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[Ardent Debater]

In ancient times the illustrious empire of Ushanad held sway over the land, such was their power, even the wildest tribes couldn't deny it and bent the knee. For a time the lordly council ruled wisely but with great power comes greater temptation and over the centuries, corruption festered in the ruling caste. Eventually the nobility slaughtered the righteous among their ranks, summoned the darkest demons from the deepest pits of Hell, and swore their souls to them for rule everlasting. They were given unto temptation, and bestowed the youth and sorcerous blood to indulge it. An age of darkness ensued before the empire's downtrodden rose in rebellion and the surviving nobility were scattered to the wind, never to rule again. The contemporary legacy of that tainted lineage are known as Tieflings.

You are not a Tiefling and have more loathing for them than any wholly mortal frame can hold. If you'll listen to one rattle on they'll wax poetic about their infernal heritage, the guilt they've inherited, and the discrimination they face- and then the inn's patrons will clap, give condolences, and toss coins in their cup. If you weren't wearing a hood you'd be chased out of town and burnt at the stake. They go on about how close their souls are to Hell, how much they struggle with that twinge of temptation and try their best to be good- while listeners nod and offer pithy platitudes. Hell is breathing down your neck. You aren't tempted, you're commanded, and every minute of every day is a struggle to reject it and the intrusive thoughts, grotesque compulsions, and hideous nightmares that your own flesh, blood, and blackened soul demands. Damnation isn't a choice you can make, it's looming, laughing on the other side of death's door and for all you know you're already condemned. You don't care what comes after, what matters is the here and now, and you've dedicated your life to getting through each and every day. You might not be Good, but you damned sure try.

That's all any Demonspawn with an atrophied, shuddering husk of a conscience can do.

So, why did you come to the Winking Jester's Inn today?

You heard a whisper on the grapevine that a monster in man's skin would be here.
You need work and misbegotten son of Hell or no, this is the best place in town for a hired blade to find it.
You'd like to sleep under a watertight roof for once and rumor has it the Innkeeper here values privacy.

[Superdorf]

Angst

You'd like to sleep under a watertight roof for once and rumor has it the Innkeeper here values privacy.

[Glass]

Well now isn’t this interesting.

Angst

You'd like to sleep under a watertight roof for once and rumor has it the Innkeeper here values privacy.

+1. And there’s at least some modicum of work around that we can take up, even if it’s not worth much. (If that’s permitted, of course.)

[King Zultan]

Well now isn’t this interesting.

Angst

You'd like to sleep under a watertight roof for once and rumor has it the Innkeeper here values privacy.

+1. And there’s at least some modicum of work around that we can take up, even if it’s not worth much. (If that’s permitted, of course.)

+1

[Naturegirl1999]

Well now isn’t this interesting.

Angst

You'd like to sleep under a watertight roof for once and rumor has it the Innkeeper here values privacy.

+1. And there’s at least some modicum of work around t’hat we can take up, even if it’s not worth much. (If that’s permitted, of course.)

+1

This is just quoting one of the reasons, are you saying we should sleep?

I say we look for a hiresble blade to help find the monster

[Superdorf]

We're to pick one of those three reasons, I believe. That there's my choice!

[Naturegirl1999]

We're to pick one of those three reasons, I believe. That there's my choice!

in that case, I vote for
You heard a whisper on the grapevine that a monster in man's skin would be here.

[Jerick]

You'd like to sleep under a watertight roof for once and rumor has it the Innkeeper here values privacy.

[Ardent Debater]

Well now isn’t this interesting.

Angst

You'd like to sleep under a watertight roof for once and rumor has it the Innkeeper here values privacy.

+1. And there’s at least some modicum of work around that we can take up, even if it’s not worth much. (If that’s permitted, of course.)

+1

You’ve been trekking the ruined pathways of the kingdom for some time, always the backroad, always alone, never the traveled highways and never the center. Paranoia of Hell’s reach grips the common man’s soul in the best of times, in this despondent age the comfort of companionship is a risk you can’t take. Solitude on the road is a dangerous prospect but the sight of a hood drawn tight night and day arouses suspicion, and the refusal to seek solace in the temples of township cinches it. Traveling partners might think you an occultist of the sort the righteous are called to cleanse, or worse, a fugitive worth a bounty. Getting near others for anything but business is a gamble, and your pockets are nowhere deep enough to wager freely.

To insist on isolation while brigand and beast alike run roughshod through the countryside is a losing gamble, but it’s one you've yet to lose. Living as you have, you’ve grown accustomed to trial and tribulation but where the will is iron rusting further by the day, the flesh is weak and can only bare so much. So it is you’ve found yourself sitting on a rickety stool in a near-crowded room, teetering on the brink of discovery and brutal death for the sake of a night’s petty comfort. You curse your boldness even as you cherish refuge from the damp chill outside.

This wasn’t the most expensive Inn nor the most luxurious, but some say it’s a smuggler’s den and so long as the fee is paid in full, some semblance of secrecy is assured. You wouldn’t doubt it. You can smell Evil in the air and it makes you recoil, even as the twisted animal shackled to the back of your mind salivates. The inebriated fool with a harlot wrapped around each arm finishes his impromptu soliloquy and the chuckling dies down. You’re able to speak to the Inn’s keeper, a young man so fair you wonder if his grandmother laid with an elf. He cuts to the chase, charming enough to disarm the unwary but your defenses are inviolate.

You speak to him,

Gruffly, keeping the guttural growl to a dull moan, deep in the way someone affecting their volume is. You are, in a direction opposite to most.
Quickly, forcing the buzzing of flies back down your throat, high-pitched in the same way a screech can be, and not a whit more comfortable to hear.
Plainly, actively stifling the compulsion to let your tongue dance and wrap his will around your own; were you inclined to succumb, this room could be enraptured.

Spoiler:  GM Note (click to show/hide)

Enough edge to cut butter I know, but I think it's an interesting character dynamic and I've got a broad concept to do it justice. My apologies for vanishing for two days, I've been busy helping a few relatives IRL and forgot that I already posted the thread.

[King Zultan]

Gruffly, keeping the guttural growl to a dull moan, deep in the way someone affecting their volume is. You are, in a direction opposite to most.

[Frank]

Gruffly, keeping the guttural growl to a dull moan, deep in the way someone affecting their volume is. You are, in a direction opposite to most.

+1

[Superdorf]

Plainly, actively stifling the compulsion to let your tongue dance and wrap his will around your own; were you inclined to succumb, this room could be enraptured.

I'd rather not have our very voice mark us as freakish-- this option at least gives us some semblance of normality when we want it. The charm thing could be useful at some point too.

[Naturegirl1999]

Plainly, actively stifling the compulsion to let your tongue dance and wrap his will around your own; were you inclined to succumb, this room could be enraptured.

I'd rather not have our very voice mark us as freakish-- this option at least gives us some semblance of normality when we want it. The charm thing could be useful at some point too.

+1