Out of Character Discussion

Hey all. I've got a dwarf Cleric submitted. An astronomer (sage) and priest of Sylvanus. Dwarves are notorious for ale, so I'm happy to be a drinking buddy.

Leaning back against an old oak chair, Do'urth adjusts himself to the discomfort and continues sharpening one of his daggers. I guess this is what I deserve living cheap He frowns and silently regrets purchasing the cheapest room in the inn. However, it is the more discreet, hidden off room where nobody would suspect me well... working. He slams his dagger into the table, and pulls out his employers letter, reading it again to recapture the details. "Do'urth, I reckon you're a bit tired of the common forgery, and after you lost your friend in that con, no wonder why you left Amn. However, I know you're too smart to pass up good coin. I need you to travel to Greenest, and assassinate a pretty lass who acts as a farmer, but is a criminal at heart, the damned thief. She's the one who broke into the Guild and stole your friends personal items, and framed him to his death. Look, I wish I could do it, but I'm getting old, and you're one of our brightest, and deadliest rogues. I know you loved her, and nine hells, I wish it were me, but sitting around isn't going to do anything... Do'urth fights the tears welling up in his eyes, but then fights back with force, and he calms down, and finishes off the letter. Don't do anything stupid. At the end of the day it's just another contract, so I'm trusting you'll be fine. My best regards, Nuyri. Do'urth looks up, and glares at his dagger, the candlelight reflecting of the sterling steel blade, and I smile. Greenest isn't but a few days from Baldurs Gate. I'll be there in no time, but what should I do to arrive in an inconspicuous manner? Do'urth ponders for a few moments as he start to twist my blade in the rotwood desk. Yes... the Bard. I can act as a traveller passing by with a storyteller as company. Perhaps I can blend in with others who may be heading that direction? No disguise is necessary yet. Do'urth feels content with his plan, blows out the candle, and gears back up to head out.

Triana opened the door to the latest inn on her six month tour through the region, the last three months had been spent further north in Waterdeep. Triana had stayed in Baldurs gate for the last three months seeking out stories she could retell, an exploration of the towns many sites had turned up a number of threads none of which had been as interesting as she'd hoped. This new Inn she hoped would be more interesting, it was a small place, less filthy then "The Blushing Mermaid" and filled with less competition then "Elfsong Tavern". She surveyed the customers and approached the bar ordering a drink and spending the day establishing a potentially good repor with the staff learning what sort of songs the place would host.


Throughout the day she observed all sorts of people, more normal folk then adventurers, though she observed many who looked like they could be, at least a few Dwarves, Humans the odd Elf and a fair few Halflings. Triana mingled with the other patrons until night came. That Trish stepped onto what passed for a stage in the inn and began to play choosing seemed the most likely to get a favourable reaction from the crowd.

Mogguth Barbedbraid rolls her mailed shoulders as she contemplates her choices. Shady inn, or stable. Both had merit. The stable would keep the rain off her armor, at least, and a few cons would secure her a passable repast. Tomorrow, she'd continue down the Traders Road to Greenest, and being that, Baldur's Gate. Someday she'd track down Heady Lapole, but not today, was likely.

She grunted. Every town, she had this conversation with herself, and she knew it. Dwarfborn stubbornness, the townsfolk would no doubt say. Not there were any dwarves in the area to speak of, so how they would know, she knew not. Human rashness, no doubt.

Shield held at arm, battleaxe gripped "non-threateningly" just below the blade, she pushed open the door to the inn.

A tallish man immediately walked into her, and bounced backwards to a stop. "Oaf," she grumbled. He looked as if he were going to make challenge, but then stepped aside.

"Stubborn dwarf," he replied. Yup, should always take the stable.

After the dwarf's brusque entrance a slim elf with a hooded cloak enters. He's quiet and appears withdrawn. His gaze roams over the patrons of the bar. A hand is placed on the dwarf's shoulder and he points to an open table at the back.

The dwarf walks into the tavern room and finds a place to sit that will fit both her and Tayleron. A signal to the barkeep ensues and she approaches the bar.

"We need a room or two for the night, ale, wine, and food." She drops a few silver down to cover her request and spies out the room. Her nose twitches as if searching for a putrid stench, but she seems satisfied with the result.

Meeting Tayleron's gaze she notices the performer, who is giving an indifferent sort of performance. She seems talented to Mogguth, just distracted. Her muscles tense, remembering a doppelganger infestation they fought through recently.

Do'urth exits his quarters, and casually sits at the bar, and he pulls out 3 copper and slams it on the table. Ale please. As he drinks his ale, his focus draws to the folk in the tavern.

Is that... a she-dwarf? I could've swore they didn't exist. Do'urth chuckles at the sight, and realizes something even more unusual is happening. Is that... an elf? With a Dwarf? the Half Breed shakes his head in amazement, with a subtle hint of curiosity and confusion. He turns his eyes to the Bard, her performance is rather weak, but she seems decent.

Do'urth sips his ale; cheap, but effective. He starts to daze off, his mind lost in the clouds and focused on the letter he received.