The Unseen Servant forums

This thread is intended for adventurers to share tales of their exploits and arrange expeditions into the wild.

Players may ONLY post to this thread while the character they are speaking as is in town (obviously).

Occasionally, NPCs may share information in this thread as well if they happen to be privy to something of interest and think it worth sharing.

To depart on an expedition, announce here that you are leaving town, the date, and any companions.

A stout establishment of dark-stained timber and white plaster, the Golden Tooth Tavern is one of the most-frequented buildings on the street. It offers both food and lodging, catering to the moderate trickle of newcomers and merchants who brave the mountain pass from the south. Furniture of sturdy pine, fashioned from the woodland to the north, provides ample accommodation.

The proprietor, who is introduced as a human named Hyde, is most distinguished by his hideous but broad smile, which his cheerful face wears at most times. Whether unfortunate in birth or of questionably-mixed parentage that is not spoken of, he is naturally ugly and mishappen with uneven shoulders, patchy hair, and mismatched eyes.

Wares for sale:
1 cp - a mug of watery ale
1 cp - a cup of herbal tea
1 sp - a pint of imported southern stout beer.
5 sp - a pint of Trombley's Farm mead
11 sp - a pony keg of ale (contains 64 pints and a wooden cask)
12 sp - a bottle of Trombley's Farm mead
1 gp - Imported Southern Wine available for 1g per bottle. Not amazing stuff, but hard to come by.
5 sp - A good meals with plenty of meat, fruit, and vegetables (per day)
3 sp - A common meals (per day)
1 sp - A poor meals of some bread and cheese (per day)


Lodging:
5 cp - per night for common room sleeping (shared)
1 sp - per night for basic room accommodations (4 rooms available)
3 sp - per night for suite accommodations (only 2 in the inn)
1 sp - per night for stabling

Telling Tales:
Players can tell their own group exploits (and do a CHA test) or pay the bard 100gp. Regis the Gray is usually found in this tavern, singing and tale-telling to the enjoyment of the locals. See the rules here.

01 May 2021

The tavern glows brightly on an otherwise overcast morning, Hyde and his staff anticipating new arrivals coming with this month's caravans. The smells of a hearty breakfast waft outward into the streets of the town.

"Hah! HAH!" exclaims Hyde as new folks enter. "Come North with the brave, did ya! Ready for hot eggs, I imagine!" He grins broadly, mishappen and strangely sharp teeth unnerving in an impossibly wide grin. "Glad you all made it, this time. Not everyone's so lucky, no. April caravan got sacked by goblins. March was frozen up in the mountains. Bad winter for everyone, yeah." He nods once, a somber moment. Then he grins again and continues, slapping random newcomers on the back as they enter. "But you're here, hah? HAH! Yeah, you all made it! Gods come with ya, the big guys looking down." He grins and sets about taking and serving orders.

A large, sturdy table sits conspicuously against the wall, old rolls of parchment curled upon it and a giant map drawn delicately on a full hide of vellum. "Explorers, I see!" grins the innkeep. "Aye, not afraid of danger, I see! Those that return put notes there, good bits to help figure out what lies... well, beyond, eh? HAH! Yeah, my good buddies, they keep the near parts. Have a look, yeah." (See the Maps thread as an IC resource for players, represented by this table in the tavern.)

Initial map: "Goblins?" pipes up an older guardsman with a few missing teeth, answering a question in a much-too-loud voice. "Vicious little blighters, they are, all teeth and cruelty, you ask me. We burned them out before the winter, clear to the bottom of their rotten little hole! Sent the rest running back into the mountains like the rats they are!" He cackles. "Things around the city been a bit safer since," he slugs a hot mug of whatever dark liquid Hyde is serving, "'cept for the caravan that got sacked, coming down the mountain last month. Surprise, that was. Other than that, though, and the raids on the farms by them and their wolves, and the creepy quiet that comes across the river, things are much better." He ends, nodding firmly. "Don't forget the... things in the wood," chimes a grimy man from the lumber yard. "There aren't even names for what's off to the north." The guardsman scoffs dismissively and waves the lumberjack off. "Reward is for the goblins. You're scared of grumpbears and weaseljays, can't help ya." He laughs, falling silent as he chews a piece of fried ham.

A tall thin elf wearing chainmail walks in to the tavern. Baxtaw takes a seat in the corner table in the sitting where he can see all the taverns patrons. Hello good sir. I be here to find adventure. Let me have have a mug whine and elfs bread if you have some.

The slender serving girl pauses in uncertainty, seeming less sure how to address an elf. "The wine is one gold piece for the bottle, if you'd like me to fetch it. We've no... elf-bread... but we do have our local fare, which is quite hearty. I can bring you a loaf with some cheese?"

(1gp, 1sp total cost)

Markd walks in and quietly takes a seat at a quiet spot, looking around to make sure no one is going to harass him.

When (or if) the bar wench comes around, he will inquire about a mug of ale.

Attention is drawn in Markd's direction by the slender serving girl's audible gasp. She stares fixedly at his face, then turns and scurries off. She returns with a mug of ale and an uncertain expression, waiting for the cost of one copper piece to be offered before setting down the mug.

He simply lowers his head, as he digs into his backpack for a copper. Finding none, he takes out a silver.

Change, please... he says, trying not to make eye contact any more than he must.

Corbin walks into the tavern with a limp. A simple man dressed in plain attire, a suit of chainmail beneath a dirty tabard. His face is badly scarred, but his temperament is nice enough, if you can stand looking at him for more than a few moments.

"What do you have that's cheap, barkeep? Ole Corbin's down to his last gold after those sisters at the infirmary bled me dry."

He grabs a mug of ugly brown 1 cp deducted and sits down to enjoy it, sighing happily as the ale first hits his lips. When the guardsman and lumberjack start to arguing over goblins and grumpbears, he goes quite and gives the two a good stare with his one good eye.

A scrawny kid with greasy brown hair and a face covered in pimples shuffles near the entrance to the tavern. The skin under his nose is chapped and red under the barest hint of a peach-fuzz mustache. On his back is a rare specimen of a bow, all dark wood and fancy carvings. A large mutt of a dog, the result of amorous attentions between a bulldog and a bloodhound, waits by his side. The kid occasionally kicks at the dirt and looks toward the tavern door, as if trying to make a decision. Or muster his courage.

He glances around furtively to make sure no one is looking at him. "Sprinkles, stay," he tells his dog. His voice cracks, betraying that puberty isn't quite done with him yet. He backs up against the outer wall of the tavern, takes a deep breath, and nudges the door open slowly with his foot, just enough to quietly squeeze through...

CREEEAAAAK!!! The door squeals like fingernails on a chalkboard, announcing his presence to anyone within earshot. Every eye in the tavern turns his way. He starts to shrink back, then decides on a different approach. He stands as tall as he can—maybe reaching five and a half feet standing on this toes—wipes his nose on the back of his hand, and strides toward the bar with what he hopes looks like confidence.

It does not.

Reaching the bar, he makes his voice as deep as he can, which turns out to be a contralto at best. "I'll have a pint of your best ale, good sir," he says with as much bravado as be can muster.

Hyde doesn't even turn around. "Hah!" he exclaims. "We don't serve ale to children."

The boy visibly deflates. "Aw, c'mon," he whines. "It's not like there's much alcohol in that stuff you serve anyway. Not, uh, that I'd know." He slouches away and surveys the tavern's clientele. Hearing Corbin talk about being short of gold, the boy takes a seat near him and leans over conspiratorially.

"Psst. If you need some extra coin, I'll pay you 5 copper if you'll buy me a 1 copper drink. Please? I'm awfully thirsty, sir."

A shuffling and clanking is heard from one of the dim corners of the common room as a hulking shadow of a man moves towards the bar. The dim half light of the fire reveals a dark, ravaged face at odds with quiet, watchful eyes. He places three silver pieces on the bar, tapping a couple of times with a fourth to gain the barmaid's attention. When she comes over, he puts the fingertips of one hand together with the thumb and gestures with them a couple of times towards his mouth. His other hand sketches the motion of putting an invisible cup to his mouth and drinking. He places the fourth silver on the counter and pushes them towards her.

He waits until his food and drink arrive, and holds up a hand to forestall her returning him the few coppers leftover from the transaction. He takes the trencher of stew and flagon of ale and returns to the corner, shadows wrapping around him once more.

Zhym wrote:
"Psst. If you need some extra coin, I'll pay you 5 copper if you'll buy me a 1 copper drink. Please? I'm awfully thirsty, sir."

Corbin acknowledges the boy, and considers the offer in his mind, before dismissing him with a smile.
"Nah. Go on and git.", Corbin takes another deep drink from his ale. Even if he could pull a profit from this deal, it would do him no good if the barkeep noticed and denied him service.

Markd sheepishly offers to buy the boy an ale.

The kid starts to sulk as his rejection, then brightens when Markd offers to buy him an ale. "Gee, thanks, Mister! They call me 'Fingers' by the way."

"Isn't it boring in town?" he asks by way of conversation. "You don't suppose anyone's going exploring soon, do you?"

Corbin finishes his first mug with a satisfied sigh, and immediately orders another. 1 cp deducted.

He leans back and stares at the stealing. When Fingers mentions exploring he laughs to himself.
"A few more of these, and I'll feel like going after those goblins myself..."

Baxtaw- Sits quietly watching the boy trying to get someone to buy him a Ale. He watches the monster of a man who apparently cannot speak take his food and sit in the opposite corner of the inn. He then calls forth the barmaid. Miss, yes bring me the cheese and bread. I only need a mug of whine not a bottle. But if that is all you offer I will take it. 1gp 1 sp deducted

Markd replies, while keeping his head down toward his ale.

Fingers eh? I guess you got named like I did. Dont get so exciting about adventuring. It can lead to more trouble than you can handle, boy.

The tavern maid quickly tends to Baxtaw his coin appears, the sight of gold quickening her smile. "Don't have enough call for wine to open it by the glass; the bottle is yours, yours and your friends." She returns with hearty warm bread, a small variety of cheeses, and the bottle, uncorked. "An elf..." she smiles. We'll have the goblins sorted right quick with you here, won't we? It's been a long winter, with the caravans afraid to come."

She looks dubiously for a moment at Markd as Fingers joins him, then silently places down two mugs of ale, accepting the silver and returning a small handful of coppers without a word. She shudders and moves away quickly, providing a fresh flagon for Corbin and then tending to other newcomers at the other tables.

"I think she likes me," says Fingers, waggling his eyebrows for effect.

"Anyway, 'Fingers' is just a nickname, but that's all anyone calls me. And I'm ready for trouble! Those goblins don't know what they're in for."

Markd just takes a sip and shakes his head...

Yeah, I reckon they dont.

Corbin turns to face the boy known as Fingers, and the man in the cowl, possibly with a new found respect.
"You two are going after the goblins?"
He rubs his stubbled chin, weighing whether or not to tell them something, then grabs his ale and joins them at their table.
In hushed tones, he speaks to the two, "I know first-hand how dangerous the goblins are. I was part of the caravan that was attacked, and the only survivor. They're the ones who gave me this..." Corbin explains, pointing at his eye patch. "We'll need more men, but I have been meaning to get back at them. B'sides, there could be some loot left over from the caravan that was ransacked. If there is, I'll need some strong backs to help carry it back here, aye?"