<div class="floatleft">(https://64.media.tumblr.com/33da4bc89e3eb8c95264e6d15d35c211/tumblr_pcpp2urfYP1xtyoyso1_1280.png)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Name:</strong> <strong>Drothmick Unbeck (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355359)</strong><br/><strong>HP:</strong> 23/23 <strong>AC:</strong> 17<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Golden Goblin tavern - Suzail.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> The Bastards.<br/><strong>Actions:</strong> Spot check to look for a waitperson. Roll: 7 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=151237)<br/></span><hr/><br/>Nothing like a good ol' adventure to get the blood pumping. Thankfully, Drothmick had amassed a considerable fortune after his various odd jobs, and since his mother was safely taken care of back in the prison, there was nothing stopping him from realizing his true destiny, that for which Fate had called him: become King. Since he was a child, he heard his mother’s stories about the silver-haired, silver-tongued prince who shared his blood, and as he travelled to Suzail on horseback, he retold those stories to himself. His mind wandered off to a place far beyond the scope of man and creature with an empty throne and a crown yearning to sit atop its rightful owner. However, he had to return to reality as he caught himself about to fall off the rented horse.<br/><br/>Suzail was where the bard festival was held, and everyone who called themselves one would attend it, with the hopes of showcasing their talents and become famous. Not that his father needed it, but Drotmick figured that if anyone were to judge the new generation of musicians, it would be him. The half-dwarf straightened his back, his loose hair bun bouncing on the back of his neck with every step the horse took, and took a deep breath. He could almost smell it: a joyous city in the middle of its most momentous festival. What would Drothmick say to him when he sees his father?<br/><br/>“Hi, pop- no, that’s awful,” he muttered to himself, eyes looking down, and not realizing he was crossing Suzail’s city gates. “Father! It’s been a long time com- no, that either… Hmm,” strangers who were not too busy dancing and ogling at the various performances would cast him a frown or a weirded-out side-glance when he passed by, but Drothmick was too engrossed in correctly fulfilling his destiny that he did not notice them. He finally looked up, allowing the sun to caress his brown skin, and closed his eyes, letting the horse to roam on its own.<br/><br/>Unluckily for him, that meant that he horse would also stop when it wanted, and after a few minutes, he saw that it stopped just outside a tavern — the Golden Goblin. Weird name, but then again, he had worked at strangely-named places. He jumped off the horse and tied him to a nearby post. Surely no one would dare steal a horse from a would-be blue blood, no?<br/><br/>The scene at the tavern made him sigh — it was one of those. And no seating available! Well, there was, but he would rather have a table for himself. Drothmick walked there with confident steps and sat without asking questions to either the half-elf, the human, or the half-orc. He leaned on the table, feet dangling just a few inches off the floor, and looked around for someone to wait on him.<br/>