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Hur' Oc departed from boat, sea legs intact. The smell was nothing like his frozen mountains or network of caves, all the same he tried to ignore the eyes of people looking at a full blooded Orc peacefully walking about. It wasn't that it never happened but like seeing a fully clad knight with lance ready, they would see him as muscle or a weapon; at least it had happened enough for him to presume as much; he didn't much blame them, Hur Oc did look like he was trained specifically for war. Despite this he tried to mimic human smiles and make funny jokes to set the common folk at ease.

He let his hair down out of the pony tail once he got well away from the water. Sorting through his pack briefly, still he'd try the simple method for looking for his employer, a 'flying machine' being his best clue. He was light on his feet as he wasn't wearing his armor, but he did have his claymore strapped to his back. He kept most of his black wolf pelt clothing off except for waist down, the island weather was... not to his liking at all.

This did expose his unique scar, it was a mark of exile from his people. A simple black listing that was put over his left pec; in the shape of for clean scars, not jagged like those of tooth and nail; clean like steel cuts were running across. It seems they were intentionally shaped like a wolf paw.

Justice lounged against a wall looking over the Bazaar, her golden brown eyes scanning the air. It would be so much better if I had an actual description to go on, but whatever. A flying machine shouldn't be that hard to find.

She pulls away from the wall, stretching her long, lean frame. She begins to move, sticking instinctively to the shadows. Her dark coloring makes it even easier not to be noticed as she makes her way around the Docks, trying to find her new employer.

Finishing up a small glass of wine in the Blue Dingy, Cley sighed. "You'd think, if you were hiring folks to provide you with protection, that you'd at least make arrangements of where to meet and provide info about what you'd look like, right?" She mused to the proprietor. "I can't believe I didn't think of that when I took this job in first place. I sail in here (and it wasn't the best sea voyage, let me tell you...), and now I'm not even sure where to begin looking for Count Drago. I'd really hate to miss out on this flying ship launch just because I don't know who I'm supposed to be traveling with." She picked up her empty glass, swirling the last drop of liquid at the bottom, like a tiny, perfectly round ruby.

"Does anyone here know where I might find Count Marcus Drago? Or what he looks like, at the very least? There's a silver piece in it for you if you do..." She smiled at any and all of the other guests.

{Also making a Diplomacy check to gather information. +11 on the roll. That's a total of a 22.}

A few people shouted out random descriptives.
"White hair!"
"SHAGGY white hair!"
"Got a stick too!"
"And a Dragon!"
"That ain't a Dragon, its a rat!"
"I never seen no rat spit acid before."
"I think he's blind!"
"I think your blind!"
"He probably just does it so that folks will pity him."
"Damn good idea."
The rest became engrossed in a conversation about how to scam tourist for sympathy.

((I'm assuming your in the Rat Tooth, seeing as the Dingy is an inn.))

It seemed as if the crowd was going to say something, but at the mention of religion they fell silent. Eye contact with the Paladin became nonexistent. The bar tender handed her back three of the silver she had laid down and whispered, "I'd leave now if I were you, I think the armor is scaring them a bit, but people don't take to kindly to the religious folk down here." The barkeep looked to the door as peoples eyes began to find their way back to the Paladin, some filled with rage some filled with a look of lost hope and remorse, but it was obvious that the joyous mood of the bar had been killed.

((If you stay here for another post I'll need you to make a perception check.))

((Lol, you passed, then you mentioned religion which raises the dc due to pissing off the crowd.))

{I had assumed that the inn would have a place to eat. That's where I was thinking I was.}

(8, 11, on perception, 16 on knowledge local. I think that last roll is actually relevant.)


Hur' Oc simply strolled down the docks looking for a flying machine. Not that he knew what one looked like, but he'd recognize a boat for sure. So he simply waited to recognize something that he didn't recognize. The logic seemed infallible to him, until he got distracted by a whench all ready drunk singing from a 2nd story bar balcony, barely clothed. Unfortunately all he could think was "Ew, it's sooo, pink? So, flamboyantly colored..." He paused unable to stop himself from the brief distraction before trying to return to his job, before stopping and looking back thinking to himself "Really!? Like pink all over? Huh? The surface is colorful..." He paused figuring if he hadn't figured it out yet, he needed to go someplace where could figure this out. So he went to a bar, if the smell of the docks was bad, the dive he walked into was worse; the people in it matched the smell as well. Thankfully the rowdy nature of the singing and aimless escapism's would most likely leave them oblivious to the gentle giant's presence. He'd signal to a startled serving wench order a simple ail and try to strike up a conversation with her. Asking simply "Some simple pint. Also? Who would I go to, to find someone? I would imagine an eccentric gnome, he owns a flying machine and needs some muscle to guard his shinnies. Nothing dirty, just simple location for a guard job. Vanilla task, yes?" In the mean time he was trying to remember any relevant information he heard about this town.