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[Pulren Marsh]

10th of Summer, 515 AV

The World's End Grotto

Had he not been to the World's End so many times, Pulren might have found himself just as lost as many other people on such a crappy day. Crappy because all of Zeltiva was covered in an incredibly thick, all consuming fog. He had remembered such events occurring occasionally in his life after several days of warm weather, so it wasn't a great surprise. However, the thickness of the fog had sapped his desire to do much of anything besides stay indoors and relax. Following his training several days before, although he wasn't armored, he had been carrying his shield and trident with him everywhere. The new shield was heavier and he wanted to be accustomed to its weight.

His trident stretched across the table he sat at, kelp beer steeped in front of him. A day of thick fog and a great room of locals begged for it. He had mostly stopped drinking the stuff but it carried a great deal of nostalgia for him. His shield covered the trident, the tines pointing out from his corner into the room. Murmurs of tales, mostly in the theme of the day, moved about the room like a school of fish. The theme, of course, being all of the ghastly things that clearly lived inside of the fog and all of the wonderful people who had met horrible fates inside of it.

All Pulren could do was laugh at the stories that were within his hearing and glug on kelp.The more revolting drinks that he took, the more funny the stories became, whether they were supposed to be funny or not.

[Bay'Lin La]

Zeltiva was extremely different from Avanthal or even Nyka, but it was still exciting none the less. He had traveled far on a goal to simply live out the rest of his life how he pleased and witness all that existence had to show him before it ended. He experienced the bustling noises of the city, the many rude people who walked the streets, the horrid smells; gods did people smell. It seemed as if land dwellers lacked all knowledge of hygiene at times, but Baylin accepted it, even if it was going to take some getting used to.

He had been in the city for only a season, playing his violin for whoever would listen. Even after all his time wandering Zeltiva, he hardly knew his way around it. Baylin waded through the thick fog of the day looking for any place to play his music. He was adorned in his typical black linen attire and stiffened kelp light armor.

He carried a backpack on his back with a trident underneath. He carried the trident in a harness on his back and it was, just like his armor, meant to protect him from various aquatic predators who wished to feast on him while in the ocean. He had zero interest in actually using it in a fight, but everyone who he walked passed seemed to think he was threatening. It was odd.

With no interested in listening to music outside in the fog, he ventured to the Worlds End with his instrument case in hand.

Upon reaching his destination Baylin made his way to the communal lounge and claimed a table by placing his backpack along with his violin atop it, and trident beneath it. He gave a satisfied nod and glanced around the Grotto. With a smile he ran his webbed fingers along one of his still damp tendrils which protruded from his head, looking rather at his ease before taking a seat. He removed his green hued violin made of hardened kelp and coral from its case; placing the case on the ground should anyone want to tip him.

Baylin had only given himself an hour of practice to get ready early in the morning. He didn't really know what he expected from the crowd today, so he shook off the idea of bad assumptions and let the body of the violin rest against his collar bone. He held the neck the violin lightly in his left with the softest of touches, caressing it like a woman's cheek. He held the violin in place with his left shoulder and snuggled his cheek against its.

His breathing began to slow in attempt to calm himself. His mind wandered to the distant memory of the song his mother used to hum to him when he was a child. With a simple down stroke he guided the bow across resonate strings, a crescendoing melody slowly imposed itself over the ambient sounds within The Grotto.

It was a deep jaunty melody played at an up beat pace. He did not know what the humans heard when he played it, but to him it sounded as if a young woman sang the words ‘May safe waters guide you’ in Kontinese. At first his fingers found the wrong strings, causing him to stumble through the song for a chime. Baylin eventually managed to playing the song correctly through sheer repetition of its fingering.

[Pulren Marsh]

Now this wasn't a sight you saw everyday. A green man, covered in tentacles as if he had just slithered from Father's reach, brough out a violin, the instrument also seemingly from the depths. Pulren suspected the creature was a Charoda, the underwater dwelling race of people that came to the harbor city from time to time. One couldn't live their entire life and never see one. They were hardly plentiful, considering the general roughness of the world of dirt. The Zeltivan was enraptured with it, even a little jealous that it could travel the oceans so freely when he had to work so hard.

The kelp beer made it easier to stomach, as ironic as that was. Gulping down the thick concoction, he noticed that it also carried a trident, a clear icebreaker if there ever was one. It wasn't as if everyone carried tridents. Pulren had picked up the weapon primarily as a nod to Father Laviku, finding later that it was a very effective weapon, especially when used in conjunction with a shield. Before long, it started playing. It stumbled a little bit, quickly catching up with the time and movement of the piece it was playing. Marsh couldn't help but tap his foot along as some others did, despite the odd apearance of the creature. Sure, there were some jeers, but they were few and far between, the visual and musical accompaniment more than enough to keep the drunks entertained.

Standing from his table, feeling a bit of a punch from the kelp in his gut at the change in perspective, Pulren swaggered over to the Charoda. Tapping along with a genuine interest in the music. He had a better look at the creature also, examining its tentacles and smooth skin. He felt like he should at least keep it playing, a golden miza leaving Pulren's pocket and dropping into the odd case. He clapped along in time, tapping his foot. It looked like another patron might rise and chip in on the tip. Pulren looked right at him and beckoned him, smiling. "Come up here, ye drunk. Pay this Charoda. Ye know ye would pay anyone else playing today. What are ye gonna do, go outside and fall over in the fog?"

[Dove Brown]

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Pulren Marsh

Skills

• Endurance 1
• Socialisation 1

Lores

• Navigating through fog
• Carrying weights everywhere to get used to them
• Charodae: a water dwelling race

Miscellaneous

• Mizas (+/-) | -1 GM to the musician
  

 

Baylin

Skills

• XP

Lores

• Lore:

Miscellaneous

• Mizas (+/-) | Amount
  
• Item Purchased (+/-) | Amount
  
• Item Sold (+/-) | Amount

Grade withheld due to inactivity

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