Post by Flanwaw on Dec 25, 2015 15:09:10 GMT
Though only Richard and Swain had ever been to Absalom, and Swain wasn't there for the festivities, Richard had eulogized the freely had debauchery, excitement, and fun to be had during Foundation day in Absalom. Though Daja may have had little respect for the young adventurer, the others had at least enough love for the energetic young man to take this endless praise to heart. Though if it wasn't for Swain's quiet love for Absalom, for its hustle and bustle and its unmatched spirit of diversity and exchange, they would never have made the costly trip - he could truly think of no better place to make his big announcement, and to finally settle down.
The crew arrived a day before Foundation day and would spend all of it enjoying the biggest government sponsored party in Golarion. Though how they spent their day and afternoon is their own business (and feel free to describe what Daja or the others did if you'd like, Izzie), as the night wore on and midnight approached Swain would call them all together for his big announcement. Swain knew his crew, and although this could have been the one and only night to treat them to a 5 star feast at some nobles parlor or fancy eatery like the Rose Garden or the Starstone's Rest - he figured some roudier adventurers fair would far better suit the tastes of his brothers and sisters in arms. For such tastes there are few places better than the Crimson Coin in the foreign quarter - and its proprietor, Torlel, was known to throw a feast worthy for the gladiators who could still walk from the Irorium to the Crimson Coin after the day's games.
Daja would find herself sitting amongst her adoptive family of mercenaries, adventurers, and Bard at an old style long table packed with diners, mostly gladiators and adventuring sorts, but company was likely an afterthought when sitting at a 20 foot long table overflowing with every sort of food a gruff Dwarven warrior woman could ask for.
The 4 long tables were aligned to provide an even and excellent spectators view for the sizeable brawling pit in the center of the Tavern - in which a gladiator with some spunk left in him was getting that spunk thoroughly beaten out of him by a stout dwarven man with fists the size of earth-breakers. With every turn in the battle coins of all demarcation were being thrown by the feasting spectators into the pit, each coin marked by a loud cry of whom their bet was being placed on - each claim dutifully recorded by a half dozen gladiator women, in apprentice to Torlel, who kept track of this frenetic and fast paced betting system. But it was Torlel alone who'd announce the fights, declare when the betting pool closed, and when a match was over - watching the feasting and brawling from an elevated, nearly throne-like, chair near the back of the tavern.
The crew had a good view of the fight, and from their little feasting realm at the center of their long table the crew each engaged in their own vice-de-jur. Swain ate and drank merrily but always kept enough of his wits about to have keen words and sharp wit to share with his companions and those around the table who'd engage him. Jo and Mugsy both had their eyes glued to the fight - roaring cheers and jeers for the brawlers; Jo out of concern for the coin she had betted, and Mugsy for the sheer love of the art of blood and fist. Bard, ever pompous, spent his time between heavy mugs of ale singing and playing his instruments; proclaiming the unmatched achievements of their mercenary band in the form of song. (emphasizing his own, of course) But while Bard was losing himself in the adoration of the crowd - even managing to steal some of the attention from the fight to himself.
As the party continued Swain would place a heavy hand on Daja's shoulder, grinning at her contentedly, "So what d'you think Daja?" He motioned with his free hand to the roaring crowds, endless food, and copious violence that surrounded them. "Was it worth the boat ride?"
The crew arrived a day before Foundation day and would spend all of it enjoying the biggest government sponsored party in Golarion. Though how they spent their day and afternoon is their own business (and feel free to describe what Daja or the others did if you'd like, Izzie), as the night wore on and midnight approached Swain would call them all together for his big announcement. Swain knew his crew, and although this could have been the one and only night to treat them to a 5 star feast at some nobles parlor or fancy eatery like the Rose Garden or the Starstone's Rest - he figured some roudier adventurers fair would far better suit the tastes of his brothers and sisters in arms. For such tastes there are few places better than the Crimson Coin in the foreign quarter - and its proprietor, Torlel, was known to throw a feast worthy for the gladiators who could still walk from the Irorium to the Crimson Coin after the day's games.
Daja would find herself sitting amongst her adoptive family of mercenaries, adventurers, and Bard at an old style long table packed with diners, mostly gladiators and adventuring sorts, but company was likely an afterthought when sitting at a 20 foot long table overflowing with every sort of food a gruff Dwarven warrior woman could ask for.
The 4 long tables were aligned to provide an even and excellent spectators view for the sizeable brawling pit in the center of the Tavern - in which a gladiator with some spunk left in him was getting that spunk thoroughly beaten out of him by a stout dwarven man with fists the size of earth-breakers. With every turn in the battle coins of all demarcation were being thrown by the feasting spectators into the pit, each coin marked by a loud cry of whom their bet was being placed on - each claim dutifully recorded by a half dozen gladiator women, in apprentice to Torlel, who kept track of this frenetic and fast paced betting system. But it was Torlel alone who'd announce the fights, declare when the betting pool closed, and when a match was over - watching the feasting and brawling from an elevated, nearly throne-like, chair near the back of the tavern.
The crew had a good view of the fight, and from their little feasting realm at the center of their long table the crew each engaged in their own vice-de-jur. Swain ate and drank merrily but always kept enough of his wits about to have keen words and sharp wit to share with his companions and those around the table who'd engage him. Jo and Mugsy both had their eyes glued to the fight - roaring cheers and jeers for the brawlers; Jo out of concern for the coin she had betted, and Mugsy for the sheer love of the art of blood and fist. Bard, ever pompous, spent his time between heavy mugs of ale singing and playing his instruments; proclaiming the unmatched achievements of their mercenary band in the form of song. (emphasizing his own, of course) But while Bard was losing himself in the adoration of the crowd - even managing to steal some of the attention from the fight to himself.
As the party continued Swain would place a heavy hand on Daja's shoulder, grinning at her contentedly, "So what d'you think Daja?" He motioned with his free hand to the roaring crowds, endless food, and copious violence that surrounded them. "Was it worth the boat ride?"