A dark-skinned man opens the door and slinks into the tavern. Absolutely brimming with people, he thinks to himself. He scoffs and finds a secluded place to sit down, taking each conversation, each rumor, one at a time. If only I had money to buy myself a drink. He pulls out his flute and begins to play a little tune (Performance: 18), musing in contemplation as he plays. Eventually he builds up the confidence to stand up and walk around, trying to find someone to talk to. He bumps into Morn. "Sorry, uh, wasn't watching where I was going," he hesitantly stammers.

"Not at all, not at all." Horatio interjects on Morn's behalf. "We were just taking note of so many... wonderful... performances this evening." He fixes the stranger with a piercing stare. "You seem to be an adventurer, much like the rest of us - we happen to be putting together a little excursion to learn more about the recent disappearance of a town local. We would prefer at least one additional member to our party before we set out in the morning. Care to wager your life on the chance for a little coin?"

The man is obviously startled by Horatio's stare and following questions. "Oh," he mutters. "I could use a bit of coin, and I'd like to... make a reputation for myself, if that's what you're asking." He clears his throat before clarifying. "Yes, I would like to go with you. Oh... I never introduced myself. Name's Donavant. Sirq Donavant."

The door to the tavern, admitting a figure of average height. The sound of metal clinking against itself as they limped across the roadhouse floor, revealing their form as they went. A woman clad in chainmail, with the vestments of a nun of the church worn over top it. An emblazoned shield rested on her back, and a mace clanked against her side as she went.

A dour expression rested on her face, framed with black hair and a deep green hood. A small sigh escaped her as she reached the keep. Her eyes flitted about the room for a moment before settling on the keep. "Excuse me keep, you have an ale for a sister of the cloth?"

The stocky bartender grunts as he fills a mug.  

"Sister of cloth, I don't care. Ale costs the same."

"I wasn't asking for a handout. I was asking for a drink." She responded with a small amount of amusement in her tone, her face softening for a moment before she glanced around the inn again. Her face naturally shifted back to the dour expression as she waited for the ale.

The bartender grunts. "So long as you've got the coin, I've got the ale."

He plunks it down in front of you. "Wanting anything to eat, or just the ale then?"

Taking the mug of ale into her hand, she hums in thought for a moment before answering. "Some bread would do wonders, if you would be so kind." With that, she brought it up to her lips and took a long sip from it.

"Yeah, we've probably got something."

He returns shortly and sets a platter of bread in front of you. 

"Six copper for the ale and bread." He goes back to wiping mugs.

She reaches to her belt, digging through a pouch for a moment. Eventually pulling out a silver silver coin, she placed it on the counter. Grabbing the after of bread, she looked out at the rest of the tavern before shrugging and walking off to find a table.

He hands you your change, as you look around the tavern.

There's a table next to a group having a discussion as they pass around a gold coin.

She shrugs a bit as she sees the group passing around the coin. None of her business. Glancing at the newcomer, her head was inclined towards Veil as she found herself a seat at a nearby table to eat her bread and drink her ale.

"You sure? Alright."

The barkeep pours a splash of something from a brown jug in a mug and takes your silver piece.

It's definitely either a very slow sipper, or one to toss back and chase immediately with something else.

Samael goes to the tavern, but realizes that whatever money he had, he had to use for passage over, and he is loath to invite his gaze over him again, so he has to beg in the outside for coin, food, and whatever else he can.

(ooc: do i roll for anything, and if i do, what do i roll?)

(Make a Persuasion for begging)

5 for persuasion: begging

Trishdale is quite uninviting to beggars. Due to the harsh economic conditions and the lack of a true aristocracy, Samael only gets a few coppers. 

However, as he sits out in the cold, Samael is approached by a old tiefling woman. She wears the garment of a priestess of the Church.

”The Abbey always has space for those who find themselves in need of lodging. If you’d like, you can come with me.”

"much obliged, but I cannot. a fiend's curse prevents me from entry into any sanctified ground, and if I stay in your church the fiend will lash out at me and any others. thank you for your kindness, however, sanctified lady."

(ooc: how do you disguise a fiendish pact you're forced into? call it a curse and no questions are asked.)

The priestess gives Samael a strange look. She mutters, “Perhaps this man could find a place in Dr. Swanson’s asylum.”

She drop a single silver piece in his hands. 

“Very well. This should buy you dinner for the night.”

The priestess leaves for the Abbey.

"gramercy, fair one. be mindful, for the eyes of the lower planes are gazing upon this land. be wary of those who offer deals and bargains. Lies are often cloaked in gold and honey." with that, he enters the tavern.