An Extremely Tall Chap

Listening to the almost incoherent ramblings from the halfling, one thing becomes abundantly clear. Don't give him water. The tall fellow, ever so slowly so as to avoid notice, moves the now-empty mug (that same one he'd give Skapti ale from) behind his back, out of the sight of the halfling. A rigid and completely innocent grin magically appears on his face, and his free hand fidgets a bit on his staff.

"The little man bit me when I offered him a drink," the orc mutters at Itomo with a grimace. "I didn't think he'd be so aggressive. Bloody halflings."
He turns back to the slightly less imprisoned barbarian, fingers clenching and unclenching as he keeps them moving, making sure they don't stiffen up. His eyes glance over him for a moment, before he shrugs and sighs.
"The worst part is that he's much more suited to the wilds than most people 'ere."


Itomo smiles at the wild halflings expected response. Marveling at how similar the reaction is to that of a goblin and writing.
Itomo takes a step backwards at the shear strength and brutality of the halfling as he breaks free from the stocks.
"Impressive." Itomo looks around for a response from the citizenry. Those that have noticed seem a bit nervous but luckily their seems to be a distinct lack of guardsmen in the square at this precise moment.

Skapti watches Itomo and slowly deduces his worry. He waves a dismissive hand. "Is OK, Skapti tell you before. Guard ask me do thing, I get out of this. Skapti decide to do so Skapti get out. He ask Skapti to deal, but Skapti think if kill bandits, won't have to talky. Guard won't know different, dead man no complain! Ha ha!" Skapti slaps his knee at his own joke, before hopping off of the box and pointing an imperious hand. "Lead to lasses and glasses 'Tomo and Willem! Greeny needs man's drink, maybe help stop he whining. Horny man too, maybe clear out happy weed."

Stepping up to the maniacally grinning man's knees, "Too. Much. Happy. Come. Get. Booze."

"To the tavern!" Willem proclaimed with a grin. He was a bit nervous about Skapti breaking himself free, but he was also far too curious about seeing what would happen in they came across the guard. Pointing to the doors of the closest tavern, The Golden Tankard, Willem made his way over to it.

An Extremely Tall Chap

"This is going to be like watching a caravan wreck, only as if time was moving slowly," he thought to himself as the halfling and fop headed off to the bar. He tossed the empty ale mug back to the woman who was selling herbs, and pondered for a few moments his continued quest for the alchemical ingredients. "Naw, this'll be more fun," he thinks, and follows along behind.

At a safe distance, of course.

A colorfully dressed figure arrives into the square astride a handsome gray stallion. The silks and satins artfully wrapped around her form hint at Varisian attire though the colors aren't quite as loud nor as haphazardly thrown together. Though the horse is large and the rider rather petite, she rides with elegance and fair competence, guiding her mount easily around passersby as she peruses the market stalls from her perch. A prominent tattoo adorns her forehead, a seemingly permanent diadem that lends her a regal air. It all seems at odds with the kind smiles she bestows upon the peddlers and the children milling about.

As the town crier's voice pierces through the air repeating his call, the woman tugs on the braided reins in her hand. "Whoa, Askari," she calls out to the stallion, halting their progress. Swiveling in her saddle, she shields her eyes to better get a fix on the man's location as he spells out the words that brighten her smile. Dropping her hand, she leans forward to give the magnificent gray a few firm pats on his neck. "Adventurous types. Well, that would be us, wouldn't it?" she whispers mischievously to the stallion before straightening up in her saddle. "It looks like we're heading for town hall once we take a peek at what Restov's market has to offer," she declared, clicking her tongue to set them in motion once more.

The two don't get very far at all. A stall filled with a riot of fabrics catches her eye. Urging her mount in that direction, the woman stops in front of a table laden with bolts of cloth. She dismounts easily, her feet hardly making a noise when they touch the ground. On her feet, she looks quite tiny compared to the height of the gray. Keeping the reins grasped in one hand, she proceeds to gingerly paw through the piles of fabric to the delight of the rotund old woman behind the table.

The golden tankard tavern is a lively place, several wenches and barmaids smile politely as they offer newcomers a seat, a peek at the menu and if there's coin to be had a quick peek at something else. What is unusual is that the usual theme of discussion about bickering nobles and words of rebellion have taken a seat for the current gossip, talks about the charter for exploration that's being offered have gained strength and all around there's big talk and little talk of would be adventurers or explorers.


The town market packed as it usually is this day is no stranger to bizarre sightings, horned people, woodland dwarves or exotic Varisians give pause to talk and gawk. A couple of guards stand scratching their head as they try to figure out why their stocks are broken, and more importantly how the halfling vanished, some townsfolk point towards the pub strip, some point the other way clearly trying to give the little guy a break.

Groups of hopefuls approach the town crier asking questions, most random and some slightly useful, but he graciously dismisses them stating that more information would be given at the town hall. Those of you still in the market listen with a glint in your eye.


At the mention of the Golden Tankard, Itomo sighs in relief reflecting that taking the gibbering wild halfing to one of his normal haunts may just make that an ex-haunt. "A great choice Willem, a nice pint and then off to the town hall to inquire about job opportunities sounds like a great idea.". Itomo turns to follow the young man but spies the exotic beauty examining the rolls of cloths and silks and stops.....the pint of ale and even the soft comforts of the wenches forgotten in the blink of an eye. "I will catch up to you gentlemen in a few moments..." with that Itomo strides off towards the newly arrived beauty.

Missoi had taken a seat next to the solemn dwarf and taken to eying the prospective adventurers as they milled around the town crier. You could already tell the ones that would likely be chosen - they were the ones more inclined to wait out the release of more information in the pub, rather than pester a low-ranking government employee for it. Chuckling to himself at the veritable circus that was the town square this afternoon, Missoi simply sat back and took it all in (with his eyes placing special emphasis on an exotically clad woman leafing her way through a cluster of fabrics for sale).

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