Gil watches Silivar go in but takes a second to examine the outside of the tavern a little more closely before he follow suit.  Specifically, he tried to determine if the broken windows, large one included, were smashed recently or if that's the norm for the Skewerd Dragon. 

Investigation 3

He seems to think that he's played here before and tries to remember if it was always this much of a dump.

History 12

“Lovely,” Dra’vos mummers sarcastically staring up at the sign of the Skewered Dragon then looks down at himself noting that his vestments would cause him to stand out more than he would like. “Pardon me a moment,” Dra’vos steps away from the group and into a nearby dark alley where he uses one of his clawed hands to brush the front of his vestments then speaks a simple command in Draconic, “Change.”

Dra’vos’s blue and white vestments shimmer away into a set of black trousers with a reddish brown hooded tunic and black cloth shoes. Dra’vos pulls the hood up to hide the white scales on his head then rejoins the other outside the Skewered Dragon, “Shall we see if fortune will favor us in our endeavor?”

Noticing the change of Dra'vos clothing, Gaèl raises an eyebrow. "Pretty neat." He turns back to the tavern, watching Sylivar rocking through the "main entrance". "Sure. I mean...what could possibly go wrong, eh?" With that, Gaèl grins and follows the elf to the taproom.

Eeks picks his nose whilst waiting for the others.

Thom is as always amazed by the magic that is produced.

You've definitely been here before, but only once.  That night, you were unable to get entry into any of your typical haunts, so you decided to take up a friend's recommendation that the Skewered Dragon was always looking for fresh meat.  And at first, that's truly how you felt.  You were eyeballed up and down because you were new.  You were not welcomed, but you started playing nonetheless.  After a couple songs were poorly received, you noticed that most of the patrons reeked of fish.  You struck up a couple sea shanties and, almost begrudgingly, the dockworkers and sailors started joining in.  You cut out earlier than you normally would because it started getting far too rowdy after that, with a bar brawl erupting a couple hours into your playing.  

 Sylivar, you stagger in to the tavern, seeking any indication of Guild presence.  The only guild presence that you can note are the crossed fishes of the seal of the Fishmonger's Fellowship, the sanctioned guild in charge of preparing and selling fish, and the upright sail that is the unofficial symbol of the Guild of Watermen, the guild in charge of catching said fish.  That said, this group of patrons, many of whom are actively staring you down, reek of sea and fish, and many look like unsavory sorts.  A couple of the patrons are sporting prominent shiners.  The barkeep stands in the back, a man with the look of a strong man gone to seed.  As you stagger up to him, he rolls his eyes and says under his breath so that you can barely hear him, "Oy, look pointy ears.  I don't know what kinda performance you're seeking to do, but I ain't fooled.  Why you actin' the fool here?  Whattaya want?"

Sylivar seems unperturbed by the patrons eyeing him or the barkeeper spotting his facade. "Hey, mate, I jus' want a drink. Strong as you please." After he says that, he looks around at the rather thrashed bar. "What happened 'ere? Looks like a tsunami went through this place."

"Oh, I remember this place now, there's a lot of sea men here," he says without a hint of irony, "We'll fit in perfectly," he added making it very clear he was being sarcastic.  "If things start to go south, give me a nod and I'll try to sing.  I don't want to say I wowed the crowd the first time I was here but at least they didn't throw anything sharp or heavy at me." He follows Silivar into the tavern and leans next to him on the bar looking up at the barkeep with a smile.  "Oy, ya got any work for a bard that knows 'is way around a shanty or two?"

With one last look at the hanging sign Dra'vos hesitantly follows Gaèl into the tavern. Seeing Gil and Silivar talking with the barkeep Dra'vos will look for other patrons that could possibly be will to talk, if there are any table playing cards he will see if he can join the game. 

Dylan shakes his head at the sort of dive he is being expected to enter now.  This isn't really what he signed up for.  Oh well, I've been in worse.  Remember the Dying Minotaur Inn up in Neverwinter?  Now that place stank like two minotaurs had crawled in and died in the corner.  Strolling into the bar like a man at home in any drinking establishment, he takes a moment to eye the crowd.   Well, a bunch of fishermen and rowdies.  I'll never fit in here.  He glances down at his posh noble's clothes.   Looking around he spots an empty table in the corner where he can sit with his back to the wall and watch the room.  He crosses over and takes a seat.

Eekz climbs onto a stool and sits patiently waiting for food.

"Look.  Ya want a drink, you're free to come in and get one.  But you act the fool, and these idiots will beat the guts outta ya.  As far as the tsunami, that was the work of HORACE," he raises his voice, glaring at one of the bigger dockworkers.  The man's size is formidable, but upon hearing the barkeep's voice and seeing the glare, the man's huge shoulders hunch and you hear a meek, "Sorry, boss..."  The barkeep continues, "Anyway, that idiot snuck a few drinks from his friends after I cut him off and he threw some bard out a window because he thought the man was insulting his mother.  Which, to be fair, he was, but the oaf shouldn't have been able to realize it.  *he notices Gil* Speaking of, yeah, go ahead and give it a go.  If you manage to keep them from getting too rowdy, I'll tip a couple drinks your way."

Dra'vos, you follow Dylan into the bar, observing the crowd as you go.  You see a bit over a dozen patrons loudly chatting with their compatriots, some of whom are exceedingly drunk for this early in the evening (approximately 7 or so).  You don't see any card games taking place, but there are a couple folks playing a dice game.  You watch as they shake dice in an opaque cup, then slam them face down.  The players check their own dice, then start talking, though you can't hear what they're saying.

Having settled in for a while, Dylan will approach the bar.  "Nice place you have here," he smiles genuinely at the barman.  "I can see why my friends came here to gamble a couple of nights ago.   I expect you'd remember them."  He goes on to describe Volo and Floon.   "Do you recall anything interesting about that evening, friend?" he asks the barman.  "Oh and an ale for me and have one yourself too," he says, pushing a silver coin across the bar.

Persuasion 16

Gil nods and runs his hands through his hair, he reaches over and grabs Silivar's drink and downs it in one gulp winking at him, "Next one's on me"  He slides off of the bar stool and casts minor illusion causing a beam of light to emanate from the ceiling of the tavern, focusing on a single spot in the center of the stage.  

"Hello everyone, great to see you all again here at the Skewered Dragon, if I remember correctly, you all enjoy a good nautical tune.  Now, before I start," he turns and takes a dramatic look at the window, "There will be no jokes about anyone's mother, in fact, if it even remotely seems like I'm talking about your mother, I am, in fact, referring to my own mother.  A very handsome woman in her own right."  Without any further ado, Gil pulls the lute from his shoulder and starts to play, first an intro as his fingers dance over the strings.

"Can you tell me where my home port lies

said the pirate king to his true love's eyes

It lies with me cried the Queen of Maybe,

For her merchandise, he traded in his prize.

Anchor weight, cried a voice from the scow,

Old man dies, The note he left was signed Father Mirar,

It seems he's drowned.

Selling Luskan, by the Pound . . . "

 Gil continues through a series of songs, sometimes lively, sometimes bawdy, sometimes sad but all with a focus on the sea.  

11

Sylivar sees Gil walk away with his drink with a wistful look on his face. After blinking and seemingly snapping out of a daze, he smiles at the bartender. "I'm not afraid of getting beaten up," he says, briefly angling his head towards his staff and wrapped wrists. He takes the staff and makes his way over to the table that the patrons are rolling dice at.

Continuing the slight slur in his speech, he haggardly takes a stool, and sits down at the table. "Lovely night, friends? I just got off a ship from Evermeet, an' I'm lookin' for a place to roll some die. Mind if I join in?"

Eekz watches curiously at the die games and asks Dra'vos, "Fancy a game, mate? Eekz knows a game called 'Wahns', ya get ones ter win."

Dra'vos watches the dice game for a few moments intrigued by it. Hearing Eekz Dra'vos turns, thinks for a moment the answers, "Very well, I do not believe I have heard of that game so you will have to teach me." Dra'vos then goes to the table Dylan had sat at and takes a seat, keeping his back to the wall so as to keep an eye on the rest of the tavern.

Gaèl too realizes he's not exactly dressed appropriately to remain inconspicuous in an establishment such as the Skewered Dragon. He goes on to try and supply himself with an ale from the bar man, as taciturn as possible, and then joins Dylan and Dravos at the table. "Doesn't exactly feel like the type that would let themselves be questioned by posh looking blokes like us." , he muses after a glance around the tavern. Gaèl proceeds to take a sip of his beer, then leans back on his chair and folds his arms behind his neck. Sitting as relaxed as possible, he mimes to observe Eekz's attempt to teach Dra'vos the mysterious ways of the dice, while actually trying to listen in on any conversations that are close enough to their table to be overheard.

Perception: 18

Eekz begins to tell Dra'vos on how to play and instructs him to get his 6-sided die out with a very cheeky, trademarked toothy Goblin Grin.

"There is a pot of Moolah, we bof roll a die and the bloody winner is the first ter a wahn! Goblins play it aw the time 'cause goblins cannot count 'igher than wahn."

(Hey all, sorry, this is going much slower than I'd anticipated because getting settled in Germany and this new job is kicking my butt.  I am hoping to be more consistent over the next few days.  If the pacing is not okay with you, let me know, and we will talk off line about it).

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Watching Sylivar wander away with a disapproving look, the barkeep eyes Dylan for a moment, then scoops up the coin and pours himself a small glass of some mostly clear liquid, then pours you an ale.  He take a sip of his concoction and says, "Yeh, I remember those fops.  They were keen on gambling with these folks here.  They came in, what, two nights ago?  Maybe three.  They were dressed far too rich for these parts.  I mean, look at these folk here.  Half of em are wearing the clothes they were packing fish in this morning, and the other half are wearing yesterday's clothes.  Then these two flounce in wearing silks and nobles' clothes.  They gambled fairly uneventfully, drinking heavily.  The one you describe as Volo left before the other kid.  Uh,  Floon?  Stupid name.  Anyway, Floon waits around and meets a friend I actually recognized.  It was Ranaer Neverember!  Son of the last Open Lord!  Chip off the ole' block him, some noble stooping to our level to rub our noses in it."  He takes another sip of his drink, trying to calm himself down.  "I think I know where they went, but it's gonna cost more than one shard.  I think about three more oughta do.  You kin afford it, I think."

------------

Horace chuckles a bit at Gil's comment about insulting his own mother, as Gil livens up the place a little bit, playing songs that are inappropriate and fun.  His finger missteps every once in a while, leading to some discordant notes, but that doesn't stop the audience from joining in with some of the choruses.  Horace is singing the loudest of all, and despite his oafish appearance, Gil notices that the man has some actual singing talent.

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Sylivar, you wander up to the table as the three men are finishing a round, punctuated by the winner pointing at the last other person and yelling, "Liar!"  The last player knocks over his cup and swears.  The winning player greedily scoops a small pile of nibs and shards in his direction.  As you approach the table, a couple of them notice your coin purse jingling and say, "Aye, come on in.  The game is Liars.  We each roll, then try to guess the number on everyone's dice.  First player calls a face, one through six, and a quantity.  Next person can up the quantity of the face, going from say 'three 4's to four 4's" or challenge the call.  On the challenge, everyone reveals their dice.  If the last bid was six 5's, the challenger wins if there are less than six 5's showing.  If there are six or more 5's showing, the last person to call wins and the challenger is removed.  You with me?  We can run a sample game if you want."  (Just for fun, Sylivar, what's your passive perception?)

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Gael, with that roll, you get a good ear on everything I've describe, but nothing additional of note.  The tavern is dirty, but feels lived in.  The glasses and dishware seem to be the cleanest part, so at least you don't have to worry about becoming ill from this place.  Hearing Dylan's conversation, you feel that you are absolutely right to feel out of place.  The patrons that aren't engrossed in song or dice are eyeballing you and Dylan in a way that makes you uncomfortable.  

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Eekz and Dra'vos, I'm going to let you play out the start of your game and interject when I feel needed.  There are two other patrons that are listening to Eekz's simple explanation of his game.