0: Tavern

Eagerwish had arrived to the tavern yesterday, after being dishonorably discharged from his druidic circle. The wound upon his forehead still burning, a cruel reminder of great injustice and a gryphon that had been asking for it.

Currently in the midst of drinking his newly acquired existential dread (a.k.a. "what am I going to do with my life now") away, he does not pay the visitors much attention.

"Things didn't go well," Czespecem says to the barkeep. "I need a place to rest and heal, a week or so. And right now I need a damn stiff drink. My mule's outside, is there someone to stable her or should I handle that?"

Seeing the exhausted dwarf, Eagerwish kicks one of the chairs away from the table in such a way that it is possible to sit on it.
"Sounds like misfortune walks around these lands. Can't say about the mule, but if you need a drinking companion, my table's free."

The barkeep looks down at the dwarf and nods. "Such things happen when one delves where none should. If'n ye asked me, I'd have said to leave that damned place crumble. But I'll not hold it against you for surviving. There's rooms for rent, 3sp for a night or 10sp for five. Stables are five copper a night, no weekly rate. And the first drink is on the house, with you looking like that."

Nodding gratefully to the barkeep, Czespecem takes his drink and wearily walks over to the table where Eagerwish sits. With a jingle and rattle of chain mail, the dwarf climbs up into the offered chair. Glancing to the door where he left his shovel propped, he shakes his head ... "I'm grateful of the company," he says to the branded man. "Looks like you've had a rough time of it, too." He chuckles. "At least I got to chop a goblin's head off. Big fellow he was, too." Then he frowns. "But Rogar and Brogan, Benetolio, Derric, Lith ... they didn't make it out. The goblins overtook us, slew them all. I barely escaped with me life."

Wilric’s ears tingle from what he overheard as he left his table and moved causally past the Dwarf. ’This one has been on an adventure, maybe this will not be so boring’.
The Halfling makes his way to the bar, "I’ll have three of what he is drinking please Barkeep."

Once he has his order he carries them to the table and promptly places the tankards before each of them, "I am sorry but did the Barkeep just say you went into a nearby ruin?"

One to perpetuate a stereotype, Nim had been skulking about in an out of the way corner of the tavern for some time. He found it was best to observe any situation for a bit before committing to a plan of action. The dwarf, halfling, and human congregating around one of the tables looked promising. Adventuring types. Just the sort of folk he would need if he was going to make a run on the tomb.

He listens with some degree of concern when the dwarf rattles off a list of former companions. Lone survivor! That's some grim stuff, he thinks to himself. Well, at least I know the dwarf has some sense about him.

Needing to refresh his drink anyway, Nim decides to use this as an opportunity to introduce himself.

The wiry elf glides out of his chair and dances across the tavern floor toward the barkeep. Well, he doesn't so much dance, but the fluid-like grace he moves with gives less of a sense of walking and more of the hint of a jaunty jig.

He nods politely at the halfling in passing and comments to the barkeep, "Allow me to cover the next round, but first, I could use a fresh splash." He places his empty tankard on the bar.

Once that is complete, Nim approaches the trio and introduces himself. " I couldn't help but overhear what sounds like ill news, all around. My condolences." He offers a toast.

"Oh. Terribly sorry. I'm Nim. Truth be told, I happened to travel here on a business venture and couldn't help but notice you all appear to be businessmen, if you know what I mean. Mind if I have a seat?" he says, not skipping a beat while half sliding into an open chair.

Wilric nods to the newcomer to the table and extends a hand, "Nim is it? Nice to meet you I am Wilric." A look comes over his face like he just remembered something, "Whoops how rude of me, Wilric is the name." He says extending a hand to each of the others sitting around the table, before taking his seat and resumes scanning the room for potential investors into his future funds.

"Oh ... ah, sorry," says the dwarf, "Czespecem. A digger by trade." he gestures toward the shovel by the door. Its blade has an odd gleam.

A look of merriment comes across Wilric’s face, "I too have been known to do some digging in my time, gold is my favourite thing to target." The Halfling gives a little knuckle at his own joke.

The table with the sailor and two guards begins to laugh raucously. It would seem they were well in their cups.

The sudden loud laughter brings Wilric’s eyes away for the barmaid and upon the burly group, "Maybe some muscle could be helpful on this trip, I think I get signatures while they are feeling bold."

Getting up from the table Wilric purchases three more ales and approaches the guards and sailor, "Now this seems to be where the party is at, may I join you? As you see I have my invitation," he holds the ales up. "I also have a proposition of paid work that may interest you."

A sudden clang of metal rings from the entrance. Those who look see a tall and muscular man in the entrance, his sword currently hitting his shield to announce his presence. He is adorned with ring mail with a brightly colored surcoat. He pauses when he notices that he has drawn some attention, which he seems to relish. With a booming voice he calls out, "I have heard that many a soul have entered the ruins and never returned. I know that this must have caused all of you great concern. Well, Worry no longer, for your savior is here! I shall lead an expedition into the heart of the ruins and slay the darkness within. With the gods by our sides, there is no foe that we cannot defeat."

He pauses to see who looks interested before he continues. "I will require all the capable men you can provide, as well as a map of the ruins. We will leave in the morning and will surely be back by nightfall. With me leading the way, nothing can stop us." He sits down at a table and awaits the many people who, moved by his speech, will inevitably come and join him.

The table looks up- or straight over- at Wilfric the Halfling. "If you're working with that dwarf, then we're interested. There's some rumors floating that he went down into the old monastery. Didn't expect him back so soon, though. The name's Gilsbead, and this is Gillaug. And this, uh, interesting fellow is...

"Wardhall, my tiny friend." The sailor flashes a toothy grin. "I've had my share of losing everything on the open sea, so I told myself I'd try somewhere else! Turns out these gentlemen had a similar idea. We meant to go it alone, but there's safety in numbers."

---

The tavern goes silent as Horace enters, and makes his case for delving into the ruin. Nobody else speaks, but all eyes turn to Czespecem.

"Ah, sir knight!" Czespecem calls out, "what is the name of our savior? How much will you pay for our assistance? I would be glad to hire on with you. Quote a fee!"

"Oh, did i forget to grace you with my name? It is Horace. Horace Atrio. I hail from lands to the west. There, the name Atrio is known far and wide. It is a name often associated with humility, kindness, fairness. It is a name as beautiful as the land itself. Why the land..."

He realizes that his monolog was beginning to loose the crowd. With a cough, he continues.

"Sorry, sometimes I get lost in the wonder of my family and land. Well, as for the payment, I thought I was clear. The payment would be the favor of the gods. That is much more rewarding than since paltry coins. What can a gold piece get you but a meal or two. Whereas the gods can, and will, provide you with whatever you need. Really, what I am offering is a bargin worth more than any coins. "

I look up at Horace and watch the production enjoying the show, I smile and say, "Well looks like one more to the party so it would seem I only need one other, what talents do you have that I can not get for free from him?"

The guards speak first. "We've been working together for some time. I come with my sword, and Gillaug here is a crossbowman. We bring perhaps some common sense that he may lack."

Wardhall the sailor speaks next. "If you need something clubbed, whether its a pirate or some sort of dungeon nasty, I'm your man. And I bring... Well, I'm quieter than him. Good money says he alerts the whole monastery the moment he walks in."

Wilric smiles at the answers and gives a warm chuckle, "Wardhall moving silently maybe the key, I think my companions will be joining up with Foghorn Leghorn over there so you’re with us. Be ready to move out when we do and I’ll give you the other gold piece." I lean over handing over one coin, shaking the sailors hand to seal the deal.

I then stand, "Enjoy the drink and thank for your honest answers." I move off to join Czespecem and the other (at whichever table they are at.)

Nim had used the past few moments to evaluate each of his prospective new companions. He liked their business-like nature and judged them to likely be a good fit.

At some opportune point, he presses Czespecem for any details the dwarf might share concerning the tomb's layout, defenses, or adversaries.

"It would be good to hear a bit about what we can expect once we get inside," he asks.