ic The Purple Dolphin Inn

[dalamb]

Some have come because they saw a handbill posted at the docks; some because a friend had told them; some merely wandered by and saw the commotion. However it happened, there were a great many more people pushing their way into the Purple Dolphin than on a typical weekday evening. The Swift Vengeance is in port, and its legendary captain Melara Zentaru is looking to hire both officers and crew.

The Purple Dolphin sits on the edge of Ostmouth’s dock district, with its main entrance facing the city street that led to the market district a half-mile away. It is the largest hospitality establishment in the area, and a cut above the average docklands bar – though still far from what one might expect further from the sea. The main door opens onto a common area big enough to seat fifty, but over a hundred must be crowding it tonight.

Next to the entrance is a small table, behind which sits a human woman apparently in her fifties, dressed in casual and somewhat worn clothing; she occasionally sips from a large tankard as she eyes those who enter. In front of her is an elegantly calligraphed sign, saying in Andaroni and Rodanese:

The Sign

Interviews for the Swift Vengeance.

Crew candidates to the back dining hall.

Officer candidates upstairs, third door on the left.

Those who opt for the dining hall find a desk with a man of pale, almost bluish, skin, who takes their name, writes it in a book and on a slip of paper, and directs them to one of two other desks nearby, where two almost identical dwarves conduct interviews.

Those who opt for upstairs find a small anteroom occupied by a gorilla-like hadozee in a tricorn hat. A few others are already sitting on benches nearby. The right wall has a closed door, with a sign at eye level for the average human saying “Private.”

Garth Stormchaser

“Name?” the hadozee asks each person who enters. “And what skills might ye have that would suit a fine ship like the Swift Vengeance?”

 

Role-playing Options

You can choose to talk with Garth, or just answer his questions and sit waiting for your interview while conversing with the other candidates.

 

[Lord Foul]

Dorian Hawkwind

Dorian pushes open the door of the inn and takes a deep breath of the boozy atmosphere. Looking around the room from the entrance, he notices the woman seated at the small table and gives her a smile. 😊

"Ah, now that is a smell I've sorely missed. There's nothing quite like a busy dockland inn, is there?"

He approaches the table and gives the lady a sweeping bow, flashing another big smile as he rises. 😁

"Greetings, fair lady. I see from your sign that this is the place where the noble Captain Zentaru is recruiting. Tell me, if you will, how long do you think the process is likely to take? I have a thirst upon me and would like to enjoy some of the inn's finest fare before getting down to business. I wouldn't want to keep the Captain waiting , though. I'm sure her time is precious."

He pauses to allow the woman to answer.

 

Edited February 22 by Lord Foul (see edit history)

[rorytheromulan]

Upstairs...

Althea

Threatening a stampede, Althea trotted up the stairs to the recruiting room. During her scant few days at sea, the four-legged Crendu native got to test her sea legs on the stairs that led up to the aftercastle or down to the lower decks of a ship, but she still was not used to crowds like that of the disparate mingling guests packed in on the ground floor. After muting the din of conversations below by shutting the door, she becomes uncomfortably aware of eyes of fellow applicants drawn to her lower half, and opts to move a remote distance away from said applicants and lay on the floor, although this only has the effect of lowering her down to their height.

After fidgeting for a moment, she decides to test the atmosphere, pulling out a pan flute and blowing a few notes to pass time.

 

OOC: don't expect her to be amazing, she only has one token rank in Perform

Edited February 27 by rorytheromulan (see edit history)

[Arbuthnott]

Ħraan Evermeer

Ħraan arrived early at the Purple Dolphin, taking only enough time to acknowledge the sign before skirting around to look for a receptionist of some sort. With her accommodation sorted for the next few nights and an ale in hand, she heads towards the officer recruitment, pausing outside to fix her appearance before sauntering in.

Not entirely sure what to expect, she pauses perhaps a second too long to take in Althea before catching herself and walking straight up to Garth. "The name's Ħraan, and I'm plenty good with rigging. Spells too when we're out there." Crossing her arms and leaning against whatever wall or beam is nearby, she nods at the private door and adds "So, you've worked with her before, then? What's she like?"

 

Edited February 26 by Arbuthnott (see edit history)

[dalamb]

Verdana

“Be ye applyin’ fer crew, or fer officer?” the woman at the main entrance asks Dorian. “If’n the first, the back room looks fair full to me; it could be quite a while. If’n the second, there be few o’ ye, but the Captain upstairs perhaps be takin’ longer with each.”

 

Garth

The hadozee at the table near the outer door of the upper room eyes Althea as she enters and lies down. He clears his throat and asks, “Could I trouble you to give me your name, Ma’am? And what skills you might bring as a potential officer? I’m taking folks’ information for the Captain, before she decides who to interview next.”

When Ħraan gives her name, Garth’s ears twitch at her pronunciation and asks, “Ħraan. Is that with one ‘a’ or two?” After writing down her information, he replies, “The Captain is hard to know. She’ll take a drink with the crew on occasion, and will tell a tale or two from time to time, but I wouldn’t say she is over-friendly. She’s a hard taskmaster, but fair; her rules are clear, and she’ll not play favourites.”

 

[Lord Foul]

Dorian Hawkwind

"Ah, that's useful to know. Thank you kindly, ma'am. I'm here seeking an officer's post, of course, so I'll be heading up there just as soon as I've gotten myself something warm and nourishing in my belly." 😊

Giving the woman a parting smile, he heads first to the bar, where he gets himself a tankard of foaming ale. He turns to face the room as he takes a long draught, casting his gaze around the assembled crowd. But seeing nobody who appears interesting enough to talk to, he takes the remainder of his drink and visits the dining hall.

Finding it as crowded with prospective crew members as the lady suggested, he nonetheless wends his way through the press, nimbly dodging elbows and clumsy movements, while taking in the general demeanour and appearance of the folk present.

Reaching the 'business end' of the hall, he finds a convenient table and pushes his way into a space between those already seated. Looking around the table, he says: "So, you lot are all looking to join the crew of The Swift Vengeance, eh? What kind of men are ye, then? Why should we want the likes of you on board? What have ye done to deserve that honour?"

He gives them one of his signature grins, and calls over a serving girl to bring him "the finest victuals you have available, my dear." He'll sit with the hopeful crewmen, listening to their tales and boasting, while he eats his meal and finishes his tankard... and another. All this interviewing is thirsty work! 😁

Actions

While enjoying his meal, Dorian will surreptitiously cast a Detect Thoughts and scan the surface thoughts of as many of the applicants as he can reasonably manage. He wants to get a general feel for the calibre of crew he's going to be dealing with as an officer aboard The Swift Vengeance.

Clarification:

• to try to disguise his spell-casting, he'll wait for his meal to be brought and use that for cover: making happy eating noises, some of which might sound a tad peculiar if anyone is paying close attention "mmm... good stew... ffnagh lantru... ahh... mumraph... jinksu... lovely!" and emphasising his pleasure with hand gestures, around reaching for condiments and his ale.
• he deliberately picked a seat with a good view of much of the room, and his prompting the others around that table to tell him their tales gives him the opportunity to look at them (and reach past them with his mind), moving his cone as needed to give the impression of paying attention to whomever is speaking.
• time spent between scans and overall is not a priority; he's really only interested in gaining a general insight, though he will linger if he picks up anything really juicy, such as an enemy spy trying to infiltrate the crew. He's mainly being opportunistic and will take as long as seems reasonable in the circumstances.
• as he is scanning while eating and drinking and ostenibly listening to others talk, he will try to maintain his concentration by limiting his responses to nods and mmm's with his mouth full, to encourage the others to keep talking while he eats.

 

[Arbuthnott]

Ħraan Evermeer

Ħraan exhales through her nose before nodding. "Good good. I could work for someone like that." She pats the corner of Garth's desk twice in acknowledgement before sauntering past and making herself comfortable on one of the chairs provided, preferably on the side facing the most people.

Taking a few seconds to stretch and lounge, she takes a large swig of ale before turning her attention to the room in general. "May as get get to know eachother some. You all looking for specific roles, or you just here out'a hope?"

 

Edited February 26 by Arbuthnott (see edit history)

[rorytheromulan]

 

On 2/23/2024 at 1:58 PM, dalamb said:

The hadozee at the table near the outer door of the upper room eyes Althea as she enters and lies down. He clears his throat and asks, “Could I trouble you to give me your name, Ma’am? And what skills you might bring as a potential officer? I’m taking folks’ information for the Captain, before she decides who to interview next."

 

Althea

In turn, Althea stops between notes and puts the pan flute away with an awkward cough, rises to her full height and approaches Garth's table.

"Oh, excuse me! I did not realize I was next..."

An awkward pause later, she resumes, but as she gets going, her passion fuels her dossier about her skills.

"My name is Althea - just 'Althea'. I am a skilled healer, both what you call a 'sawbones' and a miracle worker. I was born blessed with an innate connection to the Goddess of the Woodlands, and I draw my power from that connection. My situation has been likened to your divinely favored priests and workers of sorcery. I am also an herbalist, I specialize in natural salves and potions. Provided with a lab and ingredients, I can brew a cure for whatever ails your crewmen. I could even find it myself, and keep your men informed of any dangers in the wild..."

"I am also a crack shot with my bow, I can easily fire several shots from a 120-pound bow in just a few seconds, at full draw. I prefer to stay out of personal combat." She thinks back to the swivel grapeshot cannons mounted on the ship she rode on, and makes a suggestion to talk herself up: "In a pinch, I could take out an enemy boat's cannons - the ones above deck that can turn and fire...? Er, rather I can take out whoever is aiming them. Maybe even the captain, if we pass by the stern - that's the backside of the boat, right? Rear! The back end." She coughs again and hastily continues to talk past her poor choice of words. "I am also a fast runner, in an emergency I could speedily leave your ship or return to wherever I'm needed. And, finally, I my pet eagle acts as my eyes in the sky. That's--that's it."

She watches Garth scribbles on a pad of paper - more awkward silence, which she breaks with an offer to show him the eagle. "Um, he's not here at the moment, but he should be perching on the roof somewhere? I found him in an abandoned nest, and he imprinted on me after he hatched. If we open a window I could whistle for him..."

 

OOC: On my end, this is all ostensibly a formality in relation to how I wrote her background, although they haven't made a final decision on her yet.
(I'll have to reduce the Strength requirement on my bow to fire without penalty, oof.)

Edited February 27 by rorytheromulan
minor, some typos (see edit history)

[dalamb]

OOCI do hope a PC responds to Hraan before too long; I may need to dig up an NPC if folks don’t engage.

Garth

Garth writes down some of what Althea says, but not all; hiss handwriting is illegible, so it is hard to seeunless you can read Rodanese exactly what he records and what he leaves out. Finally he looks her in the eye, with what might be a wry grin, and asks, “Goddess of the Woodlands, you say? How does she feel about your taking to the high seas? Will there be a problem with your spells?”

 

[TheBard101]

The door slams open with a little too much gusto. In stomps a 6'7'' tall Varshadian wrapped in furs and leather, carrying a half full tankard. "Greetings to all and well met!" He says to the group. "Thorvald Hrolfson's the name, faithful of our god of seas, Procan, originally of Varshad, and late back from hunting pirates!" He looks at the menagerie of races present in the officer's recruitment section. "Dear Gods, we will be truly represented on the Swift Vengeance. A gorilla person, a goat lady, and three humans? Well," He laughs depreciatingly, "I've been asked if I was part bear, so maybe I'll fit in after all!"

With zero care in the world, he walks right up to the Hadozee and pauses. Ok Nadira, you have been bugging me for months to get back into the fight, so here I am, he thought to himself and her. He was not wanting to be there. The Last Call was a year in the past and his lost crewmates were gone for good. But, after a year of trying to kill his liver in self pity, his love had finally pushed him to get back out to sea. But if there was a ship and captain to compare to The Last Call and Gypsy, Swift Vengeance with its famous captain was it.

"I see you're busy, sir. I'll just wait here, shall I?" Taking a seat in the middle of the most people, Thorvald smiles to all around and waits for his turn."

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[Arbuthnott]

Ħraan Evermeer

Mid conversation with several of the other officer hopefuls, Ħraan isn't the only person to fall silent as Thorvald enters, her eyes following him from the door to Garth, and then to his seat almost directly opposite her.

With obvious exaggeration, she leans back to look up at his head. "Gods above, man, but you're tall!"

Propping an elbow on her knee and leaning forward interestedly, she adopts a sly grin. "Procan, was it? And how's the wet bugger been treating you on your hunt?"

 

[Slayer4399]

Bart Môrbrennin 

The door to the Inn opens with a crash as a large towering Goliath strides in confidently. Tattoos cover every inch of his skin from the neck down, thick dark hair tied into braids and a pendant with a symbol of two waves crashing together sits across his large chest. Taking the opportunity to scan the room, Bart studies each of the strange assortment that have already found their way here.

Approaching the bar, Bart slams coins onto the counter. "Two of your finest ales!"

Quickly downing the first tankard, ale running down his face, before using a large muscular forearm to wipe it away. Carrying the other tankard, Bart approaches towards the tables that Thorvald had settled at.

"Heh, I think you might be taller than me!"

Bart slides the second ale across the table towards him. Turning towards the hadozee, who is obviously occupied. "Let me know when it's my turn."

Edited February 26 by Slayer4399 (see edit history)

[TheBard101]

 When the lady spoke up, Thorvald looked her up and down without shame. "Well, you're just my size." He winks. When the Goliath slammed in, good man, that, he stood up to compare heights. "Could be, the lighting in here is terrible." Accepting the tankard from the man, he quickly downed his own. It was only polite. Having lived in the mountains most of his life, Thorvald was surprised to see one down here. Of course, I could count myself as an anomaly under the same circumstances. "The Dwarves used to call me 'head banger' when I'd visit their conclaves. What brings a mountain born so far away from your region? I fought beside the Havoroque Clan at the battle of Valkur's pass five years back. Were any of your kin there? We put the orcs back in their caves on that day!" He laughs loud and downs half the tankard in salute. Turning back to the lady, he said, "But, to your question, Procan benefits those that take charge of their own fortunes. So, he is doing very well by me little lady. You just have to make sure you turn your sail to the wind, wherever it takes you."

 

 

 

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[Havelock]

Flavinia

Flavinia is not a short woman, for a human at least, but those are some giants, and slamming the doors is not her style or something she intends to compete with, no, she had to make a proper entrance of course, which meant having some other patron be a gentleman and open the door for her, which did not always work, but she had some sense as to who would be more likely to serve her will, few men were unwilling to believe that a woman found him attractive, even while sober. And it was probably all for nothing to create an entrance where she could stride in as if it was all but natural to attract everyone's attention. But she takes that effort anyway, with a spring in her step and a straight back, wearing her finery, carefully groomed all over with a little magic help. Oh well, bar first, captain Bloodbeard had once shot the first man into his cabin with a crossbow when he had opened recruitment for a new first mate, or so she had been told, would not want someone too ambitious, it sounded like a tale she'd spin up, which probably meant it wasn't true. Still, anyone too eager to get signed on created an impression that they had been told off by too many others. If she were watched, and that woman almost certainly did, she casts only a passing glance to the sign, there were yet more than enough time.

Apparently, nobody truly interesting had the same idea as her, some reasonable handsome fellow went off to the backrooms for hiring crew, only time for half a flirt to find out what here was good to drink, nothing to stiff, half a flirt could get her a drink for free often enough though. Once her drink is done, she makes her way up the stairs. The novelty of giants certainly must have worn somewhat now. She does make sure that there is no other coming up just before, or appearing to come shortly after that might compete with her for attentions as she makes the actual entrance. She opens the door with a fluid motion, trying as best she can as judging just the right amount of force needed, a light touch, a slow moving door builds suspense, she steps through closing the door behind her without turning to look at it, eyes slowly appraising the room with confident curiosity. Giant, Giant...seen those, human, boring. And a goat girl, Flavinia knows better than to call her that, might be rude.

She casts her eyes over the Bariaur and decides to just make the leap, if they wouldn't tolerate her whims and wits, she shouldn't be signing on with this lot. "Hind legs, I really could use a pair of those at the end of the night!" She flashes a mischievous grin as she tips her hat in greetings, her voice almost singing. "I'm Flavinia, by the by, but everyone calls me Vinnie, especially when drunk" By the way she seems very particular in the emphasis of the slow pronunciation of her name, that last part is not hard to imagine the need to shorten it.

Edited February 26 by Havelock (see edit history)

[Slayer4399]

Bart Môrbrennin 

Bart gives a big grin as Thorvald finishes the ales swiftly.

"The call of the sea and adventure was too much for me. My wild heart cries to tame her."

"Valkur's pass, it is indeed likely my tribesmen were there, they are never one to shy from battle and facing the orc hordes."

Leaving the private room returning to the dining hall to retrieve 3 ales.

Returning with conquered beers in hand, Bart slides the two across the table both to Thorvald and Ħraan, ensuring she is not left out. Listening to their conversation.

"Heh, true words, to our good fortune!"

Edited February 26 by Slayer4399 (see edit history)