Kel raises his hands again, this time in a more placating manner, his grin slipping into something a touch more sheepish. “Ah now, Master Dwarf, I see I’ve put me foot in it.” He gestures to the neatly stacked wares with a flourish. “Didn’t mean to slight your fine selection, not one bit. Anyone with eyes can see you’ve an eye for quality—why else would we be standin’ here, puttin’ our coin in your hands an’ not another’s?”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial manner. “Truth be told, I’ve been on the road so long, I sometimes forget what proper craftsmanship looks like. That rope? Probably could tow a cart if you needed. The rations? Best I’ll be eatin’ for weeks, I wager.” He places a hand over his chest in a dramatic show of sincerity. “So let’s call me earlier words what they were—foolish prattle from a man who should know better. No hard feelin’s, aye?”

He extends a hand, his grin returning with a touch more warmth. “Let’s shake on it, an’ I’ll even promise not to grumble when that fine rope saves me neck down the road.”

The tool kits are of decent expected quality, nothing fancy.

[[I’m not sure if this is what you are going for, but Kelvin’s voice is very noticeably Irish in my head.]]

The dwarf, Taggert, seems calmed enough by your kind words.

Kaelen gives a small nod after studying the tools. "These will do."

Quote from Charwoman_Gene >>

Asariel: You smartly check the vibes on the two main churches, and while both have music as part of their services, Melora’s temple looks like the better option, even if they are less likely to trade money for services.

You can get a 25% discount on the anti-toxin and healers kits with a DC 18 Performance Check. Take advantage for a well applied skill.

You are offered a cache of 4 healing potions and 2 antitoxins for no cost if you agree to carry back tales of the state of nature along the trail.

 Performance: 24 (though as stated, he will return that 25% discount to the church as a donation.). "I am more than happy to bring back tales of nature. I am not the most knowledgeable about natural things myself, but I will pass on the message to those I am travelling with so that our report to you is factually correct."

With all goods arranged and errands run, you all come together at the Wolf’s Clothing Inn for dinner. You will have a basic hearty dinner of a rich stew and local vegetables along with a reasonable amount to drink on the town’s tab if that serves your needs.

[[Montage over.]]

Kaelen sits at the edge of the table, his posture relaxed but alert, one hand loosely cradling a cup of watered wine as he watches the others with quiet interest. The rich aroma of the stew drifts up from the bowl in front of him, and though he eats sparingly, he doesn’t seem ungrateful.

He doesn’t drink heavily—just enough to pass as sociable—and his attention never strays far from the group’s conversations, absorbing details and weighing the words of his companions in that silent, ever-watching way of his.

Kel slouches in his chair, one boot propped on the rung, the other tapping an uneven rhythm against the floorboards. His tankard wobbles precariously in his grasp as he sways with a bard’s theatrical flourish. His cheeks are flushed, his grin is broad, and his voice—oh, his voice—rises in a grand, slightly off-kilter melody that carries across the inn.

“Oh, I went to the market with coin in me hand,
Met a dwarf with a scowl an’ a stance mighty grand!
Said, ‘Kel, you smooth devil, now don’t be a lout,
But the price o’ these rations is fair, there’s no doubt!’”

He pauses, squinting as if trying to recall the next verse, then barrels ahead anyway, slamming his tankard down for emphasis.

“Well, I flattered, I bartered, I spun ‘im a tale,
Of rope so fine it could tow a great whale!
An’ biscuits so hard they’d shatter a stone,
But I’d eat ‘em with joy, an’ I’d not even moan!”

He winks at the table, swaying dangerously close to Kaelen before straightening with a flourish.

“So he knocked off a bit, said ‘That’s all ye’ll get!’
An’ I swore to me bones, I had no more regret!
For bargains ain’t won with coin or with steel,
But a tongue sharp as daggers an’ charm ye can’t steal!”

He takes a long, triumphant swig, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking around at his audience. “Now, the moral o’ the tale, lads an’ lasses, is this—always respect a dwarf’s pride, but never, ever pay full price if you can help it.” He grins broadly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “An’ if ye do, well, best make sure it comes with a song worth singin’!”

Arista sets to her stew with gusto, clearly doing her best to adopt more “civilized” manners but slipping every now and then. When Kel’s raucous tune rings out across the inn, she can’t help but sway in time—her broad shoulders gently knocking into the next chair and sending a small splash of stew onto the table. The moment he repeats a chorus line, she chimes in, echoing the end of each phrase with a hearty, if slightly off-key growl of enthusiasm.

Between slurps of broth and hearty bites of bread, she grins through mouthfuls of food, wiping at stray drips with her sleeve before belting out the next refrain. Even as she tries to contain herself, her excitement about joining the group’s revelry is obvious. A bit of splashed drink or errant stew dribble doesn’t faze her in the slightest—she’s too busy relishing the tune, the company, and the sense that she quickly became part of something bigger than herself.

Mathias partakes of the stew, even taking a second helping if allowed, and just enough ale to wash it down. Shaking his head at halfling raucous, seemingly drunken song.  

Asariel is glad to see Mathias disapproving of Kel's song, and so turns to him and says (loudly enough that the others including Kel can hear if they so choose to listen). "Of all the people I could be stuck with for an adventure, it has to be a bard who needs to act drunk to feel important. That or he's a lightweight. The real moral of his tale is manners are a treasure worth more than wit. Something he doesn't seem to have learnt himself yet."

Kel, finishes his song and lifts his head at Asariel’s remark, eyes twinkling with mischief. He sets his tankard down with a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest as though wounded.

“Ohhh, Asariel, ye wound me, truly.” He gestures wide,  “Here I am, slavin’ away to bring joy an’ culture to this fine establishment, an’ all I get in return is cruel judgment!” He sighs again, then smirks. “An’ I’ll have ye know, I don’t need to act drunk to feel important. I do that quite well sober, thank ye very much.”

With that, he plants his elbows on the table and props his chin on his hands, studying him for a moment before a slow grin spreads across his lips. "But ye raise an interestin’ point—manners are a treasure. Worth more than wit, ye say? Hm." He drums his fingers on the table, then straightens, eyes going distant as inspiration strikes.

Without further warning, he throws out his arms and bursts into song, his voice rising in a grand, bardic flourish:

"Oh the stew glows bright on the tavern tonight,
Not a morsel left for me!
A bard abandoned, left to starve,
An’ it’s tragic, don’t ye see?

Me charm is flowin’ like a river runnin’ wild,
Yet here sits Asariel, ever so beguiled!

"Mind yer tongue!" ye always say,
"Act polite now, earn yer pay!"
But where’s the fun in that, I ask?
I’d rather drink an’ play!

"Let it go, let it go!"
Bite me tongue? Ah, nevermore!
"Let it go, let it go!"
Pour me one an’ shut the door!

I don't care what ye have to say,
I’ll keep singin’ on—
‘Cause the ale never bothered me anyway!"

He ends with a dramatic flourish, swaying in his seat, waiting for either applause or an airborne object to be hurled in his direction. “Ahhh, now that is a proper moral.” He grins at Asariel. “Treasure manners if ye like, but me, I’ll take a good song an’ a full tankard any day.”

Kaelen doesn’t look up from his bowl of stew until the final, dramatic note of Kel’s impromptu performance fades into the din of the tavern.

“I’m more concerned whether you’ll manage a day away from an audience without unraveling,” he says dryly, his tone quiet but carrying just enough edge to be heard. “We’re heading into ruins, not a concert hall.”

Asariel sighs. He clearly isn't getting through to Kel so he launches into his own song. 

"Hey Kel, a word can heal or break,
A gentle tone is all it takes.
A sharp remark might win the fight,
But kindness keeps you walking light.

A door swings wide with “please” and “thanks,”
Not with jabs or bitter pranks.
No respect, no friendly cheer—
And tankards dry when none draw near.

So mind your words, let patience guide,
Leave the insults all aside.
A little grace will take you far,
Brighter path, a kinder star.

The moral here is clear to see,
If you stick with "me me me",
You'll lose respect and even more,
And be alone for ever more"

Arista leans forward in her seat, a broad grin spreading across her face as Asariel’s tune rises to meet Kel’s boisterous challenge. She stomps one heavy boot on the floor in time with the melody, rattling nearby cups and dishes. Whether or not they’re tossing pointed lyrics at each other doesn’t register; as far as she’s concerned, it’s all music, and more is always better. When Asariel finishes, she claps her hands with unbridled enthusiasm, nearly sloshing her drink again. “That was great!” she exclaims, voice rumbling with excitement. “Keep going—I’ll try to join in if you’ve got a chorus!” Arista’s gaze flickers from one bard to the other, clearly hoping for an encore and entirely unaware that she’s caught in the middle of a lyrical spar.

Torban, who has been eating with gusto, chimes in. “We’ve got a battle o’the bards happening here! My money is on the little one, the other is a little more high-falutin’ for my tastes.”

Asariel mutters under his breath "Of course you would agree with him. Idiots stick together"

Kel, ever the showman, leans back with a smug grin as Asariel finishes his song. He taps a thoughtful rhythm on the table with his fingers, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Ohhh, well done, lad. A fine bit of preachin’ wrapped up in melody. But ye see, where ye go wrong—" He sits forward, punctuating his words with a lazy flourish of his wrist. "—is assumin’ I mind a bit o’ trouble. A little chaos, a little bite—keeps life spicy, aye?"

Before Asariel can retort, Kel slaps the table and turns to Arista, eyes alight with excitement. “Now, lass, ye said ye wanted to join in, did ye not?” He points at her, then gestures for her to lean in. “Easy enough chorus, an’ all ye gotta do is belt it out when I cue ye. Goes like this—"

He clears his throat dramatically and sings in a lively rhythm:

"It’s such a good vibration!"

He nods to Arista expectantly, guiding her with a rolling hand motion. Once she catches on, he claps with approval. “That’s the spirit! Now, we take that and keep it comin’—simple, but effective.”

With a flourish, he turns to the rest of the tavern, hopping up onto a stool with a dramatic sway. “Ladies, gents, and those wise enough to stay outta this fool’s quarrel—I give ye a proper rebuttal.” And with that, he launches into song:

"Oh, I hear ye preachin’, tellin’ me—"
"Mind yer words an’ speak them free,"
"But friend, ye see, I’m just inclined,"
"To let the song speak me mind!"

"Come on, come on—"

“Feel it, feel it—” (He gestures to Arista, waiting for her cue.)

"It’s such a good vibration!"
"It’s such a sweet sensation!"

Kel grins wide as he continues, stomping his boot in time with the rhythm:

"Oh, I don’t need a crown o’ grace,"
"To keep a smile upon me face!"
"The ale is flowin’, the night is young,"
"An’ all we need’s a song well sung!"

"Come on, come on—"

“Feel it, feel it—” (Another expectant turn toward Arista.)

"It’s such a good vibration!"
"It’s such a sweet sensation!"

By now, he's swaying, clapping, and coaxing the tavern into joining. He twirls, arms open wide, reveling in the moment before he levels a playful gaze at Asariel. “Ah, but worry not, dear Asariel! I’ve taken yer advice to heart—" He taps his chest with exaggerated sincerity. "An’ now, I say it with a smile, ain’t that a step in the right direction?”

With a wink, he throws himself back into the chorus, inviting all to join.

"It’s such a good vibration!"
"It’s such a sweet sensation!"

Without even leaving much time for a pause, Asariel continues the back and forth.

"Oh Kel, you dance, you laugh, you cheer,
But mark my words and lend an ear.
A song well sung is a joy to share,
Yet respect keeps the tankards fair!

A roaring night, a merry tune,
But words can sour the sweetest boon.
No crown you need, just mind the way—
For honour keeps the feast in play!

You took my fiddle, "claimed" the stage,
Played it bold, full of pride and rage.
But ego won’t keep tankards filled—
Respect, my friend, now that takes skill!

A kind word gets you coin to spare,
A fairer price, a merchant’s care.
But turn up rude and mock the trade,
And you’ll be left outside, unpaid!

So drink and sing, but heed me say,
The best of nights don’t slip away.
For when respect stands strong and true,
The ale flows deep, the friends stay too!"

[[ Okay, loving the free RP, but at this point, it’s taking enough focus I want some dice on the table to adjudicate some tangible results.]]

The crowd hadn’t been paying too much attention up until this point, but with Asariel’s direct confrontation, they start focusing in. Kel and Asariel are battling for crowd adoration, I would like a performance check from each of you, Opposed Performance check to determine initial position, if you somehow do not meet a DC 10, there will be consequences.