Adjusting his leg and rattling the table a bit Saxis will lean in "Well my people usually only interact with the Elves, unless you've been exiled." Casting disguise self to look like a generic wood elf "other wise you see what we want you to see."

Nebin laughs a surprisingly hearty laugh for one so small, a good natured, joyful laugh that turns toward manic before trailing off into silence. "Erm, well, yes. I see. Or don't see? Either way, you'll have to teach me that!"

Reacting to the transformation with a laugh R goes Ho, that's subtle-elegant-whatever. I don't have anything fun like that ready, or we could have a party looking around, he'll start rummaging for his flute I guess we are having a party. That unusual elf is looking at us - is he one of yours unusual-elf-who-used-to-be-Saxis?

Offering a lazy shrug "I haven't seen my people in a long time. Could be?"

Guenhyvar will chuckle slightly at Rontevich's comment, turning to look directly at the group, "No, I'm not one of his."

Well, either way, are you one of us or want to be? I guess you've heard us - you are? nodding him over. By now Rontevich has fished out a flute made from the rib of a musk ox, and plays a little folksy music

 Aye, come sit with us and swap a few stories. I think it's about to get deep in here....you better have your tall boots on." Elias will say with a grin to Guenhyvar

Guenhyvar will take his drink and join them at the table, nodding politely at each of them, "My name is Guenhyvar, I am a... traveler. I just stopped here to catch a few tales of the surrounding areas and recent events. I'm afraid I don't have any stories I can tell, but I'd be happy to hear yours."

I am sorry, is that pronounced Gwen-ih-var? And spelt jee-you-ee-en-aich-why-vee-ay-ar? No disrespect, my dads are an orc and a dorf, so my linguistics are for poop, and I need help to get it right

He smiles slightly, showing none of the usual distaste for either race, "Juen-hi-var. But your spelling was perfect."

I am newly away from home, starting to generate my own stories, traveling as you say. The stories I know are mostly from my dads - some are kind of funny and he tells about this ridiculous forge cleric who actually encouraged an orc - my pa - to dream of Gruumsh Good guy though, a hero, turned the head of this axe showing the short staff he carries into devastating weapons that saved my da's life

Nebin climbs up a stool next to Elias. "What's in this place you're looking for? What'd you call it, Helm's Hold?" 

Elias looks at Nebin with a smile and says: Helms Hold was built as a place of worship for the God I serve - Helm The watcher : God of guardians, protection, and protectors. Helm's Cathedral was founded Pre-Spellplague and I say with regret it does have a checkered past. I have even heard rumors of it being over-run with the vile undead although the truth of which I do not know. I wanted to see for myself. You might say I am on a Pilgrimage of sorts.

A slight tremor runs through Nebin's body. "Undead you say? Perversions of a good, honest death. That's what they are." Nebin frowns deeply. "Imagine being dead, happily frolicking in the Green Fields and some part of you gets pulled back into your body, which by all rights should be resting peacful in the earth, and it goes traipsing along hurting people. Nothing worse, I say." Nebin shakes his head. "A body deserves better, you see?" Standing up on his stool and stamping a foot. "I'm going with you, Mr. Elias, and I'll help put any of those poor souls back to their rest." Nebin gives a resolute nod and plops back down on the stool.

 Elias says with a slight frown: " There was a 'cleansing' that took place in 1489 DR. But,as of late I have been having dreams that some would call nightmares that has led me to undertake my pilgrimage. I just wanted to see the Cathedral for myself. I do hope it remains cleansed. For now I just want to see the Cathedral of Helm and make sure nothing strange is going on there. I do appreciate your offer and am thankful if you would help me find the Hold."

Suddenly, the tavern door swings open, and a hush falls over the room. 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.”

R is answering I agree Nebin, unnatural things are the worst, I am generally against them. I do not have plans so the journey to Hel....or maybe this he halts, surprised to see his name addressed Mind if I open it? Rontevich reads it out loud (or listens if someone else is faster)

Guenhyvar’s eyes narrow and his lips curl at the discussion of the undead he begins to open his mouth to say something before the stranger approaches the table, “Who are you, or your master for that matter, and how did he know we’d be here together?”

While the man is giving his spiel and delivering his letter Saxis will mutter under his breath "Pffft what good has any deity done... fool."

Elias will say: "Aye, I agree with my new friends.  who are you or your employer to question a mans honor and demand we jump and ask how high? You and your boss are not known to me and my honor will not be questioned!"