Chapter 1: Lady Luck's Curtsy

Seeing the loud one go into a back room, Rolen follows in hopes the meeting is underway. Upon entering, a look of disgust crosses his face as he witnesses Xavena stuffing their face. He cautiously approaches, a little unsure if he wants to get close to it or not, and pours himself a mug of ale before taking a seat.

Relieved that another elf sits among them, Orseas approaches and sits in front of him. He visibly sighs with relief and pours himself ale as well. "Ive been waiting for a few hours for everyone else who got the missive to appear. I was afraid there may only be..." he glances at Xavena "...wilder folk. What is your name?"

Baraq studies the laden table, head tilted, before grabbing a handful of meat and a tankard. She hooks one of the chairs with her talons and pulls it down to its side, dragging it a brief distance away from the collection. Her beak stabs into the meat and pulls, tearing it into more-manageable bits that she swallows.

The gnome steps into the room and takes a small plate of food before taking a seat.

Seeing a more civilized person approach, the elf smiles and give a nod "Rolen Liadon." Rolen gently tips his mug towards Orseas "Don't write them off, just yet, strictly based off their manners." Rolen pauses as Baraq drags a chair across the floor, partially baffled he continues "It is going to take a while to get used to their...customs though."

Once I've eaten my fill, I wrap the remaining bits into a piece of cloth that I shove into my pocket. While food has been easy enough to find on my recent travels, habits are hard to break and one never knows if the next meal will be in one day or four. As I notice the others keeping their distance from me, I relax a bit and take a tankard of ale. This time I find the furthest chair in the room and sit on it awkwardly. It's not often that I speak with folks in these sorts of civilized spaces. Under the open skies is where I'm most comfortable. At that thought I peer at the birdfolk curiously. If only I could fly...

Baraq tests if her beak will fit into the tankard, electing to just tip her head back and pour its contents instead.

Orseas nods, trying to force a gracious opinion of them as Rolen suggests. "I am Orseas, servant of Light." He extends his hand to shake Liadon's politely. "Did you get this same missive?" He says showing his own to the elf.

Aera walks over and sits down by Baraq, "Where do you come from?"

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Orseas." Rolen doesn't extend his hand, instead he reaches inside his shirt and pulls out the letter "Please don't take this as disrespect, I dislike touching hands but you are correct, I am here from the missive."

Orseas says, "Oh. okay. It's fine." then purposely knocks his ale over onto Rolen's missive. Finishing his fit by getting up and kicking his chair away from him as he walks to the other side of the room, fuming.

Baraq shifts, wings nearly flaring out in challenge to Aera, but she keeps them folded and just rebalances on her perch. During all this, her head remains fixed with yellow eyes upon the other aarakocra.

There is a series of clicks, before she speaks the word, "Chult."

Totally unaware of how he should respond, only knowing that he needs to express some sort of reaction Aera squawks loudly and then chirps twice, "Chult?" he asks, then there is a moment of silence, then another chirp, "Huh."

The look of bewilderment washes over Rolen's face once again Perhaps I am the only sane one here. he thinks to himself as he waves his hand over his ale-soaked missive.

Casting Prestidigitation. Cleaning a soiled object.

Catriona spends a good half hour skulking outside the Jeweled Bottle trying to pluck up the courage to enter. Only 11 years old and having led such a closeted life she knows precious little of the world outside her family estate apart from what she learned from books. In fact, until she ran away scarcely a week ago the only world she knew was her room and the garden outside it where she spent as much time as she could. The past few days have been a rude awakening. She considers just sneaking in along with the next group of patrons but shrinks back when the next people she sees is a couple of bird-men. She studies the Baron's letter for the hundredth time, trying to recall anything she might have learned through her studies about the Barony of Harketts. At length she smooths her skirts, straightens her back, thrusts her chin up and bursts through the door as imperiously as she can...and finds the room empty. Spotting a serving girl Catriona addresses her in the tone she used to employ on the servants back home. "You there! Girl! I require an audience with Baron Yahvitz Merrian. Fetch him for me."