The Green Dragon Inn is the most popular and the biggest tavern in the Free City. Travelers from all over the Flanaes find it a comfortable stop in their travels and a place to find both jobs and helping hands. Be it legitimate business travel, or shady deals, everybody has a place in the Inn.


Time to start, make an introduction and get acquainted with each other.

Lady Yesgrace was sitting with the best wine in the house and what served as this place's best pastry.

It was about three social levels lower than what she was was used to, but she'd been living on whatever she could shoot or pick off a tree for the past few months, so she'd eaten it with a remarkable gusto that her childhood tutors would have been horrified over, along with a nice tasty fish dish with a bit of saffron.

She really wanted to find a tailor of course, but that would take time. And there was a job. A job she didn't REALLY need to do now that she was back in what most would consider "civilization".

But at the end of the day, despite her complaints.. she just wasn't ready to step off the road yet. She might hate the food, and she'd kill for a really good pot of tea and a few tea cakes, but at the end of the day, she was starting to admit that she liked this lifestyle.

Though her duties were calling her home, she just felt like she couldn't do it yet.

So, maybe the best thing was a quick and easy job with no complications to get it out of her system. At least, she could earn enough money that she could at least travel back to her home in style and on her own terms rather than the wandering wastrel she no doubt resembled. Her sisters would NEVER let her forget if she came home looking as she did. At the very least she could get her dress repaired and buy some more jewelry to replace what she'd turned into sling bullets.

Normally Friedhelm would steer clear of a place like the Green Dragon Inn, it had a history as a place dockworkers from the river gathered and drank. It had historically been notoriously lax about carried weapons and brawling. A man of his lineage ordinarily wouldn't entertain such rough accommodations even this far from Sterich there would be options. Greyhawk city was a vulgar oligarchy ruled by common folk masters of trade guilds. But still a minor Sterich noble was interesting enough to impose on the hospitality of a merchant house if only to help foster connections that could commute into a trade deals with someone actually important. Normally Friedhelm would have no trouble finding someone happy to host him for a night, but the Green Dragon wasn't just a dockworker's bar.
The Green Dragon had a reputation for being the place treasure hunters gathered between expeditions to the treasure laden ruins and dungeons of the past like the infamous Castle Greyhawk.
Knowing he was out of place Friedhelm stood tall hoping that the rough crowds would take note and be wary of his massive size and heavy crossbow rather than think him a mark for his fine clothing. He walked with cautious confidence to the Bar and beckoned the bar keeper.
"I would like to open a tab, Friedhelm." He reach under his traveling cloak and drew out five golden griffons, the coin of Sterich, which was roughly equal in worth to the golden coin called the orb issued by the Free City of Greyhawk. It was enough money for a room and a heavy night of drinking, or a room light drinks and several meals, but it was an unspoken declaration he had the intention to spend enough custom the inconvenience of the gold having been stamped by the wrong state might be forgiven.
"I'll start with a cup of whiskey if I may." He said gregariously looking for space at a table he might claim for himself.

Lady Yesgrace looked over (and up) at the tall human and motioned him over. Her face had that haughty look of a noble, even if it was rather dirty and scar marked. Her clothes were a mismatch of patches, though someone who knew tailoring might identify that the garment was made up of silk underneath the brambles, patches and mud.

"Sir, forgive my forwardness, but I am somewhat desperate for the good company of a noble peer.

I've not had the pleasure of an intelligent conversation in some time, particularly amongst my social peers.

Her tone changed and became a bit quieter and less refined, though she could not hope to whisper to the man with his face more than three feet above hers.


Also, you may wish to sit with your back to a wall after flashing those five griffons.

The massive man though unstartled cycled through surprise and concern and settled on cautious skepticism. Still once his drink was served he followed the relatively tiny woman to find a seat. "While that would buy a goodly serving of rough ale, it is not so large a sum compared to the price of a room. Besides they are meant to notice the coin spent, I am hoping to start hearing rumours and theories on obtaining the buried treasures left by the great Zagyg Yragenre¹. Is that not how it is done? Exchanging drink for information about caches of the buried treasures. I am certain we haven't been introduced. I am Friedhelm fourth born son of Lord Fitela². And as you may surmise I am an aspiring treasure hunter."

OOC
13:01, Today: Friedhelm Fitela rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Knowledge nobility.

1: Lord mayor of Greyhawk long ago now a minor demigod. Said to have hidden countless wealth in a nearby dungeon. Name happens to be pretty close to Ernest Gary Gygax backwards. The original creator of Greyhawk and D&D.

2: Proper way to refer to a Baron in this context. This implies Friedhelm's proper salutation is Mr. Fitela and he's an extremely unimportant noble.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:18, Wed 23 June 2021.

The inn was at about half its capacity. Many common people were out for lunch, but a few notable individuals popped out. In particular three individuals were playing cards at a table and arguing intensely. One of them looked like an angry scholar, she was practically over the table, not caring that the half-orc man in front of her was twice her size. The other one at the table was a gnomish woman wearing gaudy clothing and excessive cheap jewelry who spectated the scene with a suppressed snicker.

A local militia man sat by the bar with a disinterested expression. He was staring at the void in front of him motionlessly, only moving to fetch his glass with what remained of his right hand and take a drink.

A very ugly and heavily scarred soldier was dancing merrily with a particularly pretty half-elven maiden. They were fairly close, but anybody paying close attention could notice she was eyeing her surroundings from time to time.