Into the Mists: Chapter 1
Nondescript Tavern:
Just barely within the city limits of Baldur's Gate, this tavern seems to be a pleasant stay away from the hustle and bustle of the city proper. Despite its nondescript exterior, not even having a sign out front, it seems to be fairly well decorated inside with trophies and exotic baubles from all over. A gaping wolf's head sits above the mantle of the roaring fireplace; below a massive pelt is sprawled across the floor, far larger than any regular beast. To the side a small noticeboard lays dusty in the corner, with small requests and boars hunting quests going mostly unnoticed as dusk approaches in the distance.
A tanned middle-aged human woman wipes down the bar, her plain looking attire and stature almost blending into the scenery. She sighs, wiping down a glass as she glanced out one of the windows.
"What's going on out there, Vanya?" A petite half-drow sitting at the bar tilts her head curiously as she glances in the same direction, the longbow slung over her shoulder shifting in response. "I can barely see out there, with all that fog..."
"Just some gypsies stirring up some trouble, lass." Vanya shakes her head, shrugging. "They've been out there for at least a week. Hopefully they'll find their way out soon, else I'll probably have to send one of the boys out there to talk with them. Maybe even deal with 'em myself." She huffs at the thought, and out of nowhere a decent burst of wind puffs past before dissipating into the room. "It's enough trouble keeping it straight out back, I don't need it on my front porch either."
Suddenly the front door swings open, and a hush falls over the room as a form enters through the foggy doorway. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him, and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows. Immediately, his eyes set upon a nondescript door in the corner and he strides right over, a twitchy looking man following behind in a nervous skitter.
Vanya raises an eyebrow at the man. "Can I help you, sir...?" Without so much as an acknowledgement he and his compatriot slip through the door as quickly as possible - but not before the sound of broken glass rings out in the distance. Trying to wrap her head around it, she turns back to the half-elf. "Have you seen him here before?"
She shakes her head in reply. "Nope. Seems he was looking for someone. Who's fighting today?"
Back Room:
A clash rings out as a broken bottle slams onto a drunkard's head, knocking him out cold while cheers and shouts erupt all around the room. It's far plainer than the main room, with only a few tables around the corners - some with casks of ale freely flowing, some with spectators watching eagerly or drinking their sorrows away, one with piles of gold and silver guarded religiously by a bookkeeper. A wide ring is shoddily painted in the middle, the circle of onlookers above it beginning to break to let the bouncer drag out the bloodied mess that was the loser. Peering over in an attempt to recognize his face, some spectators in the distance either begin to curse or sneak over to the bookkeeper to collect their earnings.
Behind the bouncer a hulking half-orc steps out, flexing his muscles and heading for one of the casks of ale in the corner. Downing the drink he turns back to the ring, waiting to see if some other poor saps would rise to the challenge before he felt like joining again. The brightly colored fellow from before sits quietly at a table, glancing about with a placid smile on his face as his partner seems to have disappeared into the crowd.
Within the ring, a larger buff man can be seen approaching the middle and taking stock of all the onlookers. Grinning widely, he bellows out to be heard above the murmurs and conversations. "And that's another out for the count! Who else is up for a fight tonight?"
Nondescript Tavern:
Just barely within the city limits of Baldur's Gate, this tavern seems to be a pleasant stay away from the hustle and bustle of the city proper. Despite its nondescript exterior, not even having a sign out front, it seems to be fairly well decorated inside with trophies and exotic baubles from all over. A gaping wolf's head sits above the mantle of the roaring fireplace; below a massive pelt is sprawled across the floor, far larger than any regular beast. To the side a small noticeboard lays dusty in the corner, with small requests and boars hunting quests going mostly unnoticed as dusk approaches in the distance.
A tanned middle-aged human woman wipes down the bar, her plain looking attire and stature almost blending into the scenery. She sighs, wiping down a glass as she glanced out one of the windows.
"What's going on out there, Vanya?" A petite half-drow sitting at the bar tilts her head curiously as she glances in the same direction, the longbow slung over her shoulder shifting in response. "I can barely see out there, with all that fog..."
"Just some gypsies stirring up some trouble, lass." Vanya shakes her head, shrugging. "They've been out there for at least a week. Hopefully they'll find their way out soon, else I'll probably have to send one of the boys out there to talk with them. Maybe even deal with 'em myself." She huffs at the thought, and out of nowhere a decent burst of wind puffs past before dissipating into the room. "It's enough trouble keeping it straight out back, I don't need it on my front porch either."
Suddenly the front door swings open, and a hush falls over the room as a form enters through the foggy doorway. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him, and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows. Immediately, his eyes set upon a nondescript door in the corner and he strides right over, a twitchy looking man following behind in a nervous skitter.
Vanya raises an eyebrow at the man. "Can I help you, sir...?" Without so much as an acknowledgement he and his compatriot slip through the door as quickly as possible - but not before the sound of broken glass rings out in the distance. Trying to wrap her head around it, she turns back to the half-elf. "Have you seen him here before?"
She shakes her head in reply. "Nope. Seems he was looking for someone. Who's fighting today?"
Back Room:
A clash rings out as a broken bottle slams onto a drunkard's head, knocking him out cold while cheers and shouts erupt all around the room. It's far plainer than the main room, with only a few tables around the corners - some with casks of ale freely flowing, some with spectators watching eagerly or drinking their sorrows away, one with piles of gold and silver guarded religiously by a bookkeeper. A wide ring is shoddily painted in the middle, the circle of onlookers above it beginning to break to let the bouncer drag out the bloodied mess that was the loser. Peering over in an attempt to recognize his face, some spectators in the distance either begin to curse or sneak over to the bookkeeper to collect their earnings.
Behind the bouncer a hulking half-orc steps out, flexing his muscles and heading for one of the casks of ale in the corner. Downing the drink he turns back to the ring, waiting to see if some other poor saps would rise to the challenge before he felt like joining again. The brightly colored fellow from before sits quietly at a table, glancing about with a placid smile on his face as his partner seems to have disappeared into the crowd.
Within the ring, a larger buff man can be seen approaching the middle and taking stock of all the onlookers. Grinning widely, he bellows out to be heard above the murmurs and conversations. "And that's another out for the count! Who else is up for a fight tonight?"