Introduction: A Night at the Drowned Dragon Inn

[Balgin Stondraeg]

Deep down in the dark places beneath the world ancient horrors stir in their slumber. Long years have they waited as their plans brew to fruition at the hands of their insignificant servants. Now the time to act is at hand and they must waken from their deep sleep to take an active part in the grand scheme of things....

Meanwhile, many miles above, far far away on the surface of the world, there is a city. It's name is not important to these deep ones. In fact they are probably just as unaware of it's location as the cities inhabitants are of their own. In this city storm clouds lurk overhead pouring down a mild drizzle and constantly threatenning more. An inn signs sways in the wind, it's hinges creaking. Upon it's face is a vaguely recogniseable image of a ragon's head and neck emerging upwards from a stylised wavy ocean. The dragon does not seem perturbed by it's plight and infact looks a little intoxicated. Local rumour has it that a dragon once came to the pub and got so drunk the innkeeper named it after him. If truth be told a rather ambitious brigand who insisted on calling himself the Black Dragon (claiming it to be some family heraldry) who referred to the mercenaries at his command as the dragons claws, or dragons talons, got so drunk at the pub that he passed out and the innkeeper named the pub in his honour.

But that event is long gone, ancient history. Within the building the rain outside has done little to dampen the party spirit. The ale flows freely and some young man is celebrating his last night of freedom before entering into the institution of wedlock on the morn (an event that is unlikely to follow plan if the bride to be hears of his behaviour with two of the barmaids although at least one of his friends seems to be attempting to restrain his enthusiasm). It's probably not a marriage of love, chances are he got the poor girl pregnant and her family are rich enough to require (and enforce) her honour be upheld by the presence of a husband at the alter even if it is this young stablehand.

Whilst the atmosphere at one end of the inn is certainly raucous with stamping feet and bawdy songs it has not reached one corner where, whilst the firelight still flickers, it barely touches a group of disparate strangers down on their luck and short of coin.

Thorgrin, Godric, Hasta and Kharsis are present but others may join them soon.

[PaulH]

Hi

Near the (soon to be) wedding party, an Elf, wearing worn, but quality clothes, offers his services to the groom & his friends.
Garrick, for that is indeed his name, points out the current cut of fashion for 'city folk', listing 'a cut here, a snip there', plus the advantages of different materials.

"...ah! But lambs wool can be soft, and so loved by the ladies, sir. And a fleece collar would keep you so warm on a windy evening"!

A casual observer might miss an 'extra' pouch readily available on his wide belt. Is that just an extra set of chalk and pins, or something else entirely......?   
Cheers
Paul H
PS  Green is in character or narrative.

[Rod the Worm]

A young female dwarf sits quietly in the corner, a look of concentration on her face as she tries to ignore the noise around her and strum quietly at a mandolin.  Her fingers dance easily into the positions required, but it is obvious that she is inexperienced with the instrument. 
She's dressed in a warm-looking outfit of brown and grey with pockets everywhere.  A thick, deep green cloak slung around her shoulders has the hood thrown back to reveal a face of average looks framed by dark brown hair pulled into a pony-tail at the back and held by a small silver clasp in the shape of a shield split into two halves.
The only thing which marks her out as being in any way unusual is the rat upon her shoulder.  It nibbles her ear gently causing her to lose her concentration for a moment and she frowns at the rat briefly before breaking into a pretty smile and stroking it tenderly. 

She turns to the others in the dark corner.  "I don't know about you," she begins.  "But I'm down to might last few coins.  Don't suppose any of the three of you know of any work around here?"

[Squigface]

Near the corner sits a man, he is clad in a clerical tunic with a hood covering much of his face and head save for what can be seen by the flickering candle at his table. Upon closer inspection, you would find him to be well built, a likable fellow. Not much of his face can bee seen underneath the hood, but you would find him to be cleanly shaven and square of jaw. He sits quitely moving only to sip his beer, making no sour face at the quality of that piddle for he is a clergyman and a polite one at that. Beneath the table in the shadows is a bulging rucksack with a religious symbol on it, declaring him a cleric of Pelor.
Squig

[Chrysalis]

Between the party that is going on and the travellers in the corner is a table where a young and handsome man is sitting. He must be the same age as the partygoers just in front of him, but nobody would mistake him for a stablehand. The way he simply holds his head, or the quality of the clothes wrapping his athletic shoulders, are sufficient to betray his social origin.
The barmaids didn't miss this detail, and there is some giggle among the girls everytime one of them brings something to the young man. And an interested eye could see that there are already two jugs of water on his table...
Ignoring the little game of the maids, the young man is watching the party going on. His mid-long chesnut hair look like curly brass in the firelight, and his grey eyes radiate with a sad feeling, like a winter sea.
Earlier, a girl tried to make him stand up to dance. He politely refused, pretexting one can't dance with an armor (he's wearing scale mail). The girl seemed to be disappointed, and tried to hold him back catching the wooden pendant that was hanging around his neck. But she realized it was a holy symbol of Allitur (two hands clapping), and let him go with a resigned pout...

Is it any better with this kind of green?

[Balgin Stondraeg]

I wish everyone would stop writing in dark green on a dark grey background. It makes my eyes hurt :(.

One of the wedding party takes the elf aside and begins discussing the possibility of getting some respectable clothes ready for the groom by dawn. He wants nothing flashy nor too expensive but is willing to pay for quality work to be done discretely (discrete as in, other high society families won't find out if they come asking).

After a few minutes the door opens and in walks a man out of the rain. He is in his fourties with shortish hair and a dark goatee beard. By his robes he is clearly a member of the arcane order (a prestigious guild of magicians and also a prestige class if anyone's interested later on) and a small cap rests on his head. Despite having just walked in out of the rain he is surprisingly dry.

He walks with an air of elegence to the bar and speaks quietly with the innkeeper. As they converse he can clearly be seen glancing over towards the poor corner.

[Balgin Stondraeg]

One of the wedding party takes the elf aside and begins discussing the possibility of getting some respectable clothes ready for the groom by dawn. He wants nothing flashy nor too expensive but is willing to pay for quality work to be done discretely (discrete as in, other high society families won't find out if they come asking).

After a few minutes the door opens and in walks a man out of the rain. He is in his fourties with shortish hair and a dark goatee beard. By his robes he is clearly a member of the arcane order (a prestigious guild of magicians and also a prestige class if anyone's interested later on) and a small cap rests on his head. Despite having just walked in out of the rain he is surprisingly dry.

He walks with an air of elegence to the bar and speaks quietly with the innkeeper. As they converse he can clearly be seen glancing over towards the poor corner.

[Rod the Worm]

Noticing the wizard out of the corner of her eye, Hasta tries not to look over to him.  Taking Jane from her shoulder, she wiggles her fingers and speaks a few quiet arcane words, and small lights begin dancing around the rat's head and weaving between her fingers to amuse it.

Casts Prestidigitation.  Probably a childishly simple ploy that the wizard will see through immediately, but it might still get his attention.  Incidentaly, does she recognise the guild?

[Balgin Stondraeg]

Could you pop a list of memorised spells in your character sheet thread please? Cheers. And yes, she recognises the guild. They've got a reputation for knowing almost every spell their is and always seeming to have the right ones memorised at the right time.

[Woojitsu]

With a slight protest of its hinges that is lost amid the sounds of revelry, the door opens just enough to let in the inn's latest patron.  His cloak is sodden, his bow strung, clear signs that he has been beyond the city gates this day.  Feeling the welcome warmth of the common room, he lets his hood fall back, revealing elven features.  Glancing about the room, his eyes light up as they fall upon the bearded magician.  He steps lightly across the intervening distance to the bar.  "May I buy you a drink, sir?"

[Balgin Stondraeg]

Turning to the elf the wizard asks "do I know you?" Shen thinks he's seen him a few times at the city's prestigious School of Magick, possibly delivering the odd lecture to those rare few who can afford the school's services.

"Bring it to me over there," says the mage pointing towards the group in the corner, "and bring yourself too. I'll have a brandy, thanks." And with that he heads off somewhat determinedly towards the corner.

[Woojitsu]

Dropping a small handful of silver coins on the bar, Shen turns to the barkeep.  "You heard the man: one brandy."  He glances at the small group toward which the wizard is moving.  "And throw in a round of ale for the others."

[Rod the Worm]

Hasta fidgets in delight as the wizard walks over and looks up at him with a sunny smile.
"Good evening master mage," she begins.  "What can we do for such a fine member of the Arcane Order as yourself?"

[Balgin Stondraeg]

The barman gives the coins a quick glance and wonders what kind of ale the elf thinks he serves up. Meanwhile the middle aged magician has reached the corner and stands behind a chair, both hands resting upon it.  Cautiously he inquires if anyone would "mind if he sits here?"

[Woojitsu]

My intention was for Shen to be generous, here.  I don't know how much you think the brandy should be, but the PHB puts the average price of a gallon of ale at 2 sp.  My thinking was that 5 pints would cost significantly less.

Shen waits for his order to be filled, a slight fidget revealing his impatience to anyone who pays close attention.