After a hard day

[Bandoal]

After wandering the city all day and gathering supplies for a future trip into the Tarn region Bandoal comes to a small, dirty pub with a sign saying The Dragons Tongue hanging out front. He looks in the door and finds a wide veriaty of odd people seated across the commonroom. Dirty street toughs to merchants down on their luck. He walks in, quietly pulling his ring of shadows out of his pouch and rolling it between two fingers, a strong desire to put it on overcoming him. 'It's just the people here, all dirty and smelly. I probably bath more than these people do' he thought as he approached the bartender.

"Hi, may I ask how much a drink costs here?" Bandoal askes the plump little man in front of him.

[Cherry]

"Four silver," the bartender grumbled lowly, eyeing Bandoal critically before going back to dry-dusting his bar - as if it did any good. He looked past Bandoal, and his face instantly went red, "Hey, you! Get back here and pay for your drink!"

The sounds of someone suddenly rushing out of the pub could be heard. The ovial bartender roared in fury, and slammed a glass down. "Dirty rotten thieves!" He mumbled this murderously, and turned back to Bandoal. "Well, ye' havin' a drink or no?"

Another half-elf sat a few stools away from Bandoal, staring disgustedly around. She was thin, with pale skin, and short, dirty ash-blonde hair. Her bright green eyes narrowled slightly as she sipped at her cup. Gathering from her looks, she appeared to be a priestess of sorts. A short, light mace hung limply at her hip. She seemed to mumbling something about the inadequate state of the bar, but otherwise wasn't paying any attention to the going-ons around her.

Inluding the stale looks she recieved from the bartender every so often.

[Bandoal]

Bandoal ran his fingers through his dirty hair and pursed his lips. "Maby I don't need a drink right now," he mumbled to himself. He looked around the bar once more and grimaced. Then took a seat at a nearby table and continued to roll his ring around in his hand. 'Maby I'll try gambling later' he thought as he looked around the pub. He pulled his only remaining gold coin out of his pouch and eyed it for a very long time before dropping it on the table and moving it around a bit. He picked it back up and put it and his ring in his pouch with a shake of his head. "Senseless to fritter away my money like that" he said to himself.

He stood and left the smelly pub and decided to see if there was anything left to eat at his house. 'There's got to be some food left, a cut of old beef, or a crusty loaf of bread or something.' Glumly, he set off for home, feeling angry, the mood of the pub most likely the cause. His constant scowl scared away any citizens that might have otherwise greeted him warmly.