A deep gray fog shrouds the small hamlet of Breiland, a town at the edge of nowhere, and haven to travelers against the quickly falling night. The shroud of darkness seems to cling to the low hanging buildings like a veil, only barely allowing the passage of dim torchlight. The sky overhead is overcast, blotting out the traces of a new moon, as if to close off the hamlet from any gasp of comfort. The night is cold and dead quiet, with even the rustling of wildlife seeming oddly distant and distorted by the thick encroaching shadow.<br/><br/>Against this darkness can be seen a small isolated building, set some ways from the main street of town, sitting at the crossroads of two main thoroughfares. The building is as dim and gray as any other in the sleepy township, but it's windows are at least lit by cozy firelight, and the low thrum of music can be heard from within. A sign written in halfling and english proclaims this establishment as 'The Dancing Stag' a moniker earned by it's simple, a rampant green elk carved roughly into a heavy wooden placard.<br/><br/>Within the inn are only a few residents, speaking quietly among themselves while the halfling proprietor holds court, playing a fiddle with the accomplished air of someone with far too much experience on his hand. His wife meanwhile, bustles about the common room, carrying out loaves of warm bread, and heavy trays laden with meat and cheeses. There is an air of quiet contentment to the room, a feeling that only the best of halfling inn can maintain on cold dark nights such as these.<br/><br/>Sitting around the common room table, are three individuals, one is a man in bright colorful garb, with a red greatcoat, purple striped pantaloons, and an assortment of golden finery ranging from rings to bangles, to many assorted other trinkets. Tattoos and marks cover his flesh, a tapestry of stories and events. He is the only boisterous one among the small crowd, loudly proclaiming that he is a merchant and entertainer by trade, and asking for the attention of the other two, explaining that he has a rare and valuable item, that he would be glad to part with, for a modest fee. He is obviously well into his cups, and the drink has made him bold, and unaccountably fierce in his position, as if defying anyone to question his words.<br/><br/>The other is more simply garbed, but seems interested in the presentation, remaining rapt as he speaks. Her skin stands out from the others, a deep cerulean blue that marks her as one of the elementally touched, a water genasi. She watches the man's display with her hands at either side of her cheek, her slight stature allowing her to lean far over the table towards him, her golden eyes glimmering in the low firelight. Her features are elvish and young, with an air of childlike wonder to the way in which she becomes ensnared with his stories.<br/><br/>Those in the inn know these two, as each introduced themselves at the start of their stay. The former is a trader from a far land, a Vistani trader called Molli. The other is a druid wanderer, who introduced herself shyly as Lorelei Tideborne, an adventurer out seeing the world for the first time.<br/><br/><strong>DM: Tom, please introduce your character. If you would like, you may make an Insight or Perception check on either of these two, as well as engaging them in conversation. </strong>