Ok folks. I've discovered that I really like PBP gaming. I know, its sad but true. I want to start my own campaign but I am a rookie DM. I've run one before but it fizzled out right at the BBeG fight for the first adventure. This campaign is only homebrew in the sense that I am not running one of the traditional paizo paths. Rather we will be starting the D series of modules D0, D1, and D1.5
Campaign Notes:
1. CRB, APG races and classes only. And players start at level 1. Medium track for xp.
2. 20 point buy or Roll 4d6 drop lowest 8 times and take your best 6 scores and place them where you like.
Example:
= 15
= 16
= 17
= 10
= 11
= 14
= 13
= 15
3. HP will be level 1 max and then roll for each level after that with a minimum of ½ your dice type. So if you use a d8 for your HP then the minimum roll would be 4.
4. The only house rule implemented from the beginning will be that players will be able to upgrade existing items throughout the discovery of various things about the world.
5. Much of the adventure will be outdoors so at least one character with those skills will be an asset.
6. 5-6 party members being accepted.
7. Role play/Roll play ratio is about 50:50. I encourage you to develop your character and give me some kind of background to work with. I will be selecting characters with good overall character concepts and a well thought out background.
8. Play begins in the nation of Andoran in a city called Almas at the “Hung, Drawn, and Quartered Pub”. It is a place of some disrepute with cheap drinks and even cheaper women are readily available and more importantly where down on your luck merchants hire down on your luck adventurers for various odd jobs.
9. Applications are to be in-character, here in the recruitment forum. Please feel free to interact with each other. Bartender Gill and ‘the red merchant’ will keep things moving along story wise.
10. Recruitment will end in 4 days after which I will post here with the final roster.
11. I like a fairly fast paced game to keep people’s attention so I ask that only those who can commit to posting at least once per day (including weekends) please apply. Of course real life gets busy at times so simply let us know if you are unable to be around for a period of time. In such cases, in role play situations it will be assumed that you choose to say/do nothing (or DM will make a play on your behalf). During combat the DM will simply gimp your turn (take it for you with a basic but sensible play … attack or other as the situation fits).
I hope I've covered everything but if not feel free to ask me in an ooc.
Heavy smoke fills the tavern you've entered. The place is unusually crowded for a tavern before lunch but rumour has it that isn't unusual for this place. It doubles as an 'employment bureau' for people such as yourself; people of action. A quick perusal of the patrons reveals a rough crowd. People who aren't afraid of a fight and apparently have lost more than a few of them. Briefly the patrons pause long enough to size you up before returning to their drinks. Afterall, it is you they will compete with for a job should anything come up today.
Gill the bartender, owner, and proprietor, is serving drinks. He seems a friendly enough sort of fellow. Far friendlier than ought to work in a place like this it seems. As you approach the bar he smiles at you and says What'll it be?
Gimme an ale.Jutmon flips the barman a silver. I'm looking for work. Have you heard anything?
The young man in rustic clothes sizes up the room, while he waits for Gill's answer. And his mug of ale...
The bartender reaches under the bar to grab a mug. He sets it under the tap and begins to pour. In the meantime he looks up at the newcommer and says Well, there ain't been an employer here for 2 days. Been a trade dispute with the towns west o here and that has put a damper on business. No doubt someone gonna take advantage of that soon enough.
Sooner before later, I hope. Jutmon grin ruefully. My coin is fast running out, with the prices in this town.
I knew I'd miss something. Starting gold is average for your class according to the pfsrd. Select 3 traits, each from a different group.
The place looked profoundly... human, to Staryth. Torag only knows what Father would think of it...though I can surely guess. Some folks stared at him, but only for a moment. In the city of Almas, almost every sort of civilized race could be found, or so he'd heard.
Those humans (or others) who did take a gander at him found themselves looking at what might seem to be what you'd expect from a dwarf: A short fellow with broad shoulders and stocky build who sported a raven black beard. His head was bald, but this was from shaving and not age. Those familiar with the race might even surmise Staryth to be on the young side with centuries ahead of him still. The scale mail was nothing fancy but it was solid, clean, and well made, as was the warhammer Staryth bore.
Overhearing the bartender and the two humans talking, he tries to hide his curiosity but his face is an open one, "Ale."
= 12
= 12
= 17
= 13
= 15
= 11
= 18
= 7
18, 17, 15, 13, 12, 12
Bard sounds fun.
well here it goes:
= 11
= 11
= 17
= 16
= 14
= 10
= 7
= 8
final = 17, 16, 14, 11, 11, 10
30 point buy and I don't need to keep that 7 and 8
looks good
Dotting for later.
Lets see what I've got to work with...
= 10
= 7
= 17
= 15
= 15
= 14
= 13
= 16
So 17, 16, 15, 15, 14, 13 - 45 point buy, I'll take that :)
DM Krallek can you tell us where abouts in Golarion - I presume its Golarion - we will be starting off so we can tailor our backgrounds accordingly?
@Byden Andoran is on the north shore of the inner sea. Almas is labelled there too.
Oh, I'm sorry somehow I quite managed to miss the reference to Andoran, my apologies.
Now my rolls:
= 13
= 8
= 10
= 10
= 11
= 16
= 11
= 15
So that is 16, 15, 13, 11, 11, 10. 22 pts, could be worse.
Gonna go through my character creation today and i'll chime in later on.
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A beautiful woman enters, wearing a rich purple cloak, embroidered with thousands of styalized roses and chrysanthemums, and chainshirt whose links have been carefully painted to resemble peacock feathers. She is tall, close to six feet, and looks both curvascious and fit. A glaive is strapped across her back unadorned, and well used.
She gives a few vocal admirers withering looks, accompanied by a lopsided smile that steal away any real sting, before moving over to the bar.
"Hey, can I get a drink? Something sweet if you've got it, I've never developed a taste for ale - I'll take mead at a pinch," she says smiling at Gill as she leans upon the bar.
Staryth nods a brief greeting to the human woman as she too comes up to the bar. He can't help but admire the armor. Intricate work. Paint doesn't seem to hurt it none.
I am giving a shot at this one - aiming for a melee type inquisitor:
17,13,16,16,16,15
I am going to work on it now - is tiefling race acceptable?
I am going to work on it now - is tiefling race acceptable?
Campaign Notes:
1. CRB, APG races and classes only
Ninja'd by Ridge :)
Staryth Torhammer, third to bear that name," The dwarf says in introduction, clearly not used to being called 'honey' though he doesn't seem to take offense to it, "And this be not the sort of place I'd go myself normally, but someone told me there was work to be found for a good warrior." He pats the warhammer at his side to demonstrate, not to threaten, "I'm not Andoran by birth nor blood, but it is said this country accepts all but tyrants so... here I am." a pause, "What's your name, clan, and business since you got me being a chatterbox here?"
Despite the noise inside the tavern people inside can soon hear the sounds of music apporaching the tavern. a glane out the window revels nothing at a normal height but after a glance downward people catch sight of a halfling in motely dress with a small musical instrumnet at his mouth playing a happy travelling tune.
a miniature sword haphazardly tucked into his belt and as spins around while he walks and dances there appears to be what looks like a sling-shot tucked into his back pocket.
following behind the halfling is a miniature horse. a strange animal known in the human world as a pony. The reins of the poney tied to the halfling's hat.
He reaches the tavern and takes off his hat and wraps it around the hitch post.
now you be good and don't pick a fight with the other horses. he says to the pony.
he strolls on in tucking his harmonica into his pocket. he comes in and surveys the room loaded with bigger folk.
he meanders to a spot near the fireplace and stands on a small stool nearby.
Hey anyone want to hear a song? he yells out across the room.
Crunch is up on Lagash, half-orc inquisitor
Hey anyone want to hear a song? he yells out across the room.
The dwarf shoots a side glance to the halfling long enough to say "Fine. Just don't craft your song too loud. Some of us are having conversations."
He looks back at Marianne "You were saying?"
Stats
= 13
= 10
= 18
= 10
= 10
= 11
= 15
= 12
Huh, could be worse! Spose I'll make a dwarf barbarian for this :)
The door to the tavern bangs open with a loud report. A dwarf strolls in, bellowing as he stomps to the bar Gill ye ugly long-un bastud, I've got a thirst that's in need of quenchin!
Tall for a dwarf and broad even by dwarven standards, the boisterous and crass dwarf is naked from the waist up. His massive chest is covered in intricate tattoos of dwarven runes and symbols. His red beard is long and expertly braided, reaching down past his waist. The sides of his head are shaved, the top worn long and woven into a thick plait that runs the length of his back. His hands are wrapped in thick leather and topped with enormous spiked metal bands. A ragged kilt hangs from his hips, his feet covered in thick leather boots.
By Torag's hairy dangalies! he exclaims in his thick accent, slapping the black bearded dwarf on the back, oblivious to the fact that he is already engaged in another conversation Whats a proper child 'o the smith doin in these long-un's bar eh? The names Jeggrim! Don't have a proper surname, but folks 'round these parts are keen to callin' me Shatterbones so I 'spose its as good of a surname as any eh?
Jeggrim takes a deep drag off his drink, then wiping foam from his mouth,
So ye tell me cousin, what brings ye here?
A man with the looks of a swordsman roars in laughter from his place at a table full of men rolling dice. AAAHAHAHAHA! By the gods, I'm on fire tonight! He leans forward and scoops the pile of coins from the table, then teeters backwards in his chair. The seat tips back too far and the boisterous man spills onto the floor with a crash as coins fly every which way.
By Torag's hairy dangalies! he exclaims in his thick accent, slapping the black bearded dwarf on the back, oblivious to the fact that he is already engaged in another conversation Whats a proper child 'o the smith doin in these long-un's bar eh? The names Jeggrim! Don't have a proper surname, but folks 'round these parts are keen to callin' me Shatterbones so I 'spose its as good of a surname as any eh?
"Staryth," The black bearded dwarf manages to get out as he sputters in surprise, "Staryth Torhammer, third to bear that name. Beggin' your pardon but your taking the Dwarf Father's name a bit lightly there, don't you think?" He snorts, then his features change, Oh gods spare me. I'm channeling my father He coughs, "Pardon my temper for a moment there. I don't quite know how things are done in human lands, and I don't know many clanless. Still, I'm sure you meant no insult to the god, and I'm no cleric and do not want to be." He confesses, "As I was telling this human lady, I heard warrior work could be found here."
The half-orc sits to one side of the room, quitely surveying the scene - his feet are casually thrown over the table, alongside a well tended slender blade and a buckler shield.
One of the patrons, slightly innebriated by the watery ale, trips over himself, almost landing on top of the silent Lagash - a short, tense moment ensues, during which their eyes are locked and it seems the stern half-orc will throw himself at the drunken man.
Better go along your merry way fool, and careful where you step, lest you create any more aggravation. Begone! - he adds with a low snarl, as the poor soul turns tail and runs off as fast as his alcohol numbed legs allow.
Lagash settles back in his chair, signaling the serving wench for another ale, and throwing a toothy, mischievious grin towards Marianne.
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Marianne laughs, a deep throaty sound she spent some considerable time perfecting, and gives a whimsical courtsey to the dwarves,
"Marianne, of the Clan Benedict, I suppose. And I am a Cleric, but of Shelyn, goddess of love, and beauty. I'm here because Brother Reynard suggested I might find some exciting work with a chance to really help people."
"Marianne, of the Clan Benedict, I suppose. And I am a Cleric, but of Shelyn, goddess of love, and beauty. I'm here because Brother Reynard suggested I might find some exciting work with a chance to really help people."
Staryth thinks on it, then admits, "I cannot say I have ever heard of her, but my own studies were of dwarven gods so that's no surprise. She sounds like a kindly enough goddess, and your goals reflect well on her, if you don't mind a stranger's opinion." A nod, "Well met, regardless."
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Catching a burly, and not unattractive half Orc grinning at her Marianne looks him up and down, smiles wryly and turns away. She's long since come to terms with the appreciation of beauty and does not mind people enjoying hers, though she has no plans to go as far as Sister Geniveve who might as well have a ticket booth next to her bed.
At Staryth's words she rolls her eyes cheerfully,
"I'm not sure anyone could take offended at that opinion Staryth's honey. I'll have to tell you about her some time, but she's one of the easier gods to follow - which suits me just fine."
Gronk tells you, the end times are comming.
Gronk shows you, signs of the obliviation.
Gronk make you, believe all things die.
So says Groteus. So shall it be.
Gronk must have body fuel for strength to spread the word of approaching end.
Need water to keep soul supple, though good if the water has bite.
Need food to keep body strong, best if food tastes of roast deer.
Gronk be sitting on stool by fire when body fuel ready.
{{ OOC - If accepted, I can quickly raise the stats to match and add a 3rd trait. }}
=11
=10
=12
=13
=10
=6
=15
=13
"I'm not sure anyone could take offended at that opinion Staryth's honey. I'll have to tell you about her some time, but she's one of the easier gods to follow - which suits me just fine."
The black bearded dwarf looks thoughtful and mutters in dwarvish.
"Staryth," The black bearded dwarf manages to get out as he sputters in surprise, "Staryth Torhammer, third to bear that name. Beggin' your pardon but your taking the Dwarf Father's name a bit lightly there, don't you think?" He snorts, then his features change, Oh gods spare me. I'm channeling my father He coughs, "Pardon my temper for a moment there. I don't quite know how things are done in human lands, and I don't know many clanless. Still, I'm sure you meant no insult to the god, and I'm no cleric and do not want to be." He confesses, "As I was telling this human lady, I heard warrior work could be found here."
A bit lightly? Bah! If the Dwarf Father has a problem with how I be takin' his name he sure hasn't taken the time to tell me! Jeggrim bellows between deep gulps, No need ta ask fer pardon cousin! I ain't exactly one known fer holdin his tongue still! And losin me temper is me specialty! Jeggrim's voice booms as excitement grabs hold of him. He can't remember the last time he had the pleasure of another dwarf's company, much less a proper one of a proper clan.
Ta answer yer question, aye its rumored that work can be found here, though it seems Gill is content to simply take our coin in exchange fer watery ale and cold food, all with the promise 'o work on his lips Jeggrim gives a hearty laugh. I meself 'ave been waitin fer weeks fer a chance to put a few gold back in the 'ol coinpurse. Ain't nothin showin yet though, and all the while I lighten me load, coin by coin on this watered down brew! He clasps Staryth's shoulder in a friendly but firm embrace. Truly a pleasure to be mettin ye
Turning to the female standing beside the black bearded dwarf, Well lass, ain't ye a pretty little thing? A bit tall and narrow fer 'ol Jegg's taste, but I can't help but notice ye seem ta draw the stares of all lazy eyed men in this dump. Few 'o 'em seem like their jaws might as well fall right off 'o their heads! Jeggrim laughs again, a loud, booming, gravely sound, greatly amused by himself.
"Weeks? Blast. I can't be waiting for weeks." I'll lose my nerve. "Still, useful to know. Guess I could fall back on my armor smith trade." As his shoulder is clasped, Staryth nods, "Certainly is interesting getting to know you, Shatterbones. I will say that." A slight smile escapes him despite himself. He lives among the humans and seems happy. Maybe I can make a go of it as well.
Yer a smithy?Jegg smiles a huge toothy smile Well kiss me 'axe! Ye certainly are the spittin' image 'o a dwarfy dwarf ain't ye! Jeggrim orders up a pair of fresh drinks, handing one to Staryth, I hate ta admit it ta someone like yerself, but I'm about as useful at a forge as an elf holdin a battleaxe! Jeggrim bursts into booming laughter at the thought of a frail little fairy elf holding a massive axe too heavy to lift.
Interesting? I've been called many 'o things but ne'er that. So ye any good with that hunk 'o iron? Nodding towards Staryth's hammer Ne'er much liked bindin up me 'ands wit anythin. I prefer things more....personal A wry and knowing smile finds Jegg's face I like ta feel the bones crunch in me 'ands, tearin me foes limb from limb if ye know what I be meanin'. The taste 'o blood! The cracking 'o bones! The wet slap 'o rendin flesh! Jegg's brow darkens as a wicked smile forms from ear to ear, Specially the sound 'o orcs diein'! Dem pig faced runts make the funniest sounds as they crumple!
The dwarf shoots a side glance to the halfling long enough to say [B]"Fine. Just don't craft your song too loud. Some of us are having conversations."
then my first song is dedicated to Mr Grumpy dwarf over there, as well as any other of your bretheren here tonight. Fulito says and with a snap of his fingers a guitar appears before him and he begins a fun song dedicated to the dwarven patrons.
even if most in the place could care less about the song. the halfling keeps up his positive attitude.
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Name: Curos Fletcher
Class: Fighter (Phalanx Soldier)
Abilities: Str 16, Con 18, Dex 12, Wis 10, Int 10, Cha 8
HP: 15 (10 Fighter + 4 Con + 1 preferred class)
AC: 18, Touch: 12, Flat-footed: 17
Initiative: +1, BaB: +1
Will: +0, Fort: +6, Reflex: +1
Skills: Climb +7, Swim +7, Intimidate +4
Traits: Defender of Society (+1 AC in med/hev armor), Heirloom Weapon(Halberd, +1 AoO), Soldier of Faith (Razmiran, +1 intimidate)
Feats: Combat Reflexes, Body Guard, Stand Still
Starting Fighter gold = 175
equipment:
Halberd (two-handed, 1d10, x3, brace, trip, P/S) 10gp
Chainmail (AC +6, Max Dex +2, ACP -5) 150gp
Fighter's Kit (Backpack, Bedroll, Beltpouch, Flint and Steal, Iron Pot, Mess Kit, Rope, Soap, Torches(10), Trail Rations(5 days), Waterskin) 9gp
6gp remaining.
A Giant of a man strolls in and slowly surveys the scene, ignoring the other patrons he walks up to the bar and holds out a silver piece to the bartender. As Gill grabs for the piece the huge man snatches his arm and, looming over him, speaks in a low and steady voice, "I hear there's work to be had."
Jeggrim burst into voracious laughter at the little "half-pints" lively song.
In between bursts of laughter BWAHAHA! More! Ye've got a sense 'o humor little hair-foot, yes ye does! Now I'm wonderin if ye're wonderin what's beneath me own kilt! More insane laughter and clapping follows this comment.
Yer a smithy?Jegg smiles a huge toothy smile Well kiss me 'axe! Ye certainly are the spittin' image 'o a dwarfy dwarf ain't ye! Jeggrim orders up a pair of fresh drinks, handing one to Staryth, I hate ta admit it ta someone like yerself, but I'm about as useful at a forge as an elf holdin a battleaxe! Jeggrim bursts into booming laughter at the thought of a frail little fairy elf holding a massive axe too heavy to lift.
"You don't know a forge? Do you work in stone then perhaps? Masonry's an honorable tradition," He assures. "And the elf would probably fall over." He gives another small smile takes the drink, and quaffs some.
Interesting? I've been called many 'o things but ne'er that. So ye any good with that hunk 'o iron? Nodding towards Staryth's hammer Ne'er much liked bindin up me 'ands wit anythin. I prefer things more....personal A wry and knowing smile finds Jegg's face I like ta feel the bones crunch in me 'ands, tearin me foes limb from limb if ye know what I be meanin'. The taste 'o blood! The cracking 'o bones! The wet slap 'o rendin flesh! Jegg's brow darkens as a wicked smile forms from ear to ear, Specially the sound 'o orcs diein'! Dem pig faced runts make the funniest sounds as they crumple!
"Well, you are enthusiastic, no doubt. To answer you, aye. Truth I feel better fighting with a hammer than forging with it. Wouldn't be looking for warrior work if I didn't think I was good at it. That'd be dishonest."
When the halfling calls him 'Mr. Grumpy dwarf', Staryth hurumphs lightly and hopes no one notices his toe tapping to the music.
When the big fellow comes in, Staryth mutters to Shatterbones, "Another warrior type it seems. Competition for jobs is gonna be fierce."
"You don't know a forge? Do you work in stone then perhaps? Masonry's an honorable tradition," He assures. "And the elf would probably fall over." He gives another small smile takes the drink, and quaffs some.
Stonework? Nay that ain't me thing either. Ta be honest with ye cousin I'm not much good at any 'o the traditional craft 'o ourkin... Jeggrim trail off examining his drink sullenly for a moment before continuing A bit ashamed 'o the fact ta be blunt with ye. Ne'er had a chance ta learn really. I like watchin the smithies work ta be sure, the poundin 'o the hammers on the anvil, the rhythmic blows calm me heart ye see...but 'ol Jegg here? I'm a bit 'o a hunter a trapper, fairly skilled at that I is. Oh and inking skin. Jegg's smile returns, I'm skilled at that as well. Maybe yer interested in addin a bit 'o flavor ta that skin 'o yers? Jegg motions to his own tattoos allowing Staryth a better view. What say ye ta that! Jegg looks excited at the prospect of working the skin of one of his kinsmen.
"Another warrior type it seems. Competition for jobs is gonna be fierce."
Jegg eyes the room. Aye, indeed it does. I'm not fer doubtin that a pair 'o Torag's forgelings can show the rest 'o these sellswords whats fer what! He tags Staryth upside the shoulder in a playful yet hard way I'm not fer doubtin that work'll find its way ta us and don't ye be doubtin yerself! Jegg smiles another large, sloppy smile.
Calling out to the halfling Try this one on fer size little manling! With that Jeggrim bursts into a booming drinking song, rapping his mug on the bar top in time with the rhythm. Its a catchy little tune, if ye catch on sing along!
Finishing his song he looks around to see if anyone had joined in his tune, pleased with himself either way...
While scarfing down every last drip of ail and every last morsel of whatever was in the stew.
Body fuel is passable. Belike best can expect on cliff of world's end.
Now that his hunger is satisfied. Gronk begins to take an interest in the people around. But there must be some reason that Gruingar sent him here. So there should be some opportunity to improve the lot of all the now and spread the good word of the end.
Anyone know why small person is wailing? Mayhap needs cured even if does not look injured...
{{ Question on post conventions being used. I'm seeing some difference between here and other PbP I reviewed. Actual statements by PC in bold. Internal monlogue in italics. Descriptions in normal text. Is that correct and how do you want OOC comments handled? Some that I reviewed used these double brackets that I am using now others wanted them hidden in a spoiler. }}
Stonework? Nay that ain't me thing either. Ta be honest with ye cousin I'm not much good at any 'o the traditional craft 'o ourkin... Jeggrim trail off examining his drink sullenly for a moment before continuing A bit ashamed 'o the fact ta be blunt with ye. Ne'er had a chance ta learn really. I like watchin the smithies work ta be sure, the poundin 'o the hammers on the anvil, the rhythmic blows calm me heart ye see...but 'ol Jegg here? I'm a bit 'o a hunter a trapper, fairly skilled at that I is. Oh and inking skin. Jegg's smile returns, I'm skilled at that as well. Maybe yer interested in addin a bit 'o flavor ta that skin 'o yers? Jegg motions to his own tattoos allowing Staryth a better view. What say ye ta that! Jegg looks excited at the prospect of working the skin of one of his kinsmen.
Staryth looks sympathetically and answers in dwarvish as the subject seems a bit more private,
When the tatooing is shown, Staryth does look impressed and slips back to common without really realizing it "See, that's a dwarf's heart and soul right there. We've a need to make something, of ourselves or the world around us, and there you are finding a way to your liking. Looks grand, it does. Still, I wouldn't even know what sort of art to ask for. Too soon for me to decide even if I felt inclined."
He chuckles at the song, but lightly.
Francis boisterously enters the bar. He is wearing the robes of an initiate of the Church of Cayden Cailean, cream coloured with an embroidered tankard, a large mace swings from his belt. Tall and broad shouldered he ducks his head to avoid the door frame straightens out and lets out a hearty laugh emanating from his belly. My Friends! What a glorious day the gods have given us! We have song, we have drink, we have companions, what is there not to be thankful for?!
He lets out another great laugh and strides over to the bar. He addresses the bartender with a jovial and familiar tone Gill you old dog! What are we drinking today? Gimme your finest! Know what? Make that two!
Francis picks up his tankards and turns around to survey the bar. He spies a beautiful woman talking with two dwarves, making eye contact he raises a mug towards them and takes a swig.
Noticing a half-orc seated alone in the corner Francis smiles broadly and makes his way over, swaying to the little one's music as he walks. He pauses briefly to thank the halfling You honor us with your gift my little friend.
Reaching the half-orc's table Francis stops and beams a smile Now you have the look of a man who appreciates his drink, join me in a pint? Francis places the untouched tankard on the table in offering. Gill's finest brew! Or so he claims. At any rate, it accomplishes the task!
Gill gets a worried look on his face when Gronk enters preaching about the end of the world. Fanatics and troublemakers are one and the same he thinks to himself.
He quickly pours a round of ale for Staryth and the others as smiles at Marianne and says typically we don't get many requests for 'something sweet' in this place. If it ain't bitter, strong, or cheap most people dont order it. I do have a bottle of merlot in the back from the River Kingdoms. Lemme go get it.
After a brief spell, Gill returns with the bottle in hand and pours Marianne a glass.
There ye be ma'am.
Just as he says that the door opens and a hooded man in a blood red cloak enters and heads over to the bar. He whispers something in Gill's ear as the bartender pours him a drink. Then the man finds a quiet corner table and sits down. You are not quite sure but you think he might be checking you and the other patrons out.