[Githzerai Monk]

A red wizard enters in the hours before dawn, unannounced and without naming himself he sits glumly at the bar and orders some of the cheapest drink they have, takes a sip and spits it out, disgusted. The un-named wizard then throws the mostly full drink across the room, spilling it all over the bar and inn. He walks out angrily, having never reveled his face from beneath a dark hood.

[kta]

As the Red Wizard leaves and the barmaids start cleaning the mess up several peasants and drunkards complain of the poor quality and the funny taste of the latest brew. But since none is able or willing to pay for better stuff they just order another round...

[Vortar the Mad]

Racous clanking precedes the arrival of a titanic figure in clad in red steel. Purposefull strides resound off of the Sea Wolf's smoke and bloodstained planks as the figure closes to the bar. Steel screeches and oak creaks as the warrior arranges itself upon the almost ludicrously inadequate bar stool.
The imposing four horned helm flys to the floor as if anxious to escape the horror beneath. A ritually scarred face, ugly and brutish even by orcish standards, splits its jagged toothy maw and booms, "Vortar has the dust of a thousand camel trodden leagues in his throat!" while it's taloned fist slams two small golden coins upon the bar with a meaty thunk.
Hastily the barkeep scoops the coins and delivers a large tankard of frothy black ale the consistency of mud. The creature snatches the mug in a grip that conjures visions of strangulation in onlookers and drains it in one mighty gulp before slamming the tankard back to the bar.
A disturbing expression that might have been a smile but caused panicked sweating in one of the barmaids alights upon the creatures face and in a deep voice like stones grinding glass while submerged in blood it thunders, "By Gruumsch's third testicle this must be why father one eye hasn't let his brood kill all the little humans; We have not mastered their hallowed secrets of Ale brewing! Oscabb the Corpulent never brewed so fine a drink! His finest tastes like cat vomit steeped in piss compared to this!"

[Karilynn]

Melody wandered in quietly and took a seat at a corner table. Her brown eyes wandered around the inn, looking over all there. She'd had information that the Legion had recently had a surge in membership. And not the forced draft kind either. She'd not seen certain people in some time, and wondered if they had gotten involved in plots that ended in their demise. The bard had seen many come and go since then, some more memorable than others. She continued sitting, after ordering a red wine, and casually observing and nursing her drink.

[kta]

The very same evening brings a new story... Right beside the inn is usually a large stack of old kegs and barrels - all the old empty containers that hold the precious brews. At nightfall a servant dumps another empty barrel just beside the last one he brought out and starts to attend his other duties when a strange hissing sounds holds him back... He listens, shrugs and walks off. Moments later a explosion shatters the night air and the whole stack is afire! No water can quench those flames...

[Hellstrom]

A young, hard-eyed wizard in dark clothing emerges from the nearby sewer exit and wanders by, looking at the fire and the crowd gathering around it. "What's going on here?"

A legionnaire in the small crowd snarls "Move along! Not your business!", prompting a glare and a growled "Yes sir" in response. The wizard walks away for a time, but returns several minutes later to stand at the edge of the crowd and observe.

[Hellstrom]

The wizard, Ebon, watches for a time until the legionnaire spots him again and demands "You again? Do you have anything to contribute, or are you just here to gawk?!" Ebon gives him a wicked grin and says "No, I didn't see any of this happen. But it's more interesting than anything else going on in the city right now" and laughs. The soldier grumbles to himself and Ebon offers "...though I am a wizard and may be able to help put out the fire. I have several frost ray spells memorized currently."

The soldier says "Several have tried already, go ahead if you want to." Ebon steps forward and, with extravagant gestures, casts Ray of Frost at the flames. There is not the slightest effect. Ebon repeats the performance twice more to his growing frustration and the legionnaire's growing amusement at his expense. When the guard makes a comment about needing a real wizard to get the job done, Ebon turns to him and snaps "What's your name? I want to make sure to remember it when I AM a real wizard."

Either ignoring, or perhaps actually slightly cowed by the implied threat, the soldier asks Ebon to keep an eye on things while he goes to inform his superiors... "And try to keep the flames from spreading if you can", are his parting words. Ebon looks around at the crowd and spots a couple of slaves properly in position behind their masters. "You... and you! Get water from that horse trough and wet down the wood nearest the flames!" The slaves look to their masters, who nod and gesture them to obey, and they begin clumsily tossing water onto the wood. In spite of this, the flames spread to the cart next to the barrels and Ebon growls commands to the slaves, demanding they work faster, and adds "Get more water from the bay!" One of the slaves runs to the water's edge, fills his bucket, and returns at a run, stumbling with the awkward weight. As he nears the burning cart, he slips on the muddy ground. Falling forward toward the flames, he screams in despair as the flames seem to intensify and reach up eagerly to embrace him. Before anyone can act, his screams stop and his still body lies crisping in the fire.

The crowd's reaction varies from cries of fear to horror, and one by one, the watchers move slowly or quickly away. Perhaps in reaction to receiving the slave's body, a poisonous-looking greenish vapor begins to rise from the flames, actually glowing slightly and illuminating the dark scene further. This drives the last of the onlookers away, leaving Ebon alone with the flames and the bodies, contemplating what sort of magic he was witnessing. The flames give up no knowledge however, and as they consume what fuel they have over the next hour, they slowly die down as well.

Ebon stays to watch, in curiousity and envy of the magic, until the legionnaire returns and dismisses him.

[kta]