Easthaven

" ... And that's how I punched a two headed Snapple Gob while blessing a half gnome blight catcher at the same time!" exclaims Tulfgyr to anyone who might happen to still listening while he rather conservatively nurses some of the local brew.

A tall woman with dreadlocked hair waves over a server for more water and looks at Father Tulfgyr with a perplexed expression. The dim firelight dancing across her face seems to bring out a green tinge to her skin, but it is such a deep brown that's most quick glances dismiss it as a trick of the light. "Wait, I'm confused. Where are Snapple Gobs from again? I've never heard of them before, and I tend to remember things that have two heads."

"Well the common grounds Snapple Gob has a little known variant: the two headed Snapple Gob," Father Tulfgyr pauses to take a 'conservative' gulp, "And sometimes they like to interfere with church business in the deep jungles of Chult, nasty place Chult."

"Fascinating, my dear man," the silver-haired half-elf says to Father Tulfgyr with a flat expression, half-heartedly sipping his drink. "An adventure from beginning to end, I must say." He turns towards him and Alalla. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know of anything nearly so interesting happening around this...quaint village, would you? I've come expecting to meet someone, but I wasn't left many details, and now I'm questioning whether this is the right place. What managed to drag you out here?"

Alalla looks at the Father skeptically, but decides not to comment, and instead answers the half-elf. "I'm part-time militia in Targos. The rest of the time I do mercenary work. Let's me travel a bit. I get a bit restless when in one place for too long. Right now I've been hired to look into the trade routes, just to make sure caravans are getting through this area alright. These routes can be tough, at times."

Father Tulfgyr strokes his braided beard with a gnarled and tattooed hand in deep thought but after a long pause he finally speaks in a soft grumble "Forgiveness" looking down he adds "Oh and beer!"

Father Tulfgyr is interested by Alalla's mention of mercenary work "ever switched sides? Some say it's more profitable."

"Im here for research purposes" Maveric says while he resigns to standing so that his head is visible above the edge of the table. "And can someone please pass me another beer? I can't quite reach" he says leaning across the table to where the barmaid had placed the freshly poured drinks

"blessings of the *beltch* ...Divines be upon you" Father Tulfgyr slurrs as he slides mug towards the edge of the table.

"I've just lived in caves so long it is good to finally be above ground. Better air, better light, but this beer is terrible. Gnome ale is what warms a man up." He grabs two cups of beer and attempts to drink both at the same time . . .

Zenithral scoffs at Father Tulfgyr's mention of switching sides as a mercenary before Alalla can speak. "Working for those bloodthirsty monsters and barbarians? You don't seem to be from around the Ten Towns," he says and takes another sip. "Or you're just terribly drunk," he mutters to himself, watching Father Tulfgyr slide the drink to Maveric and the figure downing two drinks at once.

Zenithral raises an eyebrow and turns to look down at Maveric. "Research? Here in Easthaven? What exactly is there to research here?" he says, guesting with his mug. "The fish?"

maverick eyes up the half elf "I'll have you know there are ruins I'm interested in studying, I doubt that someone like you would appreciate the history of them" maverick turns to the Goliath "I can drink to being above ground, sadly the brew back home was subpar at best"

"You are absolutely right, Zenithral replies, turning away. "I care very little for how dead people worked with hunks of stone. I think I'd care far more about the action," he says, fingering the bow slung over his shoulder, "the thrill of facing whatever improbable dangers happen to be there. Now that might make visiting this fish pond worthwhile," he mused.

The Father lifts his head from his cup looking at Zenithral " I hope you know what you're doing with that sapling elf. I've met a lot of your type during my time on the roads most face down that up, all fire and vigor till the axe meets the bone." Tulfgyr says with great clarity and firmness.

Ug wipes off the effects of his drinking with the back of his hand, tossing a cheerful wink at the applauding dwarf woman. "I know many enemy have fallen to strong bows elf friend," he says cheerfully. "But bow may not help if ruins turn to caves." He reaches a massive muscled arm to his back and unstraps his great axe." He looks like he might start swinging the massive thing but appears to think better of it. He sets it leaning against the table instead and tries once more at a two fisted tankard drink.

"When axe meets bone, you say?" he says to Father Tulfgyr. "It usually becomes a little difficult to swing an axe when this sapling puts an arrow through you. You, however, make fair point, my dear man," he says to the goliath, giving a sly smile "I do prefer loosing arrows over swinging swords, but I'm not all fletching. Just mostly.

"yes yes, we all get it, you're a brave and cunning elf capible of defending yourself. However, these ruins now belong to my patron god so unless those sticks can pierce ghosts, I would keep that ego in check." the Svirfnebin says solemnly looking Zenithral in the eye. "But if you came to this pond looking for glory and adventure, I'm sure the ruins are the most exciting thing there is in this frozen hellscape"