NPC Hayley's page

...as Hayley quietly finishes her drink and slips back into the controlled chaos of the tavern's patrons.

"It's not like he's 'ere. Ee can' hear ya."

"Oh, a course, beggin' your pardon, sir, I am called Hayley. Pleased ta meet ya," she says as she dips her head in a seated curtsey. "If ya came ta thah Crossing for work, I expect ya ta be disappointed. Most folk 'ere are farmers, simple. Ya look ta be thah type who wants more excitin' ways ta earn coin." She pauses thoughtfully before adding, "Ya could try thah mayor--" She stops mid sentence when Argus whips his head back in your direction. "Oh, come off it, Argus. He's lookin' for work. No harm in sending him ta ask."

"Do ya need anything? 'Ere ta request some music? Or mayhaps a drink, seeing as tha' one seems ta have only a touch."

The half-elf turns to Ulrich and smiles warmly. "I would expect, so, aye. Someone has ta bring in thah customers, an' it sure won' be this lout!" she laughs, pointing her near empty cup toward Argus and winking.

The bard finishes the song, adding her own musical flare at the end. As Scribbles casts his cantrip, he can see that many of the Laughing Lich's patrons are already cheering the performance, banging tankards on the tables, clapping, and whooping. However, the spell does seem to make the modest applause sound more enthusiastic. The half elf blushes slightly, pleased with the reception of the new piece, and curtsies low. She scurries off the stage and up to the bar, pouring herself a drink and whispering something to the bartender.

Music resumed as the tavern's bard played the new tune she purchased with a night's meal. The woman winked at the gnome and spoke in a low voice meant just for him (though if others wanted to try to eavesdrop, you can do a perception DC 15 to hear), "I still have my duties, but if ya stay thah night, these folk will be out an' I'll have more time ta hear your tales. Don' think you're square jus' yet."

She focused on the music and began to sing.

"Aye, my pay," the woman acknowledges, giving a small, playful curtsy as she passes Argus and hands Scribbles the bowl. "I expect ta be compensated appropriately, o travellin' bard. Stories, epics, perhaps some music. Tha' meal is an investment."

The feeling between the bartender and the gnome is briefly tense; an eerie silence seems to have settled. But then you realize why it seems so quiet when you see the singer approach the bar. "Why ya hav' ta be so rude to thah customers, Argus? Ya'll ne'er get any tips like tha'," she chides the bartender as she leans her lute against the wall behind the bar. "Pour thah man some mead, and I'll get 'im some suppa." She winks at the gnome as she scoops a generous portion of stew.