Alma explains the journey that led him to Coran with emphasis on seeking the betrayer Bendon. He explains that he has several companions who are apart of the group.
"After we were attacked by the Werewolves, we tracked one of them here in Coran. We have currently lost the trail, but several have died at its hand. We are also searching after Morag who sent the werewolves after us. As of now, I plan to stay in Coran for a short time, so if you have need of me, I will follow."
Alma leaves and awaits the meeting with Carise.
Markov will make a dex mutagen and wander the city until its time to meet with Carise.
As the time approaches midnight you arrive at The Dwarven Spirit. The building is very large and well maintained. The sound music and plenty of people talking in loud voices, laughter, and other merriment come through the windows and entrance.
Entering the building you can see a large number of people, mostly humans and dwarves, sitting around tables eating, drinking, playing cards or dice, and bellowing at the barmaids. In one semi private booth on the south wall a man and women are giggling at one another. Other booths along the same wall contain more patrons or are empty. Also along the south wall are two doors near the west end of the building, both are closed. Along the north wall is a large bar with two men behind it serving drinks to customers sitting at the bar and filling tankards which the barmaids whisk off to various customers. The barmaids are all similarly dressed in tight fitting, but otherwise modest clothing.
The room is well lit, though pipe smoke drifts through the air. Despite the merriment nearly everyone in the place has some kind of blade, cudgel, or other weapon at their waist or strapped across their back. A few are sufficiently drunk that you doubt they'd be much threat, or good, in a fight.
Alma finds a table and sits down facing the doors to the south.
"I will stay back and cover everyone in the case of something going wrong."
Warren moves to the south-east table and discreetly slides a few gold pieces across to the patrons already sitting there. "You might want to find a new seat." He says quietly. Once they move off Warren sits down and draws both his sword and his bow--quickly laying them down in front of him to show everyone that he means no trouble.
Irina sticks close to Alma as they enter the bar. When he sits down at a table, Irina plops herself on his lap.
"Just blending in, sweetie," she says by way of explanation, nodding at the other canoodling pairs. "Besides, nobody ever seriously considers the bimbo on the man's lap as any kind of threat. Of course, if you ever try to think of me as a bimbo, I will naturally have to remove your eyes."
Markov follows Alma and Irina sitting at n6.
"Well I think it may cause a couple of looks than prevent. You two don't look the part of a couple."
The man at the table Warren sits down at looks up in anger as a dagger appears in his hands. His speech is slightly slurred, "This 's a private kisshin' booth, now get lossht" he holds out his dagger for emphasis.
The woman laughs some more as she snatches up the coins and stuffs them down the front of her blouse. She stands and dances over to the next booth disappearing behind the wall.
The man swings his head after her, "Hey Jess, come back." He seems uncertain whether to follow after or to stab Warren for his interruption, but takes only a second to decide on the former and chase her over to the next booth, grabbing a mug off the table as he departs, sloshing a bit of dark liquid onto the table in his haste.
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Some of the patrons sitting at the tables glance up at the rest of the group as you make your away across the room, and two men sitting with their backs to the bar watch as you take a seat. One mans face appears to have been burned recently, the skin of his left cheek and around his left eye red and blistered.
One of the barmaids approaches the table Alma has selected. Her voice is a bit forced to come off as cheerful, "What 're you drinkin' tonight?"
Taken back with the unexpected move from Irina. He picks her up and drops her on Markov. Looking down at Markov, "It looks like you dropped something." Moving back to his seat, he smiles at the barmaid. "Bring us a pitcher of ale, we will pass that around too."
The barmaid gives Irina a sympathetic look before heading off to grab a pitcher of ale.
The door to the tavern opens admitting a halfling who heads towards the bar. The hafling is missing his left hand, a short spike where the hand should be. The hafling is followed by an elderly woman with the hood of a fine cloak pulled down close leaving her face in darkness and shadow. She is followed by a man in his late 30's with a great sword strapped across his back. Without hesitation the woman makes her way confidently towards an empty table . The man scans the room with his eyes before following. Another barmaid steps up to their table asking them what they'd like, followed by a few brief whispers between the barmaid and the woman. None of you are able to make out anything said though above the noise in the room.
A dwarf with several old scars on his face openly glares at Warren, rubbing a closed fist with his other hand.
Irina covers up her shocked look by snuggling into Markov's lap instead.
"This seat seems to have more padding anyway," she says with a smirk and wink for Markov.
Stunned and with a mix of surprise and embarrassment on his face.
"Thanks... I guess."
He sits there unsure what to do.
A man sitting at a nearby table turns to look at Irina and Markov. The right side of his face is red and blistered, they look like recent burn wounds. He has a bemused smile on his face, "I think you can do better than that pretty lady" he calls to Irina with a bit of a drawl, "I don't think the elfing knows how to treat a lady."
The barmaid brings a jug of ale and three mugs, setting them down on the table. "Two silver she murmurs. Anything else?"
At the same moment the eastern door on the south wall opens outward. With the door opened outward into the common room you are unable to see into the room or who opened the door. However, the elderly woman immediately stands and walks over to the door and passes into the room, her escort following her.
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At the other end of the tavern the dwarf who has been glaring at Warren stands and struts over to him. With a sneer on his face and loud enough to be heard across the room, "Ye lookin' for somethin' purty elf?" His hand caresses a battleaxe at his waist as he speaks. Another dwarf that is sitting nearby laughs, but the other patrons in the place only turn their head briefly then go back to their own business.
"I don't know about that," Iruna replies to the burned man, a grimace of distaste on her face. "I'm sure he'd know exactly how to treat you."
Warren looks up at the dwarf and smiles apologetically--Suddenly he is on his feet, his silver blade less than an inch from the man's stomach. His face gains a heavy sneer as he towers over the creature, locking eyes with him. "I don't know who you think you are--But I do know that you had better stay out of my way tonight. I would really hate to delay my appointment here while they clean up your mess."
Hearing the commotion, Alma rises from his seat and walks towards the dwarf from behind.
Alma, still snuggled on Markov's lap, glares past the burned man at the troublesome dwarf, willing him to fall asleep. If he fails the save, she comments towards tge dwarf's comisnions, "Strange. He seems to have dozed off. My, it looks like he has sone very nice possessions..."
The man with the burned face flushes with anger and he half rises from his seat.
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As Warren reaches for his blade the dwarf slams his hand down on Warrens arm.
He is unable to get a good hold of him though or prevent him from picking up the blade. "This ain't no sissy fight with blades elfie. 'Sides the owner don't like elf blood on his floor." The dwarf steps back a few steps though.
At the dwarfs movements and words a loud roar erupts from many of the patrons and those closest to the dwarf start pulling chairs and tables back, beginning to form a crude circle aroud the area.
With the distraction the burned man sits back down muttering under his breath.
Warren steps just out of punching distance and calls on the power of the gods, pointing his now glowing finger at the dwarf.
Alma quickens his pace as he moves towards the scuffle.
The dwarves eyes lose focus for a moment as the cantrip hits.
Irina leaps off Markov's lap and heads towards the scuffle.
Not wanting to hurt a man who is obviously drunk, Warren hits him with the flat of his blade.
Markov gets up and makes his way to the fight.
As Warren attempts to disable the dwarf with the flat of his blade the crowd jeers and boos at him. More patrons start crowding around and start placing bets on the outcome of the scuffle as Irina and Markov push their way to the front of the crowds.
Recovering from the daze the dwarf steps forward, fists swinging.
Alma sprints over towards Warren.
Recovering from his wild swing, the half-elf again tries to hit the dwarf, and then swings a second time.
non-lethal.
The dwarf staggers slightly, but remains standing.
Irina moves forward thirty feet, and readies an action to put a slumber hex on the dwarf the very instant Warren hits him again.
"Warren, I think this crowd may not take too kindly to you using that sword anymore. Your fists should be enough to put him to sleep."
Markov moves up with Irina and will scan the room to see if anyone plans to join the fight.
perception:
Growling the dwarf takes another hamfisted swing at Warren.
As Irina and Markov step more into the center of the circle, away from the shouting and betting crowds another dwarf also takes a couple of steps in . He does not look quite as eager as his dwarven comrade though to be involved in a bar room brawl.
Several in the crowd call out "This ain't your fight."
"Let em have at each other."
Along with shouts of encouragement for both the dwarf and Warren.
Alma races in front of the dwarf who is getting close.
Towering over him he commands, "Easy there. You best just sit yourself down, there is only pain if you move closer."
Intimidate:
Nodding to Irina, Warren drops his sword on the floor. He then sends a quick left hook at the man's chin.
Plus slumber hex!!! :D
Markov stands and watches, his eyes still scanning the crowds.
The dwarf staggers from Warren's left hook, but manages to maintain his feet. He shrugs off Irina's sleep hex, or maybe Warren's blow kept it from taking hold. He takes another swing at Warren though.
He grumbles something in dwarven that sounds none to happy.
The crowd continues shouting, some laughing at the dwarf's inability to land a blow.
The second dwarf holds up his hands and takes a step or two backwards as Alma stands over him menacingly.
Instructing the dwarf to return to his seat. Alma keeps a close eye on the man with the partially burned face.
Irina grimaces as the dwarf shakes off the effect, but knows that her slumber trick sometimes takes a second go round to work, calls out, "That's it. Hit him again!"
She, too, keeps an eye on the burned man.
Attack:
Damage:
Confirm:
With the next blow the dwarf slumps to the ground amid both cheers and howls from the watching crowds.
The cheering is cut short at the sound of breaking glass as something comes flying in through one of the south windows. It strikes the floor and bursts into flame, oil splashing along the ground. A couple of seconds later a second window breaks and another patch of flame appears inside the tavern, this one splashing several patrons. Shouts and cries of pain fill the large room, and many of the patrons push towards the taverns entrance. The two bar tenders both leap over the counter dirty cloths in hand, racing toward the flames and shouting for some of the bar maids to fill buckets from the well down the street.
As this is occurring the man with the burned face casually turns and walks into the back room where the woman who had come in previously entered.
Feeling that the fire on the floor is being dealt with. Alma walks over to the room that the woman and the man with the burned face entered. He looks inside the room with his shield drawn and his hand on his sword in the event of attack.
Well this didn't quite go the way it was supposed to.
Picking up his sword, Warren races out the front door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the people who threw the alchemist's fire.
Markov draw a dagger and goes toward the room where the burned man went.
Markov draws a dagger and goes toward the room where the burned man went.
The crowd continues to surge towards the door, making movement towards the back rooms difficult for till they pass by you. As the crowds are nearly gone Alma feels cold steel slam against his back as two of the crowd turn and strike at him with short swords.
One of the short blades pierces his armor.
Warren has only just reached the front doors at this point.
Cursing, Warren turns and pushes back towards Alma.