The Tiny Tavern

A gnome dressed fancy and colorful wearing ton of costume jewelry enters the tavern. It soon becomes obvious that dress is all worn out and jewelry cheap. Gnome don't seem shy about the fact and requests a drink paying in copper. Anyone hear about adventurer rescue mission? he asks how it comes adventurers are not eager to save adventurers - who knows when will your own luck turn away? Tragim makes a pause before making a money sign and suggesting the obvious conclusion - rescue mission doesn't seem worth the money and money is the the only motivation adventurers have nowadays

Tragim jokes back that Branric as bartender shouldn't be too happy about the empty chairs. He
Gnome try to sound modest in his desires: I just want to find some friends.. He muses that pulling these new friends out of the pit should be an option. But slowly his topic drifts As my grandfather used to say - fortune is sticky. indirectly and through nice words gnome explains that he would prefer to find friends who are either smart, cunning or just lucky enough to have a better carrier.

Zyra had spent the last ten days recovering from her last adventure. She had secured lodging on a month to month basis a streets away and Branric has send a note saying his companion from the Forge was to meet with her later than evening. Thinking it was time for a treat, she arrived just before the super rush to find a secluded booth in the Tiny Tavern that offered a little more privacy for his conversation with Orryn.

She sits back waving to Branric and orders a meal and some ale from the barmaid. She settles in and waits.

Orryn shouldered his way through the entrance of the tiny tavern. Juggling the swing of the door with his feet as he carried a long object swathed in roughspun cloth. Turning around to regard the state of the tavern, he catches the barmaster's gaze with a nod and grin.

"Well met! As ye can see barmaster. I faired a bit better than the last. Here on business, in fact. Happen to have seen–"

He perked up at the sight of his quarry, sat alone in a secluded corner.

"Cancel that, I found her! A round of the dark an' brooding for the table over there. For yerself as well. Tradition, wasn't it?"

He winked as he hurried over to Zyra's table and plonked himself opposite her. Laying the package across the table.

"Good to see ye, Zyra! How has the tenday been treatin' ya?"

A warm smile wrinkled dark rimmed eyes. A subtle sign of fatigue counter to the cheery mood he carried.

"Ye look good! Far better than the cuts an' bruises from when we met!"

Zyra return the smile with a dopy grin of her own, Orryn's aura of optimism infectious as always.

It's been a relaxing tenday, had a chance to heal and fatten up. Looks like the masters haven't given you much time to sleep. Are they treating you well Orryn?

Orryn removed his hat and rubbed at the corner of his eye as if to smoothen it out.

"That obvious, eh? Suppose I might have burned the midnight oil a few nights more than necessary. The startup was as hectic as one might expect. Some of it less dramatic. Running a broom an' that sort of thing. But I aimed to learn as much as I could. Sleepin' would eat into critical work. Besides, had my own projects to work on as well."

He leaned in, flicking his gaze to the cloth covered pack as an edge of growing excitement pulled tight a knowing smile.

"Had a hand in makin' yer compensation as well! Surely yer curious to see it. Go ahead, have a look!"

Well your input is a welcome surprise. Zyra unwraps the Iklwa revealing the long leaf shaped head, the short shaft wrapped in worked leather and feels the perfect balance of the piece... This is fine work. I thank you and master Grusk. If his wears are 1/2 this good, he will make a fortune in that forge.

Zyra looks about and leans in to whisper to Orryn, Are you up for another job? Similar to the one we just completed but we might be able to come out as the owners of a apothecary shop... She leans back and slides the notice over to Orryn.

Orryn took up the slip, brow furrowed as he wordlessly intoned the short advert. A shop of his own, and so soon? What forces pulled the strings of his life so readily?

He set the notice down as he leaned back and picked as his beard. His eyes searched hers, taking measure in new lighting.

"Well now. Had no idea ye were wantin' to get into the business. I won't pretend my interest isn't piqued. But what's in this for yerself?"

Tragim looked at the strange pair and waited for their conversation to finish before approaching, trying to read both of them.
Zyra, Orryn? his voice suggests he is not sure, but he joins the table without invitation and start talking to the pair selling them the idea that they want Tragim in their party. Not everything of what he say is truth but not a complete lie either (or at least that's something he want o believe in)

To Orryn: I'm not actually interested in the specific business. But I do need a permanent place to live that isn't a "bad job" away from being back in the streets. I have the connections to help us avoid trouble with the faceless lords, I could help you with the books and still have time for adventures and other odd jobs. If we position it right with the heiress, we could buy it off her overtime. It would give us time to clean up the shop, get a steady income stream and with money, we can make more money...Just as Zyra finishes, another Gnome walks up to their booth, and Zyra looks over to Orryn with a look on her face: "do you know him?"

Orryn considered Zyra's words, direct and to the point. No upsale or promises of grandeur. Just a place to call home and a stream of income. He could work with that.

"If we can pull it off. I could have use of someone to mind the front. Making things is a time involved process. When I'm busy, an' I assure you I would be. Ye can put those charms to use directin' sales. If that's agreeable, then I accept the potential partnership!"

A new face barged into their negotiation. Plonked down same as one would a friend. Yet this one he had not come across. From Zyra's face and query, neither had she. Orryn shook his head.

"No, we are just now meeting. Bold, I will grant ye that. If ye want my interest, fetch us the drinks I ordered. The dark, bitter stuff. Do that, an' I'll hear the rest of what ye have to offer."

Branric is such a wonderful at his job we certainly don't want him to feel ashamed by me doing his job and fetching the drinks ordered. gnome announce in voice that suggests he is deeply invested in Branric well-being. He then asks to forgive him - he "always forget his city people aren't exited about guests" and excuse himself, reminding that - should you change your mind - he is more than willing to add his talents to your party success: the natural forest gnome magic as well as "experience in investigation, acquisition".

"True, but sometimes it is best to handle problems personally, eh?"

Orryn hops up to fetch the drinks. Bringing back two mugs of inky black brew. Setting one down for Zyra before finding his seat again.

"Bound to happen. Lots lookin' for work. But extra hands might mean extra bids on the property. Before I start any new endeavor. I like to remind myself of the dark, bitter world we toil through. It actually starts to taste pretty good after a while. Said I'd get ye one of my favorites. So, question is. Can ye handle it?"

He lifts his mug with a wink before beginning to down it's contents.

With unjustified bravado, Zyra raises her mug in salute, then takes a deep swallow...Coughing and sputtering, she lowers the mug of bitter ale to the table and says: Orryn, if this is the dark world you walk in, I may have to rethink this partnership!

Zyra gives Orryn a big grin, then winces as she downs another sip... The rest of this drink, she nurses until they leave the tavern.

As the evening settles over Waterdeep, you both step out from the warm, noisy embrace of the tavern and into the bustle of the Dock Ward. The sky is painted with streaks of orange and deepening blue, and, around you, merchants close their stalls, children scurry through alleys, and seagulls argue overhead in the failing light.

Navigating the worn cobbles, the two of you soon arrive at the Yawning Portal. A young woman sits there, fidgeting with a ring of brass keys. She rises as you approach, eyes cautious but clearly relieved to see someone has answered her flyer.

Her name is Marisa Vale.