirits one night and a bit o regret?" he jested a bit crass before taking another pull of the mead eyeing the woman.

Bek heads up to his room and begins to remove his armor. Once he only in his woolen shirt, he opens up his prayer book. "The full sum of the heretics shall be known on the Day of Judgement," he starts to read. "Pray for those that wil not pray for themselves," it continues. "Find those that will not repent and punish their transgressions. As for the doctrine which I have taught, my conscience assureth me that it is sound and according to the Word of God ... in confirmation thereof I seal the same with my blood." He takes out a small strap of rope, some caltrops tied into it and begins to flagelate his back. Not enough to cause serious damage but enough to satisfy the lord that watches over him. After a sufficient while, he stops and closes the book. He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat from his brow. Theres a knock at his door. "Hopefully that is the food," Bek thinks as he turns toward the door, small welts of blood soaking through his shirt.

Graddy listened nodding before replying, "Huh... my missed job seemed a bit similar. Vague on the details, heavy on taking the job with little intel all around, very cloak dagger. But that's why we make the coin we do and all it'nent? High risk high reward and all that. If 'es looking for a bit of extra muscle I don't mind a bit of work if it puts ample coin in my pockets." he stated stroke his scruff with the palm of his gloved hand.

"As for the wee one everyone hates something or somebody least he's honest about it and doesn't put up airs. Everyone has a role to play you don't have to like people just work with 'em." Graddy commented slogging down the last of his mead.

Graddy eyed the woman's hand and the table and raised an eyebrow.

Right... better keep this bird away from my bow... he thought to himself.

"Well I guess I'll get a room for the night after my next one comes, can't get too drunk really with my current funds. If I get in on the job in the morning makes for a nasty journey when yur 'ead feels knackered." Graddy added looking around for his second mead. He'd spend a bit of time waiting or to see of the lady had anything else she wanted to discuss, if not he'd make due with getting a room and sleeping until he could find about getting work in the morning.

(OoC: Trying to give the other two time to finish their builds.)

Bek takes the tray and sets it on his desk. He says a quick prayer of thanks and then lifts the towel to set in. He thinks of ways to research where they are going but for the most part he is stuck here in this backwater until the morning. He finishes his soup and prepares for bed. Before he falls asleep, he retrieves the adamantine arrow from his pack and whispers over it. "One day I will find you." He locks the door and crawls into bed, his hand holding the arrow.

At the edge of the woods, Urthask gently signaled for Arktos to stop and the great bear slowed to a halt, allowing his rider to dismount. The hulking, armored half-orc patted his best friend's furry neck soothingly. The bear rumbled reassuringly. For many moons they had been traveling, so very far from the icy plains they called home, on the trail of the Lost Riders, as his tribe called them. The riders were Urthask's kin by blood, but also his brothers in arms. For countless generations the frostkin half-orcs had spilled much blood in the defense of their home from invaders and wild beasts of the tundra. One of the most savage of these beasts was the ghost bear, a fearsome animal with white fur, a rime of frost around its muzzle, and pale blue eyes. Urthask’s father, Galazur, learned to befriend and train these beasts, turning a fearsome enemy into a valuable ally. He taught other warriors to become Beast Riders and inducted them into an elite fighting group that called themselves the Order of the Bear. Two summers ago Galazur had set out with four hand-picked Riders on a mission to learn what they could of the lost city of Graystone. No one, not even those of the Order, knew what Galazur hoped to find or what they hoped to accomplish with it, but they had never been heard from again. Now Urthask and Arktos were attempting to track them down and learn what had become of them.

Urthask strained his eyes towards the lights of human habitation in the near distance - Boltic by name, he had learned. His eyes scanned the clearing warily. He and Arktos had no fear of travelling by night but it had been a long stretch and both were looking forward to some rest. He wasn't eager to visit another settlement though. Their last few encounters with civilized folk had gone less than favorably. Few places were very welcoming to half-orcs in general, never mind a rough barbarian and his bear mount that tended to spook all the horses. The had been chased out of the last town. It had been difficult stopping Arktos from tearing the town guard to shreds on the way out. They would rather have avoided all contact with civilization altogether but it was important that they leave no stone unturned on their search. As it was, clues were few and far between. But the trail had not yet gone cold.

Urthask looked up at the stars. The Great Bear was high in the night sky. A good omen. They would camp in this clearing tonight, he decided, and visit the settlement in the morning. He began setting up their camp.