A few minutes after Arbist sits down, the door opens again, this time admitting a large figure.The tortle walks to the bar, sitting heavily beside the half-orc and the other patrons. ”A tankard, if you would please. Something alcoholic.” Despite the bulk of the figure, the voice is obviously that of a female. “And something hot to eat, if you have anything that doesn’t taste like bile.”
The bartender gives you a slight look of displeasure but acquiesces to your request.
The first thing Arbrist noted, when entering the tavern, was the fact that the door hinges looked thin and worn out, so, if he needed to quickly escape the place, kicking it down would likely be possible. As a result, he chose the table in the corner closest to the door and sat down, surveying the tavern and ordering a raspberry-flavored drink with no alcohol, as well as some oatmeal. It seemed like a rather boring, run-of-the-mill tavern, where nothing of interest, except for occasional drunken brawls, would ever happen.
( Make a perception check for inspecting the door.)
Velnor sits in a corner of the tavern as far from people as he can, a human ranger, covered with a travel-worn cloak,the hood covers half of his face , he is drinking a mug of ale while from time to time looking around, as he notice a half-orc on the bar his right hand goes into his robe and stays there, he continues drinking his mug with his left hand while constantly eyeing for the half-orc actions.
Mituna grabs the tankard, takes a swig, and brings it back down on the bar before beginning to eat. “You have my thanks, friend. Kord’s strength to you.” She eats the rest of her meal in silence, then looks about the tavern, observing the other patrons.
Mituna grabs the tankard, takes a swig, and brings it back down on the bar before beginning to eat. “You have my thanks, friend. Kord’s strength to you.” She eats the rest of her meal in silence, then looks about the tavern, observing the other patrons.
(You look around and currently see nothing too out or the ordinary.)
A scrawny figure sits in the far corner. His hood up, a bad attempt to hide the horns that wrap around his ears and are poking out the front. A tuff of his quaffed white hair visible. A shepherds hook lays propped up next to him as he drinks from his glass. A bunch of empty glasses adorn the table in front of him. He shouts “Nother round”. Without bringing his attention away from his empty drink.
Mituna breaths in deeply at the sight of the fog, long since accustomed to irregular weather patterns and anomalies. She gets up and moves towards the door, mood visibly improving. When she reaches the whisps of fog, she subtly grabs the symbol of Kord hanging around her neck before kneeling in a brief prayer.
The fog might be something Arbrist may need to have a plan for, so he stands up and looks out the window, at the same time surveying other patrons, to see if anyone else notices something strange as well.
Sarok would glance slightly at the fog, briefly paying it a small amount of attention before returning to his drink. The other patrons receiving even less attention than the fog.
Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides through the doorway. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him, and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows.
Without hesitation, he walks up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms.
In an accented voice he says, “I have been sent to you to deliver this message. If you be creatures of honor, you will come to my master’s aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich Woods at night!” He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. “Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich Woods. There you will find my master in Barovia.”
Amid the silent stares of the patronage, the ***** strides to the bar and says to the wary barkeep, “Fill the glasses, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched.” He drops a purse heavy with gold on the bar. With that, he leaves.
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The bartender gives you a slight look of displeasure but acquiesces to your request.
( Make a perception check for inspecting the door.)
(Make an Insight Check)
Mituna grabs the tankard, takes a swig, and brings it back down on the bar before beginning to eat. “You have my thanks, friend. Kord’s strength to you.” She eats the rest of her meal in silence, then looks about the tavern, observing the other patrons.
Officially Joined the Expanded Signature Club
Will be on Hiatus: Currently Clear
(You look around and currently see nothing too out or the ordinary.)
Bob walks in to the tavern. "Hmm things are done now time for a drink. Barkeep give me something to knock a dwarf on his bum. Please."
Insight: 15
Peralta - Tiefling Warlock
A scrawny figure sits in the far corner. His hood up, a bad attempt to hide the horns that wrap around his ears and are poking out the front. A tuff of his quaffed white hair visible. A shepherds hook lays propped up next to him as he drinks from his glass. A bunch of empty glasses adorn the table in front of him. He shouts “Nother round”. Without bringing his attention away from his empty drink.
You sense nothing amiss from this half-orc.
While you are all sitting in the tavern, you notice, through the wide open front doors, a heavy fog start to come in on this rather clear night.
Mituna breaths in deeply at the sight of the fog, long since accustomed to irregular weather patterns and anomalies. She gets up and moves towards the door, mood visibly improving. When she reaches the whisps of fog, she subtly grabs the symbol of Kord hanging around her neck before kneeling in a brief prayer.
Officially Joined the Expanded Signature Club
Will be on Hiatus: Currently Clear
Perception Check:
16
The fog might be something Arbrist may need to have a plan for, so he stands up and looks out the window, at the same time surveying other patrons, to see if anyone else notices something strange as well.
Sarok would glance slightly at the fog, briefly paying it a small amount of attention before returning to his drink. The other patrons receiving even less attention than the fog.
The fog sets in heavily after a few minutes. You notice in the fog a faint silhouette of a carriage. It stops and a small ball of light emerges.
(You actually notice that the doors are well maintained、ornately carved and wide open.)
After finishing her prayers, Mituna calls out to the carriage and it’s occupants. ”Who goes there?”
Officially Joined the Expanded Signature Club
Will be on Hiatus: Currently Clear
Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides through the doorway. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him, and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows.
Mituna sizes up his colored outfit and silent demeanor. “What’s your name, sir?”
Officially Joined the Expanded Signature Club
Will be on Hiatus: Currently Clear
Without hesitation, he walks up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms.
In an accented voice he says, “I have been sent to you to deliver this message. If you be creatures of honor, you will come to my master’s aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich Woods at night!” He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. “Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich Woods. There you will find my master in Barovia.”
Amid the silent stares of the patronage, the ***** strides to the bar and says to the wary barkeep, “Fill the glasses, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched.” He drops a purse heavy with gold on the bar. With that, he leaves.