The halfling waitress nods and heads back to the bar, returning in a few moments with a tall glass of milk.  "From Rothe.  Underdark cattle."  She makes a little pair of horns, one above either ear, with her fingers, and says, "Moo!"  She nearly turns to go, then stops.  "Oh!  Five coppers."  She holds her hands out for payment.<br/><br/>The orcs are certainly giving you the once over, with whispered words between the ones who seem to be the followers, though the leader is silent, but smiling at their words.<br/><br/>The drow:  The female is probably a priestess of Lolth, judging from the small spider she's got crawling on her left hand, rotating the hand to keep the crawling spider always on the top, as if playing a game with it.  She's got a holy symbol rather visible at her exposed cleavage, made of an even darker material than her charcoal colored skin.<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">[Knowledge-Religion check for that, if you would?] </span>The two men with her are most likely fighters.  Both are wearing some sort of chainmail, and have longswords in scabbards at their belts, and small metal shields sitting on a fourth chair at the table, sort of stacked up.  All of them have packs of some sort, though the woman's is on the floor next to her.  The woman raises a grey eyebrow as she looks at you, returning your look, but she's seemingly unimpressed with you.  (maybe she likes bugs more than cute kitties?)  The males keep an eye on you, but they seem determined to watch for threats, like the good little guards they are.<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">[Sense Motive Check here]</span><br/><br/>The adventurers:  On the other side of the room, in a fight that now seems to be calming down, are a party of what some would call adventurers.  There are two human males, one in plate, and one in some sort of banded mail, and they just finished mopping the floor with some duegar.  The fighters are backed up by a human female wearing a clerical vestment of some sort [another Religion check] over chainmail.  There's an arcane caster type of fellow, a half elf, who just had a duegar pulled off him (the evil dwarf was out cold on top of him, but he couldn't muster the strength to get out from under the body).  A sneaky type, a halfling, is coming out from under a table, and a dark-skinned woman leaning on a quarterstaff is shaking her head at the whole thing off to one side.  The duegar are being unceremoniously dumped into a pile of knocked-out bodies in the corner, by the way.  [If you have knowledge-local, roll on that, if not, just give me an Int roll, and add two to it.]<br/><br/>At this point, you can either check out two other groups, or go interact with one of these two.  Oh, and the milk is pretty good.  They must have some sort of spell on a container back there to keep it cold.  The waitress walks by again, with ale for some table, and "moos" at you again, chuckling.<br/><br/>(you looked exactly at the two groups I hadn't made up yet!  they are now.)<br/>