The Tiny Tavern

Lunareth Væloria, with a pleasure will I accept the bribe, though I'm neither thirsty not empty-pocket, but it talks of your purpose better than words. Call me Legolas. Here is the city that's enough.
Wood elf refuse to share share his family name, but don't mind explaining more about himself:
Legolas explain that he is not an adventurer, though he would be very happy to be part of an adventure - he comes to the Tavern now and then to listed adventure stories and they always amaze him. But other than usual for wood elf ability to manipulate with a bow he say he don't have any extra abilities to qualify for a successful adventurer

About the gentleman... if being an elf is enough to qualify for his "easy money" job, then I can't see how it is not a bad joke at it's best.
Legolas share his own attitude and suspicion in a whisper, but seems intrigued to learn more about the bad joke and is ready get involved

But I wonder if we can manage to turn the joke against it's author. An adventure of it's own. I am really wondering what's his plan and why he need two random elves for that.

"Appreciate the offer, but I'm going to pass on that." Cormac declined the clever looking Half-elf's offer. "I've got some plans of my own."

Cormac placed enough coin for two beers in front of Branric and took a deep gulp from the mug.

"That sure beats chasing rabbits out in the scrub, I can tell you."

He leant in closer to the barkeeper. "You were saying a sword-for-hire? Now that does sound like something I'd be up for. What do you know about that?"

Luna smiles at Legolas's depiction. Finishing his ale, he leans in and asks "feer hin sen Cha'Tel'Quessir"?

Sif shrugs, sword for hire she can definitely do, and she trusts Branric not to lie to her. "I’m open to the idea. I’m Sifona, Sif." She holds her hand out to Cormac, Branric had called him. Sif studies Cormac wondering how trustworthy he his. If she can trust him at her back in this, it’s not necessarily a dealbreaker if she can’t trust him, she’s worked with that type before, she would just like to know sooner rather than later.

"Cormac," the man said, taking the offered hand in a brief greeting. He gestured to the seat at the bar next to him.

He regarded Sif for a moment, then turned his attention back to his beer. He struck her as the kind of person used to making quick judgments about people. His clothes were plain, well-worn, and practical — like everything else about him.

There was an air of weariness about him that belied his age, like a man long accustomed to carrying a heavy burden of responsibility. He didn’t seem like someone who had the time or energy to be deceptive. He seemed simple, straightforward, and reliable.

"I don't know about rare herbs," he scoffed. "And as for the high and mighty owing me favors, as long as they pay what they promise, I'm good with that."

"What do you think, Sif? Should we go see this druid?"

Sif smiles, simple, straightforward, and reliable, she could definitely work with that. Much better than most the people she’s worked with in the past. "Yeah, sounds good to me." Sif will take the offered seat and wait as Cormac finishes his drink.

Legolas sips from the offered mug and smiles. He isn't making a good job pretending that he likes the drink, but still sips seldom while talking.
He engages into a conversation with Luna in Elf language, asking the typical politeness questions such as how do you do, is your family members well, what are your dreams and long term goals and what not.

Only after feeling they have get acquainted to each other he finally suggest to go see the half-elf.

Briar, Legolas brings his unfinished dug with him as he approach your table and asks you casually Would you mind if we share the table with you? The more the merrier ?!

Briar gave Cormac a respectful nod, though a faint shadow of disappointment flickered across his face. "I understand," he said sincerely, his voice low and smooth. "Everyone’s got plans within plans these days. But I’m around here often, if the winds change and you’re looking for work—or trouble."

He turned away with a flick of his coat and made his way back to the corner table where the candlelight was dim, the shadows deep, and the air thick with the scent of ale, sweat, and old wood polish. As Luna and Legolas approached, Briar stood to greet them, his expression lighting up with a smile that was both warm and just a touch mischievous.

"Welcome, welcome," he said, gesturing broadly to the mismatched chairs around the table. "Please, sit. Food and drink should be along shortly. Make yourselves comfortable—well, as comfortable as these janky old chairs will allow." He gave a soft chuckle, the kind that invited camaraderie without demanding it.

Once they had settled in, he raised his mug slightly in a quiet toast and took a slow drink before setting it back down with a satisfying clink.

"Truly—thank you for joining me," he said, his voice now a little steadier, a little more serious. "I appreciate it greatly."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, the other nursing his ale. "I’m Briar Locksqur," he began, meeting their eyes in turn. "I—and a few others in this very tavern—are members of a group called the Harpers. You may have heard of us. We operate quietly, doing what we can to help the downtrodden, those often overlooked or crushed under the boot of power. I’m not anyone important in the grand scheme, but I’ve got friends… in low places, and a few in high ones too."

He paused to let that settle, then leaned in slightly, his voice lowering with an almost conspiratorial hush. "The Harpers have given me a task—one I believe the two of you could be of great help with. On the surface, it sounds simple. But rarely are these things as easy as they appear."

He took another drink, wetting his lips, before continuing in a quieter tone, eyes flicking around the room for any prying ears.

"In two nights, there’s going to be a masquerade—big affair, lots of nobles, merchants, and other well-to-do types. I’ve already managed to get us some invitations." His grin returned, sharp and knowing. "All the Harpers are asking of us is to be their eyes and ears. Blend in. Mingle. Dance. Eat. Be merry. All while keeping your ears open for anything suspicious—plans, threats, strange alliances. Anything out of place."

He let the words linger in the air like smoke, giving them a moment to absorb the gravity beneath the glamour.

Luna listened attentively to Briar as the latter described the mission. He knew of the Harpers—who didn't? But he could not say that he knew much about them, other than they were normally aligned with those of good nature and were oft allies of The Night White Lady. A real mission; how exciting! Luna thought. Having grown up a moon elf in Waterdeep—albeit most of the time within the safe confines of the Church of Selûne—the idea of a masked ball under the light of the moon intrigued him in multiple ways. Having no actual experience, he let his imagination run wild. He pictured tall, graceful courtiers holding thin glasses of effervescent wines or liqueurs, talking in low and hushed tones about the secrets of finance, magic, wealth, or power as they were limned in the silver light of the moon. Coy glances, knowing looks, a single word dropped here or there which would determine the rise or fall of entire families.

"Yes, yes, indeed", he started, then slammed his mouth closed realizing he was near shouting. Trying again he said yes, yes indeed. That sounds marvelous. All you want is for us to show up and keep our eyes open and our ears pointed? Here, Luna chuckled. Count me in, Luna said. How many are you recruiting? Too few, there will not be enough coverage. Too many, and there will not be enough covertness.

And where is that "easy money" on all of this? Are we robbing anyone along the way?
Ok. I don't dance. Not good pretending I am Noble. No idea what are important details to hear and what they know already. But you seem desperate picking random people not knowing their portfolio.

Briar reached down and unfastened the flap of his satchel, retrieving a modest but weighty pouch of coin. The dull clink of gold echoed beneath the low hum of the tavern as he held it up between thumb and forefinger, letting the pouch sway ever so slightly.
"This here," he said, eyes flicking between Luna and Legolas, "is our starting endowment—courtesy of the Harpers." His voice carried a mix of pride and practicality. "About ten gold pieces each. Enough to cover a few necessities."
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the pouch lightly in the air once, twice—gauging its weight by feel and sound—before catching it and setting it on the table between them. The coins inside gave a satisfying jingle as he nudged the pouch forward.

"We’ll need to use some of it, of course," he continued, tapping the table for emphasis. "Can’t walk into a masquerade dressed like we just crawled out of a tavern cellar. We’ll need some proper attire—refined, fancy-looking. Nothing overly extravagant, just enough to make us blend in. And masks, naturally. The whole thing’s a masked affair. Can’t have nobles peeking under the wrong hood, eh?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he swept the pouch back into his satchel, securing the clasp with practiced ease. He leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, barely audible over the clatter of mugs and the low crackle of the hearth nearby.

"And of course," he added with a sly grin, "any worthwhile tidbits we overhear… the Harpers will pay dearly for. Secrets travel far in those circles, and the Harpers are always hungry for the right ones."

Then, just for them, he lowered his voice even more, glancing around briefly before speaking with a roguish wink.
"Plus—anything I happen to pocket along the way… you’ll have first pick from. After all, it’s only fair that risk comes with reward."
He leaned back again, casual and confident, taking another sip from his ale as if he’d just proposed something as mundane as a stroll in the park.