Two horsemen ride up to a tavern...

The greater Teydunian countries have lived in peace and harmony for the last 100 years. But tensions are brewing: The Virid Heartlands, a large, prosperous nation has fallen into famine, and the fields of green have turned yellow. Food is not scarce -- yet. But the authorities know that this coming winter will be the hardest one in a century. In a bid for resources, the Heartlands have infringed on the territory of their neighbor nation to the southeast, the Dragoncrest Cape. The Cape, having very little in the way of arable land in the first place, has upped their guard. Soldiers of the two nations have come to blows at the ever-ambiguous border between the once-friendly nations. Many within the Heartlands fear the coming war, knowing that it will mean their sons and daughters will be ripped from their places in the fields to fight. It is the year 1190, on the 40th of Quintum -- the evening of the last day of spring. Despite the tense political situation, the atmosphere at the Fireblade Tavern and Inn is jovial. The farming community surrounding the tavern has survived several orc raids in the last few weeks. People are scared, but confident that they'll survive the attacks. Jovial music spills out beyond the tavern's well-kept exterior. Outside, the main road leads to a stable where horses lazily munch on hay and oats while being tended to by stable hands. A path splits off from the horses up a slight incline to the tavern itself. The sign bears a flaming sword pointed down. Above it, spelled out in Common is the tavern's name in dark, bold letters. The inside of the tavern is well maintained and tended to. The staff hurriedly move from table to table, taking drink and food orders and leaving tankards and plates. A large bar spans one side of the room, and the other, a stage where a troop of minstrels play. Behind the bar, a hulking human man with long grey hair and a beard serves drinks and talks with customers. A similarly aged woman stands on the balcony opposite the stage, keeping watch over the inn with a soft smile on her face. The customers within are beings of all sorts: humans, dwarves, halflings, elves, and many more congregate here to drink and celebrate. Many are adventurers in one form or another. They drink, play games, and converse raucously. The night is young, and the beer is good. The effects of the famine will surely be felt in the coming winter, but for now, there is food for those with coin to buy it.

Thrandimir tokes on a curved wooden pipe and inspects his hand, slowly puffing out rings of smoke from beneath the thick brim of his heavy grey hat. The wizard shifts in his chair, adjusting the rough material of his equally grey robes as he absent-mindedly tugs at stray strands of his long, bushy beard. The aroma of halfling herb weighs heavy on the air, fuzzing the mind and dulling the senses, but the beady, grey eyes that twinkle from beneath behind the cards in Thrandimir's hand are as sharp as ever. He drums his fingers on a gnarled wooden staff as he contemplates his next move. "I'll see the river," the wizard declares to his fellow players. Thrandimir's voice is a warm, resonating baritone.

At the bar a young man sits, drinking from a cup of mead,  the empty plate in front of him an indication of a meal recently devoured. His long black hair is tied up, his skin tanned and healthy. Tall and well built, although more lithe than overly muscled confidence seems to radiate from him, the easy smile he wears given freely to all.  He turns away from the bar, elbows resting on it as he surveys the rest of the tavern and its clientele. He is drawn to a card game, which he is fairly sure he knows, a bearded man calls for another card in between pulls on his pipe, as Kaed reaches for his mead and sips his drink wondering who will win, and what sort of money is involved. He feels the sabre at his hip as he moves, remembering another card game, one that didn't end pleasantly, the man who had owned the blade then being caught with an extra card and the melee that followed. Well, that was all behind him now and he was a wonderful blade better off after all, and it had only cost him a night in the cells. A bargain really... He touches the carved pommel, his long, strong fingers feeling every detail of the wolf's head that some talented artisan had created as he squinted trying to see who would win the hand.

Ascian sits hunched over his cards, the protrusion of his spine evident through the worn fabric of his cloak. He's fragile to a point of gauntness, and pale eyes too large for such a thin face dart around the circle of players, settling briefly on the older man in grey robes as he speaks. It isn't the first game Ascian has played with him, and he considers him for a long moment, then again the state of his own hand. Passing a palm agitatedly over the shock of unkempt white-blond hair that too frequently obscures his face, he thinks of how long it's been since he'd last eaten and decides it might be worth it. Still staring at his hand, he pushes a thought towards Thrandimir's consciousness and reluctantly opens his own to a potential reply, should the man accept it. Agree to split the pot, and I'll tell you what the one to my right's cards are.

An elf with shockingly colorful hair had also been sitting at the bar, clad in rather basic armor and a cloak, her padded coif hanging from her side as she slowly sipped on some mead. Establishments like this had a reputation for bringing strong wandering types along, and she was very familiar with this place. It was always a holdout whenever a raid happened by, and despite its looks was a rather defensible position. She herself was taking some time to relax...or, she should have been, but instead was using her off time to get a read of the room, maybe talk a few into joining up with the local militia, like her. The smoking wizard might be a good hire, but he's obviously busy, it'd be rude to interrupt an ongoing game. Making a bad first impression would be a bad idea. The skeleton with the pale eyes? That was a new sight. Someone so starved playing a game like that? She'd need to catch him before he left, get him some actual food, maybe some help. Her gaze floated over to the young lad with the saber. They didn't seem to be in the middle of something and they were at minimum another warm body to throw at the problem. The elf moved over a few stools, sitting next to the young man at the bar. "Hey there, stranger. What brings a capable young lad like you to The Fireblade Tavern? Wandering the world to see its wonders? Looking to make your fortune?" She took a swig of her mead. "Or just enjoying the atmosphere and drink?" She shot him a cheerful looking smile. "If you're willing to hear me out there might be some coin and another drink in it for you."

Amid the hustle and bustle of the busy tavern patrons, many would be hard-pressed to notice the door gently get eased open, slowly pushed with the delicate touch of a large hand. The leather-lined glove it wears traces up to a puffy, teal-toned tunic that unfurls at the shoulders into a hood of snowy fur and plumage. The looming figure stands for a moment in the doorway, his lumbering form filling almost the entirety of the door frame, before ducking his head slightly to allow the passage of the twin antlers that adorn his thick, wavy hair.  As slowly as he opened it, Callahan delicately closes the door behind him as he steps past the threshold. Exhaling a sigh of relief as he begins to pull the gloves from his hands, exposing the light blue skin beneath, he strides forth into the heart of the tavern. Around him, the joyful rings of laughter and song swell louder, bringing with them a sense of comfort and ease he has hasn't felt since stepping off the gangplank for the last time all those weeks ago. Looking around at the amusing cavalcade of characters before him, his eyes settle on the one thing he's been awaiting the most since he first caught wind of the place from a farm an hour or so back: the bar. Plodding towards it with a small pep in his step, he takes a seat next to a rather young-looking elven maiden with a surprisingly colorful mane atop her head who was facing another man down the line at the bar. Taking a seat, Callahan rubs his hands together with excitement and with an eagerness peeking through his normally monotonous voice calls to the barman: " A milk and a mead if you please, sir! " He beams at the man, his eyes softly closed, before turning to watch the scenes around him: the vibrantly-haired woman, the gaunt young man playing cards and the wizened old one across from him sporting a sturdy-looking pipe. A single thought enters his mind: Perfect.  

The barman raises a grey eyebrow at the request, but after a beat, moves to fulfill it, and sets down a tankard of mead and a clay cup of milk in front of the firbolg. He speaks, his voice a moderately deep tone and scratchy, but still easily heard over the music and din. "Mead's 4 copper. Milk's harder to keep fresh, so it's a silver." He taps one of his fingers on the bar with a heavy thunk, and moves down the bar to help another customer. "Leave it there, I'll pick it up."

"Oh!"  Callahan quickly fumbles for the coin pouch in his bag, hurriedly pushing aside the various tools and supplies he'd neatly packed in again just earlier that morning. As he pulls the pouch from within, it jingles with the recognizable clang of coins. Placing the asked-for amount on the counter before him, he gives a hearty, "Thank you kindly!"  to the fellow and focuses down on his drinks. Taking the cup in one hand and steadying the tankard with the other, he carefully pours the milk in with the mead, doing his best to allow the contents to settle before taking swishing the mug around a bit to mix up the concoction more. Satisfied with the results, he takes a long sip, gulping down over half the tankard before placing it back on the counter and sighing contently.  "Milk's good, definitely worth the extra coin!"  He flashes another smile to the barman and then settles back down in his seat, turning once more to watch the ongoing card game with interest.

Thrandimir's eyes sparkle at Ascian's telepathic revelation and the wizard lowers his pipe to cough while he weighs his options. He could win this bout with or without the pale man's help - in the end, his cards were whatever he wanted them to be. New friends never hurt in a place like this though. Maybe next time, he thinks back at the Kalashtar, too late to fold now anyway. "Showdown, boys," Thrandimir calls to those still in the running. "Four-of-a-kind," he declares smugly, laying a pair of drakes down to match the two in the river.

The cards come down. Four sets, for four players: Thrandimir, Ascian, a rotund human who seems to be somewhat allergic to the pipeweed smoke drifting on the air, and a gold-scaled dragonborn. The rotund human throws down his cards, coughing. "Damn you, old m- HACK HACK HACK- "  He recovers, takes a deep breath, and waddles away, excusing himself. The dragonborn simply lays down his cards with a heavy sigh, and nods to Thrandimir. "Well played."  The dragonborn, having been the dealer for that hand, pulls the cards back towards him and stacking them neatly into a pile and passes them to the player to his left, Ascian. He then excuses himself to go get another drink, returning after he's refreshed his beverage. The game pot goes to Thrandimir, a grand total of one gold piece, seven silver, and 12 copper.

Kou sits at the bar, using a piece of hard bread to mop up the last bit of the stew he ordered. He preferred simple meals, as he finishes the last bite a memory of his former master pops into his head. It was one of Kou's first times outside the Citadel. They were serving as healers in a small village that had been struck by disaster, and grateful family had invited them to dinner in thanks for their efforts. The meal was very meager especially to the comparably lavish style he had grown accustomed to in the Citadel. But he noticed his master was devouring his food and nearly beaming with joy. After they finished his master said  "One cannot be a servant of the people, without knowing them. And one of the best way to learn about a group was to sit at their table and eat as they do".   He sadly smiles at the memory and takes a heavy draw from his mug of brown ale, one of the few extravagances he indulged in. Thinking " If only everyone in the Citadel shared your sensibilities, but they are blinded by their status".  Kou shifts in his stool gazing around the bar noticing the card game appears to be coming to an end. He notices Thrandimir confidently lay down his cards, and be announced the winner. Shaking off some of his melancholy Kou grabs his mug and stands, walking across the room to the card tables. He moves like water through the crowds, moving very gracefully for a man of his size. He travels lightly only carrying his backpack, and a short sword strapped across his back. He is a tall man with lean muscle and silvery eyes, he is dressed in a simple traveling cloak and a grey tunic and pants.  He then walks up to the bearded man and smiles and says "Well played! It seems fortune smiles upon you again."

Ascian stares down at the cards in confusion, and it's only then that the old man's words come to him as if from very far away. I'll see the river.  But no, that can't be right, it's not poker they're playing, is it? It's Drakes & Towers. The tavern light is slanting at an angle and the lute in the song is playing that chord and the traveler that just passed them is wearing a green cloak which means it's Drakes & Towers, it has to be, and the one to his right was meant to have two off-suite and – but no, they're a dragonborn, that's not right, it's a halfling, it – "Congratulations."  He looks dizzily at his hand, now empty of the nonsense he'd splayed on the table, to the ring that sits on one finger. Swallowing back bile, he twists it once, focusing on the metal against his skin, before picking up the cards and beginning to shuffle. He avoids the older man's eyes as the cards flash through his fingers. Stupid, so stupid. His expression is bleary when he looks from the returned dragonborn to Kou and gives a stilted nod toward Thrandimir.  "Are you joining? We need more players if he wants to keep winning anything worthwhile."

As Thrandimir collects his winnings, a voice floats into the back of his mind -- not Ascian's voice, but a different one. Silky, proper, and female.  "One of these times, someone's going to notice your casting and I'll have to throw you out. And that would be dreadfully disappointing, because you're so entertaining to watch..."

Thrandimir chuckles to himself as he gathers the pot of coins. Good evening, Marianne,  the wizard murmurs under his breath, knowing that only the landlady of the Fireblade Tavern can hear him. I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying yourself. It seems that you're not the only telepath in your inn tonight... "Oh, I assure you, the pleasure was mine ," the old man tells Ascian with a crooked smirk. "What about that one?" Thrandimir suggests, nodding in the direction of the enthusiastic Firbolg. "He looks like he's enjoying himself." The wizard turns to see a familiar face appear at his side and offers Kou a warm handshake in greeting. "Good to see you too, Kou! Glad you could make it. Do you know the big one by the bar?" "Hey, milk drinker!" Thrandimir calls over with a good-natured laugh. "Fancy a game of Low-Karn Hold 'em?"

Dark eyes fixing on the elven woman Kaed smiels and laughs, "You have a fortune to hand,  do you? Pray, tell me more, I am certainly keen on finding one of those." He looks into his own cup, drains it in one pull and then looks back into the cup and then to the woman. "It also appears I am in need of a drink so I will be happy to hear your tale. My name is Kaed by the way, who might you be, lady?

It had been quite entertaining to see the old man in the lengthy grey hat win that last hand. The scene took him back to the many long nights aboard the  Dawn  - nearly the whole of the crew huddled together around that rickety old oaken table to watch a varying cadre of crewmates throw in a week's worth of coin on mead and cards.  Oh and the time Venskier won out on a final last-ditch hand after losing for hours straight and the lot of them hollered so loudly they woke the Captain who stormed down in a huff from his quarters and oh boy the look on Da-" The laugh of the old man snapped him out of his reminiscing. He was staring straight towards the table still but had lapsed out of it for a moment, and the lot of them were staring at him for some reason.  They want me to join? "Do- do you mean me Sir? Sure if that is alright with all of you. I'm not much of a cardshark but I'd be happy to give it a shot if you're willing to go easy on me a bit!"  Milkmead in hand and sheepish grin on his face, Callahan eagerly stood up from the bar and meandered his way over, taking a seat next to the pale-faced lad.  "Alright so how much would be an appropriate buy-in?"

"Why don't we start with a silver piece?" Thrandimir reassures the Firbolg gently. "What's your name, friend?"

Fishing a silver from his coin pouch and sliding it forward along the table, he nods towards the man, "Callahan, mister." He reaches out a hand, "Callahan Stardust."

"You sir, can call me Erika."  The elf snapped her fingers, causing a spectral hand to draw four copper from a pouch on her waist, setting them on the bar. She turned towards the barman.  "Na'arik, another round of mead for this lad."  She then turned to face Kaed. "Not quite a fortune, mind you. Just some coin and maybe some spoils. The local village has had an unfortunate time with orcs that won't take a hint." She took a moment to let out a tired sigh. "Once a week every week they show up, the people gather their spears and hold them off, I put a few to sleep, light others on fire, and they're gone. I've been wanting to put together a scouting party of people who know how to do more than defend a position and see how many they have, then set up a raiding party, and hopefully scatter them." Erika turned a final time so she was facing away from the bar and towards the growing card game. If something started she wanted to be ready. "Sound like something you'd be interested in?"

"Thrandimir, the great and powerful," the wizard replies, shaking Callahan firmly by the offered hand. "Ash, would you care to deal? " He asks, tossing his own silver in to the middle as he hands the pale man the cards.

Ascian raises a thin, barely-there eyebrow but shuffles with quick, practiced hands. "Low-Karn Hold'em," he repeats intently, as he deals four cards to each gathered at the table. Only when they're dealt out does he slide his own initial silver into the center. "Callahan Stardust - your bet."

Kou smiles and shakes Thrandimir's hand, and says   " I will play a hand or two, though I must say it is against my better judgement with this one at the table." Clapping Thrandmir on the back as   he fishes a few silver coins out of his pocket. He throws a coin into the pot and says "Luck often smiles on Thrandimir" He pauses and adds with a sincere smile   "Even if humility may not." Despite his ostentatious nature Kou enjoys the Wizard. He was a welcome distraction from the question that has been plaguing Kou. What to do next, now that he is on his own.  He looks at the Firbolg and gives a short bow and says  " My name is Kou Shin it is nice to meet you Callahan." He then lifts his cards and takes a look at his hand.

Katrin's eyes flutter awake. She takes a deep breath and gives a contented sigh. A quiet, melodic voice reaches her ears. "That was fun." Katrin smiles, and turns to her side, looking at the woman laying next to her. If only things could stay this way, just a little longer . But she had already been in the Fireblade four days longer than she had planned, and she was due home in a few months. Katrin pulls a hand through her hair.  "I have to leave in a few days." A few more days, what could it hurt. "But I'll see you in a few months. There's some family business I have to see to." She looks Rose earnestly in the face. "I hate leaving. Wait for me?"  Rose leans up and plants a kiss on her cheek. "Of course I'll wait." Rose strokes her cheek. "My Kit Kat." Rose sits up, pulling on her robe she had tossed to the floor earlier. "Dad's turning 55 tomorrow. Come by for dinner?"  Katrin sits up, her long blond hair somewhat falling in her face. She shakes it out of her eyes. "Eh, sure why not. Another chance to impress your dad. I wouldn't miss that for the world." She grins as she steps over to the wash basin. She can see Rose in the reflection. "Babe, will you braid my hair? I'd do it myself, but since you're here....." Katrin trails off, looking over her shoulder. Rose shakes her head, laughing.  "Alright. But don't get mad at me if I pull it. You asked for it." Rose works through Katrin's blond hair with a comb, separating it and braiding it back from her face. It's an intricate hair style, one that Katrin's mother taught her. "We are the guardians of the forge. When you wear this, you will be close to us, no matter how far you roam."  Once her hair is done, Katrin sets about putting her clothes and armor back on, a ritualistic process, passed down through her family for generations. Rose helps her with the chainmail shirt. Katrin never went anywhere without her armor. She belts the shirt and the long blue tunic it's over, slipping the sheath for her sword onto it as she does so. She sheathes the blade, and drops in her hammer on a loop on the other side. She and Rose share a long kiss, and then leave the room hand in hand. Once they reach the balcony stairs down to the main tavern floor, Rose wraps her arms around Katrin. "I've got to go home. Mother will be starting to worry. I'll see you tomorrow, Kit Kat." Rose takes off down the stairs, through the crowd and out the door.  "Love you too," Katrin says softly, watching the tavern door close.      

Callahan gives a nod to the pale-faced boy Thrandimir called “Ash” and the muscular man who’d just introduced himself as Kou, “Pleasure to meet you all. Are you all friends?” He looks down at the cards before him and lifts them up to his face, studying them intently for a moment. “Oh wow I like these cards, very nice looking.” Fishing out a handful of coins, he throws another two silver pieces onto the table. “I hope that’s okay an amount, I haven’t played a card game in a mighty long time,”  he turns to Kou next to him and with an earnest smile says,  “Alright buddy I suppose it’s your turn. How are your cards?”

Na'arik grabs an empty mug from the shelf behind him and fills it with mead. He sets it down next to Kaed and takes Erika's silver pieces and drops them into a pouch on his apron, but stays at the bar next to the pair. "Thinking of putting together a party to hunt down those bastards?" he asks. "I can think of a few farmers that would be grateful if you figured out where they're coming from. Woulda done it myself, but for...well..." He trails off. "Let me know who you find to join you, Erika. I can help make it worth their while." Up on the balcony, the older woman turns to the dwarf who is still staring at the door. Her long black dress shifts with her, never catching underfoot, never for a moment looking out of place. "Miss Katrin," she says, her voice soft, an attempt not to break the dwarf's apparent reverie. "How many more nights will you be staying with us?"

Kou glances at his cards and lazily throws in two coins to match the bet. He had little use for money, but enjoyed the competition. His master often used card games as a training device. Teaching Kou to spot even the slightest changes in an opponents body language and demeanor. Skills that are just as instrumental to martial arts as they are to a game of Hold'em.  He nods towards Thrandimir and said "We met along the road, Thrandimir's exuberance  was a welcome distraction during the journey. The others are strangers to me as well, though I do hope that will change before the night ends." He takes another look at his cards and then scans the table hoping to gain some clarity on how the others hands were stacking up. He adds with a chuckle "Though your coin purses may be a bit lighter" Looking back to Callahan he asks "What brings you here?"

The Firbolg’s brow furrows a bit as he seems to ponder the question a moment, looking down towards the growing pile of coins in the center of the table. After a monent his head tilts back towards the man, eyes softening once more as he smiles proudly. ”Haven’t the faintest clue!”  He laughs, the sound at once booming as it is gently melodious,  “Wonderful thing, isn’t it? I walked and walked and now I’m here, but for what and why I have no idea.”  Callahan looks to Thrandimir, awaiting the next bet,  “And yourselves?”

Thrandimir laughs along with Callahan, tossing another couple of silver into the pot to match the bet. "Just travelling. The Vivid Heartlands are beautiful at this time of year."

"Oh, it most certainly does! And you have chosen the right man for the job, I will help you find and fight these raiders and send them running back in terror to their holes if my blade doesn't end them first." Kaed looks ready to start immediately, hunger in his eyes indicating his thirst for battle. " Will you be looking for many more folk to join you?" He asks joining her in looking out across the bar "Clearly it made sense to start with me, but do any of these folk catch your eye?" He holds the still empty cup lightly in his hand as he ponders the crowd playing cards, the back of his hand covered in an intricate tattoo of a tribal nature, the pattern running up his forearm to his elbow, crossing itself and weaving around his well-muscled arm, the black ink creating an interesting pattern that seems to indicate shadow and light. He nods in thanks as his drink arrives and pays attention to the words of the bar keep a smile forming again. 

The gold-scaled dragonborn tosses 2 silver into the pot as well, looking curious.

Ascian pulls out two silver and drops them onto the table as well. "I'm searching for a mage,"  he says tonelessly in answer to Callahan's question, swiftly flipping three cards for the flop in the center of the table. Grey eyes focus back on the huge man. "Are you still in?"

As the round makes its way back to him, Callahan looks from the lad to the cards and back at his hand. Then to his coin pouch. Then to his hand. Then to the pot. Then up to the rest of the table. "So I just keep putting money in now, right?"  He thumbs another couple of silver from his pouch and gently places them in the pot. 

The round goes on, with the dragonborn raising Callahan's bet of two silver by an additional one. The pot contains 30 silver. Ascian flips over one more card -- a six of helms.

"Yes,"  Ascian replies in a deadpan. "Don't forget to tip the dealer."

"Ha,"  Callahan chuckles slightly at Ascian, patting him lightly on the back, "You're a funny one, I almost believed you for a moment there. I don't think that's an actual rule though. But you're doing a wonderful job there and look like you could use a good meal after this, so I don't mind throwin' ya a coin for yer troubles." He takes an extra silver from the pouch and places it on the table in front of the boy, before taking an extra 4 silver out of his pouch and pushing the quartet of coins towards the center once more. "Way I see it though we bet one more each time so I figure I oughta keep the pattern going." He gives a broad smile to the group and nods along with himself, "In my experience nothing bad's ever come outta a pattern."

"Oh – thanks." He's taken off-guard by the silver, not having expected that to actually yield a result - but pockets it quickly before Callahan can change his mind.

Katrin folds her arms in front of her, and turns to Marianne. "Truth be told, I don't know. At least another day or so." She ponders that statement. If it were up to her, she would never have left, settled down with Rose, lived a simple life. But that wasn't possible. Something was calling her, and she knew she had to keep moving until she found it. By Tempus, I'll find it. And I will come back. She looks back out over the tavern floor. "I need a drink." She descends the stairs, and walks over to the bar. She puts a silver piece on the counter, lifting a hand to get Na'arik's attention. The bar was almost too high up for a person of her size. Spying a stool nearby, she pulls it over, and shifts herself onto it. Because of the positioning of her hammer on her belt, it's a little awkward to watch her sit. She doesn't care. She had stopped caring a long time ago. "A fireblade. Maybe some bread as well." She shifts around so her back is leaning against the bar, casting an eye over the busy tavern. Hold on. Is that...? And it was. The wizard with the ridiculous beard and floppy hat, leaning back in his chair, satisfyingly puffing on his pipe. What was his name? She'd only met him a few times, and what times those were. She'd lost a few too many card games to that man. There was a reason she didn't gamble anymore. She remembered liking him. Perhaps it was time to remake that acquaintance.         

"Thank you, Na'arik ." Erkia laughed a little under her breath, finishing off her own mead and setting the mug down at the bar. "I like your enthusiasm, Kaed. It'll be good for morale if things end up going south. As for other people who have caught my eye, well..." Erika gestured to the currently ongoing Low-Karn Hold 'em game. "Honestly most of them seem to be the adventuring type. I'd go talk to them but they're in the middle of Low-Karn Hold 'em, but it'd be rude to interrupt." She set 4 silver pieces on the bar behind her. "A hot meal, please. For the pale, emaciated looking man at the card table." Erika gave a little goodbye wave to Kaed as she stood up. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Taking her trident with her, she walked over to the card table, patiently waiting for them to finish their current game.

Na'arik pulls a mug of Fireblade Brew, a spicy-scented ale for Katrin and calls through the open kitchen door for meat and potatoes.

Another round rolls around the table to Thrandimir. The monk calls the Firbolg's bet and slowly, but surely, the pile of silver in the middle grows. The wizard eyes the amounting silver with the same beady stare as ever. Perhaps this wasn't a round to throw after all. He pauses and chews on the end of his pipe as he opens his mind to the pale man across from him. Alright Ash, let's hear it, what've they got?

He pointedly considers his cards as the wizard's warm voice drifts into his mind. That depends on what you do.

Whatever I like, Thrandimir retorts with a mischievous grin.

Kaed nods at Erika, as she moves away and then settles back to watch the game, whole he had been talking the pot had risen a fair bit, worth winning for sure. He looked across the table, mone of the players looked physically intimidating but young as he was the tribesmen know better than to judge people by the obvious strength of their arm. Especially in a place such as this where adventurers of all types converged. It could be that even the scrawny young man had mighty powers, who knew? He thought back to his own clan, a strong and powerful people, Kaed had possessed less muscle and raw strength than most of the other men who vied for the greatest status but his lightning reflexes and skill on a horse had been second to none, if only his temper had been a little longer...

You're fun at parties , he remarks absently. Bet. Has to get to me first.

"Show the old man the river," Thrandimir chuckles aloud, tossing another four silver on the pile as he fumbles with his tinderbox and his pipe.

He waits for the dragonborn to call before muttering  "I'm out," tossing his cards facedown on the table and flipping the river. Standing unceremoniously, he drifts past the circle to head towards the bar. The blue one has a wyrm. Your friend has a three. I had a pair of wyverns, an eight, and a wyrm.   Dinner's on you.

Suit matters, you know, Thrandimir thinks back with a roll of his eyes. He puffs heartily on his pipe and a new wave of smoke spreads amongst the players at the table. "Callahan?"

Wyverns of tower and helm. 8 of swords. Wyrm of towers, he replies absently. Next time ask before   I deal. He takes an empty mug someone had left on one of the corner tables to be collected before winding his way back through the patrons to the circle. Curving around them towards his seat, he glances at their hands with a bored expression, though most of the cards are covered. Sitting back down, he raises it to his lips and fakes a long drink, so that when he sets the tankard down in front of him it's predictably empty. Dragonborn's got a flush. Lot of helms. "Whose bet are you on?"

Callahan looks at Thrandimir, the smoke billowing thick in a cloud around the table. He sputtered out a cough and waved a large blue hand through it, dissipating as much as he could. “Hey Mr. Thrandimir that's a mighty powerful pipe ya got there, huh?”  He nods towards the old man, smoke billowing from the pipe's end, “Anyway my counting could be wrong but I think it's mine, yeah?” His warm smile returns as he starts to fumble through his coin pouch once more. Holding a small stack of 5 silver up to the table, he turns to Kou,  "Do we keep putting money down now that all the cards are out there on the table like that?"