You were told that Madame Freona’s Tea Kettle was the place where adventurers could find work and avoid the hassle associated with other places in Phlan. So far, that has been true. Madame Freona, a stout and officious halfling who runs the establishment with her five daughters, has proven an excellent hostess.
Although you have had to share a common bunkroom with several other adventurers, the evening meal was excellent and the atmosphere pleasant. You take this opportunity to have a good look around at those sharing the room with you.
(Take this chance to describe what your character is doing, and what others see when they survey the room.)
Striding boldly around is a dwarf of around 4 and a half feet in height. He has young features about him, tough his hair is already a ghostly white. He has a strong build, his muscles hidden beneath his padded gambeson and chain mail. Upon his back, tilted into a back scabbard, is an greataxe whose haft is longer than he is tall, and a pack of the traditional traveller. He carries a glaive too, enjoying the feel of effectively a longer axe weapon. He enjoys the hearty meal, laughing jovially, and requesting more ale as they spend time dining; some of which stains his thick bushy beard with strands of brown. He introduces himself during the table talk as Drazzim, fighter and slayer of evildoers, be they in the deep or on the land, but none of that sky faffing, that's for airy fairy types!
A buxom woman with an eyepatch is cheerfully munching her meal. Her dark hair is kept in two pigtails and she is clad in a black leather outfit. A Rapier is dangling from her hip and strapped on her backpack are both a viol and a lute.
So what's the most dangewous "eviwdoah" you've swain, Dwazzim?" ,she asks the dwarf after he introduced himself.
As the others look around they see a mega-buff goliath barbarian slamming his head into his plate smashing it. He then picks up the shards and eats them with the remains of his food.on his waist are two handaxes and a battleaxe strapped to his back
A human man, balding, middle aged and a bit overweight dressed black trousers and white shirt, with a distinctive and well-worn green velvet vest stumbles into the Kettle under the weight of a poorly-packed rucksack. He adjusts his spectacles and nervously tugs on his moustache as he surveys the room, one had clutching a wooden staff. Having missed supper, he stops a passing halfling hostess. "Excuse me, but I believe I have missed the evening meal. Do you have any leftovers? I would love some Gallus domesticus--that is--I would take some chicken if you have it."
Slurping every bone on her plate, Charlotte lets out a small burp before smiling in content, her cheeks crimsoned by this healthy meal. Charlotte is a tall young woman of a thinner build (she doesn’t pack much muscle). She has jaw-length, curly, auburn hair and popping dark-green eyes. Her pale skin shows a scatter of freckles crossing from cheek to cheek. She wears a black turtlenecked dress topped by a short black cape that attaches itself with a silver cat-shaped brooche. To her side is squeezed her traditional witch hat, that she took the liberty of taking off before the meal, because, well, manners. At her belt is buckled a few pouches and a single thick tome.
She lets out a loud yawn and says:
”I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready for a nap!”
A halfling girl just shy of adulthood finishes delivering what must have been by her count the 6th or 7th flagon of ale to the jovial white-haired dwarf. She smiles at Drazzim in hopes of a hefty tip but before she can say a pleasantry or two she is interrupted by the portly man that just walked in. “Of course, sir”, says Reece, one of Freona’s five daughters, “Madame Freona’s Tea Kettle is always willing to accommodate a patron’s request, even after the cooking fire has been doused for the evening.” With a pleasant curtsy, she runs back to the kitchen to place the order forgetting to ask Cato if he desires something to drink as well.
(Orla’s passive perception picks up the following:
The freckled-faced half-elf that has been playing the recorder on the small corner stage has started packing up his things, a clear sign that the evening is coming to a close in the eyes of the hosts).
(Charlotte’s passive perception picks up the following:
A party of three human men dressed in the common browns of field workers has just left the Kettle through a side-door, probably calling it a night so they can rise early in the morning. Another table is also about to be vacated, as an elven woman and her half-elven suitor place some copper pieces on the table to pay for their meal).
(OOC: figglewits, thank you for your interest in our one-shot but unfortunately this campaign’s recruiting thread is already closed. I wish you luck out there in finding a game that you can join. Thank you for your understanding.)
"Aye, thank you missy!" Drazzim says to the halfling girl as she brings his next drink. He fumbles in a pouch for a gold piece to cover the expenses of the next few drinks, passing it to the girl before looking back to his conversation partner. "Dangerous? Well, there'sh a lot of dangers in the world, but none more than the dreaded drow." He says with a hearty chuckle. "Nasty crittersh, dark shkin, point ears, an' hair as white ash mine."He strokes his soiled beard. "Never let 'em get near you if you see 'em. Busht it's the ones you don't see that are the problem."
(OOC: Since Drazzim's so many drinks in, I would assume he's already quite intoxicated, even with his dwarven constitution)
(As you know, Drazzim has the 'Dwarven Resilience' trait and his backstory touches on how much he can drink. His resistance to poison damage and advantage on saving throws against poison surely allow him to drink more than your average patron. You are obviously welcome to interpret him as being on the tipsy side of the scale but I'd say, mechanically, he is not poisoned or anything. The bit on the 6th or 7th flagon was more for flavor than anything else).
Proud of her hearty yawn, Charlotte looks back at her bunkmates, before something catches her eye. Looking over the shoulder of her eye-patched friend, she studies something for a brief moment, and proceeds to turn her attention to her own satchel and starts rummaging; slowly, at first, then with a little more vigor.
After pulling out some copper wire, feathers, ink bottles, and a big chunk of lint, she finally lets out a whispered "Ah-ha!". She pulls out a soft, bright leather pouch and proceeds to untie its leather straps carefully before looking at its contents. She takes a moment to ponder, and finally retrieves a single piece of silver and gently puts it in the middle of the table. She then closes the pouch, throws it in her dark leather bag and proceeds to look around the table for toothpicks while directing her voice to the stout dwarf:
"Aye, they do."Drazzim nods before taking a large gulp of the ale and letting out a belch. "But they don't stay down there. They run into dwarf settlements in raiding groups, sometimesh gettin' to the surfashe to kill their knife-eared cousinsh."
Cato takes a seat at the table with Drazzim and Charlotte. "Are you discussing the Drow? Fascinating creatures! Simply fascinating! Did you know they are so well-adapted to living below ground that their vision is better in near total darkness than in sunlight?"
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IRL: Dungeon Master--Adventures in the Cassitana Islands PbP: Player--Esvaris Liadon, Wood Elf Monk 2/Cleric 2--Clerical Heirs: A Divine Mystery
A few minutes pass before Reece comes out of the kitchen holding a small plate. She places the dish containing four small chicken legs and a boiled egg it in front of Cato, apologizing: “P-Pardon sir, but I am afraid this is as m-m-much as we could put together at this late hour...”. The young halfling girl lingers a bit, but instead of the warm smile she usually presents her patrons with, she has a nervous look about her. She doesn’t even notice the additional silver piece placed on the table.
“Ex-Excuse me” she finally says after a few moments of awkward silence. “P-Pardon my interruption, but the chap sitting over on that corner of the c-c-common room asked me to fetch you.” Her eyes shift quickly to meet the gaze of each person at the table. “S-Something about some coin needing to change hands for an easy job.” She plays with her curly red hair nervously as she points to a figure that until now had not been noticed by the other guests of the Kettle.
The hooded figure sits alone at a large table. It motions to the group of guests to approach, keeping its face obscured by a purplish hood and speaking in a low voice, obviously disguising it. “Come closer, we have no time to waste”.
"Eh? Wants a chat?"Drazzim says as he gets to his feet. "S'pose there's no harm in hearin' them out." He wanders over to the hooded person's table and takes a seat. "You're needin' shum company, stranger?"
Charlotte frowns while listening to the Reece's stutter. She the looks over at the hooded figure mentioned by the little girl, and sees her companions follow suit to her words. She looks back at Reece and smiles.
The door to The Kettle opens and a half orc stoops through. He straightens himself up in the room and drops his pack on the floor, kicking it underneath. He props his warhammer up against the table and sits at the recently vacated table.
He is well built and muscled, as most half orcs are. He makes the familiar rattle of chainmail as moves, a simple cloth tabbard covering his mail. He tries catchimg the eye of a halfling girl moving between the tables.