conversations: human
conversations:  The tavern is dirty, loud, dim, and very, very crowded. The door can barely open because of all the people blocking it (not that it could anyway, being stuck and with the key snapped off in the locked position), and people have been entering and exiting through a shattered window with all the glass knocked out and the wood supports broken. The tables are messy with no sign that they've been cleaned since they were set out, with the plates literally sitting on a layer of crusted food half an inch thick. The lanterns flicker and don't give enough light. A peasant with a red feather behind his ear steps through the window and clears his throat.
  
  ((OOC: Because taverns that are so incredibly filthy are awesome.))
conversations: cezyou:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassius Runethane, Lifeweaver 
  
  Though the lanterns do nothing to provide illumination for the tavern a man rests at one of the tables with a smile on his face. His blue eyes are closed for the time being and his bald head gleams with the light of the sun, which is actually provided by what amounts to a Daylight spell centered on his cranium. Two large portions of the far side of the tavern are quite a bit darker than they would be otherwise, but no one really seems to mind.
conversations: Tacitus:
conversations: human
conversations:  Grit sits in the corner, looking over the taverngoers. He grits his teeth, and sits down after yelling for one of the bartenders to fetch him an ale. He drums his claws on the table impatiently.
conversations: Rauthiss:
conversations: human
conversations:  H'Lach was sitting in a corner of the room, not eating anything. Not that such a dingy tavern had anything worth eating. He ran a finger down the blade of his spear, looking from person to person. The man with the red feather caught his particular attention.
  
    You be needin' something pal?  He said, a gleam in his eyes that saw the possibility for a quick coin.
conversations: Turalisj:
conversations: human
conversations:  Jacarath looked around him, a faint smile on his lips. He always loved the parties. Especially the crazy ones. It was only out here that he could feel like himself. He had used the opportunity to come out here and finally have some fun.
  
  Looking over, he saw a man approaching the peasant with the bright red feather. Jacarath knew that nothing good could really come out of it, but he was feeling rather lazy tonight. Sitting back, he waited to see the events unfold.
conversations: JKTrickster:
conversations: human
conversations:  Jack continues to nurse his bear without looking up or paying any mind to the man with the feather.
conversations: Demons_eye:
conversations: human
conversations:  When H'lach speaks to him, the peasant cowers, starts shaking, and then screams an incoherent sentence. Someone hits him in the jaw, and there's a click sound as his jaw is relocated. He shouts again, this time coherently, calming down as he speaks, eventually coming down to a normal volume.
  
  "KOBOLDS! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! They overran my village's crypt, but the door was locked and they couldn't have gotten in at all, except by digging! We don't know where they're from or why they're there. All we know is that they're looting the outermost huts in the village and killing anyone in them. And that they like to steal our forks and knives."
  
  The crowd largely ignores him, and his jaw clicks again as it falls out of place from his speaking.
conversations: cezyou:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassius 
  
  " Brigands! Anything but the knives and forks! We must save the cutlery! " No one seems to care, " Dammit, the cutlery I say! " Various portions of the dilapidated tavern get the lights turned either on or off, or both repeatedly, depending on the level of drunkenness and surly attitudes.
conversations: Tacitus:
conversations: human
conversations:  The man clicks his jaw back in place and agrees, obviously appalled at the kobolds' horrible deeds, and then his jaw clicks again.
conversations: cezyou:
conversations: human
conversations:  Jack stands to leave walking over to the man and wishers  "Lead the way." 
conversations: Demons_eye:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Yes lead the way!"  Jason cheered as he approached the small group that was forming. Jason had no idea how serious the situation was, but he felt that it had to be dealt with promptly. After all they couldn't simply leave the situation as it was.  "Don't worry, I'm sure we can handle this quickly enough!" 
conversations: JKTrickster:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassius 
  
  The strange man with the metaphysical light switch is ready to leave whenever he notices everyone else start filing out after the kobolds.
conversations: Tacitus:
conversations: human
conversations:  Grit 
  
  Grit looks up, and thinks to himself for a moment.  Survival of the Fittest. Kobolds aren't fit. Time to squish. 
conversations: Rauthiss:
conversations: human
conversations:  ((OOC: Right, that's long enough.))
  
  The man waves his hand and jumps out the window, much more nimbly than before. He even twists in midair to avoid a mug thrown from the nightly bar fight and lands on his feet.
  
  He takes the group out of town, across a river made more of sewage than water, through a forest with trash forming a layer of debris instead of leaves, and past a sign saying "Welcome to The Slum, the world's finest fake slum, for YOUR resort!"
  
  He goes to a nearby village, past a forest where a forest where all the leaves are gilded with real gold, and over a river that is swelled with platinum coins people have thrown in for good luck, and past a sign that reads "Welcome back to Town, where only the richest folk can afford to use the bathroom, now with REAL SOAP!"
  
  He leaves the Town, and goes through a perfectly normal forest for once, with a perfectly normal river (well, more of a stream) flowing through a village where actual normal people live (although in a protected area, where the resort hunters can't kill them) and points in a direction where the houses have started to burn while you were there. He clicks his jaw and says "Draw your own conclusions."
  
  The whole journey takes about a day.
conversations: cezyou:
conversations: human
conversations:  Grit  turns to the man, points to the houses, and lets out a grunt, as if to say,  Where the squishies?  He proceeds to ready his claws, and looks out into the burning villiage.
   
   Spoiler 
  Rolling Spot for the hell of it.  (1d20+1)[ 11 ] 
   
conversations: Rauthiss:
conversations: human
conversations:  Spoiler 
  you see a lot of small shapes off in the distance chasing some larger shapes, brandishing some pointy shapes as they do so
   
conversations: cezyou:
conversations: human
conversations:  Grit  growled to himself.  Shapes... 
conversations: Rauthiss: