Sharn's Welcome, also known as the docks of Cliffside, this area is rough and dirty. Its taverns frequently host brawls, while the inns offer travelers a wide variety of ways to be cheated or robbed. In one of these inns, no more than a mud brick den called the Squabbling Hens, sit four adventurers. Packed together on the only table in the Hens drinking the foul liquid they serve here, the adventurers swap stories of their pasts.

(Here's a chance for you all to get to know each other in character before the adventure begins.)

Zoveldra sits stiffly at the cramped table, her hands wrapped around a chipped clay cup, the foul liquid inside barely touched. Short black hair frames her sharp features, her piercing blue eyes betraying the unease she struggles to suppress. She is a warrior, a guide, trained to navigate the darkness of Khyber, but here—amid laughter and casual storytelling—she is lost. Her dark blue and silver robes, still dusty from the road, mark her as an outsider, her bond with Veldra whispering in the back of her mind, offering quiet reassurances.

Nix

Nix looks up at the priestess before them who had spoken. “Alms for the poor?” They ask, digging around in the pocket of their long garb, which was somewhere between the robes of a mage and the dress of a university student. “If you are a newcomer to Sharn, how are you already connected to the church here?” The changeling ask curiously, their pale grey-white visage warming and swirling before solidifying into the face of a  young human with honey-hued curly hair and pink skin spotted with freckles. Their body grows a few inches, becoming the build of a tall and lanky young person not quite grown into their skin yet. Through the process, the steel gray eyes of the changeling remain fixed on the traveler priest, waiting for a reply.

"I am always with Olladra and Olladra is always with me. You can be assured that any donations you give to me will ultimately go to celebrate Olladra. May Olladra grant you good fortune and riches." Mome blinks twice as the changeling changes. "And I must say that what you are doing is so cool. I have heard of changelings - that is what you call yourself, correct? My apologies, if not - but I have not had the chance to talk or observe one up close. Does it hurt or tickle to change? I have heard of druids speak of strange sensations when they change their form. Is it similar?" Mome rarely acts like a fangirl but every now and then, something does surprise her excessively-cynical-for-her-age self. 

Zoveldra tenses, uncertain if she is expected to speak, but her curiosity outweighs her discomfort. She lifts her gaze slightly, watching the remnants of Nix’s transformation. The sight is a little unsettling but fascinating.

"You change like thought," she says finally, her voice quiet. "Like the way dreams reshape themselves in an instant--so I've heard anyway. My kind are cut off from dreams." She hesitates, glancing toward her drink as if it might have an answer. "Does it…feel like a dream?"

Nix

Nix looks between their two talkative bar companions, eyes filled an unidentifiable emotions, “Well, Olladra, huh? That’s interesting.” They pause, muttering the next part under their breath before turning to Zolvedra, eyes alight with a spark at the question on the workings of their Facechanging “Could use some luck right about now. Anyways, My changing does not feel like a dream. More like I’m made of water, if that makes sense, and the tide is constantly floating me along, so to speak. I hope that metaphor makes some sense. So, definitely not like a dream. Very, very real.” They say, holding out their delicate, long-fingered hand. It enlarges, turning stony gray as their hand takes on the properties of Goliath skin, then reverts to normal. “See? As real as stone.” They chuckle, and take a sip from their mug.

Quote from Raccoon_Master >>

Nix

Nix looks between their two talkative bar companions, eyes filled an unidentifiable emotions, “Well, Olladra, huh? That’s interesting.” They pause, muttering the next part under their breath before turning to Zolvedra, eyes alight with a spark at the question on the workings of their Facechanging “Could use some luck right about now. Anyways, My changing does not feel like a dream. More like I’m made of water, if that makes sense, and the tide is constantly floating me along, so to speak. I hope that metaphor makes some sense. So, definitely not like a dream. Very, very real.” They say, holding out their delicate, long-fingered hand. It enlarges, turning stony gray as their hand takes on the properties of Goliath skin, then reverts to normal. “See? As real as stone.” They chuckle, and take a sip from their mug.

 "How is a stone less real than a dream? Do you not travel to the moon with your thoughts at dusk? Preyed on by the Quori for their amusement?"

A distorted voice wheezes from the warforged hunched with them. Its sentry mode failing to activate they have resigned to gathering the mold from under the table and mingling it with the biomass growing over their form.

"Sleep is one of the oddest and most archaic practices." They say flatly

At that moment you are interrupted by a halfling man. A large smile on his face and clothes far too fancy for this part of the city he asks you, "Pardon me, but you haven't seen a young man halfling around here have you? He looks rather like me." The man laughs, "He's my son, and it's been a few days since I've seen the boy. He usually hangs around here in Sharn's Welcome and heals the less well off. Like yourselves." He looks at you expectantly, not realizing how potentially hurtful that statement is. This man is truly out of place, although you do notice he's missing a few fingers on his right hand, probably one of the only things he has in common with many people here.

Zoveldra straightens slightly, the tension in her shoulders shifting from social unease to something more purposeful. The moment the halfling mentions his missing son, a ripple of awareness runs through her mind, not entirely her own. Noble Veldra stirs. It is not words, not even emotion, but a presence—a pull, like the whisper of an unseen current beneath still waters.

"No," she says, her voice quiet but firm. "I have not seen him." She studies the man, noting his fine clothes, the fingers he lacked, the way he spoke with unthinking condescension. A man out of place, but still a father searching. That, at least, is something she understands.

"I am Zoveldra. I can help look," she offers. "If he lingers in Sharn’s Welcome, he is somewhere, waiting to be found." She pauses, then adds, "Where did you see him last?"

LANDMOP's head cranes sideways, inspecting the the Halfling man up and down. "How much is your son worth to you?"

OOC

I find it hilarious that Nix has graduated from one of the most prestigious schools on the continent and is still getting called poor. Guess they never quite shook off the street rat stink, lol

Nix

 Nix looks up at the fancy dressed Halfling. “I haven’t seen him, sir. But maybe you can pay a bounty hunter to track him down? That seems like an easy solution.” Their voice tinged with disdain. “For someone like you, anyway” they mutter, leaning back over their cup, cutting a sharp glance at the man, before hiding their face as they subtly start to change again. They grow ever so larger beneath their cloak, muscles bulging. The features of their face twist, blue veins bulging against chalky pale skin, teeth elongating as their visage becomes that of a horrible, pale creature of the night. They keep their face hidden beneath the cloak which they draw over their now  long, greasy lane of dark hair which has grown atop their crown. 

OOC

Nix intends to keep their face hidden beneath their cloak until an appropriate time when they can surprise this rich  bag of crap, so preferably this guy is scared out of his tiny little fancy pants. 

Now this is the mark Moma has been looking for so she turns to the halfling and turns up the charm. "Well, you are in luck, fine sir, for I am a priestess of Olladra, goddess of good fortune and many other things. For a small donation of 50 gold, I will beseech the good goddess for the good fortune of the return of you son. My supplications will take the greater part of the day and much of the night, as well, after which we will learn of the good goddess's will and next steps. For a greater amount, we could take a more earthly and active approach to securing his return. We would of course need some funding up front to allow us to procure reasonable and necessary provisions, in addition to the reward to be paid at the completion of the quest." If he chooses the prayers, 50 gold would be a nice addition to her purse, and she will even buy the tavern a round or two in celebration, as part of the process, of course. And if the dandy choses the other option, well, at least these strangers at her table seem to think like her and might have some abilities to keep everyone alive.  

DC 10 Persuasion check for Moma: 8

(Re-posting because the die roller didn't work for me.)

DC 10 Persuasion check for Moma: 21

The halfling happily puts the 50gp in Moma's hand. He takes a step away from Nix and addresses Zoveldra as the friendliest of the group. "Well the last time I saw him he was at our house and he mentioned he was coming back down here for some charity work. The boy's heart really is in a good place, despite being somewhat misguided. I thought I'd come down and ask around, and to be honest, you lot are the first people I've asked. He did say he usually hangs out by the docks, but i haven't been down there yet. Do you think I should head there myself, or hire bounty hunters like you say? And where would I find those types?"

Zoveldra gives a slightly determined expression. "Docks. Yes. I am usually a guide, but I think this includes many of the same duties as bounty hunting, so it should be alright." She stands gracefully, glancing at the others and pausing awkwardly. "Oh...Mome, you are a sailor and priestess, yes? Do you...know where the docks are? I also...do not know the proper rate for this work. Are any of you familiar with it?" The warforged had sounded interested in money, and the changeling had recommended the hiring after all.

Moma's eyes briefly widened as the coins were dropped in her alms box. This was a much better outcome than she expected. She lifted her drink, saluted the halfling, took a swig, and thankfully kept the contents down this time, but only barely. "This stuff tastes like the Kraken's waste water. By the Sovereign Hand, we will drink better stuff when we pray for your son's safe return, or we will all be in peril." 

Turning to Zoveldra, she continues. "Docks, why yes, my ship, the Boisterous Bastard, recently put in there. I saw a few other gals put out there, as well. Happy to return there to see what we can find."

Turning to the halfling, "I'm not certain how comfortable you are with a rough crowd, but you can join us in exploring or you can explore other parts of the city. Either way, I recommend having some coin handy to loosen tongues. But do be careful with your purse since there are unscrupulous folks who prey on the vulnerable." Moma smiled broadly at her deliberate pun - prey and pray. 

The halfling looks around nervously smiling, at the rough and strange crowd around the place. "Well, maybe if you've got a lead on where to find him you could just bring him up to Dragon Towers in Middle Central. You'll find our house of healing there quite easily I think. Ask for me by name, it is Tarric Jorasco. My son is Anric d'Jarasco. Here, take this for now, when you've brought my son back I'd be happy to give you the other half" He slips 100gp into your hand before heading for the door... rather quickly.

"Suspicious"

LANDMOP says as the Halfling departs. Curious what might have spooked them until it takes a look at the surroundings.

"Perhaps not, but... Why would someone so wealthy come themselves?"