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[retromach]

Brother Jonathan found himself a room in an inn in Boldrei's Hearth. A common foodie travel destination, the Lower Central Spire had a mix of fine restaurants, pubs, and street food. Most of the district was lit by everbright lantern, even in the day, when the long shadows of the tall towers rarely allowed real daylight in.

This district had a hunger for food and a thirst for liquor, and a number of breweries worked here, as well as open crafting spaces for small batch, artisanal liquor. Jonathan worked an arcaneer's still, performing kata to channel flame through the heating coils, maintaining a constant and perfect temperature as valves only occasionally hissed steam. His final product was a semi-distilled dry cider he intended to sell as a microbrew.

What did he name his brew? Did he sell it to a taphouse or a restaurant?

[retromach]

Arawai's Fate can be purchased for a hundred galifars, half of which will be donated to charitable causes on your behalf. Other, larger, and more expensive paintings are available, but no one could fault Mr. Shredder for a failure to support the arts, nor for selecting such a deeply expressive piece.

The two of them went on to carouse. Make your checks. Sormias is at disadvantage, but is enough of a social butterfly that it's unlikely to really matter.

[TALLPANZER]

He called the brew a simple name, "Sharn berry Cider", and it was sold to tap-houses mostly, some of it sold to Boldrei's Hearth itself. The bottles should also state "Extra dry".

[Weirdsound]

Hel-Shredder purchases the painting. His ears are erect and his flesh clammy with sweat as he hands over almost every coin in his purse, the reality of his investment hitting him.

"Don't blow this..." He mutters to himself, perhaps just loud enough for his date to hear.

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at Request]

[Weirdsound]

Hel-Shredder perks up in response to the kiss, cracks his knuckles, and marches off into the party. He begins talking to anybody who will listen about wicked mage-forged aliens, and the need for Ebberon to remain vigilant and ready for war. His presentation was solid. The performance might have even been enough to draw out members of the pro-military Lyrandar faction had he been able to keep it up, but sadly the alcohol was complementary, and the Hobgoblin's nerves were driving him to overimbide....

(Inspired Pursuasion Roll = 3+3+2)

[retromach]

It wasn't the most appetizing name, but it had a nice taste to it. The first couple of people Jonathan tried to sell it to asked questions like 'What's a sharnberry?', but by the end of a workday of shopping, he's able to find a buyer who'll take it on, a tapas house that plans to serve it with a sharp cheese toast.

"You should stop in for an evening. See people enjoying your fine work. Maybe join in." Brother Jonathan was encouraged by an innkeep as he counted out coins.

[retromach]

Sormias and Shredder found themselves separated as Mr. Shredder agreed speak in private with a few official seeming people. He knew the house was here, and that politics were being discussed, and besides, he'd been over-consuming. Over-consuming more than he thought...

Sormias was approached by a well dressed gentleman in brightly colored jacket. It's sleeves were ruffled white silk, leading into a colorful open vest over a tight-fit shirt. It's glammerweave brought with him the scent of fresh air and open country. The colors were vibrant beyond the means of ordinary inks, and even the white of the fabric seemed nearly radiant, and impossibly clean.

"Sanho ir'Lain." He introduced himself. "Representative of Aundair, and Knight Arcane. Have you been engaged for the evening, miss..?"

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted]

[TALLPANZER]

"I would like to, but I do need to get to the church of the Flame. I have much to do for them." Jonathan smiled at the innkeeper "Thank-you for the kind offer."

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at request]

[retromach]

"Ambassador ir'Lain, but please, call me Sanho. I'm in need of escort tonight. Would you join me?" He asked Sormias. "We can discuss pricing afterwards."

[retromach]

Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens wasn't exactly sure when he had undressed. He knew he'd been feeling hot, and the clothing seemed constrictive, and that the free air on his skin felt good. He knew he'd been feeling initially ill, but now, he felt wonderful, like he was floating through a beautiful dream. He found himself walking in a mobius of naked people each dressed in an elaborate theater mask, each moving as dreamily as himself, while music played.

He felt so at peace. It was possible that a small voice within him cried out to flee. It was possible it was drown out by whatever intoxicated him. A gong was struck, and it's sound filled Mr. Shredder's mind and senses.

[Weirdsound]

"Oh hells... What was I drinking?"

Mr. Shredder was no party animal, but like any respectable Hobgoblin of Sharn, he has gone through a bender or two down in Lower Dura, and knows from experience that trying to piece together the missing hours would be a lost cause. Instead he tries to focus on his surroundings at the given moment. Who the hell were these people? Where the fuck was his clothing?

He wordless follows the other naked people while he ponders this. (Disadvantage investigation = 10)

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at request]