[Tavern Thread] The Dunn Wright Inn

Marla the Barmaid
Smiling and giving a nod to Valdemar, the barmaid explains, "Whatever Zitteaux cooks is good. If you want his best, let him cook what he likes. Every now and again he makes my favorite little vegetable dish. It's simple, but always takes the stress off for a while. I'll let him know you're looking for chef's choice, and probably needing a bit more than a side of vegetables."

With that, Marla turns and heads back to the kitchen when Sylvain makes his appearance. Turning back for a moment, she offers, "Welcome, and feel free to sit where you like, either to the tolerance of other denizens or at an empty table, as you wish. I'll be back with a drink on my next pass. And the stage is open, if you wish... just don't weird people out like that mime we had a while back." The barmaid concludes that last statement with a visible look of displeasure, then turns and heads back to the kitchen once again. Shouting into the swinging door, she commands the attention of the chef, "Zitteaux! Chef's choice! Human boy over six feet tall from out of town!"

With muffled words from the chef disappearing into the din, Marla turns back to her patrons, passing by the bar on the way to pick up drinks. With a and easy smile, she delivers to all the newcomers as she continues to move table to table.
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Grog the Bartender
With the little halfling bellying up to the bar, the large orc-blooded bartender cracks a smile. "Lookit 'te rat dragged in. Mmmmm, rat. Thought you blew town. Sit at my bar and drink, ten." Pulling out a jug that has 'gud stuf' written on the side, Grog pours a big glass and slides it to the curly haired halfling. "Yer fave kobold piss, here little man. You lose it, you clean up." Laughing, the big man slaps his cleaning rag onto the bar next to the drink, a generally distasteful odor slowly wafting off the stained cloth.
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[section]A halfling most curious

The halfling smiles at Grog. "Good sir, your kindness, care, and consideration for my needs are unparalleled in the old world. Many cheers and salutations to you my friend." With that, he slides five silver pieces over to the barkeep. "Don't spend it all in one place now!" He laughs.

The halfling takes his drink and brings it over to where Tamarie is sitting. "Good evening milady! Haven't seen you since we took down that sea hag? What have you been up to?"

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Valdemar gestures to the open chair at his table "I have an open seat here and a desire for company Slyvain" he offers.

With some interest Sylvain hears his name being spoken, though slightly oddly and comes to a decision. Why not join Valdemar for some informative fun he thinks. A song could wait a bit.
"Valiant Valdemar! Blessings upon you for your kind invitation. It will be my pleasure to sit at your table. Especially if we might trade a story or two. Tell me please what brings you here? Are you looking for, shall we say, renewd revenue?
But I forget myself: Sylvain Willow, at your service. Sir vice to some, serv ice to others. I am sly, and maybe vain. Yet named I am Sylvain. Musician and booster of moral by trade."
Sylvain then sits down at the chair indicated and looks at Valdemar expectantly.

Valdemar smiles back. "If only all bards were so alliterative. Indeed I have come here to seek a job or two. To find some broader exposure to the world. Though I tend towards more martial inclinations. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but then again, merrows don't care much for poetry or persuasion."

Tamarie the Songweaver
The songweaver nods gracefully as Francis comes to her table, offering him a chair. Speaking in her strangely accented voice, she greets him, "Hello, again. Are you drinking that evil stuff from Grog again?" Casting a suspicious eyes on the big half orc behind the bar, Tamarie's amber eyes return to her guest. "Anyway, I've been checking out the opera here in Venza. I'm trying out for a few roles, although the likely story is I'll get a trouser role or something like that, if anything. I have the range to cover it, but I'm not a true contralto. We'll see how it goes, I guess. How about you?" Tamarie takes a sip from her drink, a simple red wine. She swirls it gently as he responds.

[section]A halfling most curious

The halfling smiles.... "I didn't know there was opera in Venza! How delightful! Contralto, eh? I've always had a sweet spot for the coloratura sopranos, but they are always too high maintenance for me. Best of luck to you in your auditions.... do let me know when the premier is. I'd love to go!"

Mr. Halfling takes a swig of Grog's good stuff. His face contorts from the taste. "There's only one way to do this..... down the hatch you go!" And so it does. He turns to Tamarie, "If you'll excuse me a moment...." The halfling quickly rushes out of the inn.

The big sound of a litte person losing his goods is quite audible to the patrons of the Dunn Wright. After a few minutes of wretching, the halfling stumbles back in. It is very clear to determine that the halfling is three sheets to the proverbial wind. "Oooh, that'th right.... there'th thomething I wath thupposed to do...." he slurs. He makes his way up to the performance stage, but as he was about to speak, he passes out and falls down.

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[sblock=Fort DC 15: Fail]http://roll.coyotecode.net/lookup.php?rollid=126060Fort DC 15 with adaptable luck: 1D20+4 = [7]+4 = 11
[/sblock]

Gazrak Wyrmspeaker
Heavy boots thumping as he walks down the creaky wooden steps, a large half-orc descends from the floor above.

He saddles up to the nearest barstool and flashes the barkeep a toothy grin, before placing a battered silver coin on the bartop.

"Firewhiskey please, make it a double."

He glances around the room at the assembled patrons, getting the lay of the land.

Sylvains grin broadens. "Ah, the pen...but I am not so much obsessed with writing, than i am with singing. Singing is a favourite of mine. Coalesces Sin, Gin and the song into a real booster. Still I see that I have a well travelled comrade here with the lights all on upstairs. A toast to new adventures! It is good to have some martially minded folk for good work to be done, but also fine to have some nimbler fingers ready either on the string or a lock or where the light don't shine. Do you have anything specific in mind?"

"Well, the pen here is merely a metaphor for words, not solely an endorsement of written speech over spoken." clarifies Valdemar with a smile. "But yes, I grew up learning a little of everything, and actually grew up a little everywhere as well. As to what specifically, nothing yet. I had know from a young age though that The Dunn was the place to start for adventures and excitement. I figure have some food, some drink, perhaps some good company" at this he lifts his glass to Sylvain "and see what fate has in store."