New Faces, New Places

Placing her mug on the table, she leans in as well, your faces mere inches from each other. "Why would someone want to intercept you lot? Didn't realize you were so special." Leaning back she stretches her neck, eyes closed. "If I recall you were supposed to meet on the balcony. That sound right?"

"Simply astounding." She examines her fingernails, rolling her eyes at the exchange.

You lumber up the stairs, trying to muffle your natural stomps. Surprisingly no one seems to notice or care, the waiter who warned you about the occupancy nowhere to be seen.

Opening the door leads to a room lit by candles, their blue flame providing little luminescence. Tables are arranged around a small stage where a single tiefling is playing the viola, beside him on a pedestal is a lavish portrait with flowers decorating the frame depicting a dwarvern woman in a golden dress before an auditorium, her eyes full of victory. It is a somber tune that comes from the violist, one which the 20 in audience look rather heartbroken over.

Your entrance isn't exactly graceful, and the stomps of your metal feet less so. Walking along the tables to the balcony exit you spot no less then 10 upset faces glaring at you, not counting the ones who do it behind your back. Even the musician looks up at you, but isn't stumbled by this intrusion. As you reach for the door handle you feel a presence right behind you, and a whisper. "Go out. Gently."

Opening the door without incident Dent finds themselves on the wooden balcony, the presence following outside. Two other couples are quietly talking, and you spot Aren's raven on the railing who watches the scene. the mysterious stranger walks in front of you, revealing the cloaked figure from before who sits down at an empty table. The inside of their hood is pitch black, obscuring their face. "Do you know why we're here?" Their voice is in a word: androgynous, as if they took care to mask it.

"...What?" The figure tilts their head, processing your words. "Just sit down Vassal." Pulling back the hood reveals a human face. Messy brown hair, fair skin with some light freckles, and a thin scar running along his chin. He wears a cocky grin as he revels in some self proclaimed victory, uncaring for his current surroundings. "Gotcha' didn't I?"

Yes, you got me ...us ... to come to you. I am at a disadvantage and do not know if you are our contact. Dent does not sit, most human chairs are not suited for over 400 pounds of warforged.

"Just a bit of a test is all, but if you insist: For starters that bird there-" He points towards the raven. "-belongs to one of your companions no? Go tell your master to hurry up, House Tharashk has a tight schedule. I'm Donmo by the way." Donmo extends his hand.

"Good suggestion, shall we?" Donmo retracts his hand halfway through your speech. Donning his cloak he stands up and heads to the door, turning briefly to make sure you are following.