Inn of the Wayward Soul - Pre-Game RP

Isaiah greets you as you enter. Please seat yourself! First ales are on the house!

Lamére was thrilled at the exclamation. She had yet to have any ale, her understanding of the drink made it into something she wasn't particularly interested in spending her hard earned gold on. Free though? Free she liked. She had already unwound her eidolon before entering, it's presence having a negative effect on people, so she dragged herself in by her arms and pulled herself up onto a chair, smiling prettily.

"Free?" He exclaimed. His following laugh was loud and much like a loud bark. "That's what I like to hear!" It was easy to see Tanvas, with a grin on his face, was a human born for battle or for mercenary work. It was in the water, he laughed, smiled, and walked to the counter, headed there to collect the prize he had unknowingly earned. As he came to stand by the smooth wooden counter, dented by the strikes of many-a-flagon-smack, he turned about and leaned back against it trusting the inn-keep enough to turn his back to him. In exchange he got to peer about the busy room. Right away his eyes came across the strangest of being you could find in an inn: A mermaid. Now, Tanvas wasn't much of a thinking man but he knew enough to find this abnormal. The lady herself was a beauty, a wonder to behold. Her hair and eyes matching in their exotic coloring, skin clean as if coming from a bath. He, along with many others were captivated by her, though none dared to approach. But unlike the others, Tanvas had more curiosity than sense and more gall than guile.

Having received a his free ale, he took a swig and made his way over, pushing those who became obstacles calmly but forcibly out of his way to do so. He pulled a chair out and took a seat, not inquiring whether or not he was allowed. The chair creaked lightly as his weight rested upon it and he set his wooden flagon down on the table. He got comfortable and address the lady, either confidence or stark obviousness leaking into his voice. "Not to alarm you or nothing but you seem to be far from the water's edge, miss. Not to say I ain't happy to see you here. You're better looking than most that I've had the fortune to meet... But I can't help wondering what a business a merfolk's got walking about up here." He paused a moment to look at her tail, returning his eyes back at her's, shooting a puzzled look. "How'd you even walk here?" His voice mirrored his look.

Soulan enters the establishment and is immediately taken aback by the barkeep's out burst, but graceously accepts his offer thinking it best to not appear an oddity so soon after his arrival. He takes an ale and looks for the closest available table, somewhere which offers a sufficient amount of shade from the lights. The birthmarks on his face, looking more akin to flesh colored tattoos than birthmarks, often attracted too much unwanted attention. "Do you have anything prepared as a supper or perhaps a menu of some sort?..." He offered no unnecessary information and did whatever he could to manage to ask his question using as few words as possible.

He seemed a bit unbalanced by the man who was more than extatic with the news about the ale as well as attempting to be more than friendly with the oddly propportioned woman...He called her a merfolk...Soulan had never met a mer-person before. And he wasn't immediately intended on doing so now. He simply wanted his meal and to be on his way as soon as he felt there was going to be any unwanted attention. Mostly looking for immediate signs of agression. He avoided any lingering glances at the two as he awaited his answer from the barkeep.

As the man sat without invitation, Lamére slowly raised a delicately curving eyebrow. She wasn't used to people being so forward with her. As he spoke she was plainly amused however. "Isn't it obvious?" she asks with a playful smile, taking her first drink of ale. She visibly cringed as the thick drink slid down her throat, then looked pleasantly surprised as the warm feeling made it to her stomach. One sip and she was already flushed, "I'm exploring, I'm an explorer!" she said a little louder than intended, a grin on her face. She took another drink, cringe-surprise-smile, "As for how I got to my seat, I crawled of course."

Isaiah hands over a small piece of wood with a scroll nailed to it. Special of the day is fish. More precisely, shark. There's also the stew and venison. Anything else, just ask. He goes back to serving the incoming patrons.

"Exploring, huh?" Tanvas leaning back in his chair. To him it was a fine occupation, exploring, having done so himself while travelling the caravan roads. It also made sense that a mermaid would want to explore the land, most having not come out of the water due to obvious reasons... They didn't have legs. Most need legs to travel here. Still she was doing a fine job so far.

But putting that aside, she seemed new to things on land. The way see grimace upon taking to her drink was rather amusing to watch, but she remained confident enough to address him, a armed stranger. He liked her already, grinning in return. Or maybe that was the drinking jitters getting to her. He couldn't know... Tanvas had never drank with mermaid before. Sounded like a song though. "Fine with me, it is. You're gonna be crawling alot if you want to explore everything, y'know. I wish you luck and all the strength in Golarion." Tanvas raised his drink to her, and waited for a clash between them before taking a deep swig.

The door opens to the Inn as a young, red-headed woman in leathers walks in, arms over her head in a stretch. The woman rolls her neck and pops her back, before she drops her arms and arches an eyebrow at the barkeep. "That's good marketing for ya'," she drawls lazily. Starting to head for what appears to be a comfortable seat, Sidryn pauses and blinks. "There.. is a mermaid in the bar," she drawls aloud. Then she blinks again before rolling her shoulders. "You don't see that everyday. I think I'll lake this place," she notes before continuing to a seat, waving her hand for a drink.

Lamére raised her drink in a mirrored salute, knocking her mug against his before taking a quaff a tad too big. She spluttered and coughed for a moment, hand out to signal she was fine, then cleared her throat, flushed but smiling nonetheless. "I appreciate the concern, but I get around just fine. I wish you luck and strength as well. Tell me, what is it you do, Mr....? I don't think I got you name," she realized after a moment, "My name is Lamére Seapearl, and I think I'll have some of that shark." she nodded to Isaiah, rolling her wrist to indicate she wished an audience with him.

A deft hand catches the door before it can close. Damaris strides into the bar, all pomp and purpose. Head arched back, he saunters his way to the bar and slaps the counter upon hearing free ale. "Aha! Yes! I shall take this ale with enthusiasm, good sir!"

His wide grin is feisty and young, brash and wild. As if this weren't enough, his armor and daisho are shiny and undented--this young man had never seen battle, or at the very least his equipment hadn't. A warrior... he had to be a novice at best, or anything but.

Damaris grabs a stool next to the bar, but does not sit. Instead he positions one leg, knee bent and stiff, on the stool's footrest, leaning into the pose. He swipes his flagon and swigs, spilling the dark liquid down his chin. He laughs and wipes his face with the back of his wrist, peering into the bar. Surely one of these souls is in need of a swordarm. Surely one has some deed they need done, with some coin to pay.