Today is Whelsen, the 2nd of Unndilar in the world of Exandria. Though summer is on the way, the barely-rebuilt city of Emon is still in the throes of a rainy spring season. No strangers to wet weather, the people of Emon proceed about their business under hoods and cloaks in the Central District of Emon. While certainly not the most well-off sector of the City of Fellowship, the services here are not quite as expensive as they are in Abdar’s Promenade. The residential areas are tightly cramped with tenement and guildhalls, not exactly the best place for a claustrophobic traveler, but the main thoroughfares are more spacious and usually boast better-quality taverns, inns, and shops.
The Dying Drake is one such establishment. Once a two-story house, this handsome stone and timber tavern is conveniently located across the street from Azalea Street Park, the most popular park in the Central District. It is about 4:00 in the afternoon and the drizzle of rain and a chilling coastal breeze has motivated several people, locals or otherwise, to warm up inside with a hearty mug of ale. Since it is one of the newest and well-known taverns in the city, many come to discuss business, pleasure, or both.
You all have responded to a notice posted by one Irven Delriss, a member of the local clothiers’ guild. He did not give very much detail, but promised more information and twenty-five gold pieces to any and all adventurers that meet him at the Dying Drake at 4:30 on Whelsen. Upon seeing this notice, you decided to take it for whatever reasons you may have. After making your way through the Central District’s labyrinth of streets and buildings, you finally discover the Dying Drake Tavern. The air permeates with the smell of freshly cooked food, brewed beer, and the sound of a small band on a stage in the far corner.
A lightfoot halfling woman with braided brown hair and a dusting of freckles across her face is working as the bartender. You ask her about Delriss and she responds by pointing over to a table reserved in his name.
“Irven’s a regular, but he’s not here yet, so until then you can hang around with the others that have shown up asking about him,” she says, “maybe you should order a drink in the meantime! A house ale costs five copper. He’ll be around any moment.”
The tavern is at your disposal. What are you doing?
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Celica Maloraen | Twilight Domain Cleric 5 | Wildemount Irregulars Jasper Finch | Fighter 1 | Curious Critters - A Tal'Dorei Tale Amaris Tell | Order of Scribes Wizard 3 | Baldur's Gate Mysteries DM | Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden
With the height customary to his race, standing at a respectable 6'7, though without the sheer bulk they usually command, Krenak Brightscales all but bounced his scaley form into the Dying Drake. Wearing clothing more suited to a traveling priest than the warrior his halbard and twin axes suggested, a wide grin spread across his face, revealing rows of sharp teeth, as he spotted the tavern mistress. "Blessings of the Changebringer to you, my good woman!" he exclaimed happily. "As it seems that my soon-to-be patron hasn't arrived yet, I believe I shall take you up on that offer of a house ale! As a matter of fact, I'll take two, just to be safe!" Handing over the required coins, he looked around happily. "Tell me, madam, how has life in Emon been treating you lately?"
Shaw is currently at a table that he moved as closely as he could to the fire place. He has open his book of prayers, however he is currently not reading it. He is silently observing those around him who won't stop staring at his hair as it is colored and flows rhythmically with the fire he sits next to. However, he realizes he is also absently mindlessly stoking the flame with a quick bit of magic, bringing even more attention to himself. He stands up puts over the hood of his grey cloak, "no more attention to myself" he mutters. Shaw walks over to the bar and takes a seat next to a rather peculiar looking Goliath, "a glass of your plum wine please." He asks the bartender.
Upon entering from the rain, Tal pulled down his wet hood and brushed off the droplets. 'Damn this cold, I'll never get used to this northern weather.' He ran his fingers quickly through his chesnut straight hair that matted itself around his angled features and breathed in the warm smoky interior. His icy blue eyes locked onto the tavernkeep and he held up the note for them to see and haughtly asked, "I'm looking for this Delriss person?" Upon hearing the response from the halfling he promptly put the note folded and slipped it into his leather pouch at his belt. "No to the ale, thank you." Normally he would be the first to grab a drink but with the circumstances he found himself in he never knew when he'd see coin again. He quietly went over and sat at a table near where Delriss was supposd to arrive trying his best to blend in. Luckily the tavern seemed to have many patrons and by his reckoning an Elf didn't stand out as much as a Goliath, a Genasi and a Dragonborn did.
"Oh my Gods, do not even try that with me, Adran." Veldan's typically lilting playful voice was flush with frustration. A tall, slender and fair-skinned half-elf with streaming long blonde hair and forest green eyes. He was wrapped in white and indigo robes, lined with the kind of delicate stitching and design that pegged him as Syngorn-native. The belt around his waist was a thin, silk silver rope from which a rapier bobbed from with every step he took. There was a faint hint of distortion around Veldan too, an abjurative Mage Armor that the half-elf discovered was also a great way to keep light rain off!
Right now Veldan's strides were long and fast, challenging his younger steward to catch up while carrying the rest of their belongings in an overstuffed backpack.
"You did not tell me we were out money, and let me make a fool of myself at that flower shop!" On the way to the address his father provided, it struck Veldan that a wreathe of white and yellow flowers would have been an excellent gift to present a man of his devotion. Then disaster struck, and now Veldan was fleeing the scene at as quick a pace across Emon as he could muster. How could he face his father for the first time as a penniless, homeless wretch?
It must have been fate then- for as Veldan was passing by a pair of commoners gawking at a tacked-up parchment, he overheard something about 'twenty-five gold just for showing up', and was off to this 'Dying Drake' in a sudden shift of mood. "Adventuring- Of course!"
Bursting into the bustling inn, Veldan barely got a sentence out before the little lady had him pegged. He offered a grateful smile, then waved off the offer of ale. "Only after an adventurer's work is complete." He winked at her, then whirled to get a better look at the place. "Now let's see what kind of rabble an offer like this brings out- oh gods." His eyes go wide catching sight of not only a Goliath and a massive Dragonborn, but somebody that might be red.
The Dying Drake is pretty busy on account of people looking to get out of the rain. The band playing some lively music in the corner and there appear to be a few couples dancing in front of the stage while other spectators clap along. A card game appears to be going on among some dwarves, but there doesn't appear to be any money on the table, so it must be a friendly game. A few people dressed like craftsmen are swapping stories with what appears to be an out-of-town messenger, and two Arms of Emon guards appear to be taking a break at the bar. A silver-scaled dragonborn has eagerly ordered two ales and a humanoid figure covering their head with a cloak has pulled up a seat next to you.
"Uh... thanks!" The woman replies with a slightly confused smile. "I can't say that I was expecting a Changebringer-worshipping dragonborn to come by on my shift, but I can't say I mind it either. I happen to be a worshiper myself, from time to time..." She pours two tankards of frothy, amber-colored ale and slides them over to Krenak. "It's even less often people ask how I'm doing! I'm alright, for now. We usually get good business on rainy days, which means the possibility of some extra tips, but I try not to get my hopes up much with this lot... Most of them aren't exactly rich or generous. But I make do, I make do..." Her voice trails off as she fills a glass with plum wine and shifts her attention to the cloaked figure a few seats down from the dragonborn.
"One silver for this, sir..." The halfling woman says, squinting her eyes as she gets a better look at Shaw's genasi features and putting on a quizzical face. "Yes, one silver," she repeats with a nod and a smile.
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Celica Maloraen | Twilight Domain Cleric 5 | Wildemount Irregulars Jasper Finch | Fighter 1 | Curious Critters - A Tal'Dorei Tale Amaris Tell | Order of Scribes Wizard 3 | Baldur's Gate Mysteries DM | Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden
"Sir Veldan, I had told you we had no money before we entered the city, but..." Adran huffs as he tries to keep up, "oh, forget it... anything to get out of this rain... I'd even take a poor house at this point..."
The doors of the Dying Drake swing open as a lavishly-dressed, sword-toting half-elf and am absolutely sopping wet wood elf in simple, yet refined green and brown Syngornian garb carrying an overstuffed backpack come through the door, the former swearing to the gods upon seeing the collection of people within the Drake. For a moment all eyes in the tavern are on him before everyone goes back about their business, some casting occasional glances at the newcomers.
"Oh!" Veldan's hand snaps up over his mouth to hide the grimace as he sinks into a barstool. "A bit of a faux-pas out here. Sorry, I'm new." He offers to anyone within earshot, trying to laugh it off.
"Ah...no problem a silver.....". Shaw pats his pants and then sighs to himself. "One moment miss," he says to the barkeep. He pulls off his cloak, revealing skin stained with what appears to be white and black ash with a swirling faded orange tattoo working from both his exposed arms to his chest. Shaw wears simple tan trousers, with a black vest trimmed with grey. The vest exposing even more of ashen charcoal skin. His orange eyes search wildly through the satchel to his side and produces the silver. "Here you are," Shaw says bowing, before quickly putting his cloak back on. "Where is this Irven?" he says loud enough for anyone around him to hear.
Seeing the Syngornian garb Tal swore under his breath in Infernal. He took a minute to try to sink lower into his chair and contemplated putting his hood back up before thinking better of it. 'There's no way they'll know who you are, just because they wear armor mainly worn in Syngorn doesn't mean anything.' He chided himself. Taking a breath he began staring intently at anything to avoid the new patrons. It must have been divine intervention that at the moment the newbies gaze was also diverted by the Goliath and the other interesting patrons.
Hearing the name of his would be employer, Razz looks up from his drink at Shaw. Standing up, he approaches the bar and pays his bill before adressing the cloaked figure. "You here for the job to?"
"It's always splendid to meet a fellow traveller down the Path!" If possible, it seemed that the already wide grin on Krenak's face grew even larger. "Then may all the changes in your life bring you fortune, sister!"
As the bar grew more crowded, he sipped his drink and looked over the nearby customers. "What a coincidence, new friends! I, too, am here for the job posting! It seems that the Changebringer has smiled down upon us this day!"
"Why yes I am, saw the notice as soon as I walked into Emon and came straight here. Helped to get out of rain." Shaw says in cracked voice, feeling rather intimidated by the only Goliath he has ever spoken to directly. "Name is Shawsten Spark, but most people just call me Shaw. I guess you are here for the work as well?" as he awkwardly pats him on the shoulder, pulling it away as soon as he realizes what he is doing.
Giving the figure in front of him a once over with his dark crimson eyes, Razz thinks little off his lack of personal space as he shrugs, "I spos' so, not many ways to earn some quick gold like this. Ain't that right." Razz gives him a big pat on the back, not caring for restraining his own strength. Puffing his bare chest a little Razz introduces himself, "Name's Razz "Wrath" of clan Vla-gul. Hope you got some fight in ya."
The sound of a certain name caught his ear. Perking up, Veldan hopped from his stool and rounded the bar over to where the massive dragonborn was getting into his cups. "Did you say the Changebringer? Is that one your god?" He asks excitedly, before measuring himself. "Pardon. My name is Veldan, of house Aldemiel. A pleasure." He offered a thin hand, beaming a smile.
"Well Razz," he says recovering the wind from his lungs, "you look like a man who can handle himself, how about we make a little agreement. You seem to be a fighting man, but I am more of a healer than a fighter. However, doesn't mean I don't know how to handle myself if a situation gets hot." Shaw produces a small ball of flame within his palm and as it does his skin shifts from an ashen charcoal to a dark red. Shaw then snuffs the flame by clenching his fist, his skin returning to it's original color. "You watch my back and I watch yours? Assuming you don't worship some ridiculous god like the Changebringer" he says laughing and gesturing to the dragonborn down the bar. "What do you say to that?"
Tal spent a good minute weighing whether or not to go up to that bar. It seemed as if the more time passed more patrons asked about that job posting...which meant less or no coin if he kept to the shadows any longer. As such Tal stood up and walked over to the bar to make sure he got that gold. Not caring who saw him as long as his pockets once again had coin in them.
Taking a final swig from his mug, Razz looks at the dragonborn as well, "....Ive for a little bit of need for ya I guess. SURE. Why not"
Seeing the elf walk up, Razz stared him down a little, trying to size up the new cimer he had barely been able to notice, ".....You here for the job as well ima guess?"
Looking up and down at the Goliath Tal stiffens, "Yes, it's not everyday you get 25 gold just for meeting someone..." Tal smirked at his own dirty thought then thought better of it. "Either of you know what else this deal entails? I'm sure Irven doesn't just want dinner with random strangers."He glances at the motley crew gathered at the bar, "Although I'm sure you're all great for a laugh."
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Today is Whelsen, the 2nd of Unndilar in the world of Exandria. Though summer is on the way, the barely-rebuilt city of Emon is still in the throes of a rainy spring season. No strangers to wet weather, the people of Emon proceed about their business under hoods and cloaks in the Central District of Emon. While certainly not the most well-off sector of the City of Fellowship, the services here are not quite as expensive as they are in Abdar’s Promenade. The residential areas are tightly cramped with tenement and guildhalls, not exactly the best place for a claustrophobic traveler, but the main thoroughfares are more spacious and usually boast better-quality taverns, inns, and shops.
The Dying Drake is one such establishment. Once a two-story house, this handsome stone and timber tavern is conveniently located across the street from Azalea Street Park, the most popular park in the Central District. It is about 4:00 in the afternoon and the drizzle of rain and a chilling coastal breeze has motivated several people, locals or otherwise, to warm up inside with a hearty mug of ale. Since it is one of the newest and well-known taverns in the city, many come to discuss business, pleasure, or both.
You all have responded to a notice posted by one Irven Delriss, a member of the local clothiers’ guild. He did not give very much detail, but promised more information and twenty-five gold pieces to any and all adventurers that meet him at the Dying Drake at 4:30 on Whelsen. Upon seeing this notice, you decided to take it for whatever reasons you may have. After making your way through the Central District’s labyrinth of streets and buildings, you finally discover the Dying Drake Tavern. The air permeates with the smell of freshly cooked food, brewed beer, and the sound of a small band on a stage in the far corner.
A lightfoot halfling woman with braided brown hair and a dusting of freckles across her face is working as the bartender. You ask her about Delriss and she responds by pointing over to a table reserved in his name.
“Irven’s a regular, but he’s not here yet, so until then you can hang around with the others that have shown up asking about him,” she says, “maybe you should order a drink in the meantime! A house ale costs five copper. He’ll be around any moment.”
The tavern is at your disposal. What are you doing?
Celica Maloraen | Twilight Domain Cleric 5 | Wildemount Irregulars
Jasper Finch | Fighter 1 | Curious Critters - A Tal'Dorei Tale
Amaris Tell | Order of Scribes Wizard 3 | Baldur's Gate Mysteries
DM | Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden
Razz orders some ale, and looks around to see what's going on in the tavern, in terms of activity.
With the height customary to his race, standing at a respectable 6'7, though without the sheer bulk they usually command, Krenak Brightscales all but bounced his scaley form into the Dying Drake. Wearing clothing more suited to a traveling priest than the warrior his halbard and twin axes suggested, a wide grin spread across his face, revealing rows of sharp teeth, as he spotted the tavern mistress. "Blessings of the Changebringer to you, my good woman!" he exclaimed happily. "As it seems that my soon-to-be patron hasn't arrived yet, I believe I shall take you up on that offer of a house ale! As a matter of fact, I'll take two, just to be safe!" Handing over the required coins, he looked around happily. "Tell me, madam, how has life in Emon been treating you lately?"
Shaw is currently at a table that he moved as closely as he could to the fire place. He has open his book of prayers, however he is currently not reading it. He is silently observing those around him who won't stop staring at his hair as it is colored and flows rhythmically with the fire he sits next to. However, he realizes he is also absently mindlessly stoking the flame with a quick bit of magic, bringing even more attention to himself. He stands up puts over the hood of his grey cloak, "no more attention to myself" he mutters. Shaw walks over to the bar and takes a seat next to a rather peculiar looking Goliath, "a glass of your plum wine please." He asks the bartender.
Upon entering from the rain, Tal pulled down his wet hood and brushed off the droplets. 'Damn this cold, I'll never get used to this northern weather.' He ran his fingers quickly through his chesnut straight hair that matted itself around his angled features and breathed in the warm smoky interior. His icy blue eyes locked onto the tavernkeep and he held up the note for them to see and haughtly asked, "I'm looking for this Delriss person?" Upon hearing the response from the halfling he promptly put the note folded and slipped it into his leather pouch at his belt. "No to the ale, thank you." Normally he would be the first to grab a drink but with the circumstances he found himself in he never knew when he'd see coin again. He quietly went over and sat at a table near where Delriss was supposd to arrive trying his best to blend in. Luckily the tavern seemed to have many patrons and by his reckoning an Elf didn't stand out as much as a Goliath, a Genasi and a Dragonborn did.
"Oh my Gods, do not even try that with me, Adran." Veldan's typically lilting playful voice was flush with frustration. A tall, slender and fair-skinned half-elf with streaming long blonde hair and forest green eyes. He was wrapped in white and indigo robes, lined with the kind of delicate stitching and design that pegged him as Syngorn-native. The belt around his waist was a thin, silk silver rope from which a rapier bobbed from with every step he took. There was a faint hint of distortion around Veldan too, an abjurative Mage Armor that the half-elf discovered was also a great way to keep light rain off!
Right now Veldan's strides were long and fast, challenging his younger steward to catch up while carrying the rest of their belongings in an overstuffed backpack.
"You did not tell me we were out money, and let me make a fool of myself at that flower shop!" On the way to the address his father provided, it struck Veldan that a wreathe of white and yellow flowers would have been an excellent gift to present a man of his devotion. Then disaster struck, and now Veldan was fleeing the scene at as quick a pace across Emon as he could muster. How could he face his father for the first time as a penniless, homeless wretch?
It must have been fate then- for as Veldan was passing by a pair of commoners gawking at a tacked-up parchment, he overheard something about 'twenty-five gold just for showing up', and was off to this 'Dying Drake' in a sudden shift of mood. "Adventuring- Of course!"
Bursting into the bustling inn, Veldan barely got a sentence out before the little lady had him pegged. He offered a grateful smile, then waved off the offer of ale. "Only after an adventurer's work is complete." He winked at her, then whirled to get a better look at the place. "Now let's see what kind of rabble an offer like this brings out- oh gods." His eyes go wide catching sight of not only a Goliath and a massive Dragonborn, but somebody that might be red.
The Dying Drake is pretty busy on account of people looking to get out of the rain. The band playing some lively music in the corner and there appear to be a few couples dancing in front of the stage while other spectators clap along. A card game appears to be going on among some dwarves, but there doesn't appear to be any money on the table, so it must be a friendly game. A few people dressed like craftsmen are swapping stories with what appears to be an out-of-town messenger, and two Arms of Emon guards appear to be taking a break at the bar. A silver-scaled dragonborn has eagerly ordered two ales and a humanoid figure covering their head with a cloak has pulled up a seat next to you.
"Uh... thanks!" The woman replies with a slightly confused smile. "I can't say that I was expecting a Changebringer-worshipping dragonborn to come by on my shift, but I can't say I mind it either. I happen to be a worshiper myself, from time to time..." She pours two tankards of frothy, amber-colored ale and slides them over to Krenak. "It's even less often people ask how I'm doing! I'm alright, for now. We usually get good business on rainy days, which means the possibility of some extra tips, but I try not to get my hopes up much with this lot... Most of them aren't exactly rich or generous. But I make do, I make do..." Her voice trails off as she fills a glass with plum wine and shifts her attention to the cloaked figure a few seats down from the dragonborn.
"One silver for this, sir..." The halfling woman says, squinting her eyes as she gets a better look at Shaw's genasi features and putting on a quizzical face. "Yes, one silver," she repeats with a nod and a smile.
Celica Maloraen | Twilight Domain Cleric 5 | Wildemount Irregulars
Jasper Finch | Fighter 1 | Curious Critters - A Tal'Dorei Tale
Amaris Tell | Order of Scribes Wizard 3 | Baldur's Gate Mysteries
DM | Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden
"Sir Veldan, I had told you we had no money before we entered the city, but..." Adran huffs as he tries to keep up, "oh, forget it... anything to get out of this rain... I'd even take a poor house at this point..."
The doors of the Dying Drake swing open as a lavishly-dressed, sword-toting half-elf and am absolutely sopping wet wood elf in simple, yet refined green and brown Syngornian garb carrying an overstuffed backpack come through the door, the former swearing to the gods upon seeing the collection of people within the Drake. For a moment all eyes in the tavern are on him before everyone goes back about their business, some casting occasional glances at the newcomers.
Celica Maloraen | Twilight Domain Cleric 5 | Wildemount Irregulars
Jasper Finch | Fighter 1 | Curious Critters - A Tal'Dorei Tale
Amaris Tell | Order of Scribes Wizard 3 | Baldur's Gate Mysteries
DM | Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden
"Oh!" Veldan's hand snaps up over his mouth to hide the grimace as he sinks into a barstool. "A bit of a faux-pas out here. Sorry, I'm new." He offers to anyone within earshot, trying to laugh it off.
"Ah...no problem a silver.....". Shaw pats his pants and then sighs to himself. "One moment miss," he says to the barkeep. He pulls off his cloak, revealing skin stained with what appears to be white and black ash with a swirling faded orange tattoo working from both his exposed arms to his chest. Shaw wears simple tan trousers, with a black vest trimmed with grey. The vest exposing even more of ashen charcoal skin. His orange eyes search wildly through the satchel to his side and produces the silver. "Here you are," Shaw says bowing, before quickly putting his cloak back on. "Where is this Irven?" he says loud enough for anyone around him to hear.
Seeing the Syngornian garb Tal swore under his breath in Infernal. He took a minute to try to sink lower into his chair and contemplated putting his hood back up before thinking better of it. 'There's no way they'll know who you are, just because they wear armor mainly worn in Syngorn doesn't mean anything.' He chided himself. Taking a breath he began staring intently at anything to avoid the new patrons. It must have been divine intervention that at the moment the newbies gaze was also diverted by the Goliath and the other interesting patrons.
Hearing the name of his would be employer, Razz looks up from his drink at Shaw. Standing up, he approaches the bar and pays his bill before adressing the cloaked figure. "You here for the job to?"
"It's always splendid to meet a fellow traveller down the Path!" If possible, it seemed that the already wide grin on Krenak's face grew even larger. "Then may all the changes in your life bring you fortune, sister!"
As the bar grew more crowded, he sipped his drink and looked over the nearby customers. "What a coincidence, new friends! I, too, am here for the job posting! It seems that the Changebringer has smiled down upon us this day!"
"Why yes I am, saw the notice as soon as I walked into Emon and came straight here. Helped to get out of rain." Shaw says in cracked voice, feeling rather intimidated by the only Goliath he has ever spoken to directly. "Name is Shawsten Spark, but most people just call me Shaw. I guess you are here for the work as well?" as he awkwardly pats him on the shoulder, pulling it away as soon as he realizes what he is doing.
Giving the figure in front of him a once over with his dark crimson eyes, Razz thinks little off his lack of personal space as he shrugs, "I spos' so, not many ways to earn some quick gold like this. Ain't that right." Razz gives him a big pat on the back, not caring for restraining his own strength. Puffing his bare chest a little Razz introduces himself, "Name's Razz "Wrath" of clan Vla-gul. Hope you got some fight in ya."
The sound of a certain name caught his ear. Perking up, Veldan hopped from his stool and rounded the bar over to where the massive dragonborn was getting into his cups. "Did you say the Changebringer? Is that one your god?" He asks excitedly, before measuring himself. "Pardon. My name is Veldan, of house Aldemiel. A pleasure." He offered a thin hand, beaming a smile.
"Well Razz," he says recovering the wind from his lungs, "you look like a man who can handle himself, how about we make a little agreement. You seem to be a fighting man, but I am more of a healer than a fighter. However, doesn't mean I don't know how to handle myself if a situation gets hot." Shaw produces a small ball of flame within his palm and as it does his skin shifts from an ashen charcoal to a dark red. Shaw then snuffs the flame by clenching his fist, his skin returning to it's original color. "You watch my back and I watch yours? Assuming you don't worship some ridiculous god like the Changebringer" he says laughing and gesturing to the dragonborn down the bar. "What do you say to that?"
Tal spent a good minute weighing whether or not to go up to that bar. It seemed as if the more time passed more patrons asked about that job posting...which meant less or no coin if he kept to the shadows any longer. As such Tal stood up and walked over to the bar to make sure he got that gold. Not caring who saw him as long as his pockets once again had coin in them.
Taking a final swig from his mug, Razz looks at the dragonborn as well, "....Ive for a little bit of need for ya I guess. SURE. Why not"
Seeing the elf walk up, Razz stared him down a little, trying to size up the new cimer he had barely been able to notice, ".....You here for the job as well ima guess?"
Looking up and down at the Goliath Tal stiffens, "Yes, it's not everyday you get 25 gold just for meeting someone..." Tal smirked at his own dirty thought then thought better of it. "Either of you know what else this deal entails? I'm sure Irven doesn't just want dinner with random strangers."He glances at the motley crew gathered at the bar, "Although I'm sure you're all great for a laugh."