From a purely objective standpoint, the succubus' vocals don't compare to Lustiel's soaring melodies. As entrancing as Astarotte's dancing is, it should only matter to those who turn their gaze towards her, lured by her song. And yet there's something undeniably compelling woven into her music, something none of them can identify, and as Astarotte's voice reaches the patrons, one by one, they turn their gazes from the baatezu and toward the tana'ri, leaving only small handful paying Lustiel any mind. Even the mage cloaked in his<em>robe of eyes</em>, easily able to enjoy both performances, gives his undivided attention to the midair contortions of the succubus. Even a bookish, bespectacled human scholar, a young man who until now has been absorbed in the tomes and scrolls that litter the table at which he sits, looks up from his reading, staring with the wide eyes and slack jaw of a virgin at the succubus, the ache she inspires in him written all over his face.<br/><br/>Quite unfortunately for Kallian, as more and more patrons fall under Astarotte's spell, she finds herself with more and more contenders for the succubus' attention -  and worse, they're so entranced, not one of them pays any attention to what the dragoness is saying at all, as if they don't care if they get to see her dance, so long as Astraotte continues. "710 gold!" "715!" two voices call out at once as the Pathfinder rejoins the fray, even as the barrel-chested lizardman steps up to challenge the others. "725!" The glint of gold flashes faster in the wanderer's hand. "750!" The hairless dwarf seems to have risen from his seat, a good-natured grin splitting across his face. It says quite a bit for Astarotte's charm that a creature as naturally thrifty as a dwarf might be so eager. "800," the minotaur defiantly rumbles.  "850!" A new suitor steps forward, swathed in fine silks. His skin is the color of polished brass, and he certainly isn't shy about it - the vest he wears, threaded with gold, hangs open, leaving his slender body on display. But the boldest of all comes as a surprise, for he comes in a small package. It's hard to say if he's a halfling, or a human with dwarfism. Despite his smallness, he is dressed well, tastefully, as one might expect of a successful merchant, or perhaps a noble. "100 platinum." His voice rings out crisply, cutting through the dull roar beginning to gather.<br/><br/>"120 platinum." A surprising sneer comes from an equally small creature, its umber hulks looming behind it. Decidedly non-human, the strange creature leers at Astarotte like one might evaluate a piece of meat at the butcher. For those who know what the creature is - and what its business is - Astarotte may have gotten more than she bargained for in attracting this creature's attention.<br/><br/>Notably, though, a couple of the Serpent Wenches and even the bunnygirl waitress seem to have stopped to watch... and judging by his expression from the bar, Mitchifer is none to pleased with their work being disrupted. The succubus may want to rethink holding onto the spell, lest she inspire the ire of the barkeep...<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Astarotte may attempt Sense Motive to determine the Bearded Reaver's intent. Those of you who are regulars... well, you probably know what the Reaver is thinking already, don't you?  :-)</div></div>