Heroes and Merctalk

Log Info

• Title: Heroes and Merctalk
• Emitter: Warrick
• Characters: Warrick, Simony
• Place: Fernwood Pub
• Time: April 2nd, 2023
• Summary: Simony joins Warrick and his daughter Cynthia for dinner, the Navosian relaying how Cynthia's father has saved her, and them ending on learning Merctalk from Warrick.

Fernwood Pub, Evening

The Fern is picking up pace, with spring coming back in full force. Drinks are flowing, food is constantly being served fresh and hot. A few bards are taking a table in the corner, dancing atop it.

A human man with his hair let down to the side is scribbling in a journal at a table by himself and one other, dinner half eaten. Across the table is a teen girl, black hair and freckles, bouncing in her seat.

"And THEN what happened?!" she asks excitedly.

"I shot it," Warrick mentions monotone.

"Boooo. HOW did you shoot it?"

A sigh leaves him. "In the shoulder."

Fed up with the boring descriptions, she hops up on the table, her empty plate rattling as she takes a stance, "But did you go PEW PEW PEW!? Or was it more like KA-CHUNK 'oh shoot watch out!'"

Warrick lightly chuckles.

The door slowly swings open, admitting an albino Goblin in copper and blue robes. Gently shutting the door behind her, she glances around the main room of the Fernwood. Making her way to the bar, she pulls herself up onto a stool. Simony waits her turn for the barkeep's attention, and she speaks quietly with him. While the bartender is off dealing with multiple orders, she looks around again.

Spotting someone familiar, her gaze falls to the man's teen-aged company. A bemused expression crosses the Goblin's face as the girl hops up onto the table. A bowl of stew is placed down in front of Simony, and she slips the barkeep a few coins.

Hopping down from the stool, the Gobbo makes her way to Warrick's table, eyeing the two momentarily before clearing her throat politely. "Hello Warrick, how are you faring?"

Warrick glances over, his brows raising as he raises a hand, closing his journal. "Hello Simony. I am doing quiet well," he answers, "Youself?"

The energetic teen drops to prone on the table, her freckled face a wide grin. "I'm Cynthia!"

"This is Cynthia."

"You're Simony! Hi! I like your robes!" she babbles happily.

The Goblin grins at the teen as she goes prone on the table, and nods, "Hello Cynthia, nice to meet you." She glances to Warrick, her grin broadening and she lifts a hand in kind. "I am well."

Her bowl of stew is set down temporarily on the table. "Is Warrick your father?", Simony wonders of the girl. "I am sorry to have interrupted your dinner. May I join you?"

"Yeah!" Cynthia answers, pointing to Warrick. "That's my dad!" She giggles, rolling off the table and plopping herself into the chair.

"I don't see why not," he says, gesturing to an empty chair beside them. "No interruptions. Cinny here is just attempting to make me a better story teller."

"He's bad at it."

"I am bad at it."

The GOblin is quick to settle down in a chair, quickly and quietly demolishing her stew. She smiles, keeping her mouth shut as she chews, and nods to Cynthia.

Only a few minutes pass before Simony is carefully scraping out the last bits of stew, and licking the spoon, before sliding the bowl and spoona way from her. "Oof. Delicious."

Eyeing Warrick's journal curiously, she cants her head lightly. "Are you writing out the tales of your Guild missions, or are you writing something original, made up in your head. With her help, of course." Pulling her own notebook from a pocket, she begins paging through it, past diagrams and notes. Laying it flat upon the table, Simony shows a sketch of Warrick in mid-swing, fighting something that has been left mostly shapeless and vague, his sword swinging downwards.

"That's your father, in a fight we had together. Saved my life."

Warrick shakes his head. "Writing reports, best to keep information in line with what we've done."

Cynthia bemoans, "Booooriiiiing- ooh!" she perks, looking at Simony's drawing. "Woah! That's so cool!"

Warrick glances over and rubs his neck. "Just doing my job."

Under the table, a foot gently nudges at Warrick's leg.

"Your dad may just say he was doing his job. And technically he is correct. But rare is the job of those who fight with monsters. He protected me, he protected the others. We all did heroic things that night, but when the chips were down, and it could have all gone to hell, it didn't, because he kept going. We fought together. We bled together. We stood together."

The Goblin turns the page, showing a dragonborn descending upon another mostly shapeless form, a weapon descending quickly. "This is another one of our group, Tlanexhuani. Also did amazing things that night." More pages turned, showing a war-golem. "Khepri." Then a Veyshanti. "Sedev." Both in combat, Sedev looking rather worse for wear, fighting at least three shapeless monsters. "All doing their job, what they were hired on to do. But it's so much more."

Warrick sighs, trying to downplay it. "Please, Simony. I was just doing what should be done-"

Cynthia's slate eyes are wide and sparkling. Totally and completely wowed by Simony's words. "That's... SO cooooool!" she giggles, bouncing in her chair.

The man slowly nods. "They all, even Simony, did very well."

"Remember that he does it so you do not have to. Show your dad you love him, by growing up strong and proper." The GOblin's expression grows sad, and her hand comes up, signing, "To the world, you are a person. To a person, you are the world. And I think it is endearing that she think you a hero. You go into it, knowing full well how bad it can be, how it could end, and you still do it. Courage isn't a lack of fear, it's telling fear to sit down while you got some shit to do! And that's what you got." <Handspeech>

It's very, very clear that Cynthia understands what the goblin is signing. Her expression softens slightly. "I mean, yes. Dad is the coolest person ever!" she motions fluidly. "It's hard, but he's done this for a long time. It's what mom and I do for him. I'm just happy when he comes back, and try to learn what we can do!" <Handspeech>

Warrick grows silent, him quietly fidgeting in his chair. "I... look," he says a bit hoarsely. "The brass tried to do an award show and all that. I don't need recognition."

Simony grins broadly, perhaps half-expecting the girl to understand. "Good, he's taught you well.", she says softly.

The Gobbo nods, and shrugs. "Not trying to give you an award show. But I hold you up as an example now. I try to meet your expectations. And I won't be quiet about praise for you in front of your daughter." The Goblin takes a breath and lets it out slowly.

"Sorry. I just feel... strongly about this."

Warrick nods slowly, him rubbing his face. "Just... tone it down, please," he requests. "I don't do well with all this."

Cynthia softly sighs, reaching out to pat Simony on the head. "A little bit is okay, just don't overdo it! I've been doing pretty good learning to shoot the crossbow!"

"Next is the sword."

"Yay!"

Simony rests her chin on her arms, though looks cheered slightly by the pat. "Learn to aim well with it, your dad's not once shot anyone in the behind yet." She grins toothily. "Sword's a solid weapon also." Her notebook is slowly flipped to blank pages, and a pencil is pulled from her pocket. The outline of Cynthia appears, and then details begin to appear, slowly filling in her face. Warrick also slowly appears, to her side. As one hand draws, the other begins to sign.

"That night in the graveyard. Are you okay?"

<Handspeech>

Warrick rolls his eyes good naturedly. "I left the rear end shooting in training years ago. Most folk respect arbalests' volley and not get in the way until shots are out."

Cynthia is glued to the pages, grinning as she sees herself and her father forming on the pages before her.

The man, however, frowns slightly. "I'm fine now, but please not in front of her." <Goblin-talk>

Cynthia tilts her head to the side. "What about a graveyard?"

"Don't worry about it, Cinny."

"Sorry.", the Gobbo says softly. "I'm going about this all wrong."She rubs at her face, still sketching with the other hand. "I'll leave it be." <Goblin-talk>

"Sorry, just part of the guild business that we are keeping under wraps.", Simony offers to Cynthia. "I'm just a dumbass for mentioning it when I should not."

Cynthia giggles at the cursing. "Dad tells me that all the time, make sure you're aware of what you're saying, because the wrong words can-" she looks to her father expectantly.

Warrick finishes, rote, "-end with wrong consequences." Flicking to Goblin-Talk briefly, he says, "Please do. Any other time is fine, just not in front of her." He's firm on it. <Goblin-Talk>

Cynthia is just looking at Simony with wide, curious, excited eyes. "Ssssooooooo. What do you do? Dad says you're a Navosian. But are you like the-" she jumps out of her chair, and starts punching the air. "Wha-puh! Kapow! Get your hands off my books!- kind or the-" she puts her hands together and adjusts her pretend glasses- "Quiet in the library- kind?"

A brief war of expression is had across Simony's face as she tries to decide if she's insulted or amused, and she snorts, eyeing Warrick before laughing. "I would prefer a quiet area to study in, but, I have my own cell, so I do not need to sit in the library. So there could be a GOblin percussion orchestra in there for all that it would affect me."

The Gobbo rolls up her sleeve, showing off hands and forearms that have seen some action. Lacing her fingers together, she cracks her knuckles noisily. "Destroying books and knowledge would get you on my bad side. For whatever that is worth."

"I understand better, now." <Goblin-talk>

"Ooooooooooh!" Cynthia croons, grinning as Simony cracks her knuckles. "So both! That's so cool! Do you like, punch bricks and stuff or-or-or-or-"

"Cinny, breathe," Warrick chuckles.

She inhales deeply. Holds it. Then exhales before going on just as rapid paced. "I haven't messed up any books! Promise! Well, not on purpose... but that happens!"

The Gobbo reaches out a finger to lightly touch Cynthia's nose. "That was what they call the royal you, meant to be the population at large, not you, Cynthia, daughter of Warrick." Smiling, Simony shakes her head. "I trained on special wooden training targets, as well as against other priests and monks. I also wield a warhammer. Again, training against wooden dummies, or other people."

Looking to Warrick, she nods, "I assume your father did a similar sort of training."

Cynthia's eyes go cross briefly before she giggles.

"Mhmm. Lots of training targets. Wooden swords, blunted bolts, padded vests, green recruits. Not for everyone, but I enjoyed learning," Warrick relays. He looks to Simony, then gives a little shrug before sitting more upright. "Right, you're here. Merctalk, then?"

The girl perks up.

Simony's ears perk up, and she gives a nod. "Yes, please." She fishes something out of her pocket, and wraps her hand around it, offering it out to Warrick. "Our agreed upon fee, yes?"

She looks to Cynthia, "You're old man is going to teach me merctalk. I enjoy learning new languages."

Warrick sighs, taking the gold coin and slipping it into a pocket. "I'm not /that/ old..."

"You shave close because you have grey beard hair," Cynthia annihilates him.

The father just stares at his daughter. She's beaming. "Whiskey avae!"

He lulls his head over towards Simony. "Right. We're going to start with how to grill your daughter in Merctalk."

-End Scene-