Oni will notice the crowd in the bar focus their attention on the group and he takes a step back towards the door with his hand going for his crystal. Then he hears the innkeeper praise the group for their actions at Garumn’s Keep. He calms himself and looks to the halfling walking forward a little bit, ”please sir, you are too kind. We deserve no praise, we are not heroes, we did our jobs and nothing more.” Oni does his best to sound humble and undeserving in hopes that he gets left alone. When the crowds of people come over to shake hands and give thanks, he puts down his hood and does his best to not touch anyone. When someone goes to shake his hand he will hold his hand up and say, ”I appreciate the kindness but the battlefield isn’t a clean place and I would not want to shake your hand and risk spreading anything.”

((I’m not sure if you use passive scores DM but my passive deception is a 15. Not sure if you want me to roll to lie to commoners because I will probably do it a lot. If you want me to I will.))

Having noticed Oni's discomfort in getting too close to others a coupe of times, and knowing what it feels like to want to be left alone in a crowded tavern, Grum steps forward to try to help him out. As someone hours to shake Oni's hand, the half-orc quickly takes the hand and shakes it himself instead, using his newly gauntleted hand without even thinking. 

"It's true that the battlefield is a filthy place. And he's right about our actions. Many people feel in that battle. We are not really heroes, just survivors."

Turning to Oni, he begins to suggest finding a table in a quieter corner, and then sees Misha has already settled on a table. "Let's take a seat and let the others do the meet and greet. I'm not a fan of crowds either."

It's at this point he notices that Misha has changed already. He gives a strange look at her choice of attire but says nothing, hoping she hasn't noticed his questioning glance.

”Thank you Grum, I appreciate it.” Oni gladly follows Grum to the table where Misha is. He sits as far away from the crowd as possible and surveys the room in a very paranoid manner, making sure no one is looking at him too long.

Jill stays close to Misha. Like some of the others, she wasn't the best in social situations, but when she was around the Paladin, she at least felt confident enough to pretend that she was for a night. Jill also figured that she wouldn't have to engage in too much idle chatter because most of the patrons would be too distracted by Misha to notice her. I suppose that if you got it, you flaunt it and Misha's definitely got it. One could wash laundry on those abs. "Tonight, my well toned friend, we reap the rewards of victory." She says softly.

Natasha wasn't too used to the attention and praise, her cheeks burning as she shook the hands of the patrons, however her grip on one of the people had tightened significantly once she saw Misha's new attire. "Lo siento! Sorry, sorry!" She apologized profusely as she ripped her hand away from them. "Been a trip, you know? Haha, uh... You guys wouldn't happen to have any... Ale would you?"

You are half-dragged, half-carried, whether willingly or unwillingly, to the most comfortable armchairs in the inn, where halfling barmaids serve you steaming bowls of meat and potato stew in front of the roaring fireplace. One of the barmaids gasps as Grum accepts his food with his gauntleted hand. "Are you a cleric of Torm?" She asks breathlessly.

Updating when I get home!

It took all of Jill's considerable restraint to eat the stew like a normal person and not just lap it up. She didn't usually get to eat meals like this, so she often forgot about things like social niceties when she managed to get enough money to afford food at a tavern. But being around people that she trusted and liked made her remember her manners.

"Could not have had victory without you, Jeel." Misha smiled as she settle in and got comfortable. While she was used to wearing plate and had the strength to do so, she took advantage of any situation to take it off and relax when appropriate. After all, it was uncomfortable to sit in a chair with tables while wearing metal armor. "We celebrate many theengs--B- Oh! More leetle people, carry us to- Ok! Here we go!" She laughed as she was escorted to another table.

Then the stew of little round things and protein came. Nearly drooling at the sight, when she was served she ate like a starving animal. After a few moments, she stopped mid chew, and looked at everyone, froze. She swallowed hard and then looked at Jill and did her best to imitate her manners. She ordered a drink of ale, and made sure anyone who wanted one got one. She ate another bowl of "stoo", and raised her mug up and offered a toast to her new friends.

"Comrades, all my life I have fought beside people of my kind, in a great war we are slowly losing. While not of this land, these last two days have been filled fighting alongside people of honor, courage, and I say to all it glorious to be a part of squad of such wonderful people in land very beautiful. For conquest! For glory!"

She chugs down the ale, and with a loud "AHHHhh.." sets the mug down. "Great Conqueror, is drinks here always so weak?"

While everyone else eats and drink, she sits in between Jill and Tasha and has no problem mingling with them, and the others if they want to talk. She has a story for every occasion, and most things anyone would say would interest her genuinely, for a being who spent her whole life on Acheron.

Jill's vision gets a little blurry when she finishes her ale, which makes her all the more curious when Misha seems unaffected by hers. An idea crosses through her mind and she feels mischievous enough to entertain it tonight. Jill smirks a bit as she walks up to the bartender. "My friend over there is used to drinking harder stuff than regular ale. Please pour her a glass of your hardest stuff. And then pour her a second."

The innkeeper scrambles to comply, honored to be addressed directly. He quickly pours a mug of frothing ale, which he proclaims to be his famous brew, 'Mudswallow.'

 "You won't find stronger stuff this side of the Singing River." He announces proudly.

"Thank you." Jill saunters back to Misha and hands the glass to her. "He says that this is the strongest ale on this side of the Singing River. Hopefully you'll feel something when you drink it."

Despite Natasha eating in a civilized manner, she was quick to finish the stew, asking for seconds as soon as she finished the bowl, then asked for a third when she finished that one, and made sure to thank who ever brought her more. Her pile of bowls slowly built up but she didn't mind it. It was nice to have a filling meal and she was afraid she wouldn't get a meal like this again for a long time, so she abused it. She also managed to finish one pint of ale without throwing up!

Mid-sip on what was probably her fifth bowl of soup, her eyes were now fixed to Misha, waiting to see if she would take up Jill's offer on the stronger ale.

During the meal, Misha told a story.

"Do not have parents. Was created in Genesis Chambers in Banehold. Remember very first test when I was about age 23. Where i'm from, always proving yourself, always being tested. I was chosen to come to this world because passed important first test, first meesion. As mentioned, war with Asmodeus not going well for Archeron. Was sent to keel woman who had lived for thousands of years, a very troublesome pest that was doing Hell's Will, and a great enemy to Bane, Our General. I spent time, much time, travelling from world to world trying to follow steps, found her finally on desert world of Eothia. She put up a beeg fight, a very worthy enemy. Had much courage and fought like wild animal, but no honor. She had lived so long, was slow, tired, ready to die - had very little will left. Took her back home to Acheron and eventually she was brought to justice with hammer." She gives it an affectionate pat. "Strange, though, as I was breaking her body, it's like she enjoy it. Very strange. Was troubled, that one. Had seen many horrible things and made mistakes, but The Lord Commander's Will must be obeyed, and she was no more. Was victory for home, and received promotion. Then I came here."

Oni can’t help but feel a sense of frustration the longer he sits in the bar. A mixture of feelings pour over him, paranoia, regret, and a hatred of himself. It’s complimented by the feeling of warmth and hearing the joy in the room, but it only makes him realize how out of place he is. He doesn’t feel deserving of any praise, he doesn’t feel deserving of any happiness. His sudden exit from the tavern isn’t stealthy as he leaves his food practically untouched and is calmed by the darkness of the night sky. He walks over to an alley next to the tavern and sits on the ground with his hood up as usual. He casts Mask of Many Faces to make himself look like an older human male with long and unkempt dark hair, sunken in eyes and a wrinkled face. The feeling of intense hunger that washes over him is all too familiar and he embraces it, almost to a point of comfort.

((As a note, I want to make sure when I play Oni like this, it doesn’t come across as me wanting attention as a player. If you think you’re character would follow or question him then by all means but don’t feel obligated to do something unless it fits. I’m not trying to make him stand out to pay more attention to him, if that makes sense.))

Jill listened to Misha's story intently. Admittedly, she was slightly weirded out by the concept of a person who was made and not born. But Misha was friendly to her and didn't seem like any of the creatures that she had been trained to fight, so she was willing to look past that. But what was more interesting to Jill was how she tracked down a woman who was thousands of years old and how the woman reacted to her death. Misha's story also momentarily made Jill wonder how old she was, since Misha didn't look too much older than she did, but her talk of traveling to different worlds and fighting in battles made it seem like she had been around for a while. But you never ask a lady her age. But perhaps some may ask about her skincare regimen. "A very interesting tale, Misha. I myself have fought creatures of the darkness, but none of them seemed as human as the one you killed, if a servant of Hell could be described as human."

"That woman..different. Tormented. Made deal with Hell for extra years. Very strong and viscous opponent. Had two blades that cut fast and deep. But I survive. There was much honor and glory for me upon her death. Never yet have known such terrible and troubled woman." For a moment she was drunk on the memory, but it quickly was replaced with a smile again. "In the end, there was not much human left, but now she no help servants of Hell no more. Now you. Tell a good story. Let us know something about you."

"Very well. Do you recall a few days ago how I mentioned that I was saved by people who would later train me to become someone who could survive? Well, they did a little more than that. You see, like my parents, they were worshipers of Kelemvor, except they went the extra mile when it came to destroying the undead. They consumed unnatural concoctions that heightened their senses and gave them extra powers. I also consumed this concoction when I started my training. It's not something that mortal beings were meant to consume. The concoction alters the body of those who consume it and many died in agony when they couldn't physically endure what was happening to them. I suppose that it is similar to the testing that went on in Acheron. Obviously, I managed to survive this process. Whether it was because of the strength of my body or because of the strength of my spirit, I cannot say. But I have power now, a power that you might have seen during the battle at the keep when my blade froze the air around it as it tore through our enemies. Now drink your Mudswallow ale before it gets too warm."

Misha remains quiet while you tell your story. Absorbed by every word you speak, she is marveled by what she has heard. She smiles at you and her eyes wander all over your face. She takes her mug and says to you, proudly, "Strength of body. Strength of mind." And takes a drink.

"Genesis Chambers was invention learned to manufacture soldiers for a way to mass produce warriors against losing battle with Asmodeus. I visit it when I was a child, part of education process. It is like.." she looks around the room for the words, "..sacks of fluid in chambers of steel where Doctors and Priests could create life according to specifics. Customize. They explain everything to me, show me how babies are programmed and how the strong survive. Is war for our very survival. Lord General Bane have different plan for me." 

Jill listens intently to Misha's explanation, but by this point she's two or three drinks in and is getting tipsy. "Sacks of fluid?" She pokes Misha's stomach a few times. "You don't feel like a sack of fluid to me. How is that ale treating you, by the way?" She slurs.