Quote from DarthAvarice >>

 Wis 13

Flint gets his bar on

 Crownsguard will also “get his bar on.”

The bar here is well stocked with local favorites and, as the tankard-tender describes them, “exotic imports.”

Quote from Awaypturwpn >>

. .. including a female dwarf, a male tiefling, and a few humans, one of which is sitting in the corner of a smaller room, wearing a long brown coat, and continuously by looking over his shoulder.... 

 Ink walks up to the bar, asking the bartender for a room for the night for the party, as well as a round of drinks and food. He'll pay with a silver bar and ask for change.

Once that is settled, he asks the bartender about the gent in the brown coat, commenting it's an odd choice for this time of year and this event.

The tankard-tender, an unusually tall shield dwarf with a mustache that somehow overshadows his great beard, nods. “Funny, I don’t remember serving him,” he says. “Never seen him here before, to my recollection. Wouldn’t be the first time o course, busy as we are,” he allows, before filling your order. He fills up a tray with mugs poured from large keg, a sausage & meat pie platter, and some type of local cheese. “This should keep ye happy. And we have one too left if ye’r willing to share. 2 dragons per person, standard rate, includes meals.”

Marav self consciously looks down at his heavy cloak pulled around him.. "What's odd about his clothes?"

// BTW are the birds both outside right now? //

Marav notices that the stranger has taken to starting straight at him, while sipping his drink. 

// Feel free to let me know if there's anything you want to try and do now! If you let the scene pass, we can fast-forward to later tonight. //

Marav obviously doesn't like being stared at. He stands up straight and walks straight to the stranger. "Can. I. Help. You." He states flatly in very precise clipped tones. 

//He's not angry, more just not like being stared at so he is a little bit annoyed.//

The stranger looks as if he's about to say something, but instead decides to take a drink from his tankard. He purposefully averts his eyes elsewhere, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

Ink pays the man for the food, drink and ale, and the room. He raises an eyebrow towards the gentleman they were talking about, that is until he sees Marav have words with him.

Ink takes the food and drink to the others and mentions the room, saying, "After I get my fill here, I'm going to be in the room doing some studying. Make sure that if I'm not down an hour or so before deepnight, one of you please come get me."

Ink relays that he'll be resting Quill for the remainder of the evening until later tonight. 

Crownsguard shifts in his seat as the wood beneath him bends and creaks, “Do you believe that individual over there is our contact? Should we not formally greet him? Or is this how orcs greet strangers in this time?”

"Ah'd  wait lad, Marav's broke th' ice. Let 'im  come ta us."

The afternoon and evening pass in a flurry of activity, with some patrons leaving for the nearby village, and a few others arriving. Since you took the last available room, people have begun pitching tents outside on the premises. The stranger that Marav confronted eventually leaves, as well. 

In the ensuing hours, the outside air grows chilly even as the fireplaces roar inside the inn. The ambiance has slowly wound down to a calm and low-lit country inn, with most patrons retiring to their rooms, or to small groups, such as the cadre of elves who have taken a booth in a side room and are sitting in quiet meditation. 

Several individuals, among them the female half-orc you saw earlier, have taken out stringed instruments such as lyres, lutes, and citterns, and all sit in a circle in another room, playing folk music that sounds romantic, perhaps a bit mournful. They are joined by a gnome, who seems to know the melodies to the songs, and wails along with them on a baritone shawm that is about as long as he is tall.

With deepnight not too far off, there is a strange tension that seems to be growing—perhaps it is all in your mind, but you simply can't shake that feeling of foreboding, anticipation, as the wind picks up and whistles through cracks in the exterior of the huge inn.

Crownsguard sits upright stiffly and nestles away Cat into a protective embrace, “ Judging from prior experience, something bad is about to happen. The likelihood of this occurring is approximately 97.8321 percent. It would be wise for you three to, colloquially speaking, ‘get that rear in gear.’”

Flint moves closer to the musicians. "Time to rouse Ink?"

Ink steps down the stairwell, eventually spotting and joining the others. He sits down next to Flint saying, "Were one of you calling for me? I felt my ears burning.... And who would've thought a treatise on abjuration would be such a page turner...."

After asking how everyone's evening went, Ink comments, "Oh, before I forget, as I was getting ready to come down, I decided to let Quill outside to keep a watch for us. She's perched on the roof somewhere."

//. Ink was reading the abjuration book he recently purchased during their downtime. //

As you sit inside the Moonwyvern Inn, deepnight within the hour, candles on the windowsills and chandeliers keep the tavern lit against the darkness. The luthiers play some pastoral music, while others hum low melodies. 

Suddenly, there is a loud commotion outside that breaks the peace. Screams and crashes can be heard, and within several heartbeats the front door bursts open. A lone woman runs in from the outside, yelling, “GIANTS!”

“I believe the colloquial phrase is ‘Called It.’” Crownsguard stands up and sprints out the door!

Ink immediately flips into Quill's eyes to see, from her rooftop perch, what is happening outside...

//  Perception through Quill (adv) 15  //

Rip sighs and looks to  the heavens "really? really? this seems rather convenient!" as he heads out after crownsguard

"Moradin  Lord, ah hope yer  'ead's clear, ah'll  be needin' yer help soon!"

Flint follows Crownsguard  out the door.