Rules? Oh, there are many rules in Her Baleful Majesty's empire, but only a few you need to know at the moment.
First, do you hear those bells? Cold and solemn, you can't mistake them for anything else. They ring seven times when the curfew begins at nine, and only thrice when it is lifted at six in the morning. It is forbidden to walk in the streets now, expressly so if you are a citizen of this fine city.
Second, is that tea you are drinking? Perhaps coffee? Pour it onto the floor, stranger, for our Lord-Mayor has forbidden the drinking of such stimulating beverages after curfew. Ale is permissible, as is water.
Third, do you see how the proprietor draws a curtain over the windows? It is forbidden to look out in the streets at night. Even if you hear a man's cry, do not open those curtains! It can only be a squad of Dottari in pursuit of a criminal, or a common criminal fleeing from the law, or a revolutionary going about his foul way, or perhaps even a demon, though I imagine that the latter two are rare enough. Nevertheless, even a traveller as hardy and well-armed as you wouldn't want to draw the attention of such characters.
Hmm? Well, I suppose it would be permissible to go outside if you were fleeing a fire, though I shudder to think of what punishment our beloved Lord-Mayor sees fit for arson. Perhaps it is best to snuff out the lights and sleep the night away. I know I shall. It seems that your cup is still half-full.
Welcome to the grand city of Kithargo. I hope your stay is pleasant and brief.
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"Well... it certainly seems... orderly. Better strict rules clearly stated than murder and crime being out of control, I suppose. Thank you, for the answer," Leah Oakfounder replies, as she discretely continues to enjoy her still warm cup of tea. With any luck, the girl that brought it too her would not reappear anytime soon.
Rules were all fine and good, but after a week straight of travel, a good cup of tea was exactly what Leah needed, and intended to keep.
So I'm a total doof and rolled 10d8 instead of 8d10. Too bad, because that was statistically a pretty good roll.
"Hmm," grunts the dwarf to the local.
He looks down at his ale. The voyage that brought him from Varisia to Cheliax gave him plenty of time to think. With unanswered questions, and now, in this city with its strange curfew, he doubted he would get any sleep. He only knew three cures for a sleepless night, however, he does not think there is a mine nearby for him to toil his worries away, and he is too uncomfortable to inquire after the second. That leaves the third option, then.
After a long pull, Kogril drains his tankard and uses his sleeve to wipe away the foam from his moustache. He trundles up to the barman and says, "Another, please. Hell, make it two!" The empty cup rests on the bar, and with it, double the coin of his first ale plus one more.
"I sure hope you have beds to rent," he states, with a nervous glance to the door leading outside. He dare not go out, and any bed sounds a sight better than passing out on the tavern floor.
The lizardfolk sits calmly at the table, his cup of water seemingly forgotten. He stares first at the woman, then the dwarf, studying the two as a long moment of silence drifts between them. A thin, translucent flap of skin slides briefly across each of his eyes, not quite as in sync as one might expect of a creature blinking, and then he begins to speak. "Is zis all od you?" he asks in a slow, deliberate monotone, his voice seeming bored, which only highlights the strangeness of his accent. "I know ze monster is already on ze boat, but I sought zere would be one more?" He reaches down, his fingers slowly curling about the small horn cup of water. He stares down at the hitherto untouched cup, considering it, but does not drink from it. His grip softens, and he resumes his staring at his two companions at the table.
roll + CHA + WIS + rank + class skill + favored class + racial (beguiling liar) + trait (fast-talker) + untyped (studied target) + untyped (art of deception) + untyped (careful speaker) + untyped (skill focus) + untyped (deceitful) + 10 competence (mask of stony demeanor)