Balassar just shrugs “Yeah can’t hurt.” He just pushes his plate aside and stands up “Good luck my friend. Hopefully we can get some help on this.” With that he just begins to walk towards the guard post.

Alton and Balassar, you exit the tavern and immediately split up.

Balassar you head in the direction of the guard post you visited yesterday. There is a guard on duty outside, not the same one you saw yesterday; a female halfling who looks like she's about to fall asleep slumps against the wall, fidgeting with something in her hands. Half the armies of Xhorhas could get within ten feet of her without being noticed.

Alton, you head into the market, which is already quite busy - it's some time after dawn, and well before midday - a good time for people to do their grocery shopping for the day. It's busy, but not overcrowded; many stalls are dotted around a large area selling items of little interest to you. There's no stage for you to stand upon, but there is a little garden area in the middle, with a few benches next to a patch of grass with bushes and flowers. It's probably prettier in the spring, but it's nice enough, and clearly well tended. There's a crowd to hear you, if you're minded to make a speech.

Darren and Swin, you have travelled across the Marrow Valley in search of your missing friend Rhane, and your travels have now brought you to the small, one-inn town of Feltyr - a place you've never heard of, with little to offer. So why are you here? Two weeks ago you passed through a village not too far away, and asked about your friend. The villagers were reluctant to talk, as most folk have been, but this time there was one who wanted to say her piece. She told you of an incident a few months previously, when a bandit gang had passed through. The leader of the group had demanded protection money; the terrified villagers had agreed to pay up - though this group had never paid them a visit before, they'd heard from other villagers that these brigands were not to be messed with. The bandits had had a captive with them, an elf who seemed a bit similar to Rhane's description. Sort of. It's not a great lead, but it's the best you've had in a while. The villager you spoke to was able to tell you which direction the bandits took when they moved on.

It's taken you two weeks of asking around, following up paltry leads, begging for information, but now you find yourselves in Feltyr. You've heard the bandits have their base of operations somewhere nearby, and they've been robbing local villagers on and off for years. That's about all you know. You are definitely in need of better intel.

You camped outside the town, and this morning have headed in. You find yourself in a large, busy market, though there is little for sale of interest to the average adventurer or mercenary. Do you need a scarf? Perhaps a dozen eggs. These things can be had for sure.

Balassar just walks past her through the door shaking his head in disappointment “You’re door guard is slacking. I need to chat with your commander in private.”

Alton looks around the area and gives a shrug before climbing up and standing on one of the benches. Placing one hand on his chest and throwing the other up into the air, he uses prestidigitation to create a shower of colorful sparks to get peoples attention. "Fair people of Feltyr, a moment of your time please. Are you tired of doing the same thing day in and day out? Do you wish you had some excitement in you life? How about having an awesome story to tell your niece or nephew that will make you the cool aunt or uncle? Well, do I have just the opportunity for you! The Irregulars are recruiting and need your help. We plan on taking out those pesky bandits that have been a thorn in this quiet town and country side. If you are interested or know someone who is, come see myself and my friend Balassar. We will be at the Blue Rider around midday. Thank you, and have a good day." 

Balassar, you distinctly hear the door guard say "Jackass" as you walk past her. Inside, Reema (who you met yesterday) stares at you as you enter. "You have three minutes," she says.

Darren and Swin, you see a halfling stand up on one of the benches near the little garden in the middle of the market, and you hear him give a speech to the crowd. A few people listen intently, several moving away quickly as soon as he mentions bandits; it's hard to judge the overall reaction of the crowd.

Darren walks into the market hoping to find something either freshly baked or freshly cooked. (That wasn’t made by himself or Swin) In the middle of his search he hears the little halflings speech. Or at least catches the part about fighting bandits.

He gives Swin a nudge with his elbow “Whadya think Swin? These irregulars ‘re looking to go ‘fter some bandits.” He pauses to gauge his companions reaction. “Seems like a decent enough place to start looking. Didn’t catch the little chaps name. But I reckon I’ll know him when I see him at this, uh, Blue rider place.”

Reema listens, her face neutral but growing more and more unhappy as your speech continues. You seem to have hit a nerve. Finally, as you reach the end, she snaps.

"Protection? Protection?" She spits on the ground. "There's five of us, three with barely any training. It's all we can do to keep some semblance of order in town, and only during the day at that. What do you want me to do? Those bastards leave this town alone because we leave them alone, as much as we can. Maybe when the war is over and we get some of our people back from the front, then we'll have the numbers to do something. Probably not even then without help from Zadash. You don't know what you're asking."

She takes a deep breath. "I've heard enough from you. I don't want you stirring up the good kind people of this town and getting them killed. These are my friends, my neighbours, my family." Her voice lowers to somewhere between a hiss and a growl. "And who are you? Who in the hells are you? You don't know us. Sodding mercs is what you are. People who get other people killed. I want you out of town before sundown, or I'll arrest you for... disturbing the King's Peace, or something or other."

Balassar fixes a weighted gaze on Rema, letting out a heavy exhale as disappointment traces across his face while absorbing her words. "Seems like Captain Solomon and Fray are becoming a rarity these days," he notes, taking a moment to contemplate his next words, attempting to channel the wisdom of his bardic friend. In a final attempt to rally support from Rema and her soldiers, he reflects, "Regardless of the training you received, you all understood the commitment you made."

Wearing a nostalgic expression, he retrieves an aged rank patch, examining it as he navigates his own identity crisis. "Who am I... I've been grappling with that since my departure from military service, dedicated to the people of this nation. I watched my comrades succumb to the enemy, and for what? We failed to prevent this war, and their memory rests solely with me," he shares, looking up at Rema.

In a moment of clarity, a smile appears on Balassar's face as he finally defines his purpose after months of introspection. "So…who am I? A nobody, a seasoned soldier turned mercenary conscripted by the starosta of Felderwin to aid the Empire once more – I am an Irregular. I'll protect those in need, even if it means relinquishing wealth, just as my friends Alton, Wash, Silent, Sally, Celica, Magnum, and... Solomon would."

Taking a moment to reflect on the bonds formed and the losses suffered, Balassar chuckles and smiles. "That's our strategy, Rema – facing insurmountable odds to aid those in need. So that's who I am." He casually tosses the patch onto Rema's desk, emphasizing, "My Captain used to say we need to know what we stand for, or else we'll kneel for anything. It appears you all need to determine what you'll stand for, Rema, and to whom you'll kneel. Despite your scars, uncertainties, and the fear of being the sole survivor questioning why, you have the chance to show the people of this town who the CrownsGuard are and why they can trust them, even in the darkest times." For a moment, it might seem as if Balassar is speaking more to himself than to Rema.

Without waiting for a response, Balassar turns his back and concludes, "The boss's name is Wainwright, group's name is Shadowless. They're currently resting just outside of town, and if you want to stand with us to protect this village and its surroundings, meet us today at the inn. You strike me as one of the good ones, Rema. I hope I haven't misjudged you, and I look forward to seeing you there, ready to help us ensure the safety of these people. If not..." He looks down, his hand poised on the door, memories of failing to protect his friend Solomon surfacing as he expresses regret. "I promise you'll never live it down, wondering if you could have done more... if you should have done more."

Turning back to her, Balassar offers a hopefully charming smirk. "If we survive, drinks are on me."

With that, he smiles and pushes through the door, addressing the soldier at the entrance, "If you caught any of that and it resonates with you, you're welcome to join." With that, he continues walking back toward the meeting point with Alton hoping his words had an impact.

Balassar, if your words have any impact, there is none to be seen on Reema's face as you leave. The guard outside is standing to attention; clearly she would have heard everything through the door, but she doesn't engage with you.

You return the Blue Rider.

Seeing the crowd begin to disperse, he pulls the lute from his back and strikes up a tune. "Sorry, but I'm going to borrow this song." He says under his breath as he pulls from memory a song a tiefling bard sang to inspire a town once. 

 Performance: 10

Despite himself, Darren can’t help but ‘feel’ the halfling’s performance and can be seen nodding his head along to the music. 

Alton, you don't feel this is your strongest ever performance. Many of the crowd listen in the beginning, but you see them wander off, losing interest. You get a few frowns, and a few scowls from people as they leave. At the line "Take up arms, brother," there's a definite wince from several people, and people look away and start to edge towards the sides of the area, looking for an exit. You hear a couple of variations on "Sodding bards and their bullshit." - muttered rather than shouted at you, but audible nonetheless. As your song comes to a close, you find it hard to maintain your enthusiasm and pace - but you're a professional, and you're not letting these people's hesitation get the better of you. There's only a handful of listeners left standing around, some seemingly looking on with interest, others looking awkwardly at the people around them and considering how best to move away without attracting attention.

Alton, keeping a professional smile up, gives a bow before taking a seat on the bench. He checks the tuning of his lute, more so to let the people move on with their day than anything else. "Well, that's what I get for trying to use another's song. Hopefully, Balassar has had better luck." He mumbles to himself. Once people have left, he will start to make his way back to the Blue Rider. 

“Come on Swin, the little halfling is heading out.” Darren says as he tugs at the elbow of her shirt and starts following them to wherever they are going. 

Balassar just walks into the Blue Rider and heads to the bar ordering an ale as he waits for Alton to show up.

Balassar, you're only at the bar for a minute, and haven't even got your drink yet, when Alton steps in through the door and joins you.

Less than a minute later, two newcomers enter the inn.

Darren (and, I assume, Swin?), you enter the unremarkable common room of the Blue Rider Inn. There is a bored halfling sweeping the floor, but otherwise the room is almost completely empty. The exception of course is the halfling who spoke in the market, now seated at the bar along with a tall silver dragonborn.

Please give a short description of your characters, and then feel free to interact. :)

Balassar, the imposing silver dragonborn, sits waiting for his drink, his towering frame a testament to a life filled with battles and scars. Standing at 6'5" and weighing 240 pounds of solid muscle, he wears his military experiences proudly, his body adorned with scars that tell tales of valor and sacrifice. The most prominent trio of scars near his left eye serves as a visual reminder of the hardships he's faced. His scimitar and shield resting in their appropriate places for him to quickly grab them if needed.

Just as Balassar settles in, Alton strides through the door, seamlessly joining him at the bar. He just holds up his hand "Can you make that two ales friend. My buddy just showed up." he looks in Alton's direction "Any luck on your end?"