The Bawdy Boar, a tavern as-yet lacking in either fame or infamy.

The Bawdy Boar is a nondescript tavern in the city of Neverwinter, frequented by generally peaceful folk and, occasionally, aspiring adventurers. On this particular evening, it seems it is the latter.

A dwarf sits in the corner, flagon gripped one hand, the other clutching the oaken staff that lies across his lap. His hair is grey and wild; his skin hoary. His frosty, startlingly azure ayes watch carefully, as if trying to discern an omen in every event and action.

In a table in the middle of the room, a man with stark white hair sits with a glass of fine red wine on the table and a friendly smile on his face. The sheen in his bright golden eyes and the flush on his tanned skin shows that it's not his first. One has difficulty determining his age which does not become easier after further investigation. Though slight of frame, one gets the impression that he is sturdier than he looks.

At the counter a half-elf is chatting jovially with the Boar's regulars about the local news and gossip. He wears a long red coat over some leather armour with a rapier sheathed at his waist on a belt. A merry roar goes up from the regulars as he orders them another round.

The dwarf mutters under his breath as his eyes flick over the scene. "Red", he opines, "Blood red wine, a crimson cloak. The sky'll be pink of the morn, or I'll be a book-faced gnome".

Perched casually atop a cask, an enchanting figure strums a folky tune to a small, curious audience who have strayed from the counter. Between nimbly plucking the strings, an elf brushes away the unusual pale lavender hair from her face so that she may have a better view of all who have sauntered closer. Even amid the dimmed lighting of the Boar, one could not help but notice her. Not only for her remarkably illuminating visage, but that perhaps the lyrics to the jaunty melody she was playing had much deeper meaning to them.

The tavern owner Branca Bonbolleron, watches the elf’s performance approvingly, while polishing a tankard. Her staff are deftly serving the patrons, so she is giving the bard her full attention. As the melody comes to an end, she speaks quietly to a passing waiter who heads towards the bard.

“We’re grateful to have you in tonight. The boss says your food and drinks are on the house. Have a word with her when you ready to retire and she’ll set up with a room”

A young halfling, short even for his race, tries to stand inconspicuously near the tavern door and is doing a pretty good job of it. His dress and general lack of hygiene mark him our clearly as one of the cities beggars. he looks like he expects to be thrown out at any moment and is desperately hoping no one notices him....at least for a while longer, while he crams the last of the leftover food he filtched from one of the nearby tables.

Suddenly the tavern door opens and a dwarf walks in. She looks around desperately, but based on her face doesn't see whatever she is looking for. As she turns to leave, her eyes pass over the lurking halfling and then return to him.

 "Lad, I've a wee job if you're interested. A letter arrived for my boss, Gundren Rockseeker. He is supposed to be having a meeting  in here, but hasn't arrived yet. If I give you two gold pieces and have a word with Branca, can I trust you to stay here and hand the letter over to him when he shows up?"

She holds out a letter and the gold pieces.

A young human female with tanned skinned, semi-long dark hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes, apparently from a place far far away, was sitting in the shadow, quietly listening and taking in her surroundings. She doesn't seem to know anyone. She finally takes the courage to approach the counter and addresses the bartender shyly.

Hi...sir...I'm looking for a job that could earn me a few coins, not much. Would you know someone looking for some help ?

The bartender smiles warmly and signals to the half-elf, who leaves his group to many disappointed shouts to join the young woman.

"Looking for a job then?" he asks, "The name's Daveak. I'm on the lookout for some capable individuals to do a bit of security work by a merchant. He's coming in tonight to explain what he needs to any lucky volunteers, if you would like to hear him out? Regardless, you look like you could do with some food and drink. If you aren't interested after he has said his piece, I can point you towards some other needy folks." He turns and flags down a bartender "Show the lady to the Rockseeker table. She's on my tab."

He surveys the room, and making a decision heads over to where the dwarf sits muttering under his voice and pulls up a chair.

 "Good evening my dwarven friend. You look like you need a top up" Daveak signals to a passing waiter, who brings over two fresh tankards. "You look like you know your way around that staff you are nursing. My employer has me looking out for those who can handle themselves. If you are interested, have a word with one of the staff and ask for the Rockseeker table. He'll be in later"

“Aye, I know Gundren. What daft idea has he got this time I wonder? No matter, his coin is good and he’s a fellow dwarf. Not his fault he was born a Rockseeker”.

Having checked which table Daveak was referring to, Humblodt raises himself with the aid of his staff and stomps over to it. “Thanks for the ale”, he nods to the barkeep. He then sits heavily, with a grunt to those already seated, “Humblodt Rumnaheim. Of the clan Rumnaheim, more fool them for having me, eh?”

His head cocked to one side, almost as if listening to voices in his ear,  he sups thoughtfully from his ale whilst surveying the motley assortment of would-be adventurers before him. “The gods try us, so they do.”

Twiglet looks sharply at the dwarf. Two gold coins for a dead drop seems suspiciously generous, But the dwarf doesn’t look like a likely stooge for a gang job. The gold coins glitter in the tavern’s lamplight and the thought of a warm meal fills Twiglets head. 

“Alright m’lady”, he says, putting on his most trustworthy smile. “Tell me how to know him and I’ll make sure he gets your note...and I won’t read it or nuffing”. 

This dwarf must be pretty desperate thought Twiglet. The desperate ones always gives little more. “There’s a chance Branca’ll sling me if I don’t buy nuffing soon and I recon she’ll think I’ve slid these coins off a customer”. Twiglet put on his best lovable urchin face, he continued. “Cause you’re so nice m’lady, would you get me a little something to eat? It’s been so long...”

Xiao Long:

"Thank you my brave man." said Xiao Long quietly as she makes her move towards the busy table. She scans the room, on the lookout for anyone who would want to harm her. She stands near the table: "Hi...I'm Xiao Long. Is this Gundren's table ?"

"Aye, it is. Late again, so he is. Typical Rockseeker. Make yourself at home, lass, pull up a pew". He notices the newcomer's tension, "Don't worry, I don't bite. The name's Humblodt Rumnaheim".

The dwarf looks at Twiglet clearly unimpressed, but decides that giving into his demands gets her out of here faster. Dashing through the crowd, the halfling barely keeping up, she heads for the bar. 

"Gundren is supposed to be meeting folks here for a supply job he planning or some such. He does love a negotiation, so he's probably still haggling. He's easily recognisable by the fact that he loves trinkets and more importantly he's probably the most cheerful dwarf you've seen."

She reached the bar, her furious sprint at an end, slamming down a handful of coin. Branca the owner comes over to talk.

"Evening Branca, the lad has an urgent message for Gundren. Could you point him to his meeting and stick him on the Boss' tab?"

As quickly as she arrived she is gone. Branca gives you a questioning look, but just takes your order and points you towards the table when Humblodt and Xiao now are sitting.

"I wonder what in the name of the light all this fuss is about" Tallanvor thinks to himself. The barkeep, the wretched child, the foreign woman all are staring at the dwarf with open curiosity. Even the half elf is pointedly ignoring the table, though he's been chattering with every yokel that walks through the door since he came in. 

"Yes sometimes it do be what the eye avoids that holds much import" he thinks to himself. He contents himself with another glass of this enchanting liquid (that most would call watered down swill-water) and waits for the scene to unfold. If there's coin to be made, they aren't likely to overlook one such as he. He suspects a caravan or merchant trade of sorts. There there's always need of a healer where bandits are involved.

And there are always bandits involved in these lands. Such hostility compared with his home...

Twiglet is ready to return to a dark nook to await the arrival of this Gundren. A “cheerful dwarf”? He thinks, that will stick out around here. The dwarves that Twiglet knows are mostly hard working and hard eyed smiths on the Street of Hammers. He took a fine dagger from one a few years ago and the smith hadn’t given up the chase for hours! shame that Garret had taken a liking to that knife, took it from Twiglet and gave him a thick ear for the effort. 

Branca weaves her way through the regulars to place a bowl of something on the table amongst the assorted adventurers sitting there, talks to them briefly and points in Twiglets direction. Terror grips Twiglet. The food is right there but guarded by another dwarf...and a strange looking human. 

But, the other dwarf had said that food was his, God’s Damnit...and the strange people seem to be ignoring it. So Twiglet moves swiftly through the crowd to the table. “That’s my food” he says, pointing at the bowl. Then, sitting down in a gap he pulls the bowl in very close to him, glares at the others with a feral dog challenge...”mine”... and starts to shovel the stew into him mouth. 

(2 gold coins is fine. I would have probably done the same for any amount of money )

Humblodt raps on the table with a bony knuckle to get the lad's attention. Staring him squarely in the eye, he says in a tone that brooks no argument, "Your food. My purse. Are we absolutely clear on that?"

With a mouth full of bread and stew, Twiglet looks guardedly at the sturdy looking dwarf. “If you was gonna get robbed, would have happened outside...this is off limits...neutral ground”. He swallowed his mouth full. “That’s why I’m in here....safe, see”. 

“You a monster killer?” Twiglet is suddenly curious to be so close to an adventurer. “Have you killed a goblin? A...a dragon?”