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[Cheesecake]

You're on a barstool drinking mead. The scent of frying bacon and smoke hangs in the musty air. A single bard is playing a melancholic tune on his flute,  looking very down. The bar keeper has been gone for a while, and his assistant is drenched in sweat and shaking. A figure shrouded in a faded grey cloak sits quietly in a corner. There are two orcs shaking down a goblin in a corner. There was a heavy thud upstairs a moment ago.

[Andres]

What weapons do we have? That shady looking guy looks like he's asking for a fight.

[Cheesecake]

Right now, nothing. Your starting gear is determined by who you talk to.

[AfellowDwarf]

Loudly order a drink from the assistant.

[Cheesecake]

"Hey! Bar boy! Where's my drink!?"

The bar assistant gives a yelp, then begins pouring another drink into a wooden cup. He shakily walks to where you're sitting, but trips and spills it all over you. You stand and glare angrily. The boy looks like he's about to suffer a breakdown.

"I-I'm so sorry, milord. I-I wasn't paying attention!"

[~Neri]

Talk to the shrouded figure.

Edit:

Apparently it didn't notify me you posted? Huh.

Remove beer soaked cloak.

"You seem uppity. Did something happen?"

[Cheesecake]

You take off your soaked cloak and squeeze it dry. "You seem uppity. Did something happen?"

"No." The boy looks down and shuffles his feet. "Not exactly. My uncle's in trouble, milord. He owes gold to the Dragon, and we can barely survive. Some of the Dragon's Men came by earlier and hit him in the head, then dragged him off somewhere. I've been too afraid to ask for help."