As she entered, Aila surveyed the room, taking in the various collections of people and trying to gauge who might be the most interesting company ... which quickly brought her to the table for the 'new blood'.  Propping the walking stick against the wall, she dropped the hood of her cloak as she seated herself gracefully in a chair next to the rather interesting-looking elf.

Her other attire--tunic and trousers--were of a plain, serviceable sort in a shade that seemed somewhere between a deep blue and a deep green.  It probably depended on the lighting as to which was truth.  Her hair was piled onto her head, the volume suggesting that if it were released, it would be at least to her waist, perhaps even long enough to sit upon.  Emerging from that pile of hair was a pin which had a careful patina of verdigris to further illustrate the 'tree of life' motif in the pin.

"And I am Aila," she said.  "I thought I saw you earlier today.  It is good, then, to have a chance to get acquainted."

An older man comes in, easy of movement though he looked almost middle-aged or older as his long brown hair and beard were already greying and thinning on top. He wore robes of black with gold and silver runes sewn in the edges. He carried a pack and a staff and earlier he had led a mule you noticed during the day.

"Barmaid! Mulled wine and hot stew please." he looks around the table, "The name is Angus."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:23, Sat 25 Apr 2020.

Hearing the man's call for wine and stew, the buxom woman returns to the table. She looks at everyone else, asking

"W'at ya be havin' t'en? Stew 's r'ady on t'e f're. I brin' ya win' but it'll hav' ta be berry, 's all we got r'ght now. Seven c'ppers each."

She waits to see your coin.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:29, Sat 25 Apr 2020.

While you sit, talk, and pay, you can't help but notice the stare of the old mage on you. He isn't trying to hide it, his eyes painting you with his attention. He seem to be considering something, but his expression remains dispassionate. After a few moment he turns his gaze away and lowers his head in inner thought.

OOC - Human.

Angus pulls 2 silver pieces out and hands it to Larissa. and he nods his head to her.

Phelan, Aila, Angus.  Petar gives each speaker a smile and takes in the names, perhaps already embroiling them in a fanciful tale in his mind.  As the barmaid arrives, he pauses just long enough to see what kinds of coins are produced.

Seeing silver, Petar grins.  "Alas, good Angus, I spent my last copper on the road.  If you'll spot me now, I will repay you double when I can."

The elf explains he intends to earn some coin spinning yarns later, once the current talent - a minstrel of no small voice - had finished his set.  "But first, dinner!"

10 coppers to a silver? Angus produces another silver piece.

Whoop's my bad. Fixing that.

No problem, the picture does look a little dwarfy.

Yes, and the name adds to the "dwarfy" thing.

I like you pic, but it's taken! ;-P Oh, you changed it.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Sat 25 Apr 2020.

Yes, I had to change it because I had already assigned it to the old wizard. =)

Got a new one too.

Aila drew out a silver coin to hand over.  She gave the woman an inquisitive look, and said, "What kind of berry?"  There were some, she knew that grew so sweet that what seemed likely to be a good wine was closer to vinegar.

Liriel sat cross-legged on the bench, quietly drinking an ale. She was still trying to get used to the strange taste, and couldn't make up her mind if she liked it or not. Lost in her own thoughts, she looked up sharply when Petar spoke. She'd hardly expected to hear another elven voice so soon. And the others were a mixed bunch too, a couple of humans and a dwarf. She hadn't met a dwarf before.

"And I'm Liriel."

Liriel's mail wasn't hidden, showing off its fine bright links of elvish design. Her short cloak was green, with twining leaves embroidered along the edges in a lighter thread. Her bow and spear were stacked against the wall.

"Stew, but I'll stick with ale."

She handed over a silver.

"Blueb'rries. Ya, t's a b't sweet, b't t'll do ya good. T's strong."

Larissa takes everyone's money and returns a handful of change from her waistband pockets. She smiles at the lot of you with an evaluating eye, then nods and heads to the kitchen.

You can hear her humming even from here, with the noise of wood on metal.

She returns soon enough with several a large bowls of stew for everyone.

"G'ttin' t'e w'ne!"

Just as quick, she's back with several mugs full of warm wine. On tasting it, you find that it is acceptable. Not the best you've ever had, but it is strong, moderately sweet, and comfortably warm.

"So, ya be new to Emb'rdell? Are ya advent'rers? If ya're look'ng f'r a way in, speak to master Garrel, the elder. He's g't t'e work on all t'e bo'nties here in Emb'rdell. Ya st'nd ta m'ke heft' coin for a day's w'rk. But don't s'y ah didn't warn ya, 't is far dangero's out th're, in t'e fi'lds, gobl'ns, orcs's, ogr's's, 'nd mayb' wors'. Ya b'st t'ke some h'lp wit' ya. Cam'lle th're, sh' a pr'tty lass, and she gots t'e say of Ch'riss, a h'ly w'rd and sp'll. She be good f'r ya out th're."

Larissa points at the pretty young woman sitting by the peering mage. She waves at her, and she waves back with a gentle smile. Larissa then she turns back, nods to the group, and leaves. You could swear she had a smile on her like she was trying to make a match for the young priestess.

Marille wearing her revealing armor entered with her head covered under a cowl. Her massive physique clearly on display as her muscular biceps were visible for any to see. She scanned the room for  moment not knowing if she find a friend or foe then she took a seat and undid her cloak .

Angus waves off the change seeing her work hard to take care of everyone, "Keep it," he says.

10 coppers to a silver? Angus produces another silver piece.

Petar gives his new best friend a winning smile and repeats his promise for a double refund later.  He enjoys the warmed wine, anything sweet with stew was a good combination in his mind.  During the meal he hardly stops talking, inquiring as to everyone's name and what business was taking them either hither or fro.

He explains that he's left home in an eastern city for a while to travel and pick up new experiences and stories so as to better ply his trade as a bard.  "There are only so many ones in books," Petar says, as if implying he's read them all.  To this point, he spends noticeably more time speaking with those that look to be from far away.

Once the barmaid announces the possibilities of adventures and goblin (and worse) bounties and mysterious priestesses and austere wizards, Petar finds himself looking over towards the mis-matched local pair of Garrel and Camille quite a bit.  "I wonder what their tale is," he muses aloud.

Angus looks where indicated, and shrugs, "who knows in these days. So what made you become a bard?"

The men in tavern began to fall silent as Marille stepped into the tavern. A few of them almost spit out their drink in surprise, but they all had amazed expressions on their faces. They were clearly ogling her, her massive muscles open for everyone to see. The guards at the back started talking quietly to each other, apparently discussing her, if their stares were any indication. But their expressions remained serious.

The old mage's attention fell on her as well, and he raised an eyebrow. A half-smile was visible under his beard. He nodded lightly to himself in approval.

The young priestess' mouth shaped into a silent "oh", while her wide open eyes beheld something completely new to her.

Larissa came out of the kitchen and dead-stopped in her tracks, her jaw slack and her mouth agape in amazement.

She walked right up to Marille and put her hand on her massive shoulders.

"Och, d'rlin', w'at h've ya been eat'n? Ya 're as strong as an ox!"

"I do believe," said Aila, looking over to the smiling priestess and back to her companions at table, "that there is an effort to matchmake us, so perhaps we should find out in good time, Sir Petar."

As the silence fell at the entry of a visibly muscle-bound woman brought near silence to the room, and then as she took her seat at the newcomers table, Aila said, "Greetings!  I'm Aila and ... Petar, Liriele, Angus, and Phelan."  Her airy gesture encompassed a tilt toward each as they were named.  She did not immediately ask for a name, as normally Aila's experience was that another was bound to offer it upon having been given names from others.

Marille tugged on her leather studded straps over her shoulder and turned her to the side. "I be drink in mead" The burly woman tossed a silver piece to the lady. Her attention on the room once more. Marille unstrapped her sword from her shoulder and laid both sword and strap upon the table. Her eyes caught the elven man and the eyes of the others before she seemed to look bored.

Phelan takes out a silver coin for her portion of stew and adds, "Ale!"

Her eyes move from the priestess to the new comer at the table. <Perhaps I won't be the only one at the front of the line next time I end up in the thick of things> she muses to herself.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 10:18, Mon 27 Apr 2020.

"who knows in these days. So what made you become a bard?"

"Ah, but I'm not really one, well, not yet.  I just decided to begin in fact.  I know a few things about this and that, and I want to learn a little bit of, well, everything!  In time, the mercy of the good green gods willing, maybe I'll even master some things.  But it all has to start somewhere!"

Her eyes caught the elven man and the eyes of the others before she seemed to look bored.

Petar grins when introduced and allows the impressive lady warrior a moment to compose herself.  After all, traveling was thirsty work and so was talking, so why not quench one thirst before the other starts?

He's not quiet for long, though, as he murmours to Aila conspirationally, "Match-make you say, I'd more say those two're looking keen on taking the short odds in a bar brawl.  Hopefully we're all happy to be in our cups tonight, though!"

Truth told, the Sleeping Owl didn't seem that it was that kind of rowdy place like the Broken Tankard back home.  As the last of the stew and drink disappears, Petar starts thinking on his repertoire.  What tales might these folk be wanting?  Faced with a large crowd, with severe wizards and comely priestesses among them ... he was feeling more than a little pressure to perform.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:11, Mon 27 Apr 2020.