Doraad likewise takes the opportunity to slip away while Simon is talking. As the motley band heads over to the soda shop he attempts to pose a question to the group:

"I don't suppose anyone has a guess as to what's gone wrong here?"

The orc seems tempted to nod, but that natural 20 Simon rolled for Persuasion tickles the front of his mind. "No. 10 gold."

Meanwhile, the group that has gone on ahead sees the keep in its awesome, if modest, glory. In front of it is a much smaller building with a large banner atop, and several tables outside.

For the record, Plan B was helping his friends barge into the cave on the return trip, then leaving some money behind to minimize the net dickery of their actions. Instead, Simon hands over 5 gold. "Half now, half later. Thanks for putting up with us." He runs off to join the others. "Thanks for waiting, guys."

Last edited by RdMarquis (2/21/2018 11:20 pm)

An elvish girl looks up from wiping down a table, which she seems to be doing just to look busy, as there are no customers. "Certainly," she says. "We have grape soda and ginger ale." She smiles, glances at the name of the business --Barley Brothers Cream Soda-- and continues to smile, nervously. "We're out of cream soda. Hot dogs?" she adds, helpfully.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Barley..."

A man barges out of the restaurant. Extremely slim and nicely dressed, he appears he might, in normal situations, be rather foppish, but here, he's got several days' stubble on his cheeks and his hair has yet to see a comb this day (week?) "Go away!" he bellows. "We're closed!" He locks the door of the shop, and stomps past the party to the keep.

"Mr. Barley hasn't been himself," the elf admits.