The adventure begins

Ahh, the city of Neverwinter. A place of trade, one of major melting pots of the sword coast. After the eruption of Mount Hotenow, the city was laid to waste. But, as all human societies eventually do, they come back. They rebuild. And so, fifty years later, Dagult Neverember, lord protector of the city, has finally established the city to almost its former renown. Sure, some parts of the Tower district may still be crumbling, and the hot spring river that flows through the center of the city has eroded the bases of a lot of old buildings, but, hey, at least for some of you, it’s home. 

One night, you are all at the Dancing Donkey tavern, either with another party member, or alone. By chance and a little thing called DM magic, the strands of fate have pulled you to this tavern on this particular night, despite the fact that the ale smells like piss and the bartender isn’t the most hygienic. The rotting wood of the sawdust covered floor is splashed with vomit, and everyone so often a drunk idiot makes a rude comment towards any of you who look even slightly female in nature. But still, it’s been a long day, and you need a break. While at this tavern, you notice some strange individuals, but think nothing of it. You see strange people in this city all the time, after all. 

The relative peace of the evening is shattered when a particularly drunk idiot stumbles up to a pretty woman who is sitting alone at a table in the corner, nursing some ale. Though his speech is slurred beyond understanding, what all of you do understand is the lewd gestures and the way he tries to throw his arm around her shoulder. Not cool. As she throws him off, he stands angrily, his words growing heated. A couple of his friends try to drag him back to his table, saying stuff like “she’s not worth it man”, but he doesn’t back down. This could get ugly. The bartender, unsurprisingly, does not seem to care in the slightest, simply sighing and polishing a dirty glass. Most of the other patrons do not, too busy with their piss-like drinks.

In your introductory post, please describe what the other patrons see as you it in the tavern, as well as if you came with anyone (including another party member, if they’re cool with it). Oh, and if you haven’t already done so, choose a color for your character.

and what do you do about this drunk a**hole? 

Tabitha is currently curled up with a drink and a notebook on the back of Sir Lance-a-stop the Third, (Lance for short), her large dog sized contraption she built, with bull-like proportions and horns, to protect her and Barty when out helping people. Now Barty has decided to settle down in Neverwinter, Tabby has decided to make sure he is safe by staying local. Not that he knows this currently, he believes she is off adventuring on her own. 

A few people have come to sit by her, but her incessant questions typically led to them making a polite (or in some cases very rude) excuse and leaving. Those questions are nothing to do with being drunk, for she is as sober as a..... never mind she think of something to finish that simile later. A few people have made rude comments towards her and been flashed a look at her claws, sharp and deadly. That normally got them to leave.

She has been eyeing up Kentagu having never seen a plasmoid before and is full of questions. "What keeps your shape together? How do you eat? Can we see the food inside of you? Do you feel pain or do weapons go through you without damaging you?" etc. This is partly fascination, and partly her artificer mind working to try and come up with ways of this being useful. (it is up to Weather on if Kentagu would approach her at any point for this to be a real conversation though. If they are keeping to themselves, this would be a convesation she has had in her head)

Upon hearing the drunkard, she sighs, puts her book away and adjusts how she is sat on the back of Lance, and placing her glass on the table, resisting her feline urge to knock it off. She isn't one to go looking for, or causing trouble, but she also isn't one to allow bullying to happen, having experienced it enough herself in the past. She picks her tools out of her pocket, and finds a small mirror. She angles it in the light making a light spot appear on the table. She holds her hand still, otherwise she might start chasing the light, and whispers a few words, blowing on the patch. Imperceptible to anyone else, the light races across the room, and covers the lady with some protective magic.

"Nine Hells," mutters a Half-Elf with short choppy hair as she drops a bulging pack with a coil of rope, a bedroll, a quiver, and a shield strapped to the outside next to an empty table.

Kit just wanted to get a drink and scout out the place, see if it might be possible to turn some coin performing here. She hadn't even sat down yet and now...this.

Adjusting her baldric and belt so that the scabbard of her longsword sits more comfortably on her hip, Kit approaches the group while unconsciously smoothing her exquisite and perfectly tailored tunic and studded leather doublet.

"Gentlemen, is there a problem here," she calls out, straightening her posture and consciously lowering the the register of her voice.

Bahrumuhd lets out a long, exasperated sigh from where he lounges in the corner of the seedy tavern when he sees a rather rough-looking fellow at the bar starting to get a wee bit too friendly with one of the other patrons. He had been in the tavern for only about half an hour now, but he was already regretting his decision. The booze tasted like something you’d expect to find floating around in a sewer, the patrons looked to be less than reputable, and the tavern looked like it hadn’t seen a proper cleaning for quite some time. Oh well, he couldn’t complain too much. The beer was cheap, and the tavern was a great place to do some people-watching. There were some interesting people he spotted over the past half hour. He had his eye on a couple of peculiar folk over in the other corner, a tabaxi and some weird ooze thing. He’d made it a goal to introduce himself to them at some point, but he hadn’t mustered up the motivation to do so yet.

Sighing, he takes a long pull from his tankard and grimaces at the taste before he rises to his feet. Eyeing distastefully  the fellow at the bar who was causing a scene, Bahrumuhd starts making his way over to him, but he hesitates when someone else beats him to them, a woman who must have some elven blood in them. Shrugging, he turns and instead heads towards the table where tabaxi and ooze were sitting. He’d have to buy that elven gal a drink after she dealt with the ruffian at the bar.

Once he arrives, he pulls out a chair and plops himself into it unceremoniously. “Hope you don’t mind if I join,” he remarks conversationally to the tabaxi and ooze thingy. Leaning back in his chair, he watches the fellow at the bar over the top of his mug as he takes another sip. Grimacing in disgust, he sets his tankard down with a thump as he smacks his lips, a revolted expression wrinkling his snout. “This place has terrible booze,” he says to no one in particular with his resonant, bass voice. To be honest, he didn’t really care for alcoholic beverages. He was just curious about what kind of drinks the barkeeper had to offer, more than he wanted to get drunk.

Shifting his attention to the others at the table he practically invited himself to join, he flashes them a wide smile full of wickedly sharp, draconic fangs before before saying in a friendly tone, “I’m Bahrumuhd by the way, but you can call me ‘Mud’ for short.”

To the strangers at the table, Bahrumuhd appears to be a rather exotic-looking dragonborn. Unlike any dragonborn you’ve seen before, Bahrumuhd is covered in gleaming platinum scales which shine and shimmer with a multitude of metallic hues in the flickering lamplight of the tavern. His radiant, platinum scales almost seem to have a reflective quality to them, and you can even see your own distorted, fuzzy reflection upon the scales of his face as he looks at you with his golden orange, draconic eyes that almost seem to glow with an inner light. You suppose he must be quite the sight when out in the sun; you could probably see him coming from miles away! Dark, cobalt blue markings under his eyes and along his snout stand out as a stark contrast to the rest of his scales, though they too are glossy and reflective. A crown of horns and other spiky protrusions grow from his regal head, and unlike most dragonborn, Bahrumuhd has a thick, draconic tail which swishes quietly along the floor under the table. His clothes look like the simple clothes of a traveler, though they’re starting to look a bit threadbare and worn. 

“My buddy here was just sayin’ hi and this girl was bein’ rude to him.“ says one of the idiots friends with a yellowed, bucktooth smile. He has food in his teeth and am ale stain down the front of his ragged tunic. The main idiot slurs something unintelligible, and the girl, who seems to be about 15, compared to this 30 year old loser, smooths her simple dress. She looks up at Kit and says worriedly “they’re lying! I was just here sipping my drink and he” a look of revulsion passes over her face “Came over here and tried to touch me”. Kit can see the disgust and fear in the girls eyes.

meanwhile, the bar-tender shoots Mud a dirty look as his proud draconic voice proclaims the quality of the drinks, then goes back to polishing a glass.

"I'm very sorry, fellas," Kit says, their hand drifting not so subtlety to the hilt of her longsword. "The lady's here with me. But if you'd let me buy you a round in consolation..."

The men notice her hand drifting towards the blade, and one of them chuckles. This guy is very hairy, and wearing a bowler hat on his head. Kind of like a gross bear trying to look dapper. Ugh. Disgusting. He speaks up, looking down on Kit, since he is the largest of the bunch and seems to be their ‘bruiser’ type “Don’t draw your sword little lady. And if she’s here with you, then why were youse sitting a separate before. This wench here was on Ely, so my friend decided to keep her company. Bein’ a gentleman and all, ya know?”

the girl snorts at the thought of the pig, who is literally drooling over the sight of the girls chest, being a gentleman. The girl is shaped like the figurehead of a ship carved by a generous hand, but still. This is one of the most disgusting examples of humans Kit has ever seen. The pig that is. He doesn’t really deserve to be called human.

Appearence

Ketangu sits with Tabitha with a drink though only as a formality as he never quite understood how the immutable humanoids seem so fond of it. Currently his gelatinous blue body is in a humanoid form as that is the only way he can wear that dread helm that makes his eyes glow ominously. The dread helm is blackened steel that seems more fitting on a knight than Ketangu.  He has no use for clothing, but in an effort to blend in more he wears a dark grey poncho with pockets. Pinned to his left shoulder is a mask that is blank and white like a faceless humanoid.

He responds to Bahrumuhd and Tabitha questions. "Well met both of you. I am Ketangu. True this drink does not suit me either. My shape is held together by in part my own will and my unique body where I can control each part of it similar to how you can change the shape and move your own tongue. Among my people there is a theory that we came about from a hivelike entity where my consciousness does not exist in a single location but within each tiny party of me. I eat by placing the food within me and my body absorbs it. Yes, you can see the food for a little while and yes I can still be hurt by weapons but with care I can also carry items within my body." The sound of his voice emanates from his pseudo head as he has no mouth to speak with.

Seeing the drunken man Ketangu stands and taps the butt of his spear on the ground loudly "Please settle down as I was in the middle of a conversation. Here you can have my drink as compensation" 

Kit carefully weighs her options. Even if she could back down, she'd have no intention of doing so. But she's outnumbered and clearly overmatched in brute force. The longsword would level the field nicely but unless they were stupid enough to draw first she'd be on the wrong side of the law.

Not daring to turn her head out of fear of offering the brutes an opening, Kit's eyes dart around her field of vision desperately looking for a sympathetic face while she tries to calculate the consequences of resorting to a spell...

(Is there an ability check I can make to gauge the legality of using a non-damaging attack spell, specifically Sleep?)

Umm… never thought I’d adjudicate the legality of using Sleep. Ehh, it would be iffy by the book, but any reasonable judge would probably let you off considering the reason you did it. 

the hand of the main pig reaches out to touch the girl, but due to Tabitha’s sanctuary spell, he is thrown back. He looks dazed, and his friends look confused and kind of scared. Clearly, these fools are also close minded about magic.

As with most taverns in these parts of Neverwinter the Dancing Donkey tavern had it's fair share of dark corners, one of them currently occupied by a person who quietly studies the goings on at the bar. They would never normally set their foot inside a place like this but circumstances warranted a place to stay out of sight for the time being and there was nothing wrong with letting oneself be amused by the less than gracious ways of the local clientele. As one of them starts to make inappropriate advances towards a particularly handsome woman at the bar they sigh and get to their feet. Unfortunately the situation quickly escalates as a half-elf rashly intervenes and seems to get in over her head.

"Let me take care of this dear." A soft feminine voice whispers into the ear of the half-elf with the sloppy hairdresser. Stepping into the light from the bar is a young blonde in a fairly low-cut green dress who easily matches the beauty of the woman at the bar. "There's no need for all of this gentlemen..." She says, stepping closer to the charming man at the bar. "...your friends are right, she's not worth it, she wouldn't know what a strong man like you could offer. Now let's go somewhere more quiet and I'll show you how to appreciate a man like you." She says with an alluring look.

Deception: 23 and Persuasion if needed: 19

These guys are listening. Others are utilizing their sense of sight rather than sound, their eyes traveling across the newcomer in a most uncomfortable way. The one that looks like a greasy beast swaggers forward, his lips turned in a charming grin. “I would be glad too”

”no, I would be glad to!’ His friend says, butting in, this particular ruffian is of the runty sort, with badly dome tattoos traveling down his bare chest, which is mostly skin and bones topped with acne scars along his back. He smells heavily of smoke. In addition, he looks younger than the rest, maybe about 20 or so. The bear-guy turns on him, barking “I volunteered first!” The two quickly forget everyone around them as they start to have a heated discussion loudly, occasionally glancing at the two alluring women near them. Even in anger they’re still skeevs.

Khessa, the tall adventuress in chainmail and with an evident fondness for big weapons, as the hilt of a greatsword and the handle of a maul, which jut out from behind her broad shoulders, seem to indicate, had initially cursed the idea of ​​having entered the Dancing Donkey. She was just looking for a little relaxation, but she soon had to deal with the terrible quality of both the drinks and the patrons.

Fortunately, the less stupid patrons had understood on their own that directing rude comments - or worse bothering - a creature who was certainly more than vaguely feminine, as the generous curves clearly demonstrate, but equally certainly as strong as a bull and dressed in metal, was not a good idea. And to the two stupidest ones, who hadn't gotten there on their own, she had briefly explained it herself - which is why they were now sleeping at the foot of the table, with one black eye each.

However, upon seeing the alien form (not too well) hidden by Kentagu's poncho, Khessa had turned her head with her thick and long wavy blonde hair and opened her blue eyes wide with interest. Her innate curiosity was pushing her to approach the table where now a tabaxi and a dragonborn had joined the unusual creature. 'Could they be... adventurers?' she had tought to herself, further interested 'I could join them... maybe they have an assignment where a hand could be useful...'

But here again the quality of the customers intervenes to ruin the pleasant prospect. Khessa certainly can't go and have a pleasant chat, pretending not to see the three drunken bullies who are bothering those other three poor females... No, one in fact, a little girl. The other two seem intent on defending her. The half-elf with short choppy hair tried to dissuade them and she seems to know how to use that sword that she carries at her side. The other, the alluring girl, is clearly trying to deceive them, instead.

Khessa approaches the bullies from behind, with a confident but unhurried step, giving an imperceptible smile and nodding her head to the deceiver, paying attention to how they react to the other's deception... Seeing the three troublemakers who seem about to argue, she tries to make happen what is already about to happen and suggests: "You heard the girl... she's looking for a strong man... maybe you should fight each other, to impress her. After all, if you start breaking each other's bones... whoever remains standing is undoubtedly the strongest man, isn't he?"

At that moment, a wood elf with brownish/dirty blond hair and a long scar under his left eye walks out of the bathroom, still fastening up his pants.  He looks up and takes in the scene in a heartbeat, a wry grin comes over his face.  You can see many scars on his hands and forearms, but he seemingly disappears in the doorway, wearing his dark green cloak and leather armor that fades into the wood around the door trim in the background, he is difficult to detect and almost fades into the shadows unless you are directly looking at him.  

He has a longbow over his shoulder and a short sword in its scabbard at his side, and a cruel looking whip curled up hanging from his belt that he is refastening.  He sees the woman who was bothered at her seat by the drunken man but quickly takes in the scene with two beautiful women being accosted by a drunkard, who seems to be the root of the problem.  “Best be meeting these good folk.  Maybe this is my chance, it’s closing time and no one deserves this..”. He looks over at the dark corner where he was seated and sees that he left nothing there.  

He did not hear the conversation, he looks back over his shoulder at the squishy thing wearing the dark helm, the tabaxi, the Dragonborn and the half elf.  “I think both of these ladies wish for you to move on now.  They are closing soon and it’s clear that your attentions…” he looks to the lady seated and the look of distaste on her face, “are not wanted.”  Erven reaches up and scratches the deep scar on his face, eyeing his reaction.  The hilt of his short sword is obvious but he has a relaxed composure, almost slouching.  “I’ve been watching across the room, please, time to go home, you can’t stay here…” 

Erven Aloro

Tabitha looks at the two who have introduced themselves to her, suddenly realising that in her curiosity, she forgot to introduce herself. "I am Tabitha, my friends call me Tabby. And this is here Sir Lance-a-stop the Third. You can call him Lance, but it doesn't really matter, I haven't managed to make him talk yet." suddenly a small pearlescent magnifying glass with little mechanical wings flies up from her pocket, and flaps around her head. "Oh yes, and this is Petal the Seventh. In fact, that gives me an idea" and she gets Petal to pick up the mug of ale (the handle bends to form a little hand) and it flies up to the ceiling, over the head of the arguing idiots, and then lets go of the drink, before flying quickly out of a window.

'Mud' nods appreciatively at the ooze thing's attempted distraction even though the men at the bar don't seem to take any notice. "Oh well, it was worth a shot," he comments casually to Ketangu before taking another sip from his mug before he realizes what he was doing. Face wrinkling in disgust, he quickly spits the liquor back in the mug before pushing it to the center of table. Wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, he says with a grimace to the others at the table, "They can have mine too if they change their mind."

Overhearing the warrior woman's suggestion that the men fight each other to prove who was the most manliest, Bahrumuhd grins and leans slightly forward expectantly. It had been a while since he last got to watch a bar fight, and he was more eager than he'd like to admit at the prospect of observing another drunken duel. At the very least, it would provide at least a little bit of entertainment, right?

"Who do thinks gonna win?" he asks Tabitha and Kentagu in a distracted tone, the majority of his attention focused on those at the bar. As fun as it would be to watch the men fight, he wouldn't risk the young lady at the center of attention getting hurt, so part of his mind starts preparing himself to leap into action in the need arose. While he wouldn't strike the men down with a quick flash of lightning and a crack of thunder, he had other tricks up his sleeve.

He doesn't realize what Tabitha had in mind until her tankard crashes down onto one of the men, thoroughly soaking him. Bahrumuhd lets out a surprised laugh before he can stop himself, and he turns slightly  to look at Tabitha out of the corner of his with a wry grin on his face before returning his attention back to the bar. Things were about to get interesting... 

Bahrumuhd

When the foul smelling beer crashes down on the drunkard, Erven steps back in a flash, then a deep dark laugh escapes him.  “Easy now.  Best be moving along.  I think that kind of ends the night, doesn’t it?”  He turns and looks at the rest of those watching, saying “Don’t you agree?”

The young blonde in the green dress frowns as the bullies start bullying each other instead of simply coming along. And then a tall adventuress and a scarred wood elf joins the heated argument, only to be followed by ale pouring over the burly men. "Well I'm going now..." The blonde says with a pout as if not being interested in any fight, instead walking swiftly out of the tavern, casting a brief glance back at the burly men to see if they would join her...

Someone yells...something... and then, fortunately for Kit, "help" arrives in the most unlikely and diverse forms.

A soft whisper in her ear sends and unexpected shiver down Kit's spine. A woman, every bit as lovely as her voice, inexplicably chooses to draw the attention of the foul men away from Kit and her self-appointed charge.

This new prospect turns the men on each other, causing enough of a distraction for Kit to risk trying to push the girl safely behind her.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a towering amazon of a woman appears and eggs the men on in an effort to escalate the fight...

But before Kit can even process this new information, a scarred Elf arrives and urges the men to leave...

And that's when a mug of ale simply drops from the sky.

As Kit backs away from the situation with the teen in tow, the Elf and the green-clad enchantress continue to urge the assailants towards the door, one instructing them to leave and the other encouraging them to follow...

"Interesting place," Kit mutters at the girl, "does it have a back door?"

'Well, it seems like there are a lot of people here trying to do something to make the situation evolve...' Khessa thinks, struck by the succession of people and phenomena '...and maybe not all of us have the same idea about how it should evolve!'

The blonde arcane warrior refrains, for the moment, from complicating things further and keeps an eye on the troublemakers to see what they will decide to do, but in the meantime she reaches the half-elf and the young girl, just to find herself 'accidentally' between them and the trio, in case of problems.

"You can rest assured..." the tall adventuress murmurs to the two, with a furtive encouraging smile "Even if there's more going on than I currently understand, I won't let those three degenerates lay a finger on you".