<em>The sounds of pipes and merry-making issue forth from this stone building as freely as the scent of herbal tobacco. Above the front door a sign hangs, portraying a capering flute-playing monkey with wings. Within its dim confines one finds many stout hardies enjoying a good song.</em><br/><br/>When you arrived at the Dancing Tabi, it was filled to the brim with patrons, mostly visitors to Ashinana’s Oasis.  Apparently they are here for the celebration.  There were some regulars too, you could tell from the familiarity they exhibited with their rugged, off-tuned boisterous singing if it could be called singing at all.  The ruckus ceased with your entrance as everyone in the common room turn eyes on the gaudy if not alluring dark beauty before them.  No doubt you also sensed lusty stares from your audience.<br/><br/>Paying them no mind you headed toward to do what you came here for.  A hobgoblin, which stood out of the place, stood behind the bar and gave you a grim scrutinizing stare.  When you inquired for the owner of the establishment, the hobgoblin ‘bartender’ claimed to be the one.<br/><br/>“I’m Skowls, and the Dancing Tabi is mine.”<br/><br/>Inquiring to him for lodging on your terms could require some persuading.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><br/>Roll for appropriate skill, diplomacy or intimidation.<br/><br/>