Mucor will walk in from outside, standing in the doorway and giving himself a good shake. As he does, his dirty matted hair seems to rain dust, dirt, and spores on to the floor around him. The Minotaur stands about 7 feet tall, and although his hair and disheveled appearance would make you think he would smell like a wet dog or stinking farm animal... he actually just smells like dirt. As the Minotaur spots his companions, he will make his way towards them with a large smile on his face. Mucor is careful to swing his head on occasion as to not bump them into light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. The scalemail he wares is very rusty and the leather straps that keep it held in place appear damp and different shades of white and green, as though covered in mold and mildew.
"Hey guys! Whats for lunch? He will say with a smile, sitting down next to the Kinku. "I'll have a salad, some veggies, and three beers" the Minotaur will say to the waitress. The chair will creak loudly under his weigh as he takes his backpack from his back and lays it on the ground beside him. The leather on the outside of the pack appears fairly worn but the leather on the back of the backpack that is in constant contact with this skin and fur is a number of fuzzy shades of white and green with occasional black fuzzy bumps.
"Consider the tab open. How does 2 glasses to start sound? looking at Onyx. Last I heard the Drekthar kingdom is within a 100 miles of us now but my daddy says they're probably closer. He said that a scouting group is a week late and he's starting to think they got caught up in some trouble. He's one of the head guards here. Comin right up Mr bull man." the barmaid says and rushes back to the bar to pickup and drop off.
The youthful human barmaid returns with with the meat platter an assortment of pork and beef cooked to perfection and 2 glasses of aged whiskey that has a sweet taste of honey to start then begins to turn spicy into a delicious smoky flavor. She picks up the silver pieces from Yera and rushes off to pick up the 3 beers and brings them to Mucor and awaits any new orders for food/ drink that may come her way.
"Thanks a bunch" Mucor will say with a smile. After looking down at his salad he will make a quick look around before scratching at the long shaggy hair under his neck.. His hand disappearing in the matted mess before emedgind with a couple mushrooms. After crushing them up and sprinkling them across the top of his meal he begins digging in. In between large bites he will pick up a mug of beer and quickly down the entire glass before continuing to eat the food. "So guys, What's the next job hu?" he will say as small pieces of lettuce and veggies fall from his mouth.
A reasonably tall, rangy human follows a bit after the Minotaur, stopping momentarily at the doorway to kick the mud from the bottom of his boots and to pull the roughspun cowl back from his head. This reveals a head of short tousled blonde hair, a rather handsome face, and bright cerulean blue eyes that seem to dart quickly around the environment. The fellow grins a rakish smile and swaggers over to the table that his companions have gathered at, confidence and coordination apparent in his simple movements. It becomes apparent to anyone watching that Quentin Caruso has a dashing sort of quality about him, the sort of panache that usually accompanies people for whom excitement and trouble are regular occurrences. His studded leather armor protects a lean and sinewy frame, but otherwise the young man doesn't appear to be armed or encumbered by much else. He grabs a chair at the table and pulls it out with a little spin flourish and sits reverse upon it, long legs splayed out and arms crossed on the top of the chair's backrest. As the barmaid comes and goes with his party's orders, the youth openly sizes her up with his quick eyes and smiles charmingly.
"Well ain't you a sight for road sore eyes, darlin. Bout the finest thing I've seen in quite a spell. I'll happily take one of those mugs of mead, and go ahead and throw another haunch of whatever's cookin back there on a plate for me." The young rake pulls a few silver coins from the pouch at his side and hands them over with another grin and a wink, "Anything left is for you, hun."
With one silver coin still left in his hand, the young man will start rolling the coin across the knuckles of his right hand, displaying impressive finger agility. He turns toward his companions and makes an elaborate and overly dramatic sigh. "So what are you squawking about now, eh Grunting? Miss the wind in your feathers already? Our seats aren't even warmed by our backsides yet. Take a moment and enjoy the fruits of our labors." He says smiling, making a pointed gesture toward the Kenku's fruit dish. Then to the rest of his fellows, "You all in a hurry like Grunting? I suppose I could be tempted to forgo the comforts of this town..." Quentin trails off for a moment, head turned in the direction the barmaid took before swinging his gaze back to the party, "if'n the pay was right. Any of ya'll heard of any more work, or are you just thinking of going out and looking for some trouble?" Another devious, rakish smile. "Ya'll know I prefer the latter."
Yera side-eyes Quentin as he makes his comments to the barmaid and gives a breathy sigh. Turning toward's Mucor, the halfling begins to address his query, "Well, I don't know. Personally, I'm just looking for work right now, but Grunting over there seems keenly interested in our neighbors to the south." In the middle of this conversation, she started picking the corn from her teeth with a fork, "I don't know if you fellows want to... eh... cooperate on another 'project' or two. But where ever some nasties need to be scrubbed away, I'll be there." After speaking her peace, Yera went silent, awaiting a response.
(Bolded () means OOC for me and () means what grunting is trying to convey. ex: (I think we should go into the cave)) Grunting draws fast and crudely on a paper. quickly showing it to Quentin. It depicts from what you can tell, Grunting and Co. all in beds. he takes out another paper and quickly doodles on it again. Showing it to Quentin then the rest of the group. it shows them all 'killing' piles labeled goblins. "KAWW!" (We should rest then go out in search for more treasure.)
With both glasses of whiskey in each hand, Onyx offered a scowl for an answer toward Quentin in regards to leaving so quickly. The rest of the talking and literal squawking going ignored as the gray dwarf kept his focus on the whiskey and plate of meat in front of him. Preferring to have a full belly of both before dealing with the groups incessant ramblings. The money they just got was good, damn good, and while Onyx wouldn't mind another job he likes when the jangle he made from moving was from his armor and weapons, not the gold burning a hole in his pocket.
Looking at the sketches presented to him by the lively Kenku, Quentin shakes his head slowly and tisks in apparent, though perhaps very slightly sarcastic, admiration.
"Whew, you have quite a way with words there Grunty ole' boy. I smell what your cookin, and it sounds like a right tasty plan to me." Glancing over toward Yera, "Looks like both you and the artist over here have the same idea about busting some heads, and I think we'd all be happy to cooperate in that endeavor again." The rogue grins and jerks a thumb in Onyx's direction. "I'd bet even Onyx over here'd be game for some more fun. You know how much he likes givin' folk hugs in that prickly get-up of his."
Quentin chuckles to himself and directs his attention momentarily to the coin dancing across his knuckles. He stops it halfway across his hand and begins moving it in the opposite direction, twirling it around his fingers from time to time, then rests it on the top of his thumb, flips it into the air and lets it land once again on the top of his hand before beginning the dancing process anew. Still grinning like the cat that ate the canary, he looks back to his companions.
"So, what are ya'lls thoughts on this 'incursion' of the Drekthar? Seems to me like those boys are itchin' for a scrape, and I'm sure these Azuven folk would be happy to find a bit o' help with that situation. Maybe we can pursue this here plan," Quentin places a long slender finger on Grunting's illustration, "with a little financial backing from some of the highfalutin individuals around here that don't want the Drekthar moving in all neighborly like. Like my ole' crew always said, never do nothin' useful for free."
Yera's face turns slightly sullen at the mention of the strange warlike conflict. She looks down and fidgets with her hands for a few moments before responding. "I suppose that would be a... a nice thing to do." Remembering her thoughts from their walk to the inn after receiving their reward, Yera perks up a bit, "I was thinking we could look about town for some work oppertunities. Ya know, like, trying to find someone who needs a problem taken... uh... taken care of?" Starting to sip at the rest of her second mug of mead, Yera awaited further input from the rest of their group.
Grunting takes several pages of paper and a few pieces of parchment and starts scribbling like mad. after the few minutes it takes to get done. he lays them out and points to them in order. he depicts a full day through the medium of a few pictures. First, it shows the group talking at the table, then the group resting under a moon. then the party talking to a non-discript person in town. then It depicts the group slaying some beasts, saving a girl, and then them heading back to town. He pauses for a moment and scribbles on one last sheet... It's just a pile of money and expensive things. "Kaw!" He sits back in his chair confidently waiting for the group to comment on his complete plan for the next 24-48 hours or so.
Finishing one glass of whiskey, Onyx would push that one away in hopes of getting a refill as he works on the other. The plate of pork and beef almost gone as well. Both helping the gray dwarf stay distracted from the others, but only slightly. "I got a hug for even you, Quentin" He lets escape between bites of food. The cawing still grating, he'd return to the whiskey.
“Hereyougodear” the barmaid says as she brings Quentin his order. A large pork haunch with 2 grilled eats of corn. she picks up the empty glass and heads back to the bar. She’s back in only a few moments with your refill.
A tall aasimar dressed in leathers and stained white robes strides into the bar, a black, bloodstained axe swinging at his side and a shield bearing the symbol of a black cross slung across his back. He waves away the barmaid as she approaches and stands beside his companions, not bothering to remove his heavy iron helm or scale mail. His eyes and the upper half of his head are hidden behind his helmet, and all that can be seen of his face is his square jaw and mouth, set in a grim line. He looks around at his assembled companions, his face expressionless.
"Well fought, comrades. Your salvation is imminent."
"Ya know grunting, You can borrow my words any time you want if you find it easier than drawing... although I do like your pictures." The minotaur will say wiping crumbs from his face and beard-like large tufts of hair covering his neck. A moment later the Minotaur will look at each drawling in order. "Find work, slay the beasts and complete the task, save the princess, Return to town, profit....." Mucor will say while scratching his chin..... "Sounds like a good plan to me!"