"Well, sounds like quite the place to have accommodations to fit these large fellows!" Mala says. "I'll have some of that potato pie and try the Tarwen's Dagger." She leans back a bit in her chair and scans the room.  She's mainly trying to keep an eye as to whether anyone is paying undue attention to the group. (Perception: 24)

Mala

The group got a few cursory glances when you first entered, and perhaps a couple of double takes when they realise what an unusual group you are for this region. But no-one is paying you attention anymore, except for the dwarf. She keeps briefly looking over, though in the flickering light of the fire you can't make out if she is looking at anyone in particular, or what her thoughts or feelings might be.

Thurodim shrugs and nods at Ghurr. "Sure, we can share, at sea I shared with all the crew."
"I'll have the stew, and the pie." He then turns and says to Verity with a smile, putting his tankard on the table before him, speaking a word in dwarven, making it fill up with rich dwarven ale, then taking a gulp. "Ahh, long walk, needed that." He says with a deep content voice.


While waiting for Verity to return with the food, Thurodim ponders if he has any good rumours to trade from Fort Imma.
Knowledge if applicable: 4

Quote from Oberon99 >>

Thurodim shrugs and nods at Ghurr. "Sure, we can share, at sea I shared with all the crew."
"I'll have the stew, and the pie." He then turns and says to Verity with a smile, putting his tankard on the table before him, speaking a word in dwarven, making it fill up with rich dwarven ale, then taking a gulp. "Ahh, long walk, needed that." He says with a deep content voice.


While waiting for Verity to return with the food, Thurodim ponders if he has any good rumours to trade from Fort Imma.
Knowledge if applicable: 17

Currently, you are part of the rumour! It's unlikely that anyone has brought word of the Harpy attack yet, though if you would rather keep that to yourself for now:

People have been taking about the cultist house that was discovered on Grawlic Street - rumour has it the Guard have the house sealed off, but before they could some people got a look through the door and they could see bodies - two, or three, or four, the number grows with each telling - and the whole place covered in blood! People are saying they were killed by a spirit as revenge, a blue woman who left the house and vanished.

Faera settles in with the rest of her crew and asks Verity, "Ooh, sounds delicious.  May I have the stew and a would you have another bottle of red wine, such as those gentlemen are drinking over there?  Sounds perfect."  She listens to the halfling talk with the rest and she stays silent while she waits for her order.

Assuming they do have red wine...

Once Verity brings her food, she takes several bites, then grabbing hold of the wine, she pours herself a glass, then leaves her table with the bottle and glass in hand.  Heading over to where the gentlemen are sitting, she says, "Excuse me, but would you gentlemen like a refill?  This wine sure is good, isn't it?"  She then sits down with them as she fills their glasses and asks, "So, pray tell, what news from Whitebridge?"

 “I would love some stew and Dilly Dally.” He said answering her curtsy with respectful bow. The elf had a smile on his face. Gentle but not genuine, only the keenest of eye would notice. “And I may have an interesting history to share.”

Ilithir’s mind drifted to his latest travel from Fairstop to Fort Imma. He was guarding a merchant and on the way back the clear skies turned storm grey. All the world seemed to pour over their heads so they sought shelter on the first place they could find. Fortunately, they found a cave by some woodland. Unfortunately, it was the nest of a cockatrice. He should be able to make the battle and the return to Irma sound interesting enough without lying, although his victory was a strike of luck. There was value on the narrative too – the notion that caves on that particular road were best left avoided. 

“Rumors about Soft Rest.” He said to the group as Verity left to bring their meals, starting to doff the shield on his left arm. “Do you think another attack may have happened already?” The silver haired man asked to no one in particular, sincerely hoping it was not the case. A new victim could mean new clues, but also meant a new death. And a gruesome one, if the talks with Landgrave were something to go about.

"A bit of everything then," Verity chuckles, as the orders come in. "And of course we have some bigger beds! They're not used too often, but what kind of rest stop would we be if people like yourself couldn't actually rest! It's usually orcs like yourself sir," she nods to Thurodim, "but sometimes we get a Goliath through. Once, a few years back, we even had one of the Dragonborn here!" She raises her eyebrows, and you all understand her amazement. Dragonborn are not a natural race, the unfortunate by-products of forbidden magic, and as such they are extremely rare.

(For a bit of randomness, if you feel like it, roll 1d20. If you crit, you have once seen a Dragonborn in the flesh, or scales as the case may be.)

"I think you might be the first Bugbear we've had here though, sir. A memorable day." She smiles. "I'll be right back with your food and drink."

And she is. A bowl of stew full right to the brim is placed in front of Ghurr, regular bowls for Thurodim, Faera and Illithir, and thick helpings of pie for Thurodim and Mala. The stew is rich, and the cheese in the pie is strong, with onion and leek adding a little crunch.

A bulbous green wine bottle is placed in front of Faera, which after a few mouthfuls of stew she takes to the table of gentlemen. Faera:

 The young man stands up immediately, jostling the table in his urgency, and pulls out a chair. "Please, won't you sit with us?"

The order human grabs him by the shoulder and forces him back down. "Sit yourself down, you young fool. You would think you had never seen a woman before."

The half-Elf speaks, "He was correct to offer the seat though. We do happen to have just run out," he dangles their empty bottle between thumb and forefinger. "You are most welcome to join us, if..." he pauses for a second, "... you will tell how you know we hale from Whitebridge?"

Meanwhile at the main table, Verity joins you, having brought your food and drink. "We'll add that up, you can pay in the morning when you check out. Beds are 3 moons each by the way, so it'll be 1 star 8 moons for lodging, I hope that's okay. So then," she rubs her hands happily. "Tell me, are you Imma-bound, or Whitebridge? And what stories do you bring with you?"

At hearing he's the first bugbear that has been in the inn, Ghurr raises his eyebrows and then does his best to flatten down the fur that sticks out from gaps in his armour and on his head. At best he manages to make himself look slightly less shaggy.

"Be careful with other bugbear," Ghurr says after he's finished his combing, "Not all guard the light. Most are predator."

He sighs happily as he eats the food and tastes the ale. He pauses and looks over at Verity.

"Just left Fort Imma. Very busy town. Too big. And have harpy problem." Ghurr says. "Going to Soft's Rest. They have problem too but not know if harpy problem or not. But we stop problem, whatever it is."

Ghurr takes another long draft of ale.

Faera smiles at the young man as he jostles the table getting up.  She pauses before sitting down listening to the half-elf's words.  "Now, you're telling me I am not welcome with my full bottle of wine and company if I don't tell you?"  She gives him a sly smile as she refills their glasses and then sits down.  "But of course, I will."  and she reaches over and touches the emblem on the young man's coat, "why you are adorned with a Whitebridge symbol.  But shoot, the meaning behind it seems to have slipped my mind."

She looks to the half-elf to see if that satisfies and takes a drink from her glass.

As the food arrives, Thurodim eagerly digs into the stew and pie before him, nodding at Ghurr's words and taking another swig of his dwarven ale. "Apart from the Harpy problem there was some some killings blamed on a ghost." He rumbles between bites. "Heard anything about the troubles at Soft's Rest?" He bluntly asks Verity, then glancing over at Faera and the men.

The memory of the seneschal was fresh on his mind. The human was ready to use any and all opportunity to demoralize Landgrave and as such talk of the harpy incident was best left unsaid. Sadly, Ilithir failed to say as much to his companions. Ghur and Thurodim spilled the proverbial beans and the elf. He wasn’t kidding when said that he was not familiar with intrigues, the elf thought attacking his stew.

The silver haired man wore his satisfaction on the face, an honest feeling. He had good meals on his deals, both fancy and simple, and that dish was rich. Enough to make one lament it was served on place so far from where he lived. The food did not distract him from the halfling eloquence. She was good when it came to dealing with clients. Her words were full of praise, both sweet and unreliable.

“First things first, ‘excellent’ doesn’t make justice to the stew.” He said playing the merchant game of words. “We are what you could call adventurers and our work lies where there is trouble.” Part of the truth. The only part she needed to know. “We can share other histories, more important and with useful information, but now it would be fair if the fair lady told us something first.”

Notes: Dragonborn role because why not? 12

Mala slowly eats her pie, quietly enjoying the flavors and just sips at her drink.  Listening to the others, eventually she finishes her food. Pushing her chair back she continues to enjoy her Tarwen's Dagger as she listens to the others. 

Thurodim glances over at Ilithir with a frown as the silver-haired man seemingly demands information from their host, like she was about to trick them out of rumors without providing any of her own.

Faera

"I was merely curious," says the half-elf with a small shrug as you sit down. He appears to have taken the lead on the conversation, despite not being the eldest of the three. 

"We happen to be representatives of the Whitebridge Guild of Merchant Tailors. I am Lornan, this is Waldemar," the older man, "and Dariell." The young man. "And who might you be, who approaches strange men in taverns?"

"The ghost I think I've heard tell of," says Verity, "the one that killed the cultists? People have also told me it was a sea-elf, or a water spirit. But this is the first I've heard of Harpies! I know they live along the cliffs here, but I've never heard of them attacking Imma before! Goodness, what is the world coming to." She shakes her head.

"And oh yes, you wanted to know about Soft's Rest didn't you! Terrible news from there, something's been killing people, some beast, ripping open their chests! I've heard the mayor is so scared that he's locked himself away in his house, won't come out for anything! Wait a second..." She looks at you all knowingly. "Are you going to hunt the beast?" She asked excitedly. "You are adventurers."

"Yes, we are hired to help out with that beast." Thurodim nods and chugs down some more dwarven ale before filling up the tankard for the third and final time ethis day. "So, heard anything else? Anyone seen this beast, lived to tell the tale? Did it break into peoples homes or did it attack them in the woods?" The half-orcs continues, curious over whether this beast might be a worthy opponent.

"Why, well met Whitebridge Merchant Tailors!  I am Faera and I saw the three of you and got excited as I haven't been to Whitebridge in forever and wanted to know what was happening there?  So, to my original question, good sirs, what news from Whitebridge?"  she takes a drink of wine from her glass, looks back to her new friends, smiles, then returns to the three of them eyes full of anticipation.  

His first thought was to ask Verity the questions he had directed to Landgrave during their first met, before the harpies attacked. The elf didn’t expect the halfling to know date or time of the deaths, but if there was an explicit connection, like sex, age or race, she should be able to point out. With some luck she could even have mention about the place where the victims where found. It would be good to know this kind of thing before arriving in Soft Rest, after all there was always the chance the one behind the incident was part of the community there and could distort any information given to the party. A suspect that Ilithir knew to be better kept to himself. Even the commander of the city watch of Fort Irma was resistant to the idea of the attack by the tower being caused by one of his soldier, and no matter if out of their volition or by the effect of a spell, it was exactly what happened. A village, the silver haired man, knew, would be even more resistant to that. The villagers were likely to say their neighbors were like family, some would go as far as to take offense.

What he didn’t expect was for her to know about their wounds. Chest opened, he pondered. The idea made him think of the rumors about devil worshipping. Maybe there was no beast and the victims had their hearts taken for a ritual.

“Do you know how long ago this all started?” Ilithir asked hoping for information to compare to whatever the mayor would tell them. “And, forgive me for asking this at dinner table, but did the victims had other wound or ‘just’ the open chest?”

Faera

[Deception: 17]

Taking the role of the excitable young traveller, eager for news from afar, you assess how much they are buying it. The young man certainly is happy to believe you, and looks at you with wide eyes. The older man doesn't look as if he especially cares. The half-elf, on the other hand, takes a second to consider you and your words, then settles into a smile. You appear to have convinced him that you are harmless.

"Well, Housta has been up to his old tricks. Do you know of Idris Housta? He's the Baron of these parts, not that he's ever here. Before we left Whitebridge myself and Waldemar attended one his parties - purely for the sake of appearance you understand, the man himself is insufferable. It wasn't up to his usual heights of exhibitionism, not without his seneschal to arrange matters for him, but there were still some interesting effects. Balls of floating fire, the water of the fountain rising up into strange shapes, that sort of thing. Not terribly interesting, I prefer the exotic beasts he usually brings. Perhaps the supply line has been interrupted. Not that there is an illegal trade in magical beasts, of course." He winks at you. 

"And you? What news from... wherever you are from?"

"No, no one has seen it!" exclaims Verity. "All the attacks have been on people by themselves, away from town in the farmlands to the north, or further up into the woodland. I hear one of the Mayor's last decisions before he started hiding was that no one should go anywhere alone, and there would be a 7pm curfew! But people will be people, is what I always say, they'll do as they want." She gives a big shrug, hands held upwards. Towards Illithir she says "I couldn't say for certain when it started sir, sir, but I first started hearing about it from travellers about two weeks ago. They said that they had hear the bodies had been torn open at the chest, and covered in claw marks. And don't worry about this being a dinner table, I'm not the one eating," she adds with a smile.

Looking around towards the door, then back to the four of you at the table, she asks "Say, wasn't there supposed to be six of you? It doesn't take this long to stable horses."