Aimon
"The storehouse." She repeats back to you cooly. Again, there is a tilt of her head for several moments, as if hearing something else. Abruptly she and her guards stand. With a nod her head towards the door of the inn, two of her escort themselves get up to leave. "I am afraid we simply don't have time for that Mister Perynor." She says, absently readjusting a few of the straps on her armor. Before she turns to leave, she places her hand on the arm of her remaining guard. "You'll take care of this for me won't you?"

"Do enjoy the rest of your evening Mister Perynor." The tiefling says, turning away from the table to follow the other two out of the inn.

The strongarm left behind glares down at you, then reaches for the mace at his belt.

Xarian
Engrossed as you are in what's unfolding behind you, you clearly notice the violence that's about to occur.

OoC: It is time for initiative! Also everyone roll an active perception check.

Evelyn looks between the two men, eyebrows raised in confusion. "Sorry, a living star? Have the two of you been drinking already?" 

Learning that they've come from the western road, she straightens her posture on the barstool. There's a flicker of annoyance on her face. When she'd heard the little boy mention cultists, she thought it might lead her to Finn and Leosin. Not to whatever this loony conversation was.

The abrupt scraping of chairs at the table to her right catches her attention. She watches the trio leave, pupils dilating slightly as one of those who stayed behind goes for a mace at his hip.

[Initiative: 22]
[Perception: 15]

Xarian's Initiative:  20 (his Alert Feat would allow him to switch this with a willing ally).

Xarian's Perception:  23 (Natural 20)

Hadrian waves his hand dismissively, mumbling something like "it's complicated I told you." 

He follows Xarian's gaze again, catching the burly man reaching for a weapon.

Initiative: 18
Perception: 7

"There's no need for all this, Lady Vareeza! I assure you we can come to a new arrangement!" Aimon insists to the tiefling's back as she leaves the inn. But she is gone and he is forced to stare down the hulking henchmen she left behind.

Initiative: 21 (natural 20!)
Perception: 12

Xarian & Evelyn
As the tiefling and her companions throw open the door to leave the inn, a faint and distant sound makes it through from the outside - something that makes your stomach drop. Screams.

OoC: So how I've been running combat so far, is if your initiative is "blocked" with another character, you can just go in whatever order instead of having to wait. It seems to make play-by-post combat run faster.

Evelyn, Aimon, Xarian, and Hadrian, you're up!

Aimon sees the man left behind is in no mood for banter and mild panic wracks his mind for a moment.

"Help! It's all just a misunderstanding!" he calls to any and all who will listen.

Unsure what else to do, he lunges across the table. The sizzling crackle of static fills the air as sparks dance between Aimon's fingers. The scent of burning air, like just before a lightning strike, starts to burn the noses of those nearby.

Aimon attempts to plant his hand on the broad chest of the man in front of him and discharge the build up of electrical energy, intent on knocking the man's sense loose rather than doing any lasting harm.

(Aimon casts Shocking Grasp. Attack roll: 11. Damage: 8.)

Strangely, his turmoil, mental, emotional, spiritual, from the last twenty-four hours has unhinged Xarian into a state where he has no hesitation stepping into an unexpected situation, as he might have just a couple days ago.  He does not know this ginger elf one bit, but he had seemed believable...

Xari mumbles to himself and gestures absent-mindedly, creating a ward for his own defenses, then ambles up to the remaining guard.  His voice is laconic.

"That's a nice mace you have there.  Wanna see something bigger?"  Xari draws his maul.  "Or maybe we could put the head-smashers away and you could bring us up to speed on what the screaming outside is about?  You or your lady friend a part of that?"

The big man's head is spinning, though he has not had a single drop of alcohol.  As he gives the guard a slow smile, part of his mind is screaming at him.  What are you doing??  You don't know what this even is!!

But such concerns are overridden by an unfamiliar warm, comfortable feeling in Xari's heart as his muscles become relaxed and ready.  At ease.  Almost eager.  What does any of this matter anyway if red star ladies can just alter reality and corpses disappear and death can become life so easily?

Movement:  Xari first takes his action, then steps E - SE

Action:  Xari casts and concentrates on Blade Ward (attack rolls against him subtract a d4 while he maintains concentration up to a minute).

Free Action:  Xari draws his maul and speaks.

Hadrian lightly taps Rox on the back of the head as the goblin attempts to down his stew in a single gulp. He points to the rapidly approaching fight. "No rest for the wicked friend." He mutters, knowing it's incomprehensible to the goblin. 

He isn't sure what Xarian is talking about, the screaming outside. And he isn't quite ready to draw a blade and starting cutting the man down when he doesn't even know what's going on.

So instead he slides off his chair, grabbing onto the larger man's wrist to try and restrain him.

Movement: 5E
Action: Grapple 12 DC STR or DEX save.

What Evelyn wants is to go to the window or door to check outside. But she's not keen on leaving a volatile situation at her back. "Just take him down now. Ask your questions later." She hisses impatiently, pushing off the barstool with purpose. Her nails lengthen slightly, sharpening into something more like claws that she rakes across the bodyguard's exposed back.

[Movement]: 5 E to 5 NE
[Action]: Primal Savagery To Hit: 21, Damage: 2 acid

The big man moves surprisingly quick, pulling back at just the last moment to avoid Aimon's sparking hands. He seems about to advance on the elvish man when he hears Xarian move behind him and start speaking. He turns his head over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. It seemed like he wasn't used to having to look up at people as he was with Xarian. He doesn't reply however, merely finishes drawing his mace.

Then Hadrian is on him, grabbing his wrist in an iron grip. The larger man tries to wretch his arm free (STR Save: 10), but isn't able to.

Evelyn's sharp nails manage to slice throw his leather armor, drawing blood. But the wound doesn't seem to bother him much - if anything, he looks pleased? With a grin, the tiefling's bodyguard rolls his shoulders. He uses his free hand to grab the mace from his other, then raises it, striking Hadrian(Melee attack: 17 to hit, 6 bludgeoning damage) across the face.

Rox(Initiative: 11) sets the bowl down slowly, turning around to follow Hadrian's pointing finger. The goblin sighs, then hops down from the bar stool. He waddles over next to Xari, nodding up at the big man. He holds his arms out in what looks like a wrestling stance, waiting to help by distracting the guard when Xarian moves to attack.

Others in the tavern have started to notice the altercation. Some begin to cheer for a fight, while the innkeeper yells from behind the bar. "Hey! Cut the shit before I beat all of you within' an inch of your life!"

No one else has noticed the growing disturbance outside yet.

Evelyn, Aimon, Xarian, and Hadrian, you're up!

The hired muscle(B) is currently grappled.

Aimon casts a grateful glance toward the strangers who stepped in on his behalf, but his expression quickly sours with guilt as the burly henchman swings his mace toward one of his intercessors.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry about that.”

The innkeeper’s barked command for order cuts through the tension. Aimon, ever mindful of the name and reputation he carries, knows he cannot be seen as idle in the face of chaos.

He reaches inward, drawing upon the draconic magic now coursing through his veins, and weaves it into a subtle incantation. The spell laces his honeyed words with enchantment, guiding them to the henchman’s ears like a whispered promise of a deal he can't refuse.

“Come, friend, there’s no need to fight!”

Action: Casting Charm Person on the henchman and spending 2 Sorcery Points on Heightened Spell. Flat DC Wis 14 save (advantage for combat cancelled by disadvantage from Heightened Spell).

A wisp of magic crosses in front of their face, and for a moment he looks confused. Then his eyes seem to slightly glaze over, and his grip on the mace slackens.

We'll leave initiative now. Unless somebody absolutely just wants to hit him.

The burly man's shoulders sag, and he nods along. "You're right," He says with a deep voice. "No need to fight." With the young nobleman still gripping his wrist, he slips his mace back into the loop attached to his belt. "Sorry." He mumbles to Hadrian.

From behind the bar, the innkeeper nods thankfully to Aimon. A few of the patrons in the tavernroom make disappointed groans before getting back to their conversation, still oblivious.

Too slow to avoid the blunt weapon, Hadrian's head snaps sideways as the mace smashes into his cheek. Caught by surprise, he feels his teeth slice through his tongue on accident. In his free hand a mace identical to the one used to bludgeon him forms from seemingly nothing, and he's about to bring the weapon down on the henchman's head when he suddenly receives an apology. 

For a moment, the nobleman looks confused. He glances to the burly man, then to Aimon, then back to the man. Finally understanding dawns. He releases his grip on the man's wrist, banishing the summoned weapon with a flick of his wrist. He spits out a globule of blood mixed with saliva. "Maybe open with that move next time," he says, gently touching his bruised and bleeding cheek.

His gaze moves to the ginger elf. The sorcerer. "So what'd you do to piss off ugly here?" 

Aimon breathes a deep sigh of relief as his magic guides the henchmen's opinion of him, gently nudging him towards tolerance, if not quite companionship.

"Sorry, it's just that I'm still... getting used to things. Thank you all so much for stepping in," he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Now that the scuffle seems to be over—and bolstered by the innkeeper's approval—Aimon starts to regain his composure.

"His boss and I have a business arrangement, but things aren't quite going to plan."

He turns his friendly gaze to the henchman.

"Lady Vareeza never introduced us. I'm Aimon Perynor, as I'm sure you know," he chuckles and sweeps the fringe away from his eyes in an effortlessly charming gesture, "and you are..?"

 The burly henchman sniffs, looking around as if trying to remember something before he's addressed by Aimon once more. "Knot, I go by Knot."

The moment the tiefling's guardsman is charmed and the immediate threat is over, Evelyn starts towards the door of the inn. "It isn't over yet." She throws open the door, stepping just through the threshold to take a better look[Perception: 17] around outside.

"Wonderful. A pleasure to meet you, Knot," Aimon says, conjuring up a pleasant smile for Knot. He picks up the chair he had so carelessly knocked over in his panic.

"Now, I might have misheard in all the hubbub there, but did someone say something about screaming?"

Still feeling a bit lightheaded yet strangely relaxed, Xari takes the guard's sudden change of heart in stride with a philosophical shrug.  Continuing to concentrate on Blade Ward and stowing his maul, the big man follows Evelyn towards the exit to take a look and listen outside.

(Going to stick with the previous 23 - Nat. 20 roll unless he needs to roll again).

Briefly looking back at the man with the mace, he drawls, "Good decision, mate.  So.  About that screaming in the distance.  Looks like our other new elven friend heard it too."  Gesturing with his chin at Evelyn. "Tell me, Knot, you know anything about that?"

So barely averted barroom brawls are just a thing I do now without batting an eye?  Since when?  Xari studiously ignores the worried voice in his head.