In the middle of the afternoon with the wind howling you found refuge with in the Gamblin Fox, a little wayside inn. With its great fire sitting in the very center of the room, hosting a roasting hog and the ale all but frozen. You have left the security of a life of the boring intent on finding a calling as an adventurer, you have either studied long and hard or been mentored by a great warrior for the last couple several years and after several days on the road you are feeling comfortable and relaxed. Around you there are several travelers relaxing as well and the inn keeper with her 2 mostly pretty serving girls are bustling all around.
The door slowly opened, creaking in resistance to the small force exerted upon it by the diminutive person opening it. My hands and feet are wrapped in dirty gauze and it appears quite road worn. My cloak is large for my height of three feet and wrapped tightly around me, the hood shadowing my facial features. My scaled snout is exposed, but not displayed prominently. In my hand are shiny coins to advertise to the staff that I am here to drink, nothing more. I have had some success with this tactic before, but just as many hiss and throw me out. Those that allow me in have only profited usually charging me double what the rate should be. I await one of the staff to approach before I point toward a darkened corner, suggesting I keep out of sight. Many are offended by my kind's presence and I have come to deal with that by avoiding conflict.
"I only wish to have a few drinks, no trouble," in a lisping accent and pointing toward a darkened corner away from anyone else. The coins glitter in my dirty bandages, making them all the more noticeable.
Seated near the fire is a tall male dressed in nondescript leather ravenously tearing at a cut of the roasting hog, though the ale at his side remains untouched as of yet. Aside from the longspear leaning against the wall and his pack at its base, the traveler appears to be carrying little along with him. At the sound of the creaking door he raises his head, revealing the flat nose and heavy brow characteristic of a weretouched, his large eyes wide and pointed ears almost pricked up in bestial curiosity.
Upon spotting the scaled snout of the diminutive patron, the Shifter growls instinctively under his breath, the snarl on his face revealing the long canines that only betray his bestial heritage all the more. Keeping his hunting drive in check, the Shifter quickly buries his face in his mug, trying his best to pretend he took no notice of the Kobold entering the room.
Hearing the newcomer's statement of peace, he pretends to relax, though internally he remains wound like a spring, ready to leap into action should the need arise. Attempting to appear calm and content, he settles back in his seat while trying to picture in his mind just how far away his longspear was...
The slamming door of the inn drew the gaze of most of the patrons. Searching eyes slowly lowered to the startled Halfling who gave the room a small wave. The Halfling crossed to the mismatched stools around the bar and with a jump planted himself in the tallest. He smiled warmly at the nearest serving girl as he piled an assortment of coins in front of him. The smile, or possibly the coin drew her attention.
“Sorry about the door, someone put the handle up to high” he lamely joked. She however seemed to think it quite funny and let out too-loud a laugh. Quickly covering her mouth, she asked if he would like something to eat and told him the price of the night’s special. His laugh was even louder and more unexpected then hers had been. He had heard that people paid for food but the concept seemed so ridiculous to him that he couldn’t help but laugh. Why would anyone pay for food when there was plenty to be had so easily? A person may as well pay for water or air for that matter.
Seeing the quizzical expression on the girls face he softened his laugh, “you have no idea how good that sounds, but I came here for some of that strong drink that I know you sell!” The Halflings eyes got big and he licked his smiling lips. Covering her mouth again the girl quickly disappeared into the back room.
There are two ways to enter a bar. To slink in, and act as harmless as can be declairing in body language that you are not worth the effort to make trouble for. Or to make it obvious you are not one to be trifled with, too dangerous to be worth the risk. At least, that is what Targ has been told. The door of the Gambling Fox does not slam open, but only just. Stopped by metal hands just before it hits anything else the hulking Warforged pauses just a moment at the enterance to take in the shape of the inn and all within it.
The odd Warforged, clad in hide armor and sporting paint on his face reflecting barbarian culture, takes little time to move from his place by the door before finding a stool at the bar that will hold his bulk and still give him room to rush an enemy should one meterialize within the bar. When approached by one of the servers he simply hands them a gold coin and says, "For the chair." In essence paying just for a place to sit and wait, for now.
I enter and try not to attract attention to myself and find a quiet corner to sit in and order some stew and water.
Morganna confidently strides into the bar. Does a quick scan, and heads to the barkeep. Out of the corner of her eye, she steals a glance at an odd little creature with a scaled snout.
Morganna walks up to the small creature and crouches down.
"You are a long way from home little one..."
The warlock was not the last to stumble into the inn at this hour. Shortly after the female warlock made her entrance, another figure stumbled into the welcoming glow of the inn's roaring fire. An Eladrin, and from the looks of him a young one, young enough to make one wonder if he should still be referred to as child instead of adult. His finely-tailored clothing was torn and splashed in various shades of mud, and from the thoroughly miserable look on the youth's face it was not hard to guess that his time in the Shadow Marches had been a far from pleasant experience.
He seemed to perk up slightly once he was well within the range of the comforting fire, though the flighty youngster did not seem content to settle down in one of the open bar stools or chairs, though there were plenty available. Wide blue eyes peered around the inn's common room, an expression of nervousness taking over his face. He seemed as if he wanted to ask something, but did not what to say... if he could gather up the courage for it in the first place.
"Um..." he began, his voice barely above that of a whisper. "Pardon me..."
When his quiet words requesting attention, he blinked, seeming surprised that few turned his way. Well no wonder- no one could hear him! the realization seemed to make the Eladrin start, and he stood straighter, raising his voice to a ringing tone.
"Pardon me!" The loudness and firmness of the call for attention seemed to surprise the Eladrin more than anyone else "I am here seeking to gather a few allies. A friend of mine has gone missing and... ah... I'm hoping to gather... er... and see if I can find her."
His boldness was quick to wear off, and by the end of his attempt to form a rallying speech he was barely speaking above a whisper again, his face flushing furiously at the unaccustomed-to attention. "Er... There will be a reward..." he offered, hoping that would be enough incentive to draw a few people in. Where the reward would come from? He'd worry about that when he came to that bump in the road.
Dabril was startled at the loud voice but took stock of his meager funds and went to the person who spoke aloud. "My name is Dabril and I could use some work" I stick out my hand to shake his.
Having finished his meal, the Shifter turns his attention to his situation. He needs to do something to prove himself to his master, but what? Each patron enters the tavern in turn, distracting him again and again. Though he had heard of most of these creatures and even seen individuals of their races from time to time, this was his first time away from any elder and therefore his first opportunity to actually interact with them. Each brought new memories, new questions floating into his thoughts. Why does she dress that way? Why has the Kobold ventured into this region? Where did that thing come from? The Warforged in particular drew his attention. He had heard of them, but never seen one up close...especially not in the garb this one appeared in. Truly a marvel to behold, he found himself wanting to turn to his master to ask questions, but quickly remembers that he is alone.
Sobered by this new thought, Cheek returns to the remains of his ale, again focusing on his task. Unsure what to do or even where to begin, he barely notices the newest patron entering the inn. How am I supposed to prove that I'm ready? What is he expecting from me? His thoughts carry him down several dead-end ideas to no avail. A new thought occurs, I have next to no money and the people of these lands use a lot more than I expected...perhaps I should first find some way to make a few coins..No sooner had he decided this than the young Eladrin's words registered in the Shifter's ears, "...There will be a reward..." Reward? This is it! he thought. Cliff can wait. I can do this first...maybe then I'll know what to do...
Easier thought than done, though. Having never spoken up around this many strangers--and never one given to speak aloud much anyway--he flounders about for several moments, struggling to find the words. In the meantime the human wizard strides forward and confidently offers his services. Well, the youngling needs a group...If he can speak up, I can too! Mustering everything he's got, the Shifter half raises a hairy hand and gruffly states "me too" from where he's seated.