It is evening in Ravengro - the evening before Professor Petros Lorrimor's funeral. It is a dark, cloudy night, but the air is warm and the rain has mercifully ceased.
Not that you minded the rain too much, as you've found solace at The Outward Inn, a small but pleasant hostel positioned with several other buildings around the town square. It's relatively full at the moment, with many people gathered in the basement tavern for a drink and a meal. It's clear that they know each other as they sit huddled in small groups, laughing, whispering and very clearly behaving as if they're uninterested in including others.
The inn's owner, Sarianna Vai, and her serving maid, Sarai, scurries around, keeping mugs filled and patrons happy. You can overhear them talking about this being the first time in recent memory that rooms upstairs have been occupied.
A young man sits in the corner and begins playing a mournful, but pleasant tune on a lute. His baritone voice softly fills the room with songs the locals obviously know, as they chime in frequently.
In one corner there is an older woman wearing bright silk clothing mindlessly shuffling cards. She is accompanied by a bored-looking younger man with dark hair and eyebrows.
Durgrosh walks into the common room after stowing his items in the room he procured for the evening. Looking around he smiles at the patrons, although the effect is somewhat less than convincing considering the large tusks protruding from his lower lip...not to mention the incessant drool as a result of said tusks. Ignoring the looks of shock and disgust, in addition to the ever present fear, Durgrosh goes to an empty table and sits down. Ordering some wine and whatever the cook is making tonight, Durgrosh pulls out a large leather bound volume. As he turns the pages muttering to himself, anyone can see a precise scrawl covering each page from top to bottom. In addition to the scrawl are numerous arcane sigils and formulae of unknown make. When the food comes Durgrosh puts away his book in order to keep it from becoming damaged should anything be spilled on it.
Kolgrym stomps through the inn's doors and comes to a stop just inside the common room. The dwarf's clothes still drip from the rain earlier in the evening, and a puddle begins to form beneath him as the water trickles slowly from the creases and nooks in his traveling gear. Running a hand across his head Kolgrym thanks Pharasma that his hair has dried. His hand, however, fails to touch his ponytail, which has frizzed as it dried within the moist air.
Blissfully unaware of his unkempt appearance the dwarf marches up the bar and climbs onto a stool, a trail of water droplets left in his path. His eyes narrow when he notices a group of locals staring at him. They humans hurriedly look away and Kolgrym lets out an exasperated grunt. He turns back to the bar and waves over Sarianna. "Bring me something to warm the bones and lift the spirits. With cider, if you have it, and maybe some local cheese."
He hoped no-one would notice him when he opened the door.
He then remembered that he didn't care.
The chill wind of the evening, no longer accompanied by the droll tune of heavy rain, presses him into the tepid room. Quietly adjusting his cloak, vest and scarf, he pulls out a pair of spectacles from nowhere, and nestles them firmly on the tip of his nose.
"You. Serving maid." He walks over to the lady who seems to be serving the patrons. "Do you have a room? A warm meal? Mead with honey?"
He throws a couple of glances around the room as she responds, spotting both a dwarf and a half-orc. His eyebrows narrow slightly, muttering under his breath.
An older, attractive woman approaches the dripping-wet dwarf. She smiles broadly as she says, "But of course, good sir. Why don't you find a seat and we'll get you squared away." Moving gracefully to the serving maid, she whispers in her ear, which results in the smaller, mousy woman hurrying to the kitchen and returning moments later with a large tankard in one hand and a plate of bread and cheeses balancing on the other. As she's setting the items down, a small man shouts in her direction, startling and causing her to spill a bit of the beverage onto the plate of cheese. She doesn't notice.
Looking down at the gnome, her eyes grow wide. She stammers a bit, but no intelligible words other than "captured fae?" escape her lips. Almost instantly, Sarianna makes her way over, puts her arm around Sarai and whispers in her ear. Sarai, blushing slightly, bows and makes her way to the kitchen.
"Please excuse Sarai, sir. She has never seen a gnome before. My apologies for her reaction. We, of course, have a room and warm meal and mead. Why don't you have a seat and we'll get you squared away?" As if on cue, Sarai emerges from the kitchen, tankard in hand.
When he sees the lights of Ravengro in the distance, Ghorum mutters a prayer of thanks. As he gets closer, he immediately picks out the building most likely to be an inn. Seeing another dwarf about to enter, he moves up quietly behind him, waiting until the other man clears the doorway.
"Bring me something to warm the bones and lift the spirits. With cider, if you have it, and maybe some local cheese."
At this, Ghorum steps into the room, saying "Make that two, lass, I've had a long journey."
He waits until the other dwarf turns to look at him before introducing himself.
"Ghorum Kraak, at your service, brother." Smiling, he extends a hand.
A tall elf walks down the stairs, a book clutched in his hands. He has long dirty blonde hair, tied at the nape of his neck. He wears a long dark tweed vest covering an off-white collared shirt. Instead of a tie he has a long green scarf wrapped around his neck several times.
The elf's green eyes scan the room somewhat nervously. Well, I won't be trying to sit with the locals again. That's did not go well at all. He seems uncertain for a moment, but he finally seems to settle on the approaching the half-orc.
Excuse me sir, I....well I was hoping to sit with you. Reading doesn't seem to be a common past-time here, and I see that you have a book there." He raises his own book slightly, "So I thought maybe we would be able to at least share some conversation while we ate."
Novennia had just turned over her horse to the stablehand and tossed him a copper coin for his trouble, when she enters what seems to be the only inn in Ravengro.
She tosses the hood back from her head revealing long, black hair, falling down her back below her shoulders, the hair and the dark eyes being in sharp contrast to the relatively pale skin.
She could possibly be described as good-looking or even attractive by some, but she certainly would never be stunningly beautiful, even if she would bother to wear makeup for example.
She takes a careful look around the inn and notices the strange looks the other guests seem to give her. "Maybe they don't get many visitors here" she thinks to herself.
Slowly she approaches the bar and addresses the woman that seems to be the proprietor of this inn, smiling at her. "Good evening. I'm here for the funeral of Professor Lorrimor tomorrow and would like to rent a room in your fine establishment for the night. It does not have to be anything fancy, as long as it has a cot to sleep on and a roof to keep the rain out, it will do."
Anyone who has ever been there would recognize the accent of Cheliax in her voice.
She looks around again, and notices quite a few people eating and drinking, reminding her of the last meal she had was at midday. "Oh, and if I could get some spiced wine and something to eat first, that would be appreciated"
At the mention of Lorrimor's name, an older man at one of the tables looks Novennia's way. He grimaces and leans in closer to the group he is gathered with. You can't hear what he is saying, but there are slow nods from the others at his table.
Sarianna responds to Novennia. "But of course, ma'am. We are fuller than normal, but we still have four rooms available. It seems the good professor had more friends from outside of Ravengro than we knew."
She and Sarai provide all of newcomers with the food and beverage they requested.
As the serving maid exclaims in shock, Teagan buries his face in the palm of his hand. He watches the other woman calm her down, and looks up at them both with no expression. He nods in confirmation, and turns to find a place to sit when the black-haired lady enters.
Teagan glances at the Chelaxian - or presumed Chelaxian - as she announces her purpose of being here. Sighing, he mumbles under his breath again, and throws another glance at the two dwarves, and the half-orc and elf by the lonesome table.
Adjusting his spectacles, he wanders over to the elf and half-orc. He pulls out his backpack from underneath his cloak and places it firmly behind him on the chair, and then climbs up to sit. "Surely you won't mind my company. If you do, pretend I'm not here," he says, pulling out an inkpen from one of his pouches. "Are you here for Lorrimor's... funeral as well?"
As the serving maid arrives with his meal and mead, he takes a sip right away - again, muttering under his breath. "That should take care of my throat..."
Novennia doesn't seem to acknowledge the old man and his friends at all, instead she keeps her attention on Sarianna.
"It would seem so, yes. I take it he didn't have many of those here in Ravengro?" she asks her in a lower voice, so it doesn't carry too far through the inn.
While she is waiting for an answer she lets her gaze sweep through the room, to see if there's an empty table where she can sit.
In response to Novennia, Sarianna shakes her head somewhat solemnly. "He was always been a little...different than the rest of the residents of Ravengro. Don't get me wrong, I found him to be quite pleasant and I'm incredibly saddened by his passing - not to mention the way that it happened, by the gods. At the same time, I'm happy that there are some who have traveled to pay their respects." She pauses for a moment before continuing. "Thought it appears his odd reputation was well-deserved, as you can see by those who will be in attendance tomorrow morning." She shares a knowing smile and wink with Novennia before heading off to tend to the other patrons.
Novennia nods politely at the inkeeper, even though she's not quite certain what she meant.
'Well, I didn't know the Professor that well, but he did seem a bit quirky, that's true'
She looks around the common room, taking in the other guests. It seems quite obvious which tables are occupied by locals, groups of older men mostly having their heads together, talking in low voices and sometimes shooting suspicious glances at her and a few others.
Those others are just as obviously travellers, and according to the innkeepers words here for the funeral as well.
'Let's see. A gnome, elf, a half-orc and the two dwarves over here. I hope they and the half-orc get along.'
She approaches the closest of the two groups, that being the dwarves near the bar, and bowed her head and upper body slightly, her hands folded together formally infront of her chest, as she had learned in the monestary.
"Greetings, Sirs, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I heard you too would be here for the late Professor's funeral?"
Durgrosh perks up in surprise at being addressed so cordially, and by an elf no less. Sputtering a little bit on his wine, he says Oh of course! Please sit! He extends his hand in greeting and smiles broadly, seeming genuinely pleased and surprised to have company. Durgrosh Blacksun, at your service.
When the gnome walks up and sits down as well Durgrosh positively bursts with happiness at having two people to talk to They might even be men of science! A pleasure to meet you Master...? He extends his hand to the gnome as well in greeting, attempting to keep his wine far away from the book he is reading.
Teagan is busily pulling out a rather large black book - large by the size of him, at least - from his backpack when he is addressed by the half-orc. He throws a glance over the man's tusks and the expression on his face. "Master? How... poignant."
Pondering quietly for a few moments, he gazes at the outstretched hand while closing his backpack. He pulls away a few strands of the midnight green hair dangling over his pointy eyebrows before he accepts the handshake - a swift, and emotionless ordeal. "You may call me Teagan."
He takes another sip of the mead as he begins to scribble, quietly noting that his question is thus far unanswered...
Sheldon seems somewhat surprised when he is greeted cordially and even more so when a gnome joins the table. When the gnome introduces himself, Sheldon smiles widely. "And I am Sheldon Variel. I am here for Professor Lorrimor's funeral, he was both a colleague and a friend. How did you know him Teagan?
She approaches the closest of the two groups, that being the dwarves near the bar, and bowed her head and upper body slightly, her hands folded together formally infront of her chest, as she had learned in the monestary.
"Greetings, Sirs, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I heard you too would be here for the late Professor's funeral?"
Ghorum turns to look at the woman. "Aye, it appears we are here for the same purpose. How did you know the Professor?" he asks poilitely.
She smiles and picks up her goblet of wine from the bar, tasting it's contents. 'Well not bad. Not phenomenal, but not bad'
"To be honest, I did not know him very well at all. I met him maybe 3 years ago, when I came upon a caravan he had hired by pure chance, and it turned out we would be going the same direction for a while. He didn't mind me joining, and that is what I did then for a few weeks. He was a quite interesting character, I would say, always open to discuss every topic you could think of. But after our ways parted, I had not met him again. Frankly I was quite surprised that he had named me personally to be invited to his funeral. But as it was an old man's dying wish, I could hardly refuse, now could I?"
She smiles again, taking another sip of her drink before adding "Oh, how rude of me, talking this much without actually introducing myself!" She put the goblet down again, and once more bowed in the same fashion as before "You may call me Novennia, it is a pleasure to meet you."
His mouth filled with cheese, Kolgrym nods in acknowledgement to both Ghorum and Novennia. He downs a mouthful of cider to clear his mouth before speaking. "Greetings, Ghorum." Kolgrym takes the other dwarf's offered hand and clasps it firmly in greeting before turning to look at the human. "Greetings to you as well, Novennia. I am Kolgrym Barringald and you were informed correctly: the Professor was a learned man who welcomed any fate destiny had planned for him. I intend to honor his passage. The Lady of Graves demands no less."
Ghorum smiles at Kolgrym, glad that a fellow dwarf is amongst the present company.
As he listens to Novennia, he returns her bow with his own.
"The pleasure is mine, my dear lady. Ghorum Kraak, at your service. Please forgive my bluntness."
After his own mug of cider is brought to him, he takes a few sips to quench his thirst, then continues.
"For my own part, I only knew him as a bit of an eccentric sort, although a damn likeable fellow. I served him as a guide a few times on his expeditions. Not much beyond that." He takes a larger gulp of the cider.
"To be honest, I'm suprised he remembered me at all. I had only just come back from a scouting mission when the courier arrived with the summons to come here."
She keeps talking in a bit lower voice, so the local regulars would not hear her. Not that she thought they would mean them harm, but they had regarded her suspiciously. Of course that might just be because they're not used to strangers.
"The dear innkeeper mentioned the circumstances of the Professor's death, and I think she implied that they were strange. Unfortunately I don't know how he passed, would you have more information about that?"
She removed a long, wrapped package, curved in several places from her back and leaned it beside her against the bar. Possibly an unstrung bow from the looks of it, tightly wrapped in seemingly waterproofed material, to protect it against the harsh weather - and prying eyes.
Teagan throws a glance at the elf, his fingers tugging at the pen as he continues writing. "We met. He taught me much I needed to know. We parted ways."
He returns to his book. The scritches of the pen are swift as he peers occasionally at the denizens of the inn.
Sheldon brows furrow as he frowns at the gnomes brusque answer. "Ummm..yes, I suppose that most meetings are that way." He turns to a seemingly much more receptive Durgrosh, "So, Master Blacksun, did you know the professor? Is that your purpose in this enchanting little town?"
Durgrosh gets a misty look in his eye and wipes them quickly with the back of his hand. Aye, I knew him well. He was more of a father to me than any other before or since. Saved me from some men planning on bringing me back to the Hold of Belkzen as a slave. Then to top it off, he tutored me for a bit before getting me into the University of Lepidstad when I showed a modicum of talent at academic endeavors. He was mighty man of modest means who managed to manufacture a marvelous masterpiece of mortal maturity. He looks embarrassed for a second before saying Please excuse the alliteration...it's a bad habit I have for when I am upset or nervous. The professor taught it to me to help center my chaotic mind but he never dreamed it would last as long as it has. Durgrosh smiles again before saying At least it used to make him laugh. I hadn't seen him for a few years as he had been traveling and I was at university. I was devastated when I got the letter. Durgrosh is silent for a minute before raising his glass and saying sadly To Professor Lorrimor.
At the offering of the toast to Lorrimor, an woman stands and says, "To Professor Lorrimor!" She approaches the table, mug in hand. "Hello. I am Jominda Fallenbridge, and I was a friend of the late professor. I am glad there are some who have traveled here to pay their respects."
When the lady steps forward to join the half-orc in celebrating Lorrimor, Teagan sighs and throws a glance at the closest table. He closes his book. "Respect where respect is due. To the professor."
He raises his mug only slightly before taking a sip. Coughing, he looks at Jominda. "Most Ustalavians tend to cower in fear at the sight of outsiders. How come you are so forthcoming?"
"We do not cower, we are simply cautious," she responds, somewhat coldly. "I approach out of mutual respect for the professor. Nothing more. I am sure I will see you in the morning. Good evening." She nods curtly and returns to the table with others.
"Simply cowardly, you mean," Teagan mutters as the lady Jominda storms away in a huff. He glances at the elf and half-orc with disinterest, taking a big swig of his mead. "You two new to Ustalav?"
Durgrosh looks at Teagan and says Oh no, I've been here years. I've been studying at the University in Lepidstad. What about yourself?
As the woman proposes her toast, Sheldon stands and holds his glass up. "To Professor Lorrimor!" He frowns at Teagan's slight against the woman. Trying to catch her before she leaves for her table, "I'm sure Mister Teagan here may have heard certain rumors about the residence of Ustalav, but I know he is mistaken. Did you know that in the time of the Tyrant that Ustalav's resistance was quite extensive, although ultimately futile. The common folk of Ustalav are incredibly resilient to have survived his reign and the subsequent, well-documented cases of dark supernatural forces at work. They have reason to be cautious of outsiders.....although not in this case of course." He smiles somewhat awkwardly.
Teagan glares at the elf, a glare filled with chill contempt. He speaks not a word as he takes a final sip from the mug, as the warm meal is finally served. "Another honeyed mead, if you would," he waves his flagon in direction of the serving maid, before digging into the food.
At the half-orcs response and inquiry, he glances up. "Born and raised in this mess of a country."
Sheldon's attempt to resolve the situation is unsuccessful - Jominda stares in near disbelief at the elf's lengthy, heady speech and returns to her seat.
Sheldon seems dismayed that his attempt to connect was unsuccessful. "Ummm....yeah, well that may not be of interest to you I guess." He sits down looking somewhat dejected, but seems to recover rather quickly. After Teagan's newest unresponsive response, Sheldon turns to Durgrosh and asks, "What did you study at the University? I also studied there, but I don't remember running into you."
Kolgrym turns away from the brief flurry of activity and toasts, once again addressing Novennia. "I just arrived to the area and have yet to inquire about the Professor's death. My summons lacked that information as well." The dwarf swallows another mouthful of cider.
"It doesn't really matter how the Professor went, in all honesty. I'm sure the man welcomed his fate and I trust Pharasma is smiling upon him in the Boneyard."
Durgrosh brightens at the mention of the University. My studies were in chemistry, biology and advanced alchemical formulae. I am currently in the process of completing my formula for bilateral muscular hypertrophy. In addition I am working on a study on the explosive properties of acid of burning sulfur combined with ammonia carbonate. The reaction is quite energetic. I spent most of my time in the laboratories, except for several weeks where I was not allowed entrance due to an unfortunate incident with an acidic solution of magnesium sulfate. The deflagration which occurred burned part of the lab and I wasn't allowed back in until Professor Lorrimor pointed out that I had mentioned that the result could happen and that it should be done in a more secure location but my instructor thought I was being too cautious, naturally I received the blame for the fire. Thankfully the Professor's intervention allowed me to return to my studies. He pauses for a second before saying ...and what did you study sir? I do not recognize you either.
Novennia was looking over to the other table that was toasting the late Professor as well. 'So I was right, they're here for the funeral as well then'
"I'm certain the Lady does exactly that, my dwarven friend, however I am not so certain as you are that he welcomed his fate. If there was foul play involved as the innkeeper suggested, I would in fact be highly surprised if that was the case."
"Welcoming your fate does not mean one cannot fight for survival, Lady Novennia. In fact, giving in before your time cheats destiny just as readily as living beyond your allotted span." The dwarf tears off some bread and holds it suspended in his cider, letting it absorb the liquid for a moment before popping the morsel into his mouth.
"We all have a predetermined meeting with Pharasma. To appear before her at any other time is disrespectful."
Ghorum holds up his own mug of cider, but stays silent. 'My thoughts are my own' he thinks to himself.
"It doesn't really matter how the Professor went, in all honesty. I'm sure the man welcomed his fate and I trust Pharasma is smiling upon him in the Boneyard."
"I'm certain the Lady does exactly that, my dwarven friend, however I am not so certain as you are that he welcomed his fate. If there was foul play involved as the innkeeper suggested, I would in fact be highly surprised if that was the case."
"I truly hope so, Kolgrym. He was a good man. But I must agree with the good lady here. Perhaps we should delve more into his death more closely...after the funeral, of course" Ghorum says.
"You are correct of course, Master Ghorum, this has time till after we paid our respects to the dear Professor at the funeral" she replied and then let her gaze once more sweep through the room.
"It would seem however, judging from the looks we have gotten from the locals, that he was not that well liked here. In fact it would seem the only other friends he had are those over at that table", nodding towards the one with the Durgrosh, Sheldon and Teagan.
The older woman adorned in bright silk approaches your table with a wide, toothy grin. Shuffling the cards in her hands she says, "Hello. Might I trouble you for a moment?" She continues without waiting for a reply. "The spirits speak loudly here. Yes. Very loudly. My steward and I - that's him over there in the corner - are simply passing through town. But it is no accident we have arrived on the same night as you travelers. I am being tasked by the spirits to provide each of you a card from my deck before your adventure begins. Let us start, shall we?"
Again, without waiting for a reply, she begins spreads the cards in her hands and extends them towards you three. It is clear you are supposed to draw one at random.
[ooc]To select your card, please roll 1d54 with the board roller.
You notice a woman in brightly colored sillk approach the table of the half-orc, elf and gnome. You can't hear what she's saying over the music in the room, but you do notice that she is extending what appear to be cards towards the three.
Well Master Blacksun, your research sounds fascinating. My primary area of study is history, particularly the era of the Whispering Tyrant. I am fascinated by his rise to power and the means by which he was overthrown. I also dabble in the arcane arts, particularly the art of divination. The Professor suggested that I focus on more practical uses of magic if I wanted to do any field research. He said that a means of protecting myself would be prudent considering the focus of my study."
Sheldon's eyes light up and he eagerly leans forward as the old woman suggests they draw a card. "I have heard of Harrow readings. Is this similar? " He then draws the card and flips it face up onto the table.
Teagan yawns as the elf and half-orc delve into their discussion. As he turns around in his seat to return his book to his backpack, the interruption of the strange older woman casts a frown upon his face. He looks suspiciously at the woman and the deck of cards for a moment, though shortly after, without hesitation, he pulls a card right after the elf does, though he does not lay it face up on the table...
Kolgrym grunts in disgust at Novennia's words. "The people of this land are mostly fools. They recognize the world's darkness but refuse to act against it. Rather than welcome a man of learning who might be capable of fending off the monsters they dread, they huddle in the dark and cower in terror. Of course none of them counted the Professor a friend; to be friends with Lorrimor one needed a spine." The scorn in the dwarf's voice makes you feel that he might be speaking from personal experience.
Kolgrym drains his mug of cider and slides off the stool to his feet. "If these others knew the Professor then we should greet them as friends, if for no other reason than it will be easier for the busybodies to keep tabs on a single group rather than two." Raising the remainder of his meal in one hand and taking hold of his still soggy gear in the other, the dwarf moves toward the second group.
"Is there room for another friend of Lorrimor at your table?"
Durgrosh brightens at his suddenly filling table. Of course Master Dwarf. Any friend of the professor's.
Looking at the woman who approached Durgrosh says with delight Oh how wonderful. You know I had a friend once who claimed to be able to pull any card you wanted from a deck every time, I was never able to figure out quite how he did it. At that Durgrosh pull a card from the deck as well.
Novennia looks after the dwarf as he goes to meet the rather strange group on the other side of the room. She has noticed the strange old woman though and eyes her suspiciously from the bar, while breaking of a piece of bread from her plate.
"Yes, your friend might have a point with that. Tell me, what do you think of that old woman there?"
"Yes, your friend might have a point with that. Tell me, what do you think of that old woman there?"
Ghorum nods in agreement. "We probably should join them, I'd guess. As for the woman, she's most likely out to scam a few coins from the lot of us. Best be on your guard, my dear."
He gestures for her to lead the way to the other table. "Shall we?" he says with a wink.
She nods at her dwarven companion "It might be for the best". She didn't have alot experience - or any really - with scammers back in the monestary, so she has become quite trusting towards people in her time there. But this place and the way it's people watch each other and them, is triggering something older. Something from her time growing up in Cheliax where everyone was preying on everyone and scheming against each other. She had been too young to really be a part of it, but of course she had noticed and learned. And now it's resulting in her watching everyone here with equal suspicion, without really any apperent reason. She doesn't like that, she had fought to get rid of this behavior for over ten years after all.
Maybe it would go away if she would sit on a table with more friendly people, allowing her to focus her mind again.
She picks up her bow again in one hand, balancing her goblet ontop of her plate as she makes her way towards the table that apperently welcomed Kolgrym already.
She bows her head slightly, as much as the things in her hand allow her to "Greetings, dear Sirs, it was hard to overhear that you seemed to be friends of the late Professor Lorrimor. Would you mind us joining you?"
She tries to hide the look she's giving the old woman, but she can't seem to help it, but maybe she can catch something that she's up to.
Durgrosh looks like he is about to burst from happiness at having all of these people come and sit at a table that he is at. You are most welcome. I am Durgrosh Blacksun. How did you know the professor?
Responding to Sheldon's question, the old woman says, "No, dear, this isn't a reading. The spirits - or the divines - are leading you in their own way. I won't predict from the card drawn, but perhaps, at just the right moment, the card may prove useful. Or not. I am simply a steward of the spirits."
Sheldon draws and places The Foreign Trader (True Neutral, Intelligence) card on the table. Teagan draws, but does not share his card with the others. Drugrosh draws and reveals The Brass Dwarf (Lawful Neutral, Constitution).
Holding the card close to your chest, you look down and see that you have drawn The Midwife (Neutral Good, Wisdom).
You're unable to discern anything innoble or dishonest about the woman.
As the three newcomers arrive at the table, the old woman breaks into a wide grin. "Yes, good. Good. You saved me a trip over to the bar - my old legs don't need any more work than necessary. As I told your friends, I am being tasked by the spirits to provide each of you a card from my deck before your adventure begins. Please draw one."
She shuffles and spreads the cards in her hands, extending them towards the three who haven't yet drawn. For those who care to look, you notice that The Foreign Trader is placed in front of Sheldon and Drugrosh is holding The Brass Dwarf. You can't see what Teagan has drawn.
Durgrosh thanks the woman for the card and places it in his pouch. After a few moments, Durgrosh yawns and says Please excuse me but it has been a very long day and I want to be refreshed for the funeral tomorrow. I hope everyone has a wonderful night and I will see you in the morning. Durgrosh will then bow to the table, because thats what 1001 Rules of Etiquette says to do in situations like these, and then head upstairs to his room. Once there he puts all of his chemicals and concoctions away securely in his kit before getting into bed with his book of formulae. Once he has looked over his customary three pages he blows out the candle and turns in for the night.