Afariel chuckles lowly at that

The road to Waterdeep is free of dangers and quite pleasant with mountains to the left and ocean to the right.  As the sun goes down the lights from the great city begin to fill the sky.  All characters should subtract enough rations from one full day.  

Do you all plan on camping outside the city, enter the city or something else?

"Har har, next time I'll let that ghost just walk off with your body, Thagakh," Tyrus chuckles at the friendly jabs. "Though you raise an excellent point. I will see if Linene has made it here safely. We're a long way from Phandalin."

Unlike your previous stop the gates are wide open for all of those who work outside of the city to be able to enter before night fall.  Near the gate are several taverns and inns.  The soldiers of Waterdeep look we’ll provisioned and travel in groups of four.

“Let’s put up the animals and have a drink.”  Ian says as he feeds the wolves for the night.

OOC: time of day?

It is an hour past sun down.  Dinner time.

"After you Ian"

Looking for the first and roughest bar, Ian strides in and looks for a place to sit, drink, and eat.

The Rusty Nail is a rough looking bar with all sorts of races going in and out.  As you approach the door, you see a barrel of what looks to be severed hands.  Some  are fresh and others rotten.  The singing sounds like a female goblin voice.  There are spaces at the bar or a corner table in the back.  All of the attention seems to be focused on a big table to the left of the bar.  Some sort of gambling is going on.

Tyrus enters with Ian, waiting patiently near the bar until he can get the attention of the barkeep. Once able, he will ask where he could inquire about recent arrivals to the city.

Arafiel follows the two larger members of the party :)

An incredibly fat and grisly bald Dwarf walks across the top of the bar and says to Ian and Tyrus “what do want?”

“Some mead and meat, if you have any.  We are also wanting a place to stay.”  Ian says as he also points to the commotion.  “What is going on over there?”

"Also, could you point me in the direction of your merchant district? An old friend of mine may be setting up as an armorer," Tyrus suggests.

The Dwarf pours two drinks and grabs the leg of some roasted animal.  To Tyrus he points into town and says “it is in center nears the royal square.  Armory is in that weapons school beyond the square closer to the sea.”  Turning to Ian he says “those are the maiming games.  It’s the ultimate test of strength and bravery.  I have only played once. “. He holds out a hand with only four fingers.  “That will be a silver for the food and drink.”

"Did Thagakh just heard 'maiming games' ?"

The half-orc peaks inside as he overhears a curious event. He then sees the dwarf barkeep pointing at the commotion and then head over there.

Thagakh sees a blood covered table with many gathered around it.  On the table is a stack of about 100 gold coins.  The table has two arm rests with razor sharp knives sticking up for grips.  On the edge of the table ,where your hand would end up if you lost, is a cleaving blade.  The game is a simple arm wrestling  match.  What is not simple are the consequences.  To compete in the match you must grip a razor sharp knife.  The back of the blade is dull but the front is razor sharp.  This prevents cheating with the grip.  The object of the game is to slam your opponents hand down and severing it.  If you win, you get the pot of gold.  If you loose, ......

Currently a half-orc is competing with a large dwarf.  Many side bets are being spent on the dwarf.  A hobgoblin watching the event turns to Thagakh and says "You look big.... you should go next.  I would bet on you for a few rounds at least."

“Thanks for the drink.  Well, that’s a game you can’t lose a lot.”  Ian pays the barkeep and watches the match.

"borderline barbarric" mutters Arafiel