The Wolves' Den

Game Master dreamingdragon

A large room, brightly lit and full of the smells of cooking food, pipe smoke, and the sounds of quiet conversation. The walls are covered mostly with hunter's trophies, including the head of a giant wolf mounted over the fireplace. It is a busy place, perhaps surprisingly so considering how far it is from any settled land, but it does have the distinction of being the only inn or tavern for several days in any direction.

Beside the innkeeper himself, a tall, fat man with ruddy cheeks and a mustache that hangs in two long braids down to his shoulders, there is a scrawny cook who is only occasionally glimpsed through the kitchen door and three girls who carry food to the long tables.

Outside the inn is a fenced in yard, with stables, a garden, privies and a smokehouse, and a stockade has been built around the inn and a few other houses. Though remote, the hamlet seems prosperous enough, and what rustic comfort can be found in this remote region is plentiful here.

More to come:

A soft pur of a tiger is one of the few sounds heard besides the continual stroke of his head by his master and friend.

Rufon is comfortably relaxing in his seat, with a larger potion of steak and bread in front of him, having especially asked for it as he pointed at his feline companion to the waitress/chef.

Etienne wanders into the tavern shortly thereafter. "Oh, hello Rufon. It's a small world, isn't it." He sits down at Rufon's table and orders some meat and bread. When it comes, he'll eat while feeding small bits of steak to the hawk on his shoulder.

"It certainly is Etienne, it'd be my pleasure to go on a proper quest with you this time."

He slices off a big piece of the steak and holds it in front of the tiger.
Thrace sniffs the air and opens an eye, sees the steak and gently bites down and gobbles it up.

"Meet a new friend of mine Etienne,"he pats the tiger on his flank "This is Thrace, my companion in these parts."

"It's nice to meet you, Thrace." Etienne cautiously extends his hand to be sniffed, then assuming he hasn't become fingerless :-) pets its head. "What happened to Gilgamesh? You two have a falling out?"

Sjora enters the inn, obviously after a long day of travel, her fine clothes a bit stained from exposure to all winds and all weathers. Herself, she looks road-weary, her long dark hair in somewhat of disarray, straying from it's confining braid in loose strands.

She finds a seat alone and sets her pack on the floor by her feet, obviously relieved to be free of the burden. "Girl," she calls out to one of the serving wenches. "Something to eat please... stew would be wonderful, and some bread and cheese. Perhaps some mead or ale as well?"

She looks about the room with a friendly, open expression as she absently tucks loose hairs back into the braid that hangs down her back. For a lone traveler, she seems poorly equipped, carrying only a dagger and a crossbow as protection. She nods in greeting to the two men sitting together, and lofts a single perfectly groomed eyebrow at the sight of the magnificent cat lounging casually by one man's side. She comments softly to him, "Lovely cat," as if it were an every-day occurrence to see such a beast in a remote tavern. Her expression belies that casual comment however, as she is obviously impressed and intrigued.

Thrace sniffs Etienne's hand, backs off for a moment, sniffs again and then gives Etienne's hand a small lick.

"I couldn't take Gilgamesh out of his home region now could I? He's still there keeping an eye on things, don't worry he'll be alright."

As the dark-haired woman enters, Rufon looks up and sees her weathered and stained clothes, they look pretty high quality to him.
Haven't seen any new travelers here lately, would have surely remembered a woman though. Wonder if she's just passing through

At her comment about Thrace he simply replies "Aye that he is." saying it with a big smile towards her as he roughly pats Thrace's head.

She lifts her plate and carries it over toward the two men and sits down near them, inviting herself as if she simply assumes a welcome wherever she goes.

"Hello, I'm Sjora Arens. A pleasure to meet you both."

She looks from the cat to the falcon and back again, breaks out in a big smile at the unusual proximity of the cat and the bird. "It's good to see such disparate creatures so peaceful in each other's presence. I've never seen such a big cat before, aside from as a prize," and as she says this she nods toward the large wolf's head mounted on the wall of the tavern.

Looking back at the tiger, she continues, "She, or is it he? is quite beautiful, and terrifying at the same time."

"Rufon Hammerhand, pleased to meet you as well"
He stretches out his right hand to greet her, though it looks more like a coal shovel than a normal hand.

"His name is Thrace and he is still pretty young actually. Found him a few months ago, he had a nasty run in with a supersized boar. Now he's pretty tame alongside me."

He stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles and hands, then relaxes in the chair, rocking a bit back and forth in it.

"Etienne and me have met each other before. So what is your story Sjora?"

"And I'm Etienne Navarre. The lovely lady on my shoulder is named Isabeau. It's nice to make your acquaintance. As Rufon said, we've met before. The job went south, so now I'm here. What brings you all the way out here? Rufon and I are used to it, but you're pretty far from civilization."

Duraelo enters the inn. He is clearly tired from having walked a long distance. He plops down into the nearest chair, placing his backpack unceremoniously on the floor next to him. "Something to drink, preferably beer or whatever's closest to it. And some food as well, whatever's fresh and cooking," he asks one of the serving girls nearby.

He exhales a sigh of relief to be off of his feet. The travelling has been surprisingly dull and his legs could use a rest. He keeps his weaponry lying next to his backpack, and looks around the inn with casual intrest.

Sorry I'm late with posting! And yet somehow, Duraelo seems like the guy who's late to a party.

"Rufon and Thrace, Etienne and Isabeau... all lovely names." She looks at the tiger and lofts her brow again. "Tame? How exciting! He doesn't look tame, which I suppose is a good thing. He looks quite wild and exotic to me. I'm sure no random thug would dare cross your path with evil intent, with Thrace by your side." She flashes Rufon a bright smile.

"And yes, this is pretty far from civilization, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I've had quite enough of the civilized life for the time being," she says, almost huffily. "As for my story, there's not much to tell. I had a dream, a vision if you will, of a grave evil lingering over a place in the wilderness. I did a little research in my fa... well, it doesn't matter where, and I found a map to the place. I should be near it now, though even with the map, I seem to have lost my way a bit."

She looks to the wolf's head on the wall and nods toward it. "If that is any indication, this could be the very place. But be that as it may, since my vision pulled me toward this area, I've had little rest. It's good to be here in a warm taproom, with good food and drink. I'm a little tired of trail rations and walking. My horse went lame days ago and I had to trade him to a passing peddlar."

"So what brings you two out to such a remote place as this?"

dd- congrats on being selected for the age of wyrms campaign!

Same to you Sjora!

me? I didn't get picked for age of wyrms... I did get picked here with almost the same build, so I was gonna drop out of the running for that one, but I didn't even have time :)

Etienne strokes the hawk's head absent-mindedly as he responds. "I've heard talk of powerful magics in this area. I'm hoping they'll be able to -" he pauses for a moment. "- that's besides the point. You speak of visions of a great evil. I want no part in that; if it's anything like what I've experienced before, searching it out will only lead to heartbreak and pain."

Etienne wears a melancholy expression as he falls silent.

"I don't have visions often, and perhaps great evil was an overstatement, but I was pulled here for a reason. Powerful magics can easily be misused, maybe that is what my vision saw, I can't say. Having a dream and interpreting it properly are different things. Are you a student of magic?"

She tilts her head to one side, curiosity on her features. "You look so sad suddenly.. you must have had a really bad time with such a thing before. Care to share?"

@Sjora:
Oh...sorry. Thought the "DD" was somehow referring to me, and that this was supposed to be the start for some campaign called "Age of Wyrms. My stupid mistake. Sorry.

Duraelo has taken an intrest in the three humans speaking together, the animal companions of two of them only intriguing him more. He doesn't want to be rude, so he simply tries to listen in on their conversation and drink the mead that has been served to him while he waits for his food.

"Quite the opposite, actually: I'm just a simple woodland hunter and guide. As for my past, let's just say that I've had some bad experiences with magic users. Power-hungry warmongers for the most part, and evil to boot. I'll speak no more of them here."

If you've seen "Ladyhawke", you get the gist of his backstory. That coupled with a bad experience from a prior campaign means he's not real fond of spellcasters. We'll have some interesting party dynamics, that's for sure. :-)

"Well, I'm glad I'm no mage then. I wouldn't want to get on your bad side simply by being. I've had little experience with magic users myself so I can't say I've formed an opinion of them, but I've heard stories. If even half of them have some truth to them, you may have the right of it. I hope I never have to find out, for sure." She gives Etienne a little encouraging smile.

"Surely though not all of them can be evil... can they? But as you say, you want to speak about them no more, that's fine with me. Surely there are other things we can speak of... More pleasant things. Tell me, Etienne, there is something curiously similar about you and Rufon... a certain rustic aura about you both. Are you traveling companions? Your hawk seems quite comfortable around his large cat."

Of course seen "Ladyhawke" - very fun story

Oh, I can already see that Etienne and Duraelo are going to be just the BEST of buddies! Yay roleplaying!

Duraelo can't help but scoff when he hears Etienne talk about "power-hungry warmongers" of magic users. He takes a sip of the mead, then pulls the mug away quickly, unused to the drink's taste.

Rufon istens intently as Etienne and Sjora continue conversation.
Thrace on the other hand yawns and roars at the same time, stretching himself out on the floor, his nails clearly visible. He stands up, apparently done with lying for the moment.
The yawning tiger attracted some startled looks around the tavern.

"With me around Thrace is as harmless as a kitten. Be on the wrong side though, let's just say you don't want to be. He doesn't make much of a wrestling partner unfortunately." He turns his head back to Sjora with a bit of a painful grin.

"Etienne and me had been hired as Jungle guards, proecting a building crew. Sadly one of our colleagues had his head screwed on wrong. The villagers fixed that for him, literally. Sounded a good as time as any to move on. Also made our employer look bad. Had to leave my friend gorilla, Gilgamesh and my home region behind for now." Pointing back at Etienne he nods and continues.

"Etienne and me became friends after that, he wanted to investigate this region further. Said I'll accompany him if he needed some extra help. This also seems a good place to help nature protect itself. I've been living on the forest's edge for several months now. Ain't seen anything as big as that wolf over there yet."" Pointing at the same wolf's head above the fireplace. "Young bears, large boars and wolves all over the place though."

Sjora smiles softly as she watches Thrace stretch and listens to Rufon's disclaimer of the big cat's temperament. "Well he doesn't look harmless, but he is beautiful. Goodness, his claws and teeth are big!"

As she pauses to listen to his tale of how they met and worked together, she nods a little and several strands of hair come loose from her braid. She absently works at tucking them back while Rufon speaks. "You come from the jungle originally? How exotic! I've never been, though I've heard tales of brightly coloured birds, huge insects, humid heat, and lush vegetation in the jungle. You had a gorilla as a friend then? Instead of a tiger? I've never seen a gorilla before, but I have seen a picture in one my father's books."

"So the two of you have been friends for some time, I see. That's great! My own travel here was quite lonely, and a often wished for a friend or even just a traveling companion. Perhaps that one," she nods toward the wolf head on the wall, "was a rare find, because i didn't see anything of it's kind while getting here either. I heard wolf sounds from time to time, but I never actually saw anything bigger than a raccoon. Lots of squirrels and small birds. I guess I was lucky, because I think bears and boars and wolves are a bit scary. Maybe not if I had a friend like Thrace by my side, but traveling alone, they would have been terrifying." She smiles and her eyes twinkle with a bit of mirth as she speaks, as if 'terrifying' were a bit of an overstatement.

She turns to Duraelo finally, and looks him over carefully. "You seem to disagree with Etienne here about magic users. Care to share your opinion? Come, speak with us. My name is Sjora, this is Etienne and Rufon, but I'll let them introduce their own friends as they will."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Duraelo says. "It's just it can be funny listening to someone talk about magic users when, and I'm just going to make a guess here so I hope I don't offend you with this, they themselves aren't versed in it. But where are my manners?"

He gets up and walks over to the three, carrying his mug of mead and supplies with him. "It's a pleasure to meet the three of you, m'lady," he says, giving a polite nod of the head to the group, and in particular Sjora. "My name's Duraelo. I hope I haven't interrupted the conversation you three were having." Duraelo sits down with them, placing his things at his feet and his mug on the table.

He turns to look at the wolf's head they were all discussing. "I must say, I agree with you about that wolf. How anyone was able to hunt down something that huge is beyond me. Must have been a terror when it was alive." He takes a casual sip of mead, starting to get more used to the feel of the drink.

Please continue roleplaying activity among yourselves while I work on the map issue, and feel free to interact with the staff and the other patrons.

"Well met Duraelo, and while I cannot speak for the others, I must admit I am not, as you put it, versed in magic. But you must admit that most of the stories about witches and wizards are about evil ones. The tales I grew up hearing certainly never talked about good witches or warlocks." She shrugs. "It might just be a bad rap, but apparently Etienne's experiences would support that to some extent... Have you some knowledge or personal experience that would support the opposite?" She flashes Duraelo a smile, encouraging him to speak.

Etienne nods slightly as Rufon explains their history. By the way Rufon, since we've been traveling together for a while, you should be fairly familiar with Etienne's backstory - especially Isabeau the hawk.

At Duraelo's words, Etienne grins a little. It's true, friend, that I'm no mage. By your words, I assume you have some talent? While it's true that my experiences with spellcasters have been almost universally bad, as long as you don't get uppity, we'll be okay. The last mage I ran into, as Rufon said, was insanely power-hungry and was more than willing to flay people alive to get what he wanted. Ironically, though I dislike wizardly folk, I will have need of one in the future."

@GM: Your NPC descriptions are hilarious. :-) What's Drago singing about?

There's nothing funny about a gnome merchant.
But really, Thank you. I intend to have little snippets of dialogue for the patrons as well, but today's job is drawing the damn map in a digitally useful format.
Drago is singing a ballad about returning home from the war to find your family gone. It was quite popular twenty years ago, when there was a war that people were returning home from. It is unlikely that Drago returned home from that war, because he looks about 19 and unlikely to know which end of a sword is which. Just a farmboy with a pretty voice.
Or is he?

I probably would Etienne, also probably one of the reasons why Rufon sticks with you, hoping to see you both through to the end.
Etienne would also probably know that Rufon is a druid, he doesn't speak much of it, though his ability to cast spells hasn't gone unnoticed.

"Well met Duraelo." The large man gestures towards a seat next to him, though Duraelo takes a different opposite him.
"Well we can't all be saintly priests or protective druids can we?"
The last part he says with a slight chuckle.
"Last mage I've seen was in these woods. One of those cultists I believe, dark-robed and all. Never got his spell off to be honest."

Rufon silently nods as Etienne refers to his future needs of an arcane mage.

He looks acroos the tavern at the conversation going on between the elf and the old priest.
I wonder how she lost that leg of hers, might be something like that wolves'head at the fireplace. Should ask her later when this talk dies down.

Sjora's eyes sparkle with interest when Rufon mentions these cultists and she leans forward and speaks low. "I KNEW there was some evil here. Tell me about this dark-robed cult, if you would, Rufon."

She notes him taking notice of the lame elf and lofts a brow, wondering about the elf... How did the fellow (or lady?) lose a leg? Survivor of the war? or something more sinister?

She takes in the sight of the bard and his admirer, and the (perhaps jealous) young man watching. Now that's trouble brewing there, hope it doesn't develop into a real fight, the singer doesn't look like much of a combatant. It'd be nice if he sung something more... happier.

At some point, when there is an end to the melancholy ballad, she calls out to the bard, "How about something a little more lively, eh?

"Ah. Yes, I can certainly see how you'd reach that opinion then, Etienne. I admit I do have a bit of talent, but not much. I'm not one to brag, especially since last time I did, I got smacked down by someone who had even more."

He turns his attention to Rufon's comments. "Oh no, a dark-robed wizard, he will surely bring about the end of times. Eek, eek," he says sarcastically. "I'm sure that these so-called "cultists" turn out to be a bunch of kids pretending to be all mysterious and such. I highly doubt it's any real trouble."

Aaaaaaaaand prepare the humble pie because I think someone's gonna need it soon!

"Aye, what the lady said, bard!" Duraelo calls out after Sjora speaks up. "Something a bit happier, maybe? About the good times and happy...things, I don't know. Or do you only know sad songs?

Sjora does her best to hide a smirk at Duraelo's sarcasm. "I hope you're right that it might just be kids playing at being dark. Somehow though, I have a feeling you might be proven wrong this time." She looks to the bard as she speaks, hoping he plays something brighter soon.

Rufon turns his head to Duraelo at his sarcastic remark.
"I know that's an apparent stereotype. Though when I see magic seeping in the ground, plants withering around it, then I step in. That justifies him being an evil mage."

He turns towards Sjora; "I know little of this cult as it is m'lady, only some local tales I've heard telling that they exist. And that one encounter at the forest's edge."

He looks at the elf with the missing leg, wondering how long ago he/she might have lost it.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

The look the singer gives at the remarks made as his song ends is wounded and hateful, and the girl gazing at him looks outraged. Even the other young man who was glaring at the singer turns to frown at you for a moment, before he looks away. When he begins to sing again, it is a cheerful song about young love and someplace called the Valley of Smoke, but his performance is so laced with spite that the song falls flat.

"Have patience with the boy," Ana whispers, delivering food and more ale and mead to the party. "His sister's gone missing. Probably taken by sorcerers." She makes a sign of protection, passing her hand over her eyes to wipe away enchantments.

The elven gentleman moves in such a way that suggests he is quite used to having a leg less than he was born with. As with most things concerning elves and time, it is practically impossible to guess how long ago that might have been: a year? a decade? a century? While neither he nor the old priest he is debating with shows any sign of being distracted from their conversation, the warrior that makes the silent third of their party seems quite observant.

I have opened the Gameplay thread for dotting purposes. For today lets keep conversation and such here, in the discussion thread. I also have a rudimentary map up here if anyone wants the layout of the place. I believe that it will be possible to put character icons down and play on this, but it is new to me, so your patience is appreciated.

Sjora waits til after the cheerful song is done and slips over toward the bard and his companions. She speaks softly and with a conciliatory tone.
"I'm so sorry to have interrupted your performance earlier, and I had no idea that you were in such pain. I .. well... I had a vision of some evil in this area that needed to be dealt with, and that is why I am here. I was drawn here to help. My name is Sjora and perhaps I can help you find your sister. Tell me what happened, please, and I will do whatever I can."

thanks for opening the gameplay thread for dotting... it will be much easier to track new posts with it displaying on my campaign thread now :)

"Oh...well, now I feel like an ass," Duraelo says to himself after hearing Ana's explanation. He also waits until after the song has finished before making his way over to the bard.

"Excuse me, sir. I just came over here to apologize if I was a bit harsh in asking for a different song. I meant no disrespect."

Etienne watches the exchange between Sjora, Duraelo, and the bard with amusement but keeps his expression neutral. Wouldn't do to offend anyone. He quietly strokes the hawk as he listens.

I will continue to work on the map problem, but for now, I'll post them with grid coordinates (when a battle is likely) so that we can function at least. Assuming that we'd prefer to go on rather than waiting for me to sort out something prettier.

The young musician (Drago) glowers one last time before standing up and stalking to the door in a huff. The young woman (Arda) stares after him but makes no move to follow, and lets out a tremendous sigh when the door slams behind him. Mark, finally, shakes his head and leans towards you (Sjora and Duraelo).

"He's always been a bit touchy, but now his sister's gone, he's just about unbearable," he says. He glances around before continuing, and his voice is a low whisper. "Strangers disappear around here now and then. Drago loves to talk about the nightmare cults and black magic being the cause of it, but it's just as like they got lost in the woods or run afoul of a bear. Nobody from the village has ever gone before, so it could be she ran off with a man." He doesn't sound very hopeful. Both he and Arda pass their hands before their eyes as he finishes.

Seeing the scene unfold before his eyes, Rufon watches as the bard leaves, then turns and whispers to Etienne.

"I haven't found any human remains as of yet among the forest's edge. If there was an animal attack it had to come from deeper within the forest. Animals usually hunt closer to their territory. They would not drag a corpse that far back again."

I said I've met a cultist once, did I acquire any information from his belongings to lead me to believe they abduct people?

He sits back, a hand caressing his chin in deep thought, obviously contemplating what that one cultist was doing exactly.

@ Rufon: I would say there was nothing you discovered among his belongings to suggest that he did (or didn't) abduct people. As described, he'd have worn black robes, and probably carried a cruddy old knife (award yourself one dagger with the broken condition). His "spellbook" as such would have been a few scrolls full of deranged ravings about tendrils growing and reaching for him in his sleep, worms devouring his flesh and a foulness in the forest creeping constantly just out of sight and surrounding him.

With the music come to a stop, there is little entertainment besides conversation, and yours is drawing more attention than the highly esoteric debate between the elf and the priest (DC 20 Knowledge: Arcana or Religion to even have a clue what they're talking about. DC 5 to discover that it is completely academic). One of the gnome's guards loudly excuses himself to check the horses in the stables, and wasn't there a third barmaid a while ago?

Gameplay

It's not my intention to cut anyone off. By all means, continue to engage any of the NPCs (or one another) as you wish, but we'll keep it here since this evening (in-game) is intended for your characters to get acquainted and to get a bit of background. When we step into the gameplay thread, it will be at closing time.

Sjora contemplates Mark's words and nods slowly. Odd that a local would disappear, since the young man said it was always strangers. If the sister DID run off with a man, wouldn't there have been someone to note a missing man as well?

She looks to the door again, sadly. "I'm sorry about your friend. I didn't mean to upset him further, or make him leave. Is he going to be okay? This doesn't seem like a good place to be wandering about alone at night."

"So what about these 'nightmare cults' and 'black magic'? Any truth to it, do you think?"

"Can't ever be simple, can it?"[b] Duraelo mutters to himself.

[b]"He didn't have to leave in such a huff," he tells Mark. "I apologized to him if I was rude. Hopefully he just heads home and stays safe there for the night; he's probably smart enough to do so."

"Still, it does seem odd. How long have people been 'disappearing' here? Have to say, what I've heard about this area never included the things I've heard so far today."

Rufon fondles the knife he found with the dark-robed cultist in the woods, he holds it in front of him, looking intently at the curious object.

Thrace had fallen asleep again on the floor, his mind not at all with the people in the tavern. Apparently to him they would not be a threat. A soft pur and a mix between a growl and a rumble can be heard from him.

Rufon looks up from the table intent on ordering another drink, looking around for the prettiest barmaid, Susanna was it?
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

He can't really see her directly, so he just searches for the nearest barmaid and try and get her attention.

Etienne watches Rufon play with the cultist's knife but doesn't speak. After a time, he heads upstairs.

Mark looks to the door, thinking for a moment, and shakes his head.

"Drago's house is just a few minutes' walk from here," he says. "Safe within the stockade. He makes it home safe every night. You needn't worry about making him leave, either. He's prickly as a porcupine in his mead, but in the morning he'll have forgotten all about it."

"Truth to the stories of nightmare cults?" he says. "Of course there is. Nearly every spring you'll hear of some madman in the forest who got himself froze or starved to death. Five years back, we even had one at the inn, talking of eating the dead and waking the dragons and all sorts of horrible things. Kyra and Karsto put him on the road soon enough, though."

He frowns for a moment in thought. "I guess it was around then that people started disappearing. Hard to say for sure. When it's a traveller, you think they just went on their way until someone comes asking for them, and if there's nobody to ask, well, you never know."

Making a perception check to find a barmaid in a tavern is probably unnecessary.

Rufon looks around the room for Susanna and gives up, settling back into his seat for a moment before she appears at his shoulder.

"Will you be needing anything else, tonight, sir?" she asks.

Actually it was also to notice that someone had left, going into the 2 barmaids left hook.

Rufon looks up at Susanna, smiling his broadest smile.
"I'll have another pint of that mead you suggested to me earlier tonight. Still got a bit of thirst left to quench. Then head off to bed."

He looks around a bit at the more empty tavern, a few of the patrons still remaining, but somehow it seems more empty then earlier tonight.

"Susanna, wasn't it? Is it just me or did one of you already leave for home? Can't shake the feeling that there's only two fine lasses like yourself waiting tables, when I was sure there were three of you to begin with."

"Not being paranoid or anything, but I tend to notice these things in the wilds. Just like that boy that keeps looking at you. The one that wanted Thrace to sleep inside the stables, you know him."

Ah. Well an 8 ought to be enough to tell two from three, yeah? Truth told, I usually only ask for skill checks when success or failure is going to affect the game. Matter of style more than anything.

Susanna looks around, spots Caylin and not Ana, and flushes just a bit.

"Yes, I think Ana ... went home," she says, obviously a bit flustered. "When things slow down a bit we usually take turns leaving early. It must have been Ana's turn tonight. And Cal, well, it's his job to look after the animals. I'll just get your mead, then..."

And she does.

Rufon thanks Susanna heartily for the mead, then just sips the hearty liquid away as he continues to look at the different conversations and scenes unfold.

He keeps a quiet eye at Susanna and Caylin, thinking that Susanna wasn't entirely sure of her answer just now, he looks to see if there's a change in demeanor of Susanna or Caylin regarding Ana's leave of the inn.

If he notices nothing, he'll finish his drink, pay his tab and head out to the room where the four of us sleep (going to the Gameplay thread)