Iromae listens intently to her friends as they speak. When Shenua starts to talk about Vorenus just being Vorenus, her eyes widen slightly. 'How many times have I thought exactly that!' she thinks. For a moment she doesn't even have words, but then the tiefling's last question spurs a response in her. "You are wonderful Vorenus," she says eagerly. "Kind, considerate, a good friend. It's just that... well... you know, just..."  As quickly as words had come, she now loses them.  Her hand grasps her glass, and she lifts it to sip a bit of the wine. "It's when you try to be Vorenus the Great that it all doesn't seem so wonderful."  

Having said the words, it appears the half-elf immediately regrets them. 'I know how much it means to him, how much he strives to be 'great'. I hope he doesn't take it the wrong way. I don't want to discourage his work. I just wish...'  She takes another sip of wine as she briefly glances at Vorenus to see his reaction.  Then she immediately starts talking again, a little too fast as she reveals her anxiety. "And it's so great Shenua how you were able to provide for your family. And how intriguing! Having a sibling! That sounds so interesting!"  

Even in her slightly agitated state though, she does notice the cloaked figure.  She glances in the figure's direction, though still only giving it partial attention.  It does seem to have derailed her babbling. Or maybe she was finished speaking anyway. 

Diego find it hard to hide his restlessness listens to his friends as they share a little of what they've been up to since school, takes a passing notice of the knights as the come in and make their way to a table. Then the hooded figure comes in, Diego watches him closely as he makes his way in and tries to blend with the crowd. As his eyes follow the newcomer to his seat he comes eye to eye with Iromae as the finishes. 

A smile crosses his lips as he watches hers as she speaks. Sadly my tale is bland, boring and pales in comparison. I've spent much more of it in library after library, both public and and as many private ones as I could get an invite to, than I have in tavern or pub. My hands spending more time turning pages and tuning pegs than tracing the outline of some sweet damsel in the moonlight. Such is the life of a bard in search for something, just wish I had had some ide of what I was looking for, he chuckles. 

He takes a sip of wine, you know what this place needs? He slams his hands down on the table, stands and says, a song! As he stands, strumming his lute as he makes his way to the corner stage. As he does he looks to the other bards in the room and motions them to come join him. 

Friends I am Diego Goldbow and I have had the pleasure of spending the day at the Tinker's Guild, with that he looks toward the newcomer to for a reaction, and I have been privy to watching just how these fine crafters go about what they so expertly do, crafting! As my new friends join me here on stage I'd like to present to you crafters of music and prose. While watching these fine crafters, are there any of the tinkers guild with us tonight? Make some noise tinkers! He waits for the roars and cheers to subside, I realized that the bardic profession is also a profession of creation and I'd like to try an experiment, he looks around the room as he strums a haunting sounding minor chord using presdigitation to let the chord ring out longer than it should and hang in the air. He looks to the other bards gathered on stage, around the stage, Friends, lets make some music shall we. Whom among you might have a piece you're struggling with? I purpose that we work on it together, right here in front of these wonderful folks and show them just how a guild of bard might create something beautiful from just a thought.

He waits until one puts forth an idea, the young bard playing a simple melody on his instrument. Diego listens and picks up the tune, as the others do likewise and the simple melody starts to fill the air, he lets his lute slide to his side and pulls the baton from his belt. In much the same fashion as he did during his test he starts directing the group. Bringing together one instrument with another, leading them in creating something from nothing, adding to it with his magic, the sound of a choir, the beat of a drum, causing the flames of candles nearby to flicker and dance in time with the music. Lost in the music he closes his eyes and pictures the notes moving in and out the weave, looking for where the music leads him and leading the others with a simple flick of the baton in his hand. 

As the song comes to a close he brings the flames down to low light, imitating the lowering of stage lights. As the crowd, hopefully begins to cheer, he brings them back up and waves to the others bard to take their bows. Then makes his way back to the table. Yep, too much time spent with dusty old books and not enough spent with friends. My life has been dull.

Performance roll if needed, 14 

Vorenus hears Shenua, looking down at his hands, keeping them busy, almost afraid it seems to look up and meet her eye.  Then Ironmae adds the same sentiments and it really sinks it.  “It  doesn’t seem so wonderful..” resonates in the air, hanging there, floating with a pregnant pause.  Vorenus wipes away a tear with a carefully hidden motion so that it is unobserved, as he turns his head he sees the dark figure walk into the bar, moving with purpose.  Distracted, he looks back to the table, takes a drink of his wine, then speaks the most earnestly you have ever heard him.  

“Maybe.. maybe it’s just me.  All my fault.  I never told you about my father, did I?  He was a great and powerful wizard.  Or so they say.  I .. never really knew him.  My mother, Sevilia, she always spoke of him so highly, with such hope, such longing, but he disappeared in a flash, with a twinkle of lights, and then gone.  Maybe… maybe he didn’t want me.”  Another gulp.  

“But I’d show him, right?  Become the most powerful wizard in the land.  Gifted.  Renowned.  And then, maybe then he’d seek me out. Maybe he would want to know me!  Hah.  What a fantasy.”  Right then, Diego moves away from the table for a song.  Vorenus looks forward to the distraction, anxious to change the subject, he starts whooping and hollering, singing in time with the music, all the while, out of the corner of his eye, he keeps an eye on the mystery man…

After Vorenus speaks of his father, Iromae gently moves her hand to rest on his. With the light touch she tries to silently convey comfort and her sympathy. Yes, Diego had gone to sing, and the cloaked figure was still present. Those things pulled her attention a bit from Vorenus. But her hand remained there softly atop his, so long as he allowed it. 

As Diego begins she notes his words and how he tries to perhaps goad this figure - if indeed they are in some way connected to the mishap at the Guild Hall.  Already in her sight, she focus on them for a moment, trying to discern their intent. (Insight: 16)

Shenua looks at Vorenus with a mix of amazement and sadness. Amazed, because this is the first time the wizard has spoken so openly about… well, anything. And sad, because of what he had to endure—something that has obviously weighed heavily on his heart for so many years.

It takes her a moment to answer, but then she gives him a sad, but understanding, smile and says, "Thank you for sharing that with us, Vorenus. It must be very painful for you, and I hope that saying it aloud helps ease the pain, even if just a little. And let me say this: it wasn't your fault. So please, don't think that. You were a kid, and your father was an adult. He should have behaved better." She pauses before continuing, "I think he wasn't that great after all, don't you? Whatever his reasons, abandoning you and your mother was an awful thing to do. You are Vorenus, and you are already great as you are."

She doesn’t add anything else, knowing that Vorenus will probably need time after spilling his heart out. Instead, she turns her attention to Diego’s performance, which, as always, is brilliant. When the song ends and the crowd begins to scatter, the artificer focuses on the hooded newcomer. Could he be the one the dragonborn described? Without thinking too much, she glances at her wine and, with a swift movement of her hand, knocks it over, spilling the contents on the floor. "Oh my!" she exclaims. "Sorry for the mess, guys!"

Standing, she walks up to the bar counter, positioning herself right next to the newcomer. She turns to the dragonborn bartender with an apologetic smile. "I've spilled my drink, I'm so sorry. It seems a couple of sips have gone a little too quickly to my brain!" she laughs, using the moment to steal a glance at the person beside her, trying to determine if they match the description the dragonborn gave them. "Do you mind filling my glass again?"

The tavern swells with the lingering energy of Diego’s impromptu performance, applause and laughter rolling through the room like the last echoes of a song. The gathered bards exchange grins, some already tossing around ideas for their next piece, inspired by the spontaneous display of musical camaraderie. The air is thick with the scent of spiced wine, roasted meats, and the warmth of firelight flickering in sconces along the walls.

Yet even as the revelry swells, there is an undercurrent of something else. A thread of tension woven through the evening.

At their table, Vorenus’s words still hang in the air, though Iromae’s touch and Shenua’s reassurance soften the weight of them. The wizard is not alone, though whether he feels that yet remains to be seen.

Diego’s words — his pointed reference to the Artisan’s Guild — had been meant as a lure. And though the stranger’s hood obscures much of his face, Iromae’s watchful eyes do not miss the way his posture stiffens, just for a breath. A reaction. Subtle. Controlled. But there.

The figure does not rise, does not bolt, but he does shift slightly in his seat, as if subtly angling away from the attention. A gloved hand moves toward the mug in front of him, lifting it to his lips in a casual motion that, to the observant, feels just a little too deliberate.

And then Shenua is there, her "accidental" spill and easy laughter providing the perfect excuse to sidle up to the bar beside him. The dragonborn bartender — who had seemed so at home in the noise and chaos before — now looks at her with an oddly scrutinizing gaze before pouring another glass of wine.

It’s enough time for Shenua to take in the figure beside her. The cloak is well-worn but sturdy, designed for travel rather than secrecy. The way he holds himself — still, alert — speaks of someone trained to avoid attention, but not unfamiliar with danger. Beneath the hood, the faintest glimpse of a strong jaw, lightly scarred, catches the dim light.

Then, without looking at her, the man speaks.

"Clumsy hands," he muses, his voice quiet but smooth. "Or just looking for an excuse to move?"

His tone isn’t hostile. If anything, there’s a trace of amusement behind it. And yet, something about the way he says it suggests he knows exactly what Shenua is doing.

At the table, Vorenus’s eye remains on him, while Iromae and Diego have a perfect vantage point to see how this unfolds.

Shenua’s gray skin flushes with a faint violet hue as the hooded man so easily reads her intentions, then lets out a soft chuckle, swirling the fresh wine in her glass. "Oh, you got me," she admits with a small grin. "I'll be honest: these hands are never clumsy. I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to stretch my legs—and I have to say, the entrance of a hooded person caught my attention rather powerfully."

As she speaks, Shenua studies the man more closely. The strong jaw catches her attention, despite the scars on it. She does find strong jaws attractive, and at the thought, she silently chastises herself. "Focus, Shenua."

Her gaze flickers to the scars again, wondering about their nature. Are they related to some "physical" accident? Or something arcane? The artificer has seen enough magical burns and injuries in her work to know the difference.

"Thank you, by the way," Shenua says to the bartender, seizing the moment to study the dragonborn’s reaction. Since she’s standing right in front of the hooded man, does it look like she recognizes him? A flicker of familiarity in her eyes, perhaps? 

Then, shifting her attention back to the stranger, she tilts her head. "You waiting for someone?" she asks, her tone casual, "I’d know better than to bother you too long—regardless of my curiosity."

All the while, she keeps watching him—his posture, his expression, and, his gloved hands. What's beneath them? Another set of scars? Shenua takes a slow sip of wine, hoping he keeps talking long enough for her to find out. (Perception: 15)

The hooded man chuckles again, the sound deep and dry. He swirls the last of his drink in his glass before setting it down with a measured movement. His posture is relaxed — too relaxed, like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. His scars catch the flickering candlelight, and up close, Shenua notes that they’re not just random battle wounds. The faint shimmer along the edges suggests arcane burns — perhaps the remnants of an old spell gone wrong … or right, depending on the caster’s intent.

"You aren’t wrong to be curious," he says finally, his voice smooth but edged with something hardened by experience. "People who wear hoods indoors tend to be hiding something, after all." He turns his glass idly, then lifts his gaze to hers. "But the real question is — why does that curiosity pull at you so much? Are you looking for someone, too?"

There’s no mistaking it now: this man isn’t just someone who happened to wander in. He’s feeling Shenua out, weighing her intentions, and judging whether she’s worth engaging further.

The bartender, the emerald-scaled dragonborn, places a fresh glass in front of Shenua with practiced ease, but her tail flicks once behind her — perhaps the only sign of recognition or unease. Her voice remains pleasant, if a bit reserved. "Anything else for you, sir?"

The hooded man shakes his head. "Not for now, but I appreciate the hospitality."

His gloved fingers drum against the wooden surface, a rhythmic, thoughtful beat. The material is well-worn leather, fitted to his hands perfectly — worn by time, or by necessity? His sleeves cover his wrists, leaving no sign of what lies beneath.

Music weaves its way through the air as a few bards begin playing in the corner. The tavern is alive with sound, laughter, and the flickering of candlelight keeping pace with the notes. Yet here, at the bar, there is a quiet tension, a space where unspoken things press against the edges of conversation.

Shenua grows more intrigued by the hooded man with each passing moment. Could he be the person they are looking for? The scars on his skin bear clear signs of arcane origin, suggesting he might have dabbled in magic in dangerous ways at some point in his life. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he was the one who tampered with the arcane stabilizer.

"Curiosity is the foundation of my work," Shenua tells the man. "It drives scholars to seek knowledge, to invent, to improve. Curiosity and the urge to solve problems are the emotional hallmarks of all species, a professor of mine used to say. I think he was absolutely right."

She tilts her head slightly at his question. "Waiting for someone? Not exactly." After all, she was really waiting for her alarms to go off. "My friends and I spent the morning fixing a marvelous device in the Guild of Artificers, and have decided to feast a little after that. I think we have earned it. " She glances at the man briefly, waiting for any kind of reaction.

Clicking her tongue and then grinning, she continues, "But I see you prefer answering questions with more questions." A second click of her tongue follows. "I suppose my curiosity will not be sated today."

Thinking about the alarms, she realizes that if this man is responsible for setting them off, delaying him might not be the wisest move. "Well, I won’t keep you any longer. My name is Shenua, by the way—though I doubt hooded strangers are in the habit of sharing theirs. Nice talking to you, anyway. If you want a suggestion, the cheese platter pairs perfectly with the red wine."

The tiefling gives him a smile and a nod before returning to her companions. Once at the table, she mutters, "There’s something about that man. A quiet tension. I’m not sure he’s the one who tampered with the device, but I have a feeling he knows something."

Iromae tenses a bit as she realizes that the hooded man is saying something to Shenua. But his overly relaxed posture had her worried. Her hand which was resting on Vorenus' tightens slightly seeking reassurance.

When Shenua returns to the table she breathes a sigh of relief. She hasn't even realized how she was holding her breath.

"He looks dangerous," she says quietly to Shenua. "What did he say? If he's the culprit, have we now tipped him off that we're watching him?"

Vorenus squeezes Ironmae’s hand in reassurance.  “I don’t like the look of him.  Did you notice anything, Shenua?  Any sign of burns on him?  Should I try to charm him, do something to him?  Did he threaten you?”  Vorenus looks at Shenua in a stern manner, glancing back at the man from time to time, sizing him up.  

Shenua lowers her voice when she replies. "He didn't say much, honestly. And I'm not sure he matches the description the waitress gave us of that man who was in the tavern a few nights ago. This one doesn't look like the type to leave hurriedly just because someone is paying attention to him."

She glances again at the hooded figure's back for a moment before looking at her friends. "And yes, that man definitely has 'danger' written all over him. He has scars on his face—arcane in nature, for sure..."

(@ddp: Did the scars look recent? I forgot to ask that in my previous post.)

"...Also, he's hiding his hands with gloves. So they might be scarred as well."

When Vorenus suggests charming the man, Shenua looks doubtful. "I don't know, Vorenus. He looked strong—like he was in total control of the situation. I'm not sure a charm would work on him. Maybe we should leave him be and see if he leaves on his own. If he's the culprit and knows the stabilizer is working again, he'll probably have to leave to finish the job." She shakes her head. "I don't know", she repeats, "But I'll back you if you all decide that's the best course of action".

Trying to maintain the charade that they're celebrating after a job well done, she grabs her glass of wine, clinks it against her friends', and, no longer whispering, lets out a laugh. "Cheers! To a job well done!"

Diego lifts his mug, well done in deed. He winks at Shenua, smiles at Vorenus and Iromae, his eyes lingering on hers as he whispers to the group, perhaps a little cheese for the trap, eyes open friends.

He drains his mug and stands, pulling his lute around he addresses the crowd, perhaps another song is in order? as cheers go up he makes his way through the crowd, I once had the rare privilege of doing some research on the magical weave within an old and rather well stock library belonging to a very beautiful and old vampire. As he takes a seat on the stool he continues, the price was steep but oh so worth it, he winks and smiles be laying a sense that the price was more physical in nature, one night this song came to me.

Using magic he lowers the lights again, the sound of an approaching storm fill the room with flashes of light just as the thunder rolls, he strums the instrument and begins.

a shadowed man sets alone, on certain business of his own. Dirty deeds best done at night, grab a hold friends and hold on tight. As the moon is on the rise, when time is right you'll be surprised. A shadowed man his deed now done...away into the night before the sun.

The last of the thunder sounds, the roll of it giving way to the tolling of a church bell...dramatic pause as the last notes ring done and he brings the lights back up. Thanks everyone and makes his way back to the table. 

@Fair: When Shenua was close, she could tell that the scars on the man's chin were old. The edges were smooth rather than raw, and the skin had that slightly paler, textured look of wounds long healed. They didn’t seem to be from a recent injury — whatever caused them happened a long time ago. However, their arcane nature suggests that they might have been the result of magical backlash, experimentation, or a curse rather than simple combat wounds.

As the last haunting notes of Diego’s song fade, the tavern patrons cheer and clap, though a few look around, perhaps unsettled by the eerie tone of the piece. The hooded man, however, does not join in the applause.

Instead, he lifts his drink slowly, savoring a sip of wine while his gaze — half-hidden beneath the shadow of his hood — lingers on Diego. He does not appear rattled. If anything, his posture shifts ever so slightly, shoulders tilting just enough to suggest interest rather than alarm.

Shenua, keeping an eye on him, notices something subtle but telling: he tenses for the briefest moment when Diego's lyrics mention "dirty deeds best done at night". It’s gone in an instant, replaced by his usual air of unshakable composure. But for those paying attention, it is a sign.

The dragonborn bartender, meanwhile, flicks her gaze between the hooded man and Diego before turning back to polishing glasses. If she recognizes something in the song’s implication, she doesn't say.

A minute later, the hooded man drains the last of his wine, places a few coins on the bar, and rises to his feet. The way he moves is deliberate, calculated — neither rushed nor hesitant. He nods once to the bartender before turning toward the door.

Does he mean to leave? Or is he waiting for something — or someone?

“I’ve got to head to the bathroom, got to get rid of a little wine, if you know what I mean.  I have an idea, something that may help sort out this situation, at least push things forward….”  A smile comes over his face, he gives a mock salute to them as he stands and starts to walk to the bathroom, watching the man out of the corner of his eye.  

Iromae is amongst those in the crowd that find the song to have a bit of an eerie tone. She feels a bit of tension rising in the room as the man stands and turns.  She's very alert, attentive to him.  When Vorenus stands, she whispers to him, "Be careful."  Her wary attention then goes back to the cloaked man.

"...His scars are not recent, by the way. They don't look like combat wounds—more like the result of a curse, experimentation, or magical backlash of some kind," Shenua finishes.

When Vorenus stands up, she glances at him with a hint of worry and tries to mask it by taking a piece of cheese and another sip of wine. What is the wizard going to do? Is he going to try to charm the hooded figure? Her gaze shifts from Vorenus to the mysterious man as she finishes her wine.

Vorenus nods and smiles to Ironmae and Shenua, almost making a “Tut tut tut” sort of sound, looking at them with a look of extreme confidence.  He pulls his cloak around himself and heads to the toilet, closing the door.  

 Grathna walks out of the bathroom and heads back toward the table, directly toward Ironmae and Shenua.  She says, "Did you get a drink for me, Shenua?  I still can't believe your excellent work on the portal!  I thought I'd join you for a drink to celebrate.  It looks totally back to normal!  I left it in tip top shape, quiet in the workshop right now, the perfect time to step out and have a drink!  Where's my glass?"  "Grathna" looks at you with a knowing smile and the tiniest of winks.

Shenua is midway through another piece of cheese when Grathna suddenly appears out of nowhere. She freezes in astonishment for a split second, but as soon as she realizes it's Vorenus in magical disguise, she nearly chokes. Quickly taking a sip of wine to steady herself, she exhales and grins. "Grathna! Glad to see you here! See? I told you stepping out of the office for a breather would do you good. What do you want to drink?"

She turns toward the bar, waving to the dragonborn waitress to signal a new customer. Briefly, her gaze flicks toward the hooded man, trying to gauge his reaction.

With her focus on the cloaked man, Iromae is completely surprised by Grathna's arrival. She doesn't initially realize what is happening until the tiny wink.  Fortunately, Shenua had already made the connection to Vorenus and had played along.  "Yes, welcome!" she says, trying to play along as well. "I'm so glad you could join us."