Lured Into Darkness
"So y'just sign here... right, that'll do it! Make sure y'have this delivered 'fore th'month's end. Brewmaster Aldin will be handlin' th'fulfillment schedule from here on out."
Dealing with business owners and tavern masters wasn't exactly Gazira's forte, to say the least. She always felt she lacked the easy-talking nature her Uncle bore when he'd chat up the head of an inn to convince them to stock Oakbarrel brew. No matter how many times she accompanied him or the others on jobs, it never failed to impress her how deftly they talked their way into good graces. But such socializing was a failing on her part and she was frankly more comfortable unloading the barrels, handling inventory, and otherwise not having to face crowds. Every time she tried to help on a sale it ended with her uncles having to smooth over her mistakes. But simply handling contracts that had already been agreed upon? That, she could do. The Hound and Tails was a place of particular importance to her, though she was uncertain as to why.
She'd seen the telling signs appear amid the foam in each brew she drank, felt the guiding hand of Hanseath lead her attention on the distribution maps. Though Gazira didn't quite understand it, her family urged her to pay heed to those subtle gestures. Hanseath had reached out to her before and she was loathe to ignore his divine will. Plus she could fulfill a necessary bit of contract upkeep at the Hound and Tails to keep delivery of their casks going steady for the rest of the year, so it was a win-win situation as far as the Oakbarrel clan was concerned.
With her work done, the towering Half-Orc woman sighed and leaned herself back against a suitable support column beside the bar. She wasn't exactly certain who or what she was looking for, but there was always one way to find out. As she and the tavern master had shared a tankard over business dealings, she plucked her own up - a rather nicely crafted item emblazoned with a cheery, grinning Dwarven face on its side - and drank deeply of the rich lager her family brewed. The familiar tickle soothed her worries as she gulped it down and, with the last dredges of foam left to seep over the translucent underside of the tankard, Gazira found sight of a particular table and its patrons framed in the glass bottom.
"Well, seems as likely as any..." she muttered to herself. With a quick request for a full round of drinks - Oakbarrel lager, of course - Gazira gathered the tankards in both fists by their handles and steeled her nerves as she strode across to the Party's table. The lot of them might have thought the Hound and Tails had hired a new waitress - albeit one of particularly mighty stature - as the Half-Orc arrived in a simple peasant dress with refreshments in hand.
"Now here's a gaggle what looks like they've been walkin' too long! Y'folk look in need of a quality drink. Have a round of Oakbarrel, on me." Gazira tried to be jovial as she grinned a broad, tusked smile and passed out the tankards around the table. "What brings y'lot in off th'road?"