Khazim realizes the bartender was addressing him and concentrates on what he is saying. At first the accent is so thick he struggles a moment but gets the gist and makes his way over to the bar. He takes a seat nearby where the bartender gestures. He wonders if the bartender knows a bit more than he is letting on...

Hraal takes a seat at the table and flashes a vulpine grin at the lovely Eclair.  He quaffs the remainder of his drink, brushes a lock of hair from his face, and rests his elbows on the table.  "What's going on in this city. barkeep?"  The smile slips across his face once again. "We're enterprising men and women, us, and we're looking for opportunities to earn some coin to make our way through this dying world while it still breathes."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:53, Sun 09 Nov 2014.

To barkeep, "Yes I am part of this crew I spose.   They can join me at my table if they must."  Addressing Viktor, "and I am more than capable of getting a drink, but thank you."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:39, Sun 09 Nov 2014.

The bartender drops off the wooden mugs to the three who remain at the corner table. Takes the towel and quickly swipes the table to catch a bit of the froth that had spilled over the mug sides as he set it down.
"Ohh there is always somethin goin on in these parts. You favor a caravan run? The caravanserai on the north end of town outside the walls is always lookin for big folks like you and the loud one. I'll be back in a second got thirsty customers."

Turning, he flings the towel back over his left shoulder and begins to make his way back towards the bar. Nodding to a few of locals as he passes, he deftly grabs handfuls of the empty wooden mugs saving a trip back once he reaches the bar. Sliding behind the bar he tosses the dirty mugs into a medium sized barrel on the floor at the edge of the opening to behind the bar. The mugs make a wooden clink, as well as a tiny splashing noise.

Sliding up to Khazim
"Welcome wastelander, what is it I can do for you, don't get much of you types in the city proper, must be something big to get you in these cramped streets" He grabs a few wooden mugs and starts to fill them from a different barrel than he used to fill the round for Viktor, Hraal, and Eclair. He looks up over Khazim's shoulder. "Bara, come get yers whilst I wait on this gentleman here" he says with a slight smile

In the background the music changes over from a bawdy Purple Town shanty to a long and windy tinkling flute and lute combo attempting to give the feel of a forlorn and barren place. The dancer adopts a languid and expressive dance where her limbs and body flex in long and fleeting style. A few of the patrons hush as they watch the dancer, nursing their pints.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:32, Sun 09 Nov 2014.

Khazim gives the bartender a grin; "You must have seen a lot over the years to guess where I am from by my dress. Anyhow, I will have an ale. I received a letter to meet someone here so I made my way from where I was and here I wait."

"Well it is fairly simple, You see there are only a handful of areas that would frequent this side of town. You don't look like the sailor type. Your dress is far more utility that that of those stuffy Ilmorians. Your skin is far to weathered and dark for those of us in fair Vilmir, that and yer not covered in soot. However, your biggest giveaway was your wear, I see wood beneath those layers. I had me a good guess that you were from the wastes to the east."

He puts a finger to the side of his nose and winks. Afterwards he reaches down below the bar and grabs another wooden mug. Turning around he begins to fill it.

"A letter you say?, hrmm would fair ta guess that is why I'm being visited by so many unusual types today. A smallish man came in a while ago and told me that several of your types would be showing up soon. Never really said exactly when though, looks like today is it."

Turning back he sets the mug down by Khazim and nods over to where the others have been ushered.

"Best bet they are all going to be havin that same scrap of paper, mayhaps you should see if any of them got the summons? "

Raises his filled mug of beer to the Gods...Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go To heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow, And many miles be still to go, But under a tall tree I will lie, And let the clouds go sailing by.

 A rather frail looking man in a white mask entered the bar. His military style trench coat fluttered in the wind as he shut the door behind him. He was covered from head to toe in odd looking armor, and almost out of this world clothes and adornments. A large scoped rifle hung securely on the man's back.

 Pausing just a moment in the doorway, so that curious eyes could take the sight in, Spooky began to walk across the bar, his sights set upon a lone table in the back of the establishment. As he walks, Spooky takes great care at dodging his way through the crowd, avoiding contact with any of the patrons as they drank or danced or told humorous banters.

 From the table in the back, Spooky propped his feet up on a neighboring stool, and leaned his back against the wall. He kept a sharp eye out at his surroundings, but seemed to just be enjoying the atmosphere of the tavern.

Rael enter the bar just a few second after the odd man with the white mask. The odd fellow was strange enough to remind Rael that there were still people that would like to see him dead or worse.

So he figured it would be best to see the man back on not his front, he find himself a place to sit noticing the ruckus by the end table. Sell sword of one kind or another, he edge toward them. If there was trouble, one not stirred by those men, he figured it would be safer near them and not far.

Viktor attempts to drill up some shanty from old, only to be met with a few takers, but mostly a few mumbles and a bit more intense cheering for the dancing girl. She begins to twirl a bit more as the tempo of the song begins to quicken as if to represent the hastening of the wind and how it scours the barrens. With near lightning reflex's and rapid movements a few scarves begins to flow from her hands, whipping and twirling like some cyclone. That is until the door opens once more and a thin, completely out of place looking, individual enters, for a brief second her eyes locked with his and she falters a step.

She is able to regain composure as many of the patrons notice the outlandish person in their midst and suddenly fall silent. Either by luck, or misfortune as the case may be, Rael's entrance goes almost completely unnoticed in the shadow of such a strange individual.

The Bartender
"Greeting, um.. sir, and .. um.. may Arkyn bless you on this fine day" The bartender addresses Sekatus slowly, breaking the silence that even penetrates the slowly winding down music. "What is it I can offer a contriver such as yourself, that the ever knowing Church of Law does not offer?" His hands seems to only move by force of will towards the wooden mugs that are stored beneath the bar rather than the near thoughtless actions that have preceded ever other encounter. [Private to Sekatus 'Spooky' Bane: Sadly, if you do not have your "Understanding" spell active, his words will be mumbo jumbo to you at this time. Spells only take concentration to truly cast though, for the most part]
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:21, Wed 12 Nov 2014.

Notices how quiet it got in the tavern after the strange man with the odd looking flute on his back walked in....looks over at Spooky...

hey white mask...what kind of flute you got on yer back? play a song for the dancing girl...hey girl show your large mounds of flesh..reaches into his pouch to throw some appreciative bronze, only to find that he pouch is empty.
*GM Edited*
[Private to Viktor: You used the last of your money on the first rounds of drinks, sent PM earlier]
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:46, Thu 13 Nov 2014.

With all of the commotion, new faces, and strange contraptions that have walked through the door this day, the regulars of the establishment do their best to remain going about their normal business. Beyond the hidden peak, sideways glance, or not so obvious detour to get to the bar, the basic patron of the Blunted Blade is pretending that those who are assembled simply do not exist. The bartender is giving the group their fair attention making sure that mugs are filled as requested, as as coin appears.

The bartender pulls a tray out from under the counter and grabs several mugs from under the counter as well. One by one he begins to fill them with the frothy drink that first graced Viktor and Hraal's mugs.

"Come now sir's and lady's, when you've been a tender as long as I have, I'd hazard a guess that all your new faces are here for the same reasons. Here is a round on the house if you would all just move over there to the side and let my regulars go about their day. Nervous patrons tend to not drink as much." he voices slowly with a hint of deliberate "authority" behind it.

"I'm sure whom ever it is who summoned you will be along shortly. He had the foresight to make sure you all were gathered at the same time."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:16, Fri 14 Nov 2014.

Real noticed the rowdy mercenaries sitting at one table, it was hard not to notice them. Beside he had seen the giant man outside.

It was now or never, he moved forward standing at the table standing as straight as he could to give him every inch of height. A dozen ways to introduce himself ran pass his head. Angry with himself he just plunged in.

"Greeting," he nods looking in each of the occupants sitting and smiled a grim smile "They call me Rael, while I am no warrior I am a warrior best friend." he pat the healers bag of herbs at his side "From all the lot in this inn, I think our companionship would be mutual beneficial. May I join you?"

 Spooky politely waved off the bartender, preferring instead to just enjoy the atmosphere. He wasn't here on official business, just here to unwind, and let the weather change. His back to the wall, and his feet kicked up, Spooky looked truly comfortable. It was if he didn't even notice the strange looks he was garnering, then again, it would be impossible not to. It was more likely that he was just used to the strange looks people offered at him.

 [Private to GM: Crap! Apologies, I missed that post!]

In reply to Rael Gol (msg # 21):

Hraal's red armor groans and creeks as he leans forward and accepts Rael's hand.
"Well-met, friend."  He smiles.  "What brings you to Old Hrolmar, stranger?"

Rael grins "Oh, a trader caravan brought me here... I set out from my home seeking the roads to learn more about the world. There are many different plants and herbs with different properties and one must travel long and far to accumulate wisdom in the arts."

He pat his empty coin pouch "Alas I fear I am all out of coin so I came here looking to better my luck and fill my coffer."

In reply to Rael Gol: holds out his hand to shake also...

I am Viktor.

The bartender finishes tapping the keg with the seven mugs of bitter and moves out from behind the bar. He looks over towards Corvus, Khazim, and "Spooky"
"Come sir's, A fine drink if you an your companions would venture this way. Please A few of my other patrons have the look of heading out with far to few drinks in them."
He moves toward the table where Viktor, Rael, Hraal, and Eclair are seated. Deftly weaving through the rest of the tightly packed room you see him once again making assurances and taking new orders for the next round.

Khazim shrugs and makes his way over to the table with the eclectic assortment of characters, carrying his mug and taking a long pull from it. He looks at the assembled folk and addresses them; "I don't suppose any of you have received a strange letter in recent days?"

"Strange letter?"  Hraal raises an eyebrow.  "Yes, I did.  It was  a scrap of paper which directed me here."  The mercenary then folds his arms across his chest. "I suppose that you have too, then?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:49, Sun 16 Nov 2014.

 Spooky looks up between his feet at the bartender, just now realizing he was speaking to him as well. Seems he didn't blend in as well as he had hoped. Spooky shrugged, then took his feet off the table and followed to where the man was pointing. Spooky had always been a go with the flow kinda guy anyways. Luckily for him, look where he ended up! It took work to manage to blend in this much, and that was none at all.

 Wondering what he had wondered into, Spooky slid through the room to the table he was directed at. As he took a seat, he looked around at the others of the table as if he were trying to put together a puzzle. Indeed, he was looking for a trend.

 Despite the situation, Spooky soon regained his typical demeanor, watching the crowds as they go and sipping the ale he was handed on his way to his new seat.

Having relaxed somewhat thanks to the wine, and the non-appearance of the pursuing guards, Corvus was somewhat shaken from his thoughts by the bartender calling him over to join some others at a table. With little better on offer he made his way across - a free ale would help pass the time, if nothing else.

But there was talk of being brought here by a patron, and letters. So something was afoot. He thought of saying that he too, had received such a missive, but knew the truth would soon be proven otherwise.

"No letter here. But who knows, perhaps a sea captain will be needed in any case - and then I'm your man."

Rael pulls a crumpled missive from his own pouch "I did get this strange missive just as I got to town. Since I am poor on both companions and coin and I was in the neighborhood I figured it would be best to come here."

Corvus gets up, and with a hearty smile on his face at the mention of free booze makes he way across the crowded tavern. He takes a brief second to swirl gracefully into and through the dance of the young dancing girl. Without missing a beat, or a drop of the precious wine, saunters his way to the table where the assembled mugs await.

Spooky, the ever present ghost, seems to have simply slunk from point A to point B. It seems that far to many of the patrons are simply doing their best to make sure they can either drink him out of existence, or downright ignoring the man in incredibly outlandish gear.

[Private to Sekatus 'Spooky' Bane: When Corvus sits down you see a slip of paper fall under his chair, roughly the same size as the one that Rael has produced from his pouch]
The Bartender smiles heartily as he slides each of the mugs off his tray and onto the table letting each of the people in turn take their own mug.
"there now gents and lady's, isn't that better? I must thank you, I can see the rest of the mood of the place has begun to pick up. Ya'll know how changes can really get people in an upset here in "good ole regular Vilmir. Speaking of good ole Vilmir, If I may ask, masked one, is that a new kind of Astrolabe for sailers you got on yer back? or maybe some new piece of surveyor gear. I heard them mines to the north are scraping bedstone to get anything from the ground."

He turns and begins to gather a few of the nearby empty mugs as he seems to passively wait for some kind of answer or dismissal.

"It looks like the worst bow I've ever seen - there isn't even a string! Still, perhaps it has some use to the masked man."