The man takes a concerned look at Garil, then shrugs and points you in the direction of the lounge. "Take a left, walk two blocks, then a right. Entrance is in an alley on the right. Have fun."
Waving thanks to the resident, Vorin leads the way there. It’s a seedy looking place, and though his companions obviously don’t need the help, his sense of chivalry insists upon his going first.
Assuming they can just walk in, he strides into the lounge looking like somebody that just wants a drink, and looks around for anyone resembling the description they were given while he nurses one.
If there’s a bouncer in the way, he nods to them and waits to be let in.
Olgha slips in after Vorin, her eyes never stopping. She scans every corner...the regulars hunched over their drinks, the staff, the shadowy corners, and especially the faces that don’t seem to belong. She looks for the little things: who sits with their back to the wall, who people make space for, who never has to raise their voice to get what they want.
She’s looking for the person who carries themselves like a patron—authority in their posture, eyes that miss nothing, the weight of secrets in their stillness.
The room is hazy with smoke in the air. A shocking number of people are here, most at tables drinking and smoking some substance. Waitresses walk around in skimpy clothing. At the bar, a small crowd has formed around what appears to be two men arm wrestling. You can hear sounds of poker being played in the back, and a brawl starting over claims of cheating. Then, you notice a woman watching you from the side of the room. She was an elf, tall, skinny to an unhealthy degree, and had long black hair. She had sunken in cheeks, and looked like she hadn't slept in days. As she watched you, she puffed on a cigarette that she seemed to be enjoying very much.
Olgha moves through the smoke and noise with practiced ease, keeping to the edges, her footfalls barely audible beneath the din. She settles into the shadows beside the elven woman, her eyes flicking to the cigarette with a faint, wry smile. “That stuff’ll kill you, you know,” she says softly...voice dry. She gestures lightly at the smoke curling between the woman’s fingers.“What’s in those anyway? Doesn’t smell like anything you’d find in a proper tobacconist’s. Or is that part of the charm?”
Her tone is easy, but her eyes are sharp as she adds:“I’m new in town and looking for someone with answers. They say the patron here keeps an interesting house. You know where I might find him...or her?” She leans back a little, making it clear she’s here to talk, not threaten, and that she knows how these places work. Olgha gives a little smirk, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence. “And tell me...do they even serve fish in a place like this?” (OOC: in reference to the passcode)
"What, this?" Her voice is rough, like she'd been smoking her whole life. "Elendrian Pipeweed. Feels real good. Real good. Lookin to buy?" She stops to take another drag, then freezes at your mention of fish. "Ah. I see. Right this way then." She leads you to a door in the back. "Boss is in here."
You all can decide what you would like to do with Garil, the lounge is not the most moral place and could not care less if a child was exposed to indecency inside.
[OOC: Engelheart would volunteer to wait outside if Garil couldn't/wouldn't go in]
((I guess everyone except Engel and Garil can go inside and talk to the boss. Unless the party would rather have Vadania staying behind instead of Engel or both of us staying behind. ))
She enters the tavern and keeps her head down. Being from a small village, she's never seen a tavern with maids dressed so... scantly. She is not used to the big city life and definitely not used to a place like this.
Olgha pauses just long enough to let a small green spark flicker from her fingers as she passes her companions.“Green light means trouble,” she mutters, then follows the woman toward the back room.
As you enter the poorly lit room, which is larger than you would have expected, you see a lone man sitting at a desk, writing something down. The door slams shut behind you, and the noises of the outside world are drowned out. The man does not seem to notice you as you walk in, but he it sounds like he is muttering something under his breath.
Vannithos studies the man for signs of vampirism and tries to discern what he is murmuring about. Skeer wanted them to kill him; is he a possible ally, or just another villain?
Olgha moves in with calculated caution, her eyes flickering over the man’s silhouette as she quietly surveys the dim room. There’s something about the hush that sets her on edge...maybe it’s the way the shadows cling too tightly, or the faint echo of Skeer’s voice in her mind. She keeps her hands loose and ready, but her real focus is on the edges of perception: the way light bends, the subtle shimmer of air, the possibility that not everything here is as it seems.
She keeps her tone easy, conversational, as she addresses him: “You’re rather relaxed for a man with a dagger named after him. I’m Olgha, and this is my associate Vannithos . Seems we both have reasons to be careful tonight.”
As she speaks, Olgha lets her gaze slide past the man, subtly probing the room for any sign of arcane trickery, strange reflections, distortions, or that tingle at the back of her neck that warns of illusion magic. She focuses on the man’s features for any hint of glamour, mask, or magical disguise...
The man takes a concerned look at Garil, then shrugs and points you in the direction of the lounge. "Take a left, walk two blocks, then a right. Entrance is in an alley on the right. Have fun."
Waving thanks to the resident, Vorin leads the way there. It’s a seedy looking place, and though his companions obviously don’t need the help, his sense of chivalry insists upon his going first.
Assuming they can just walk in, he strides into the lounge looking like somebody that just wants a drink, and looks around for anyone resembling the description they were given while he nurses one.
If there’s a bouncer in the way, he nods to them and waits to be let in.
Olgha slips in after Vorin, her eyes never stopping. She scans every corner...the regulars hunched over their drinks, the staff, the shadowy corners, and especially the faces that don’t seem to belong. She looks for the little things: who sits with their back to the wall, who people make space for, who never has to raise their voice to get what they want.
She’s looking for the person who carries themselves like a patron—authority in their posture, eyes that miss nothing, the weight of secrets in their stillness.
Perception = 9 or Insight = 12
The room is hazy with smoke in the air. A shocking number of people are here, most at tables drinking and smoking some substance. Waitresses walk around in skimpy clothing. At the bar, a small crowd has formed around what appears to be two men arm wrestling. You can hear sounds of poker being played in the back, and a brawl starting over claims of cheating. Then, you notice a woman watching you from the side of the room. She was an elf, tall, skinny to an unhealthy degree, and had long black hair. She had sunken in cheeks, and looked like she hadn't slept in days. As she watched you, she puffed on a cigarette that she seemed to be enjoying very much.
Olgha moves through the smoke and noise with practiced ease, keeping to the edges, her footfalls barely audible beneath the din. She settles into the shadows beside the elven woman, her eyes flicking to the cigarette with a faint, wry smile. “That stuff’ll kill you, you know,” she says softly...voice dry. She gestures lightly at the smoke curling between the woman’s fingers. “What’s in those anyway? Doesn’t smell like anything you’d find in a proper tobacconist’s. Or is that part of the charm?”
Her tone is easy, but her eyes are sharp as she adds: “I’m new in town and looking for someone with answers. They say the patron here keeps an interesting house. You know where I might find him...or her?” She leans back a little, making it clear she’s here to talk, not threaten, and that she knows how these places work. Olgha gives a little smirk, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence. “And tell me...do they even serve fish in a place like this?” (OOC: in reference to the passcode)
"What, this?" Her voice is rough, like she'd been smoking her whole life. "Elendrian Pipeweed. Feels real good. Real good. Lookin to buy?" She stops to take another drag, then freezes at your mention of fish. "Ah. I see. Right this way then." She leads you to a door in the back. "Boss is in here."
[OOC: Engelheart would volunteer to wait outside if Garil couldn't/wouldn't go in]
You all can decide what you would like to do with Garil, the lounge is not the most moral place and could not care less if a child was exposed to indecency inside.
((Garil could wait outside with one of us, either Engelheart or Vadania while the rest talk to the boss))
[OOC: should I go in with Vannithos and Engel?]
((I guess everyone except Engel and Garil can go inside and talk to the boss. Unless the party would rather have Vadania staying behind instead of Engel or both of us staying behind. ))
((If we end up having to fight the boss, we probably want to leave behind one person max. Do we have any way of signalling whoever stays outside?))
[OOC: maybe I could use my Prestidigitation to make a little fuss around the tavern if something seems off]
Vannithos trails after the others inside, letting his more talkative companions take the lead while he follows like a shadow.
Stealth: 12
I guess Vadania's going inside too...
She enters the tavern and keeps her head down. Being from a small village, she's never seen a tavern with maids dressed so... scantly. She is not used to the big city life and definitely not used to a place like this.
Olgha pauses just long enough to let a small green spark flicker from her fingers as she passes her companions. “Green light means trouble,” she mutters, then follows the woman toward the back room.
As you enter the poorly lit room, which is larger than you would have expected, you see a lone man sitting at a desk, writing something down. The door slams shut behind you, and the noises of the outside world are drowned out. The man does not seem to notice you as you walk in, but he it sounds like he is muttering something under his breath.
Vannithos studies the man for signs of vampirism and tries to discern what he is murmuring about. Skeer wanted them to kill him; is he a possible ally, or just another villain?
Perception: 12
Olgha moves in with calculated caution, her eyes flickering over the man’s silhouette as she quietly surveys the dim room. There’s something about the hush that sets her on edge...maybe it’s the way the shadows cling too tightly, or the faint echo of Skeer’s voice in her mind. She keeps her hands loose and ready, but her real focus is on the edges of perception: the way light bends, the subtle shimmer of air, the possibility that not everything here is as it seems.
She keeps her tone easy, conversational, as she addresses him: “You’re rather relaxed for a man with a dagger named after him. I’m Olgha, and this is my associate Vannithos . Seems we both have reasons to be careful tonight.”
As she speaks, Olgha lets her gaze slide past the man, subtly probing the room for any sign of arcane trickery, strange reflections, distortions, or that tingle at the back of her neck that warns of illusion magic. She focuses on the man’s features for any hint of glamour, mask, or magical disguise...
Arcana = 13
As Olgha introduces herself and Vannithos to the man, Vadania stays still and watches the man,, her eyes fall on him, glowing in the dark room.