There are about 10 tables in the room, along with the bar with 6 stools in front, and a door to what is probably the kitchen.  Stairs lead up to what you can imagine are probably some very shoddy rooms for rent.  A large fireplace blazes on one side, keeping the cold out.There are around 15 patrons in the bar with a little over half the tables taken.  There is a large, burly half-orc with greasy hair behind the bar shouting at some nearby patrons, arguing with them over the price of their rather sickly looking meal.  Despite the rough looking crowd it's actually fairly quiet.

There is some muttering and side-glances as you walk in, leaving you to think that these people are probably regulars and don't see new people in here that often.  You don't see anyone with a snake tattoo.  A few of the patrons look pretty well pickled.  One is even passed out with his head on the table and his friends are going through his pockets to look for coin to buy more drinks.   There are a couple of individuals keeping to themselves at the bar, though they do look up when you walk in.

"Very subtle, Dori." Sariel says smirking. He enters the tavern and goes up to the barkeep. "Hello there. I didn't get to eat yet tonight. May I have your best meal?" He asks.

Looking around he notices that he hasn't been here quite often. Living in Waterdeep, Sariel usually surrounds himself with a more a jovial crowd. 

The half-orc looks at you, huffs, and walks back into the kitchen.  He emerges a minute later with a bowl of the famous lamb stew and large crusty (read: stale) bread roll.  He drops the plate on the counter.  He grabs 5 tankards from a nearby wash basin (without washing them), fills them with ale and puts them on the bar next to it.  "That's 2 silver for the food and 5 coppers each for the drinks.  You guys want food you'll have to wait - that was the last of it.  Unless you want something cold."  You suspect "cold" probably means "Uncooked" in this place.

(OCC: What's our starting money? I think I missed the conversation about that.)

"I got it." Sariel puts down 3 dragons on the bar. "I was also looking for information. We are looking for one of your patrons. He has gone missing and a dear friend of ours has been worried sick. Not sure if you heard my friend, but his name is Floon and he has red hair. He left here last night. Did he leave alone or did he leave with someone? And if so, do you have a name or description?" He says as he leans in closer so that others may not hear. As he leans in, he grabs his stew and one of the tankard. "Come get it fellas!" He gestures his comrades over. He smiles at the half-orc barkeep.

Gargan

Gargan moves to join Sariel and gladly accepts the drink. He takes a brief sip from his tankard, tasting the ale and contemplating it for a moment. He then looks into the tankard and casts prestidigitation to adjust the flavour of the ale to that of a fine wine before drinking more. He looks up to Sariel and says quite loudly so that anyone near to them can clearly hear "Excellent, nothing like a bit of light refreshment after putting down a Troll."

Dori smiled toothily at Sariel before following the elf to the bar and taking his paid for drink. The best kind. The goliath would take a hearty chug without breath then slam the empty tankard down on the bar. "Hmm. I put the troll down, Gargan. Remember? You burned it alive without hesitation, friend."

Gargan

Taking another sip of his "ale" first, he replies to Dori in a perfectly straight tone-  "Indeed you are right, I apologise. The distinction between bumping into it with your oafish frame and burning it alive and putting an end to the threat is an important one friend." He finishes with a wink to Dori as he chuckles.

Cloudfur

Cloudfur will follow the rest of his associates towards the bar and take a seat.  He'll pretend to take a swig of the ale and smile at the barkeep, before turning to face the rest of the bar patrons.

Pursuasion (Sariel) 13

The barkeep chuckles a little as he refills Dori's tankard, picking the coins off the counter.  "Three dragons buys you confirmation that he was here two nights ago and left with a very recognizable friend.  They left around midnight and I saw 5 men follow them out."

The patrons at a nearby table overhear the conversation: “Chip off the old block, that Raener!” sneers one. “Just another spoiled, rich noble who likes to rub our noses in it!” says another.  The barkeep closes his eyes and shakes his head.  He yells back at them "I could have gotten 3 more dragons for that name if you hadn't spouted it off for free you idiots!  I'll just put that on your tab aye?  Or maybe take it out of yer hide!" The men stop laughing and put their heads back down in their drinks.

(As some of you have lived in the city for quite a while, you would know they are likely referring to Raener Neverember.  Raener's father is Lord Dagult Neverember, the former Open Lord of Waterdeep (and currently the Lord of Neverwinter).  The Open Lord is the public figurehead of the local government.  The city is run by the Lords of Waterdeep, which is a council of between 16 and 29 Masked Lords whose identities are kept secret even from each other.  The Open Lord is the only one whose identity is known, and he facilitates the council.   When they meet or appear in public the Masked Lords all wear black, formless masks and black robes.  The current Open Lord is Laeral Silverhand).

(Also for those that missed it - starting gold = 5d6+10)

Cloudfur

Cloudfur will take his tankard of ale and wanders over to the men who spoke.

"You all seem a right friendly crew, who were the men who followed Raener out that night?  Do you know where we might find them?" then to the barkeep he'll call out "a round of ale for my new friends here!" and place 2 dragons on the table.

The men take their ale and their dragons before replying.  "You know where you are right?  Who owns this place, and half of Dock Ward?  I'm sure we all know who they were, or at least who they were with, and if you made it here I'm sure you do too.  But I don't know who they were specifically, why they followed them or where they went.  And if I did, you wouldn't know.  Information is cheap, but my life is worth more than you can pay, understand?"  He yells out to the barkeep "Garuk!  You're serving some questionable clientelle these days.  Maybe it's time to clean house a little bit?"

As the man finishes speaking, Garuk is already walking towards the table "Time to go.  I had two shit-kickin's in here today and I don't need a third, plus I don't need no attention from ..management."  He gestures towards the door and starts gathering up dishes from the table.  One of the figures at the bar drops some coins on the counter and quickly walks out.  The room is now silent, all attention on you.

26

Dori stared into his newly poured tankard as he listened to the aimless chatter of the bar. While they were given information it all sounded useless to the goliath. Infuriating him in a way that the troll piss the skewered dragon served couldn't wash away.

"Where.. is the beautiful red haired man named Floon!"

Dori throwing his tankard across the room. 

Garuk speaks up a little more direct, and a little more stern: "We told you friend, he was here and left with Raener followed by others we don't know.  No one knows where he is, except that he isn't here.  Out. Now."

Gargan

Gargan stands up and moves over to Dori, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come friend, we’ve gained a name. I know we hoped for more but it’s more than we had when we entered these doors.” He turns to the others and indicates he intends to leave before adding in a slightly sarcastic tone   “Let us take our leave of this fine establishment and leave these gentlemen to their drinks.”

If it seemed the Skewered Dragon was going to turn up no more results than a name, the goliath rushed past Gargan "We'll have more when we leave then. " and the others to catch the figure that had just paid and was leaving.

Dori waiting just until they were outside before reaching out to grab the individual and pick them off the ground. "Where is the beautiful, red haired man named Floon."

Grapple Athletics check: 26

Sizan is a human by initial appearance clad in leather armor of dark brown tone, but otherwise non-descript in nature. There is almost no inch of his body not covered in a thick, black or dark orange clothing/cloth save the thin space by which green serpentine eyes surrounded by black scales that at a glance or distant look like mascara. He carries two Shortswords at his hip, a large, curved dagger sheathed at his back, and possibly other weapons. All together his garb is reminiscent of someone from or with connection to southern or eastern lands known for their great deserts, though with obvious modifications to better handle the winters in Water Deep. He is slender of frame that boarders on lanky due to his height, dark-skinned, and has black hair that just peeks past his head wrappings.

Dori grumbled at the talker, hearing a bunch, but nothing in regards to what the Goliath actually asked.  “None of that was about the beautiful, red haired man named Floon.” Dropping Sizan from his grasp and turning back to the Skewered Dragon.

Sizan Sidrosin

Sizan stumbles upon landing, but recovered quickly enough to keep some measure poise. "Before you go, might I propose something? Seeing as how me and your friends are at least loosely after the same people." He offers, feign picking off snow and lint from his form. If that is enough to at least get the goliath's attention, and whoever else might've stepped out with him, he motions for them step off at least a short away from the Skewered Dragon. 

Gargan

As he emerges from the Skewered Dragon he catches the end of the exchange between Dori and the stranger. Looking the stranger over Gargan eyes him suspiciously, moving over to stand alongside Dori as he does. "I see you've made a new friend." He says to Dori, before turning to the newcomer - "And apparently your usual form of diplomacy has worked. You say loosely after the same people, whom might it be that you seek Mr...I don't believe I caught your name?"