In the Guild
Tenebrae - Tuesday, March 18, 2014, 6:25 PM
-=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A05: Adventurer's Guild, Guild Hall *>--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Given the amount of business the Adventurer's Guild has, this giant warehouse should be filled with precious gems and gold. The long halls should be more than their metal construction, the carpets should be lush instead of last week's midnight special. ...except these are adventurers, and adventurers have a reputation for blowing things up.
Guards and mercenaries fill the interior of the huge warehouse, one of the largest in the area. Metal walls divide its interior, crafting halls, rooms, and offices. A large space near the front has been set aside for mingling and then stocked with comfortable chairs. This area is catered by one of the Society of Arcanists' more famous chefs, a small lucht with a predilection for otherworldly cuisine and tentacle soup. Security here is as tight as it is anywhere in Alexandria, though burn marks still grace some walls and there's always the occasional dent or two where someone's head has been shoved.
No matter how many times the Guild has been rebuilt, the statue in the front remains the same: a lone warrior facing off against the tarresque, with the Guild's motto, below: Anything for the right price.
Zoob is sitting at a table, assembling a thunderbelcher and talking with Corra. He nods. "Tall. All you pinkskins look tall to me. That's why I wear the boots." He lifts up one foot to show the several-inch-thick sole.
Corra shakes her head a bit, "Yes but compared to most humans and others I am small." she shakes her head as she stands there next to the table, "Never been called tall." she giggles.
Zoob shrugs. "Tall is as tall does. Are you capable of destroying powerful monsters with the twigs you shoot from your bow there? If you are, carry yourself with pride because you are tall where it counts."
Bennet is tall by most standards. But not all of them. Giantborn sorta throw off the curve for everyone. But for now the cowboy just sorta blends, checking the job postings a few moments before peering around. Spying a fellow gunman, Bennet heads closer with a wave of greeting.
Corra shakes her head a bit, "No not yet, but can hurt some people with them." she chuckles a bit and then looks over towards the newcomer.
Azog arrives at the Adventurers' Guild, takes a look around to see if anything is going on.
Zoob continues wiping spilled ale off firearm components are reassembling his thunderbelcher where he is seated at a table. He continues speaking to Corra. "Well, trust me, act like you are tall and nobody will notice if you don't quite measure up. Also, keep your distance from actual tall people, it's harder to tell height at a distance. Also just keep moving, that works too."
Bennet says, "Though iffen ya become really tall, watch for low branches and door frames. Durn things will get ya every time."
Corra looks around a bit more as other seem to be converging on the guild, it must be that time of day. She smiles and then just chuckles a little.
Zoob finishes his assembly with a click of components and wipes off the table with his cloth. "Greetings noble sir! I am Zoob the Musketeer, welcome to my, um, table of being seated at!" He pauses, gesturing at a bench. "It sounded better in my head."
Azog is pretty tall, as far as height goes, though some Giantborn are taller. He checks the job postings, dismissing them one by one. He doesn't read quickly, but he does actually read.
Bennet nods, and takes a seat. "Absolution Bennet Susson. Nice ta see ya again, mister Zoob. Miss." Who's name he's blanking on, but is too polite to say so. "Lotta things sound better in your head than out loud. One reason to let 'em just stay there."
"Fine day to y'bunch of irredeemable reprobates, scoundrels, and heroes," is a sudden bellow from the entrance of the Guild Hall as Brother Fishbelly bursts through the door, hoisting high a jug of ale into the air and swaggering along inside with a broad, tusked grin curving across his green-skinned features. There's a few waves, chuckles, and calls of return welcome to the orc.
Zoob points at the new arrival. "See, he acts tall, but I bet he's only 5, 6 feet tops. It's the volue and the ale, adds lots of virtual height." He turns back to Bennet. "If I didn't say what I was thinking then I would have to say things that I hadn't thought through first and you don't want that. Nobody wants that. Not again." He shivers theatrically, ears waggling.
Bennet snorts and chuckles, raising a hand in greeting to The Toad before turning his focus back to Zoob. "Was refering more to just not saying anything at all. But do agree, best to think about what you mean, and then say it, than to say something, then think about what it ment."
Azog looks over at Bennet and Zoob, over at Fishbelly, then back to Bennet and Zoob. "How can someone act tall?" he wonders. "You are or are not. It is simply a thing that is."
Fishbelly brings the jug back to his lips, taking a hearty swig of it before heading towards-- where Bennet and the others are gathered around. "Ah, y'might be surprised there, lad," he chuckles heartily as he hears that question, "Size is as much a matter've attitude as growth!"
Zoob looks over at the new arrivals and jumps up onto his table to be nearer to equal height with them. "Welcome to the Adventurer's Guildhall, I'm Zoob, totally not your host in any meaningful way whatsoever. Have some ale and mind the pickled onions, they bite back."
Bennet nods in agreement to Fishbelly. "How ya carry yourself. That Ironblood fellow, ain't so big, but comes across a lot taller than truely is."
Altar enters with less fanfare than some others. Perhaps less fanfare than any others, as he says nothing at all and does very little. He does not kick in the door, nor does he stomp his feet, nor push his way to the bar. Instead he simply opens the door by its handle, lets it shut of its own accord, and takes a step off to the side so as to not block the doorway. He then begins to survey the room carefully, his face shows very little expression on the best of days, being made of metal as it is, and this is not one of those moments. He does not engage in extra movements, like the shifting of one's weight, or blinking, or even breathing. Only those movements required by purpose are made, in this case the slow panning of his neck to cover the room from end to end.
If size is a matter of attitude, Azog is about ten feet seventy. He is over by the jobs board, but he is talking with Fishbelly, Zoob, and Bennet. "Size is size," he says. "It means only what you make of it, though." Which is easy for him to say, being pretty huge.
"Oh, Red Tide, don't get me started 'bout Ironblood... the Bane of the Night." An expressive roll of eyes, and then Fishbelly drops himself down into a chair and leans back, bringing up the jug he's carrying around to take a hearty swallow thereof. Then another, just for good measure.
Zoob quirks an eyebrow. "Ironblood? I don't know the chap. A golem perhaps, based on the name?"
Bennet grins at Fishbelly. "Well just think. Most nights are quiet and peaceful. And he's the bane of that." Glancing to Zoob, he shakes his head. "Pudgy little lucht, with wings. Good in a scrape, but thinks himself better. Sort that lives in his own little world."
Altar moves again, slowly and carefully picking his way around people, chairs and tables in the room. Not dainty or dexterous, quite the opposite in fact, using patience instead of grace to navigate the room designed for softer things than himself, things which can bend and move in ways he cannot. Eventually he makes his way over toward the job board. “Is there some method or pattern to the arranged items on this board or are they placed at random?” he looks to the Orc standing by the job board, but does not appear to be asking him specifically.
Azog snorts at mention of Ironblood. "A halfling, or perhaps a goblin, sometimes lately I am not sure. He is a master of disguise." He gives him props, in his own way: "He is, alas, twisted by Coyote," known generally as Tarien, which explains a lot. "Though he is brave enough, and skilled, and has a desire to do good. I have seen him bring down deadly foes with his magic - he is good at what he does." He nods about the Bane of the Night interpretation. "That much is also true." He turns to the golem who's nearly as big as he is, and shakes his head. "Organization is anathema to the Guild. Things are found at random. It makes it more challenging to search, some feel, and when you discover something good, there is a feeling of delight."
"He's as powerful a mage, unfortunately," Fishbelly says in ashen-dry tones as the jug's thumped down heavily to the table, "As he is insane. Fortunately, though, he's got his heart in th'right place, as the big man says. Now only if we could shut him th'hells up. Anyhow--" He brings his now-freed hand up, waggling it vaguely through the air, "Brother Fishbelly, Toad of Rada."
Zoob doubletakes. "Wait, you seriously can't tell the difference between a Gobber and one of those, those pintsize humans? We're entirely different colours! Plus Gobbers are awesome and Lucht are... sometimes useful." He shakes his head. "Are you colourblind?" He is still standing on a table and bows to Fishbelly. "Zoob, Gobber Marksman."
Bennet smiles to Zoob. "Can tell. Ironblood's just that good at disguise." Glancing to the golem, he nods. "They start out organized. Newere ones to the right, more involved jobs towards the top. Then changes are made, and updates, new jobs come along and fill whatever space is open. Pretty soon ain't organized at all."
It seems that a certain someone appears just as things get strange. Right about this time, an oruch woman ducks under the doorway and looks at all the people in the room, this includes the war golem at eye level with her. "Seems there's a new person in the area." She then bows to Azog and Fishbelly. "Greetings Azog. Fishbelly." She says before sorting through the jobs that are listed.
Altar listens to each answer in turn, offering a nod of understanding that may be more deliberate than reflexive. “Thank you both for your assistance. I shall simply have to read each one to evaluate its degree of relevance and viability. “ he then goes back to surveying the job board, perhaps unaware that the new person referenced might just be himself.
Azog nods to Fishbelly. "As I said, he is cursed. I think he is unable to act otherwise. A geas Coyote puts on many of his faithful - though to what end, I do not know." His tone is one of pity. "Like all grievances in this strange land, it is a thing that must be borne." He frowns at Zoob, and says patiently, "I can tell a goblin from a halfling most of the time. And I tell you that he appears sometimes as one and sometimes as the other. It seems a matter of choice to him." It seems to be a matter of indifference to Azog, though he nods as Bennet explains about him being a master of disguise. He nods at what Altar says, and offers a nod to Moonshadow as she greets him. "Good day to you as well."
"Good t'meet you there, Zoob. A marksman, eh...?" Then another arrival draws Fishbelly's attention, and he cranes his neck, a smile curving wide to his lips, "Good day t'you there, beautiful."
Zoob nods in undertanding. "I see, makes sense he'd want to appear like the magnificent Gobber race." He looks around the room. "I think I'll have to get my tall boots to keep up with you lot, you really need to lay off the red meat so the rest of us can keep up." He chuckles at his own joke and goes to jump off the table, landing in a small wet spot and vanishing from sight. His voice issues from out of sight. "Ouch. Nothing to see here, move along."
Bennet quirks a brow at Zoob, or the lack of Zoob, but shrugs, turning to greet the more recent arrivals, before focusing upon the golem. "Seen ya around the temple a few times. Don't think ever been proper introduced. Bennet Susson, Absolution for The Lady."
Altar stops reading the board when addressed directly. He turns toward Bennet and offers a large metal hand in greeting. “Well met Bennet Susson, Absolution. I am Altar, Mourner for the Dread Lady. I cannot say I have noticed you at the temple, though I have only been there a day now and I trust you will take no offense when I say you stand out there less than I do.”
Adventure is dirty, inconvenient, and often lethal. It is also profitable. In a similar vein, knowledge is power. Power is commensurately expensive. Thus, Verna enters the Hall, perhaps to discern what new opportunities may be avaiable. Her attention is only half upon her path or the hall, the rest upon the tome held open in both gloved hands.
"When you worship someone, Mournar Altar, standing out is possibly not what you wish to do. It's possible you simply wish to contribute to your lady, and to those that also desire to follow the lady's word." Moonshadow says to Altar, before bowing to him. "However, my manners. I am Moonshadow. A pleasure."
Altar stops reading the board when addressed directly. He turns toward Bennet and offers a large metal hand in greeting. "Well met Bennet Susson, Absolution. I am Altar, Mourner for the Dread Lady. I cannot say I have noticed you at the temple, though I have only been there a day now and I trust you will take no offense when I say you stand out there less than I do." (is this better?)
Azog blinks as Zoob vanishes, but he dismisses it as it seems no one else is alarmed. "No need for boots. No boots will help in any event. Height is not a measure of honor." At Bennet's words, he realizes he's failed to introduce himself to Altar; he quickly says, "I am Azog, of the Lightning Maul tribe. It is good to meet you." He arches a brow at Moonshadow's comment. "Sometimes you stand out whether you wish to or not. I think this is the case here."
Bennet nods to Altar, Moonshadow, and Azog in turn. "Isn't so much if ya stand out or not, but what you do in each case. Been told is what ya do when ya think no one is watching that marks who ya truely are."
Zoob emerges from under the table straightening his chain shirt and readjusting his thunderbelcher across his back. He responds belatedly to Fishbelly. "Yes, a marksman. Old Bessie here and I, we can plug a copper piece at fifty paces, nine times out of ten. Well, six times out of ten anyway." He hops back up onto the bench and picks up his mug, quaffing deeply.
"So!" A sudden change of topic, as decided by Fishbelly's boisterous self, a sudden lean forward that ends with one heavy arm on the table's edge. "What're your thoughts about th'matter of Dragonier, m'fine peerage?"
Altar nods in agreement with Azog's version. "I believe Azog understood me correctly. I was not speaking of standing out by action or inaction. I simply meant that there are a great many humans in this city, all of whom are strangers to me and telling them apart is going to take time. Whereas by contrast, I have a more unique appearance, and can thus be spotted at a distance to be remembered later more easily. As I do not know Bennet Susson, I cannot speak to how he stands out by action, but his presence in this room would suggest that it is in many ways similar to the rest of those who chose to come here."
Azog ehs to Zoob. "You can ... why would you plug a copper piece? I have never seen one leaking. Though if they /do/ leak, I suppose plugging them with a firearm may be how it is done?" He nods at what Bennet says, "I think that is a good statement." To Fishbelly, he answers quickly, "Clearly we must go there and defeat Heth. We may need Sandy, though." And -that- is an indication of dire crisis. Dire, dire crisis.
Verna appears to locate no immediate posting of great interest and gravitates towards those in conversation. Perhaps it is due to the mention of Dragonier, or the tales of magnificent Zoobian marksmanship. Among those who stand out, she may, merely due to a general lack, by comparison.
Bennet frowns at Fishbelly's question, and nods to Azog's. "Heth's reign needs to end, and quickly. Before he can harm any other nations. As I understand, surrounding nations are being asked for help."
Zoob has been thinking. "Dragonier, land of dragons, and, well, dead dragons. And other dead things too. Not a good place to fly into by mistake in an airship let me tell you, we made it out before the undead harpies up with us but it was a near thing." He shudders. "I never need to see that many rotting wings again. Anyway, it needs fixing and adventurers are the ones to fix it. Come on, it's so obvious! A whole country stocked full of monsters? It's perfect for us!"
Savengriff walks into the guildhoue, exchanging brief pleasantries with a few people by the front door. His eyes sweep the room, and he raises his hand in a motion of greeting to Altar, who kind of stands out amongst the others.
"That they are," Fishbelly says in serious tones, leaning back a touch, "I should be en route t'Rune myself, soon enough, t'help argue th'matter with their Parliament. This matter needs t'be dealt with... an' swiftly. I've been to th'Wall, and things are worse'n most would believe."
Moonshadow looks to Altar and smiles. "How do you differ in appearance between another War Golem, Mourner Altar? How do I differ from Azog? Or Fishbelly?" Her head then turns towards Fishbelly as he speaks. "It sounds quite dire indeed, Fishbelly. It also sounds like you're requesting aid yourself, let alone nations."
"The enslavement of so many souls and delay of judgement is unacceptable," Verna opines on the topic of Dragonier. "While I have not witnessed the events first-hand, the tales are dire even after accounting for exagerration."
Azog nods gravely about Dragonier, and says, "I was loathe to trust the Adventurers' Guild to manage things in times of crisis when I first arrived. I expected some great Warrior to lead things. Or a wise Elder. But the Guild seems to somehow derive great wisdom through its huge collection of adventurers. I was skeptical. But, having seen their success, I now trust them to direct the actions in this upcoming war. It seems to be how things are done here." He bows his head to the collected adventurers. "But I have seen no calling notice, and so I will return to my lodgings and check again tomorrow."
"Hah! D'you know how long I had t'harangue those bureaucrats in th'back--" Fishbelly thrusts a hand towards the deeper parts of the guild hall, "--before they'd e'en send someone t'Dragonier? It took months. Months! Finally they began moving, an' it seems that nations are moving with them. Good. An' sleep well, Azog."
Altar returns Savengriff's hand waving motion, and points him out as well. "Yesterday I was outside the front gate and a horde of skeletons came running across the hills. Savengriff and I, among others, destroyed them, but now I wonder if they were from Dragonier, if it is filled with undead like you say. Is there an undead problem in Dragonier, or is it more general and simply filled with monsters?" He offers this answer to Moonshadow's question. "I am larger than most War Golems, and I have been painted differently. You are female and they are male. These differences are clear enough, but taken en-mass humans do not stand out from humans unless you know them."
Bennet nods in general agreement to everyone, and Fishbelly in particular. "I've not seen the hoards myself, but the Hunters have asked that I serve as representitive as well." To Altar he nods. "Big dead dragon by name of Heth took the country over some time back. Turned the whole place undead, as I understand. We weren't ready to fight him then. Not sure we are even yet, but we're getting there." Glancing around a bit, the gunman sighs, and shrugs. "Well, I best be getting back to teh Temple myself. Reckon be seeing most of ya around."
Savengriff strides over to where Altar is standing with the others. "Well, if the whole area went undead, it looks like it's starting to leak at the borders," he chimes in. "What was it, Altar, maybe half a dozen skeletons and some sort of skeletal general? Made their way straight for the city. Whatever's there is starting to be less /there/ and more /here/, and they don't seem happy."
Zoob hops back off his bench. "Skeletons? Horde of them? That gives me an idea!" He starts skampering towards the main door. "Yes, this could actually work! It'll just take a couple of ferrets and a greased bucket! I'll make millions!" He is already most of the way to the door. "Don't wait up!" He's gone.