The Changing Hunt

"Aye, there's some magic words. Sigmund, you might well be a bloody sorcerer, uttering such eldritch enchantments like 'unlimited refills.' I caution you with these Words of Power!"

But a careful observer might notice that Gunnar refills his cup only once, barely a breakfast beverage for a dwarf of his build.

Kevin takes a sip of his new mug, sensing that something is going on. You think I made a mistake? He asks the waitress.
He is now keeping a close eye on the armwresting

With the first round now complete, and arms slammed into tables and cheers and cries of anguish, Sigmund speaks up and says, "Alright! What a riveting first round! Winners, come to the bar, in table number order!"

16 winners come up.

Sigmund pairs up these ruffians and assigns them tables and says, "15 minutes of betting now."

When Kevin tips his mug to drink, everyone else on the table sees a note attached to the bottom of the mug.

Despite his single drink, Gunnar makes plenty of noise. He slurs his words and sloshes another cup of mushroom beer about like he was intending to mop the floor with it. With a huge, devious grin on his face, he puts on a show worthy of a pit fighter from Lower Dura, Sharn. Dancing pecks, flexing biceps, the works.

"Most impressive handjobs," Ghillie assessed, "and whoever's slipping these notes is pretty good, too. I say we follow their suggestion and cautiously see where this takes us."

Kevin nods to Chillie.

"I can assure you all, things are not as they seem. Take care with that waitress, they may try to seduce you Kevin. It could assuredly be an exciting jaunt, but my recommendation is to steer clear."

Kevin answer Alin and Ghillie quietly.
The idiot of a barkeep send us a message that we could not decode. We are to wait until the end of the arm wrestling competition and then ask for a room.
He gives Alin the note that was stuck to Kevins mug.

Alin whispers "I gave you the barkeeps original message and we ignored it"

"We couldn't decipher it. Maybe the truth would have come to me with some more of that mushroom beer..."

After the upcoming rounds, the tourney whittled down to the final four, then what Sigmund calls the "semi-final", when 2 patrons battle it out: a hulking, strange-looking warforged without a traditional forehead symbol named SAM, with a skulking Halfling hovering around him as though he were his boxing trainer, and a muscle-bound, foul-speaking and -smelling half-orc named Halgreave.

The "semi-final" seems to last for a year, as the two battle it out, the arms locked and swaying to one side and then the other. Finally, with a triumphant THUD, SAM beats Halgreave. His Halfling friend collects their winnings from the bets he made in the bar, and he smiles from ear to ear, as SAM glows a bright blue in his eyes, and a strange smile fills his crude-looking mouth, also.

Sigmund then says, "Alright folks! What’s next, but what you all really came for: ta see the reigning champion ousted from his high throne."

The barmaid walks alongside Gunnar and raises his arm up high above his head, as Sigmund says, "Bets’ll run for the next 30 minutes, and then we will have the match of the century: The surly dwarf vs. the machine and ‘is oaf!"

Some laughter erupts from the crowd, and the Halfling scowls at Sigmund, but then focuses on betting.

Kevin gets up and joins the crowd
10 galifars on the dwarf!

Gunnar gathers the tavern around and recites the story of how his band of Mror Howlers took on a Warforged Titan once. He fills it with gory details and bravado.

"... and my axe is still dented where I struck it in the face, see? But that wasn't what killed it. It was toppling over the waterfall and falling on the rocks below that dealt the killing blow, bwhaha!"

Kevin pats his tools. When you break him dwarf, just know that I have repaired hundreds of warforged, in all sizes. I can repair him toKevin corrects himself and addresses the warforged. Perdon me if I assumed the masculine pronoun. Do you perfere him? Her? It? I mean do disrespect to your identity.

"That's good, friend. Dwarves know a thing or two about breaking rock and bending metal."

SAM looks at the dwarf and the shifter, and it’s eyes glow.

The construct says, "I…uh…I identify as male. He/him/his, thank you."

He sheepishly speaks: "My friend Fredo and I are exploring the magical properties of this land. We just arrived a few days ago." He averts his eyes downward, not looking at Gunnar directly, and definitely not threateningly.

The Halfling looks at the construct and whispers loudly: "Don’t tell them anything. We still don’t know who is friend or foe here."

He grimaces at the intimidating folks, and then says, "SAM, let us prep for the match."

They go to a corner, and the Halfling pulls out some cow’s leather and places it on the construct’s makeshift arm.

The workmanship of this warforged is crude compared to the ones created by House Cannith, but it seems different in a lot of ways, as well.

"10 to 1 odds ... wait, that's in favor of me, right?"

Alin looks at the warforged with curiosity Have you ever seen such a thing Kevin? He doesn’t appear to be as physically strong as most Forged, the Gunnar is the best bet."

Alin maneuvers closer to the halfling to watch the match.