Clearly startled by Master Laereeryn, Aera says, "Hello sir! I would be interested in a pan flute?" He gazes around the room, wonderstruck at how beautiful the instruments are.
"Ah, a fine choice indeed, though not an inexpensive one." Rebeth smiles broadly, taking a measure of Aera's gear. "No offense intended, my friend, but perhaps a bit beyond your means." The pair dicker back and forth, but the half-elf will not be talked down to a price that the Aarococra can afford today. "Perhaps you'd be interested in something else? A more traditional flute, perhaps, or a horn?"
Master Laereeryn nods in understanding and leads you to a shelf with a small selection to choose from, all carved or otherwise decorated in a variety of styles, allowing you to choose one that appeals. He takes your payment of 2 GP with gracious thanks. "Please, do come back when you have more time." With that, he sees you out and on your way.
Aera hurries off to the tavern, satisfied at his choice of flute. He bought a rustic walnut wood one, and he thinks it reflects his outlandish lifestyle. Once he gets to the tavern, he gets to a table, pulls out his flute, and starts playing a cheerful melody. He wants to test his flute skills, as he hasn't played in a while.
The three would-be adventurers find their way through Neverwinter’s River District and to the tavern known as The Fallen Tower. They locate it with little difficulty - the place is a local landmark, after all. Before them stands the jagged stump of what must have once been a much grander edifice. Little more than the bottom story of the original building remains, with a more recently constructed wing added on to the side, apparently constructed of blocks of stone scavenged from the debris left over from the upper level’s destruction. Entering the place through a sturdy oaken door with a sign overhead, unnecessarily advertising the name, you see a depressingly ordinary tavern room. Smoky and dimly lit, a bog-standard bar, scattered tables arranged around a central fire pit surrounded by a railing, low wooden ceiling - all very much like that found in countless other taverns found the length and breadth of Faerun.
Once inside, you’ve each found a table or seat and settled in to wait for your host, a dwarf by the name of Gundren Rockseeker. A hour-candle on the wall marks the passing of seven bells, the appointed meeting time, but about 10 minutes later, you each are approached by one of the barmaids and asked to a private meeting room, accessible through a door off to one side of the main tap room. Ushering you in, the girls take your drink requests and leave. Inside is a cozy, private sitting room with a semi-circle of chairs facing a small fireplace and a side table with a variety of food laid out. In one of the chairs, sits Gundren (or so you assume) dressed in the tailored clothes of a merchant. Behind him, next to the fireplace stands a middle-aged human, unarmored, but with a sword at his hip. Though perhaps past his prime, he looks formidable enough, with a handful of visible scars indicating he’s seen his share of combat.
“Come in, friends, come in. Help yourself to some dinner, have a seat, and we can discuss why I’ve asked you all to meet me here. Adventure awaits, out in the country beyond Neverwinter’s walls, and I think we can find some mutual benefit in it, if you are interested.”
Immediately uneasy with the setting, Gorgar chooses to ignore the offer of food and carefully moves toward the seat farthest from Gundren. "You are quite kind, sir, but I must respectfully decline, as I have just eaten. It seems as though I am not alone with the invitation to meet you hear this evening. I can only assume that these two are also a bit confused. Adventure you say? Please, tell me more and help me understand why you'd offer such hospitality to strangers such as myself."
Upon hearing Gorgar's words Whistling Wind quickly takes the opportunity and echoes his "Tell me more". He does not have much experience but the situation seems irregular from what he expected, and based on the uncomfortable looks and words of his companions he is not alone. Yet Gundren seems friendly enough so he leans forward and fills a small plate with some food, both to be polite to his host and to satiate his empty stomach from his long day in the woods.
"As you wish." At Whistling Wind's spot-on repetition of Gorgar's phrase, the dwarf's eyes widen a bit, and a small smile ghosts across his lips. "Fascinating. I've heard stories of the kenku and their ability to mimic others, but I'll admit to not having actually met one in person until now. Welcome, indeed, my friend. It will be interesting to spend more time with you, I'm quite sure." He rises and collects his own plate of food before returning to his seat. Motioning towards the laden board, he adds "Eat, Sildar, there is plenty for all. No need to loom over me, sit and eat." The other man, too, fills a plate and takes a seat in one of the armchairs. "I thought you'd never ask, but I wasn't sure what sort of show you'd want to put on for the new blood." He chuckles and digs into his food, seemingly content to let the dwarf do the talking.
"You've all come highly recommended, as I suspect you already know, from sources that I trust, but you're wise to be leery of me, as you only know me by name, and whatever you've already heard from others. Fair enough. As you no doubt know, the Sword Coast is ripe for plunder. The hills and forests of the entire region are scattered with ruins. Mines, keeps and castles fallen to ruin, once-thriving towns now empty, either lain to waste long ago or abandoned by their former inhabitants for one reason or another long forgotten. I'm a business man, I am, and along with two of my brothers, we've undertaken a project to resettle one of those lost towns. Phandalin, it's called, off to the south, in the foothills of the Sword Mountains - ripe with old mines ready for reopening to a healthy profit. The old histories say that Phandalin was a wealthy town once, but fell to an orc horde that swept out of the mountains generations ago." He pauses to take a drink from the mug at his elbow before continuing. "Plenty of opportunity to help resettle the town, deal with any, ah, incursions by the creatures in the area, and do a fair bit of exploring for forgotten treasures. Just the thing I'd expect a trio of would-be adventurer's such as yourselves to be interested in, I hope. To start, I can pay a bit of gold for you to merely get down to Phandalin, up front even. I have a wagon full of supplies that needs to be escorted to town and delivered to Barthen's Provisions. mining supplies, some food - nothing too interesting, but a smart man doesn't trust the roads once you get too far from town. Better safe than sorry. Once you get to Phandalin? Well, up to you I suppose, to find your fortunes from there. I may have other work myself, or others may as well."
Whistling Wind listened to Gundrens words and found himself drawn in to his charisma. This adventure sounded like just what he had left his temple for and hoped this would be his opportunity to learn and help the world. As he sits there eating his food he hopes someone speaks up so he can agree with the words of another.
"A business man, eh?. Well my friend, we are all business men, when it comes to operating in a town like this. Your offer is intriguing and I am certainly interested in this revival, of sorts, of Phandalin." The smell of the fresh food is too much for Gorgar to resist and he continues to talk as he moves toward the spread to help himself to a small sampling. "What exactly is your claim in the forgotten treasures that you speak of? If we do decide to avail ourselves for this task and take up some work in Phandalin, can I correctly assume that found treasures would be ours completely?"
"I do certainly agree with Gorgar." Aera plucked some bread and ate it, famished from his long journey to Neverwinter. "So, what got all of you folk into the adventuring business? 'Tis a career for one with a certain taste for adventure. I was once rowdy little boy when I got into this. I shot squirrels with a little slingshot that my father gave to me. Ah, what joy it gave to me."
The dwarf nods as Gorgar makes his comments. He pauses, considering his words as he takes a sip of his ale.
"Fair questions, and deserving of a fair answer. My family's business concerns are aimed towards a long-term goal. Re-establishment of the town as a draw for business and people to resettle the area, reclaiming some of the old mines scattered throughout the surrounding hills as a means of income by way of selling those resources. Precious metals and stones may attract treasure seekers and offer a higher price, but iron and other commodity ores build a foundation upon which the town can grow and prosper. Adventurers such as yourselves will be needed for protection, of course, the area having falling into wilderness for so long. The humanoid tribes and other monstrous creatures will no doubt have established lairs in all manner of ruins and gathered their own hordes of loot from their kills. You have full rights to whatever you should recover while clearing them out. I have no claims on that."
As the group eats, Gundren lets the talk stray from business as you get to know each other. The human warrior is introduced as Sildar Hallwinter, who indicates he hails from the city of Baldur's Gate originally, some days travel to the south along the coast. Gundren indicates he's an old friend and companion, currently working with Gundren in Phandalin and acting as a guard while travelling. He proves to be an interesting dinner companion, surprisingly well-spoken and sharing tales of his days as a mercenary in years past. Finally, Gundren glances up at the hour-candle on the mantle and notes it's nearly 8 bells. "Have you been here in the evening before?" he asks. "No? Then you must see the show out in the common room!" He rises with a grin and gestures for the door, moving that way to lead you back into the tavern proper.
"Before we see this show, I suggest we come to a decision on your proposition. Having listened to your offer and understanding the situation, I, for one, am quite interested and eager to see what might be available to us in Phandalin. I accept your offer and suggest we leave at first light tomorrow."
Gorgar looks to the others for support and agreement.
"I accept" Whistling Wind echoed. The night had been filled with fascinating people and stories and he felt more confident than ever that he would find what he is looking for here. He had learned much of the folk of this land and was eager to see the show. Finishing off his drink and rising from his seat he follows the lead of Gundren as they move into the common room.
Gundren nods and smiles as Gorgar accepts, quickly echoed by Whistling Wind. Just as he opens his mouth to respond, the ringing of a bell is heard from out in the common room. "Ah! Quickly now, you don't want to miss it. A bit of Neverwinter history!"
Following him out, you find many of the patrons gathered around the cleared, fenced-off area in the center of the room which you'd noticed on your way in. Even those remaining at their tables watch that way in an oddly respectful silence. You only wait a moment or two, shushed by Gundren when you try to ask what is happening. Suddenly, a spectral figure appears through the ceiling of the room, over the cleared space, quickly followed by another. Both figures are clad in wizardly robes and engulfed in flames, looking as if they've fallen from some spot high above, and writhing in agony from the fire. As you watch they plunge on downwards and disappear through the floor. Before you can react, a third figure drops through the ceiling - another mage, more opulently garbed than the pair who proceeded him. This phantom struggles against his own limbs, both arms transformed into eels which writhe and bite his body, one then boring into his open mouth as he screams silently, just as he too disappears into the floor. Finally a final spectral form follows the three unfortunates, dropping slowly into the room, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. In a flash of phantom lightning encircling his body, his robes and flesh vanish, followed by the remaining skeletal form until all that is left is his grin. It too fades away and the room erupts in cheers and applause. Gundren raises his own mug in salute and drains it before turning back to the door of the private room. "Come, let us finish our business."
"So, you've now seen the history of this very tower. A great wizard built it long ago, and over time attracted the notice, and envy, of a group of his peers. Many were slain, by fire and transformative magics, and ultimately it came down to a duel between him and the greatest of his foes. In the ensuing struggle they both perished and the tower was destroyed, naught left but the base and scattered blocks of stone. And every night since, they replay their final moments, plunging to their doom. Despite countless attempts to dispel the spirits and whatever magic begets them, still the show goes on." He pauses, refilling his mug from a handy pitcher. "Something to remember the city by, I suppose. Now, as to our agreement. I need to travel ahead to Phandalin. Sildar will accompany me and I simply need you to follow behind with my wagon of supplies" He pulls a small pouch from his belt and lays it on the table. "Ten gold each, to cover any initial expenses you may have. As I said, the supplies are to be delivered to Barthen's in Phandalin. About three or four days travel south on the High Road, then turn east on the triboar trail. Another day and half or so from there is another trail south to Phandalin itself, another day or so's travel."
Gundren provides you each with a small token, with instructions to present it to Dannel Oakhearth, a stablemaster near the south gate of the city. "Once all three of you arrive tomorrow morning, he'll release my wagon to you. I'll see you in Phandalin and we can explore further employment once I've had some discussions with my associates there. Any questions?"
Aera sips some of his drink, and replies, "Thank you for the business opportunity, and I do have one question. Is it possible that you could arrange some beds for the 3 of us for tonight? I'd rather not spend any more money than I need to, and I'm sure that everyone can agree." Aera then puts a bit more food onto his plate, and cheers, "To Gundren Rockseeker!"
At Aera's request, Gundren gives a wry smile. "Adventurers," he says with a shake of his head. "Always want just a bit more no matter how much they're offered. Aye, lad, rooms for tonight." He raises his own mug in acknowledgement of the toast, as self-serving as it may have been. "And with that, I have other business to attend to, before leaving tomorrow myself, so I'll take my leave. I shall see you see you in Phandalin in 4 or 5 days, if the weather holds. South gate tomorrow morning - Dannel Oakhearth's stables."
Gundren bids you good night and Sildar follows. You see him stop at the bar and have a word there, pointing back at you before he goes. A few minutes later, one of the barmaids brings refills of the drinks and keys to three rooms upstairs, handing them over with directions to find them before returning to her duties.
Aera steps outside for a moment, to catch some air before he goes upstairs and to his room. As he walks out, he takes one last swig of his drink and looks at the Fallen Tower from below, thinking about what the next days lie ahead for him. Aera then walks back into the bar, gives his empty bottle to the barmaid, and head upstairs into the room.
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Clearly startled by Master Laereeryn, Aera says, "Hello sir! I would be interested in a pan flute?" He gazes around the room, wonderstruck at how beautiful the instruments are.
"Ah, a fine choice indeed, though not an inexpensive one." Rebeth smiles broadly, taking a measure of Aera's gear. "No offense intended, my friend, but perhaps a bit beyond your means." The pair dicker back and forth, but the half-elf will not be talked down to a price that the Aarococra can afford today. "Perhaps you'd be interested in something else? A more traditional flute, perhaps, or a horn?"
"The flute, please," Aera said while pulling out his coin pouch. "My apologies, but I'm in something of a hurry."
Master Laereeryn nods in understanding and leads you to a shelf with a small selection to choose from, all carved or otherwise decorated in a variety of styles, allowing you to choose one that appeals. He takes your payment of 2 GP with gracious thanks. "Please, do come back when you have more time." With that, he sees you out and on your way.
Aera hurries off to the tavern, satisfied at his choice of flute. He bought a rustic walnut wood one, and he thinks it reflects his outlandish lifestyle. Once he gets to the tavern, he gets to a table, pulls out his flute, and starts playing a cheerful melody. He wants to test his flute skills, as he hasn't played in a while.
The three would-be adventurers find their way through Neverwinter’s River District and to the tavern known as The Fallen Tower. They locate it with little difficulty - the place is a local landmark, after all. Before them stands the jagged stump of what must have once been a much grander edifice. Little more than the bottom story of the original building remains, with a more recently constructed wing added on to the side, apparently constructed of blocks of stone scavenged from the debris left over from the upper level’s destruction. Entering the place through a sturdy oaken door with a sign overhead, unnecessarily advertising the name, you see a depressingly ordinary tavern room. Smoky and dimly lit, a bog-standard bar, scattered tables arranged around a central fire pit surrounded by a railing, low wooden ceiling - all very much like that found in countless other taverns found the length and breadth of Faerun.
Once inside, you’ve each found a table or seat and settled in to wait for your host, a dwarf by the name of Gundren Rockseeker. A hour-candle on the wall marks the passing of seven bells, the appointed meeting time, but about 10 minutes later, you each are approached by one of the barmaids and asked to a private meeting room, accessible through a door off to one side of the main tap room. Ushering you in, the girls take your drink requests and leave. Inside is a cozy, private sitting room with a semi-circle of chairs facing a small fireplace and a side table with a variety of food laid out. In one of the chairs, sits Gundren (or so you assume) dressed in the tailored clothes of a merchant. Behind him, next to the fireplace stands a middle-aged human, unarmored, but with a sword at his hip. Though perhaps past his prime, he looks formidable enough, with a handful of visible scars indicating he’s seen his share of combat.
“Come in, friends, come in. Help yourself to some dinner, have a seat, and we can discuss why I’ve asked you all to meet me here. Adventure awaits, out in the country beyond Neverwinter’s walls, and I think we can find some mutual benefit in it, if you are interested.”
Immediately uneasy with the setting, Gorgar chooses to ignore the offer of food and carefully moves toward the seat farthest from Gundren. "You are quite kind, sir, but I must respectfully decline, as I have just eaten. It seems as though I am not alone with the invitation to meet you hear this evening. I can only assume that these two are also a bit confused. Adventure you say? Please, tell me more and help me understand why you'd offer such hospitality to strangers such as myself."
Upon hearing Gorgar's words Whistling Wind quickly takes the opportunity and echoes his "Tell me more". He does not have much experience but the situation seems irregular from what he expected, and based on the uncomfortable looks and words of his companions he is not alone. Yet Gundren seems friendly enough so he leans forward and fills a small plate with some food, both to be polite to his host and to satiate his empty stomach from his long day in the woods.
"As you wish." At Whistling Wind's spot-on repetition of Gorgar's phrase, the dwarf's eyes widen a bit, and a small smile ghosts across his lips. "Fascinating. I've heard stories of the kenku and their ability to mimic others, but I'll admit to not having actually met one in person until now. Welcome, indeed, my friend. It will be interesting to spend more time with you, I'm quite sure." He rises and collects his own plate of food before returning to his seat. Motioning towards the laden board, he adds "Eat, Sildar, there is plenty for all. No need to loom over me, sit and eat." The other man, too, fills a plate and takes a seat in one of the armchairs. "I thought you'd never ask, but I wasn't sure what sort of show you'd want to put on for the new blood." He chuckles and digs into his food, seemingly content to let the dwarf do the talking.
"You've all come highly recommended, as I suspect you already know, from sources that I trust, but you're wise to be leery of me, as you only know me by name, and whatever you've already heard from others. Fair enough. As you no doubt know, the Sword Coast is ripe for plunder. The hills and forests of the entire region are scattered with ruins. Mines, keeps and castles fallen to ruin, once-thriving towns now empty, either lain to waste long ago or abandoned by their former inhabitants for one reason or another long forgotten. I'm a business man, I am, and along with two of my brothers, we've undertaken a project to resettle one of those lost towns. Phandalin, it's called, off to the south, in the foothills of the Sword Mountains - ripe with old mines ready for reopening to a healthy profit. The old histories say that Phandalin was a wealthy town once, but fell to an orc horde that swept out of the mountains generations ago." He pauses to take a drink from the mug at his elbow before continuing. "Plenty of opportunity to help resettle the town, deal with any, ah, incursions by the creatures in the area, and do a fair bit of exploring for forgotten treasures. Just the thing I'd expect a trio of would-be adventurer's such as yourselves to be interested in, I hope. To start, I can pay a bit of gold for you to merely get down to Phandalin, up front even. I have a wagon full of supplies that needs to be escorted to town and delivered to Barthen's Provisions. mining supplies, some food - nothing too interesting, but a smart man doesn't trust the roads once you get too far from town. Better safe than sorry. Once you get to Phandalin? Well, up to you I suppose, to find your fortunes from there. I may have other work myself, or others may as well."
Whistling Wind listened to Gundrens words and found himself drawn in to his charisma. This adventure sounded like just what he had left his temple for and hoped this would be his opportunity to learn and help the world. As he sits there eating his food he hopes someone speaks up so he can agree with the words of another.
"A business man, eh?. Well my friend, we are all business men, when it comes to operating in a town like this. Your offer is intriguing and I am certainly interested in this revival, of sorts, of Phandalin." The smell of the fresh food is too much for Gorgar to resist and he continues to talk as he moves toward the spread to help himself to a small sampling. "What exactly is your claim in the forgotten treasures that you speak of? If we do decide to avail ourselves for this task and take up some work in Phandalin, can I correctly assume that found treasures would be ours completely?"
"I do certainly agree with Gorgar." Aera plucked some bread and ate it, famished from his long journey to Neverwinter. "So, what got all of you folk into the adventuring business? 'Tis a career for one with a certain taste for adventure. I was once rowdy little boy when I got into this. I shot squirrels with a little slingshot that my father gave to me. Ah, what joy it gave to me."
The dwarf nods as Gorgar makes his comments. He pauses, considering his words as he takes a sip of his ale.
"Fair questions, and deserving of a fair answer. My family's business concerns are aimed towards a long-term goal. Re-establishment of the town as a draw for business and people to resettle the area, reclaiming some of the old mines scattered throughout the surrounding hills as a means of income by way of selling those resources. Precious metals and stones may attract treasure seekers and offer a higher price, but iron and other commodity ores build a foundation upon which the town can grow and prosper. Adventurers such as yourselves will be needed for protection, of course, the area having falling into wilderness for so long. The humanoid tribes and other monstrous creatures will no doubt have established lairs in all manner of ruins and gathered their own hordes of loot from their kills. You have full rights to whatever you should recover while clearing them out. I have no claims on that."
As the group eats, Gundren lets the talk stray from business as you get to know each other. The human warrior is introduced as Sildar Hallwinter, who indicates he hails from the city of Baldur's Gate originally, some days travel to the south along the coast. Gundren indicates he's an old friend and companion, currently working with Gundren in Phandalin and acting as a guard while travelling. He proves to be an interesting dinner companion, surprisingly well-spoken and sharing tales of his days as a mercenary in years past. Finally, Gundren glances up at the hour-candle on the mantle and notes it's nearly 8 bells. "Have you been here in the evening before?" he asks. "No? Then you must see the show out in the common room!" He rises with a grin and gestures for the door, moving that way to lead you back into the tavern proper.
"Before we see this show, I suggest we come to a decision on your proposition. Having listened to your offer and understanding the situation, I, for one, am quite interested and eager to see what might be available to us in Phandalin. I accept your offer and suggest we leave at first light tomorrow."
Gorgar looks to the others for support and agreement.
"I accept" Whistling Wind echoed. The night had been filled with fascinating people and stories and he felt more confident than ever that he would find what he is looking for here. He had learned much of the folk of this land and was eager to see the show. Finishing off his drink and rising from his seat he follows the lead of Gundren as they move into the common room.
Gundren nods and smiles as Gorgar accepts, quickly echoed by Whistling Wind. Just as he opens his mouth to respond, the ringing of a bell is heard from out in the common room. "Ah! Quickly now, you don't want to miss it. A bit of Neverwinter history!"
Following him out, you find many of the patrons gathered around the cleared, fenced-off area in the center of the room which you'd noticed on your way in. Even those remaining at their tables watch that way in an oddly respectful silence. You only wait a moment or two, shushed by Gundren when you try to ask what is happening. Suddenly, a spectral figure appears through the ceiling of the room, over the cleared space, quickly followed by another. Both figures are clad in wizardly robes and engulfed in flames, looking as if they've fallen from some spot high above, and writhing in agony from the fire. As you watch they plunge on downwards and disappear through the floor. Before you can react, a third figure drops through the ceiling - another mage, more opulently garbed than the pair who proceeded him. This phantom struggles against his own limbs, both arms transformed into eels which writhe and bite his body, one then boring into his open mouth as he screams silently, just as he too disappears into the floor. Finally a final spectral form follows the three unfortunates, dropping slowly into the room, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. In a flash of phantom lightning encircling his body, his robes and flesh vanish, followed by the remaining skeletal form until all that is left is his grin. It too fades away and the room erupts in cheers and applause. Gundren raises his own mug in salute and drains it before turning back to the door of the private room. "Come, let us finish our business."
"So, you've now seen the history of this very tower. A great wizard built it long ago, and over time attracted the notice, and envy, of a group of his peers. Many were slain, by fire and transformative magics, and ultimately it came down to a duel between him and the greatest of his foes. In the ensuing struggle they both perished and the tower was destroyed, naught left but the base and scattered blocks of stone. And every night since, they replay their final moments, plunging to their doom. Despite countless attempts to dispel the spirits and whatever magic begets them, still the show goes on." He pauses, refilling his mug from a handy pitcher. "Something to remember the city by, I suppose. Now, as to our agreement. I need to travel ahead to Phandalin. Sildar will accompany me and I simply need you to follow behind with my wagon of supplies" He pulls a small pouch from his belt and lays it on the table. "Ten gold each, to cover any initial expenses you may have. As I said, the supplies are to be delivered to Barthen's in Phandalin. About three or four days travel south on the High Road, then turn east on the triboar trail. Another day and half or so from there is another trail south to Phandalin itself, another day or so's travel."
Gundren provides you each with a small token, with instructions to present it to Dannel Oakhearth, a stablemaster near the south gate of the city. "Once all three of you arrive tomorrow morning, he'll release my wagon to you. I'll see you in Phandalin and we can explore further employment once I've had some discussions with my associates there. Any questions?"
Aera sips some of his drink, and replies, "Thank you for the business opportunity, and I do have one question. Is it possible that you could arrange some beds for the 3 of us for tonight? I'd rather not spend any more money than I need to, and I'm sure that everyone can agree." Aera then puts a bit more food onto his plate, and cheers, "To Gundren Rockseeker!"
At Aera's request, Gundren gives a wry smile. "Adventurers," he says with a shake of his head. "Always want just a bit more no matter how much they're offered. Aye, lad, rooms for tonight." He raises his own mug in acknowledgement of the toast, as self-serving as it may have been. "And with that, I have other business to attend to, before leaving tomorrow myself, so I'll take my leave. I shall see you see you in Phandalin in 4 or 5 days, if the weather holds. South gate tomorrow morning - Dannel Oakhearth's stables."
Gundren bids you good night and Sildar follows. You see him stop at the bar and have a word there, pointing back at you before he goes. A few minutes later, one of the barmaids brings refills of the drinks and keys to three rooms upstairs, handing them over with directions to find them before returning to her duties.
Aera steps outside for a moment, to catch some air before he goes upstairs and to his room. As he walks out, he takes one last swig of his drink and looks at the Fallen Tower from below, thinking about what the next days lie ahead for him. Aera then walks back into the bar, gives his empty bottle to the barmaid, and head upstairs into the room.