You have each traveled toward the eastern edge of the Khorvaire continent, arriving within the borders of the Mror Holds, homeland of the Dwarves. The majority of you took the Lightning Rail - a network of magical trains without rails, powered by enslaved lightning elementals, and controlled by the Dragonmarked House of Orion - to the Krona Peak station, the sole Lighting Rail Station within the Mror Holds. Fortunately, your destination is not far from Krona Peak, less than a half day's journey to the north and east, to a trading station and supply depot in the central Iron Mountain region.
Each of you has gained some skill and notoriety as an adventurer, at least enough for you to become aware of the offer of Okkar Ironeyes, your client who funded your travels through letters of credit with the Banking Guild of Kundarak, one in each of your names, specifically designated for travel expenses. You also do not have too much prestige to accept a risky proposition, as the offer was a dubious one, and somewhat ill defined.
The dwarf sought specifically foreign adventurers, mercenary sellswords, to aid him in reclaiming an out of commission mine be described as "lost and accursed." The terms of his contract were that once the mine has been made safe he will lay legal claim to it for his clan to re-open its mining functions, while your reward is to be an even share split of any wealth and plunder currently within the mine. The risks were enough to ward off less seasoned adventurers, the reward dubious enough to ward off more established sellswords.
On the path leading to the trading post, a well paved and marked path winding through the otherwise insurmountable Iron Mountains, each of you met a human missionary, an acolyte of the religion of the Silver Flame. The boy appeared barely out of his teens, and immediately approached each of you with a speech about death, and the inevitable decay of the soul in the realm of the dead. He offered the worship of the Silver Flame as the one sure path to life after death. However you responded to the missionary, you soon moved on to your rendezvous with Okkar Ironeyes.
For those trained in History, or for any Dwarf character, you know the central Iron Mountain region you are in falls within the domain of clan Dronanath, likely the least wealthy and least refined of the great houses of Dwarves, due to the lack of resources within their territory. The idea of a working mine of significant value in this region seems far-fetched, but your client felt it worth paying your travel fees, and you are already committed to the task at this point, having come far too far to turn back.
The trading post is a crudely constructed and poorly maintained structure, not at all the norm for the wealthy and architecturally proud dwarves, but clearly indicative of the poverty of clan Dronanath. Shafts of sunlight shine through broken slats of wood, into a structure built against the wide of a mountain, not out of the dwarven elegance in stonecarving, but sheer laziness, from what you can tell.
A few horses and mules are tied up outside drinking from a dirty trough with large fat flies buzzing around their head. Piles of horse feces new and old go unkempt. The trading post itself seems to be a small store and supply station, manned by a group of aged dwarves with visible injuries, some with prosthetic limbs in poor repair, indicating they could no longer work as miners. The building is divided in two with a curtain inside. On the curtain faded paint labels the other half of the structure as "Saloon," written in the Common language. In the saloon there are five rickety tables, each jutting with splinters, and curse words carved into their surfaces in both Common and Dwarven, as well as crude drawings.
The bartender, a pregnant dwarven woman who smokes a foul smelling pipe, says to the first of you who arrive, "You hear for Okkar? He rented the room. Such as it is. Drinks included. We don't have any ice." She leaves "drinks," a single three quarters full bottle of whisky, as well as seven glasses, most of them chipped and cracked.
OOC: Your client, Okkar Ironeyes, has not arrived as of yet. Please introduce your character, including a physical description, and feel free to role play your initial meeting. As the room is reserved, you are aware any others you meet here are likely the other adventurers Okkar contracted, or the client himself. These are the people you will be going into danger alongside, and if successful, the people you will be diving the spoils with.
Once everyone has introduced their character and has some initial exchanges among yourself, I will introduce the NPC contact, and the game will proceed from there. As 5e has a system of downtime, long and short rests, conversations will be able to be continued during rests - and these can continue "out of context" for times where I as DM am not advancing the adventure itself.
I plan to post daily, and would like each of you to do the same if possible, during weekdays. Schedules vary, of course. Weekend posts will be more sporadic. I will try to provide advance notice of any planned delays. If I am unable to post during a weekend, for example, you can feel free to continue inter-character interactions if you wish, with the understanding that these may have taken place during downtime, travel, or short or long rests.
Galtheon stands to one side of the doorway, letting his eyes adjust, then takes in the scene. At the bartenders question, he nods.
“I am.”
He moves to the bar in long, efficient strides and pours a drink for himself. Nodding to the bartender, he says "Thank you". He takes a sip, then turns and carries it to a table near a corner of the room, placing it on the table.
He shrugs off his backpack and bow, placing them near a seat, but does not sit himself. Instead, he starts loosening his muscles and joints, unaccustomed to long bumpy journeys in a wooden seat.
His lean frame and weather-worn skin don’t give much away, but the two swords at his side and the bow he carries look well used and well looked after. In fact there is little about him that looks other than well-worn. His brown hair is cropped to a functional length, and his green eyes look like they have seen many years.
The bartender collects a bag from behind the bar, holding her stomach with the hand gripping the pipe for a moment, and she lets out a small grunt. “Baby’s kicking. Must not like the company. Okkar told us to expect some outsiders. Baby’s got no reason to be prejudiced. He wasn’t around in the war, to see all them terrible things the elves did, was he now?” She speaks to her own belly with this last comment, and makes no distinction as to whether the elf in her bar was involved in wartime atrocities or even when specific war crimes she might be referring to.
The one thing that is clear is the war she is taking about: The War. The Last War, as it’s known, that tore the continent of Khorvaire asunder for decades, one which the now peaceful kingdoms of the continent have agreed will be their last, per the peace pact signed at Thronehold.
“The room is yours, Okkar paid coin upfront. I’ll leave you to it.” She leaves through to curtain, giving one last harsh look over her shoulder as she departs.
As I walk into the saloon, the first thing I notice is all the carvings on the table that I cannot read. Once I look up from my distraction, I see one person in the room. I walk up to the person and say kind of timidly, "Hi there. Um. Are you Okkar?"
In front of you, you see a blue tiefling with yellow eyes, and black hair that is pulled back. Weirdly her horns blend in with her hair. She is wearing a blue cloak with silver/gray embroidery. Her average build and smaller height make her look younger than she really is.
Taraven, when passing through the trading post section of the structure to the saloon section, received some stares from the dwarves who run the place. One wore overalls and had a clearly poorly grafted on right arm, an Artificer’s work that looks like it was done rushed, or badly. The flesh of what remains of his upper bicep visibly bows out over the thinner metal of the lower section, raw and rugged, and you saw him struggling to clench and unclench a fist with the limb when you arrived. He, and the other dwarves, had all stopped what they were doing to openly stare at the tiefling woman.
A dwarven woman clutching her protruding stomach had nearly bumped into you, exiting the curtain as you were entering. Her only comment was, “Okkar is an odd one. Guess he keeps odd company, too.”
The tiefling woman and the elf male are in the saloon area together. The elf has a glass of whisky, and you see six other glasses remaining unclaimed.
A young human male in dusty travelling clothes and with a scimitar strapped to his side steps through the door.
"Hello," he says to the room in general. "I've been on the road for days and I need water for my horse and something a lot stronger for myself. Are either of you the proprietor of this fine establishment?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
---
Tyrus Mountson: Lvl 3 Dwarvish Bard; Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist) Nanoc the Younger: Semi-retired Lvl 2 Rogue / Level 2 Barbarian Human; The Knuckle, Mror Holds, Ebberon. The Honourable Jaden Fellan: Level 3 Human Eldritch Knight; Band of Sunswall
AKA: Phillip Berrie: writer, editor and academic thrillseeker—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
Galtheon frowns, his first inclination to just shake his head and take another sip of whiskey, but he's come this far, he may as well try to make a good impression on the people who are likely to be his traveling companions.
"No" he says, then, feeling positively loquacious, adds "Take a seat. Whiskeys free. We wait for Okkar."
"Whiskey, eh?" says the newcomer, running a hand through his dark hair. "Sounds good. I'll be back."
A minute or so later, he returns carrying a backpack, shield and saddle bags, which he drops unceremoniously onto one of the table. "You can never be too careful," he says to the room in general. "There be thieves everywhere."
He then spends some time looking through his backpack, incorporating into the movement of his hands a general query in Thieves Cant, the equivalent of ''Sup?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
---
Tyrus Mountson: Lvl 3 Dwarvish Bard; Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist) Nanoc the Younger: Semi-retired Lvl 2 Rogue / Level 2 Barbarian Human; The Knuckle, Mror Holds, Ebberon. The Honourable Jaden Fellan: Level 3 Human Eldritch Knight; Band of Sunswall
AKA: Phillip Berrie: writer, editor and academic thrillseeker—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
Galtheon watches the young human for a while, then loses interest and takes another sip of his whiskey.
Finally he frowns at the continued search, and asks, "Lost something?"
(( ooc: any chance Galtheon recognizes Cant? Obviously he can't understand it. In either case, his response would be unchanged; Edit: not sure which, if any, roll is appropriate here..."no" is a fine answer: Galtheon doesn't spend much time around people...but he is old ))
"I've done some," the young man says, looking at the bottle and the empty glasses.
"I'm Nanoc, son of Nanoc," he adds, heading over to the table and picking up the bottle. "People call me the younger, but pa is dead and so Nanoc will be just fine."
He then takes a gulp of the liquor straight from the bottle and screws up his face as he swallows the rough spirit.
"Ahh," he says in a breathy voice after a moment. "And just what I needed. It's been a long couple of days through the mountains without any grog."
Then, bottle still in hand, he turns and asks, "And who might you two be? I'm guessing since neither of you are dwarves, you're not Ocker."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
---
Tyrus Mountson: Lvl 3 Dwarvish Bard; Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist) Nanoc the Younger: Semi-retired Lvl 2 Rogue / Level 2 Barbarian Human; The Knuckle, Mror Holds, Ebberon. The Honourable Jaden Fellan: Level 3 Human Eldritch Knight; Band of Sunswall
AKA: Phillip Berrie: writer, editor and academic thrillseeker—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
You notice an elf with blue eyes and dark hair in odd contrast to her pale skin enter, skipping along, as if she is very excited about this new adventure. She claims a glass of whiskey then looks to the teifling. "Hi! I'm Kerina. You are blue!" Underneath this bubbly exterior, you can't help but notice she is scanning the room, noting all the possible exits.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
May all of your spells roll the best things for the situation on the wild magic table and all your checks to seduce dragons roll nat 20's
Galtheon's gaze follows the human, Nanoc, briefly, then he shrugs and nods at Kerina and the Tiefling, "I can only imagine we have all been chosen because we are not dwarves, and therefor perhaps more expendable. I am Galtheon of Selvatar."
Kerina shifts her wondering stare from the teifling's blue skin to Galtheon. "Hello Gal!" *corrects herself* "Galtheon. May I call you Gal?" As she looks at you with a pleading expression, you are momentarily entranced by the beautiful specks of gold in her blue eyes.
"Cerys will be fine." Ilecerys takes the whisky bottle and swirls is a bit. "My elvish ancestors and the dwarves haven't always gotten along, but I will say this for the short ones. I admire their honesty. And so this dwarvish drink pretends to be nothing else than barely palatable poison. Perhaps some boiled water for tea?"
He looks toward wherever the bartender might have disappeared to.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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You have each traveled toward the eastern edge of the Khorvaire continent, arriving within the borders of the Mror Holds, homeland of the Dwarves. The majority of you took the Lightning Rail - a network of magical trains without rails, powered by enslaved lightning elementals, and controlled by the Dragonmarked House of Orion - to the Krona Peak station, the sole Lighting Rail Station within the Mror Holds. Fortunately, your destination is not far from Krona Peak, less than a half day's journey to the north and east, to a trading station and supply depot in the central Iron Mountain region.
Each of you has gained some skill and notoriety as an adventurer, at least enough for you to become aware of the offer of Okkar Ironeyes, your client who funded your travels through letters of credit with the Banking Guild of Kundarak, one in each of your names, specifically designated for travel expenses. You also do not have too much prestige to accept a risky proposition, as the offer was a dubious one, and somewhat ill defined.
The dwarf sought specifically foreign adventurers, mercenary sellswords, to aid him in reclaiming an out of commission mine be described as "lost and accursed." The terms of his contract were that once the mine has been made safe he will lay legal claim to it for his clan to re-open its mining functions, while your reward is to be an even share split of any wealth and plunder currently within the mine. The risks were enough to ward off less seasoned adventurers, the reward dubious enough to ward off more established sellswords.
On the path leading to the trading post, a well paved and marked path winding through the otherwise insurmountable Iron Mountains, each of you met a human missionary, an acolyte of the religion of the Silver Flame. The boy appeared barely out of his teens, and immediately approached each of you with a speech about death, and the inevitable decay of the soul in the realm of the dead. He offered the worship of the Silver Flame as the one sure path to life after death. However you responded to the missionary, you soon moved on to your rendezvous with Okkar Ironeyes.
For those trained in History, or for any Dwarf character, you know the central Iron Mountain region you are in falls within the domain of clan Dronanath, likely the least wealthy and least refined of the great houses of Dwarves, due to the lack of resources within their territory. The idea of a working mine of significant value in this region seems far-fetched, but your client felt it worth paying your travel fees, and you are already committed to the task at this point, having come far too far to turn back.
The trading post is a crudely constructed and poorly maintained structure, not at all the norm for the wealthy and architecturally proud dwarves, but clearly indicative of the poverty of clan Dronanath. Shafts of sunlight shine through broken slats of wood, into a structure built against the wide of a mountain, not out of the dwarven elegance in stonecarving, but sheer laziness, from what you can tell.
A few horses and mules are tied up outside drinking from a dirty trough with large fat flies buzzing around their head. Piles of horse feces new and old go unkempt. The trading post itself seems to be a small store and supply station, manned by a group of aged dwarves with visible injuries, some with prosthetic limbs in poor repair, indicating they could no longer work as miners. The building is divided in two with a curtain inside. On the curtain faded paint labels the other half of the structure as "Saloon," written in the Common language. In the saloon there are five rickety tables, each jutting with splinters, and curse words carved into their surfaces in both Common and Dwarven, as well as crude drawings.
The bartender, a pregnant dwarven woman who smokes a foul smelling pipe, says to the first of you who arrive, "You hear for Okkar? He rented the room. Such as it is. Drinks included. We don't have any ice." She leaves "drinks," a single three quarters full bottle of whisky, as well as seven glasses, most of them chipped and cracked.
OOC: Your client, Okkar Ironeyes, has not arrived as of yet. Please introduce your character, including a physical description, and feel free to role play your initial meeting. As the room is reserved, you are aware any others you meet here are likely the other adventurers Okkar contracted, or the client himself. These are the people you will be going into danger alongside, and if successful, the people you will be diving the spoils with.
Once everyone has introduced their character and has some initial exchanges among yourself, I will introduce the NPC contact, and the game will proceed from there. As 5e has a system of downtime, long and short rests, conversations will be able to be continued during rests - and these can continue "out of context" for times where I as DM am not advancing the adventure itself.
I plan to post daily, and would like each of you to do the same if possible, during weekdays. Schedules vary, of course. Weekend posts will be more sporadic. I will try to provide advance notice of any planned delays. If I am unable to post during a weekend, for example, you can feel free to continue inter-character interactions if you wish, with the understanding that these may have taken place during downtime, travel, or short or long rests.
Galtheon stands to one side of the doorway, letting his eyes adjust, then takes in the scene. At the bartenders question, he nods.
“I am.”
He moves to the bar in long, efficient strides and pours a drink for himself. Nodding to the bartender, he says "Thank you". He takes a sip, then turns and carries it to a table near a corner of the room, placing it on the table.
He shrugs off his backpack and bow, placing them near a seat, but does not sit himself. Instead, he starts loosening his muscles and joints, unaccustomed to long bumpy journeys in a wooden seat.
His lean frame and weather-worn skin don’t give much away, but the two swords at his side and the bow he carries look well used and well looked after. In fact there is little about him that looks other than well-worn. His brown hair is cropped to a functional length, and his green eyes look like they have seen many years.
The bartender collects a bag from behind the bar, holding her stomach with the hand gripping the pipe for a moment, and she lets out a small grunt. “Baby’s kicking. Must not like the company. Okkar told us to expect some outsiders. Baby’s got no reason to be prejudiced. He wasn’t around in the war, to see all them terrible things the elves did, was he now?” She speaks to her own belly with this last comment, and makes no distinction as to whether the elf in her bar was involved in wartime atrocities or even when specific war crimes she might be referring to.
The one thing that is clear is the war she is taking about: The War. The Last War, as it’s known, that tore the continent of Khorvaire asunder for decades, one which the now peaceful kingdoms of the continent have agreed will be their last, per the peace pact signed at Thronehold.
“The room is yours, Okkar paid coin upfront. I’ll leave you to it.” She leaves through to curtain, giving one last harsh look over her shoulder as she departs.
As I walk into the saloon, the first thing I notice is all the carvings on the table that I cannot read. Once I look up from my distraction, I see one person in the room. I walk up to the person and say kind of timidly, "Hi there. Um. Are you Okkar?"
In front of you, you see a blue tiefling with yellow eyes, and black hair that is pulled back. Weirdly her horns blend in with her hair. She is wearing a blue cloak with silver/gray embroidery. Her average build and smaller height make her look younger than she really is.
Taraven, when passing through the trading post section of the structure to the saloon section, received some stares from the dwarves who run the place. One wore overalls and had a clearly poorly grafted on right arm, an Artificer’s work that looks like it was done rushed, or badly. The flesh of what remains of his upper bicep visibly bows out over the thinner metal of the lower section, raw and rugged, and you saw him struggling to clench and unclench a fist with the limb when you arrived. He, and the other dwarves, had all stopped what they were doing to openly stare at the tiefling woman.
A dwarven woman clutching her protruding stomach had nearly bumped into you, exiting the curtain as you were entering. Her only comment was, “Okkar is an odd one. Guess he keeps odd company, too.”
The tiefling woman and the elf male are in the saloon area together. The elf has a glass of whisky, and you see six other glasses remaining unclaimed.
Galtheon stops stretching at looks at the Tiefling, then shakes his head "Not I."
"Okkar will meet us, I'm told."
He glances at the bar, "The drink is free, if you like cheap dwarven whisky."
((ooc: is it cheap dwarven whisky? he would not say it if not...the setting seems to suggest it ))
OOC: It most certainly is.
A young human male in dusty travelling clothes and with a scimitar strapped to his side steps through the door.
"Hello," he says to the room in general. "I've been on the road for days and I need water for my horse and something a lot stronger for myself. Are either of you the proprietor of this fine establishment?"
---
Tyrus Mountson: Lvl 3 Dwarvish Bard; Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist)
Nanoc the Younger: Semi-retired Lvl 2 Rogue / Level 2 Barbarian Human; The Knuckle, Mror Holds, Ebberon.
The Honourable Jaden Fellan: Level 3 Human Eldritch Knight; Band of Sunswall
AKA: Phillip Berrie: writer, editor and academic thrillseeker—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
Galtheon frowns, his first inclination to just shake his head and take another sip of whiskey, but he's come this far, he may as well try to make a good impression on the people who are likely to be his traveling companions.
"No" he says, then, feeling positively loquacious, adds "Take a seat. Whiskeys free. We wait for Okkar."
"Whiskey, eh?" says the newcomer, running a hand through his dark hair. "Sounds good. I'll be back."
A minute or so later, he returns carrying a backpack, shield and saddle bags, which he drops unceremoniously onto one of the table. "You can never be too careful," he says to the room in general. "There be thieves everywhere."
He then spends some time looking through his backpack, incorporating into the movement of his hands a general query in Thieves Cant, the equivalent of ''Sup?"
---
Tyrus Mountson: Lvl 3 Dwarvish Bard; Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist)
Nanoc the Younger: Semi-retired Lvl 2 Rogue / Level 2 Barbarian Human; The Knuckle, Mror Holds, Ebberon.
The Honourable Jaden Fellan: Level 3 Human Eldritch Knight; Band of Sunswall
AKA: Phillip Berrie: writer, editor and academic thrillseeker—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
Galtheon watches the young human for a while, then loses interest and takes another sip of his whiskey.
Finally he frowns at the continued search, and asks, "Lost something?"
(( ooc: any chance Galtheon recognizes Cant? Obviously he can't understand it. In either case, his response would be unchanged; Edit: not sure which, if any, roll is appropriate here..."no" is a fine answer: Galtheon doesn't spend much time around people...but he is old ))
"Nope," replies the young man, pulling something from his backpack. "Here it is."
He then puts around his neck a necklace made up of sharp teeth centred around a pale grey object about 4 x 3 inches in size.
---
Tyrus Mountson: Lvl 3 Dwarvish Bard; Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist)
Nanoc the Younger: Semi-retired Lvl 2 Rogue / Level 2 Barbarian Human; The Knuckle, Mror Holds, Ebberon.
The Honourable Jaden Fellan: Level 3 Human Eldritch Knight; Band of Sunswall
AKA: Phillip Berrie: writer, editor and academic thrillseeker—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
(( ooc: does Galtheon recognize the teeth? Survival/Perception? Same roll: 18 ; edit: if it's nature then 5 less))
Galtheon frowns, "You are a hunter?"
"I've done some," the young man says, looking at the bottle and the empty glasses.
"I'm Nanoc, son of Nanoc," he adds, heading over to the table and picking up the bottle. "People call me the younger, but pa is dead and so Nanoc will be just fine."
He then takes a gulp of the liquor straight from the bottle and screws up his face as he swallows the rough spirit.
"Ahh," he says in a breathy voice after a moment. "And just what I needed. It's been a long couple of days through the mountains without any grog."
Then, bottle still in hand, he turns and asks, "And who might you two be? I'm guessing since neither of you are dwarves, you're not Ocker."
---
Tyrus Mountson: Lvl 3 Dwarvish Bard; Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist)
Nanoc the Younger: Semi-retired Lvl 2 Rogue / Level 2 Barbarian Human; The Knuckle, Mror Holds, Ebberon.
The Honourable Jaden Fellan: Level 3 Human Eldritch Knight; Band of Sunswall
AKA: Phillip Berrie: writer, editor and academic thrillseeker—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
A simply dressed half-elf, bald with a shoulder length braid walks in, surveys the room, and smiles.
"You must be friends of our patron," he says to the assembled group. "I'm Ilecerys."
He takes an empty glass, eyes the whisky bottle suspiciously, and sits with noticeable stillness near the rest.
"Hi, Ill... Ilk," says the young man with the bottle. "My name's Nanoc. You want some whiskey? It's free."
Nanoc hops off the table he was perched on and proffers the bottle to the newcomer.
---
Tyrus Mountson: Lvl 3 Dwarvish Bard; Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist)
Nanoc the Younger: Semi-retired Lvl 2 Rogue / Level 2 Barbarian Human; The Knuckle, Mror Holds, Ebberon.
The Honourable Jaden Fellan: Level 3 Human Eldritch Knight; Band of Sunswall
AKA: Phillip Berrie: writer, editor and academic thrillseeker—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
You notice an elf with blue eyes and dark hair in odd contrast to her pale skin enter, skipping along, as if she is very excited about this new adventure. She claims a glass of whiskey then looks to the teifling. "Hi! I'm Kerina. You are blue!" Underneath this bubbly exterior, you can't help but notice she is scanning the room, noting all the possible exits.
May all of your spells roll the best things for the situation on the wild magic table and all your checks to seduce dragons roll nat 20's
My first char (and namesake) Lili Scheppen!
Proud member of the cult of grammar! (grand inquisitor)
Galtheon's gaze follows the human, Nanoc, briefly, then he shrugs and nods at Kerina and the Tiefling, "I can only imagine we have all been chosen because we are not dwarves, and therefor perhaps more expendable. I am Galtheon of Selvatar."
Kerina shifts her wondering stare from the teifling's blue skin to Galtheon. "Hello Gal!" *corrects herself* "Galtheon. May I call you Gal?" As she looks at you with a pleading expression, you are momentarily entranced by the beautiful specks of gold in her blue eyes.
May all of your spells roll the best things for the situation on the wild magic table and all your checks to seduce dragons roll nat 20's
My first char (and namesake) Lili Scheppen!
Proud member of the cult of grammar! (grand inquisitor)
"Cerys will be fine." Ilecerys takes the whisky bottle and swirls is a bit. "My elvish ancestors and the dwarves haven't always gotten along, but I will say this for the short ones. I admire their honesty. And so this dwarvish drink pretends to be nothing else than barely palatable poison. Perhaps some boiled water for tea?"
He looks toward wherever the bartender might have disappeared to.