Fellowship of the Dice

A few moments later, the tiefling returns with the food and drink for the wood elf. Placing the bowl of Ash Curry and a chalice of brandy on the table, the servers waits for a moment to see if the patron has any other orders.

The Ash Curry is made from the ash scraped from charred bodies simmered in a slurry of delicate
organ meats. The Firebrandy is a pinkish brandy and is made from pressed grapes and a single strip
of infernal firefungus aged for up to 30 years. It has a rich, full-bodied, hot in the belly, and surprisingly elegant taste.

Seated in the corner is a slender suit of armor, a cloak wrapped around its shoulders, a metal covered tome in its hands. It is writing in great detail all that it is witness too within the tome with a slender pen of steel top with a strange crystal shard. The creature, for creature it is and not an animated suit of armor, is adorned with a fainly glowing set of sigils all about its form. Like ley lines, they glow and pulse with magical energy as it moves or interacts with the world around it. Even its face is adorned with such a device, and if it has eyes, you can not see them beneath its deep cowled hood. There is no food or drink on its table, only its tome.

After some time it dots the page, and packs up its things. Then standing with the sound of stiff metal joints its moves across the room. "I am the fourth." It is all it offers to the gathering party of Tubidu. Taking a silent seat the Warforged remains present, if not seemingly in active for a time.

The elf waved away the server. "That's fine for now, thank you." Morneth always made a point of being polite, even if she ended up having to kill the person later. Politeness cost nothing.

The halfsie raises an eyebrow and takes the hand offer. "Oh yeah? Alright, let's see what you've got here."

He sits down and picks up an ale and takes a daring drink right from the bottle. Hmm, it's...unexpected, for a place like this. He ups it to a double swig before putting the bottle aside to check the menu, grabbing a BBQ fry and taking a bite without the cheese. He presses his lips in a thin line as he ponders the options, before finally ordering Firebomb Chili and buttered corn, and a glass of water.

He goes for the fire bites and pops one in his mouth. He swallows quickly with a pained expression, and opts to stick to the potato fries for the moment and let the meat morsels cool down, and gazes up at the tin man announcing its arrival.

"Hi...'fourth'. I'm known as Ryldfrynatar, but call me 'Ryld'." Between Killmonger and the tin can, Ryld flashes a mirthless smirk, like someone making the most out of their lot. He looks around for whever the third joiner must be, and, seeing no one, asks, "And what do I call you guys?"

As the group introduces themselves around the table, a tiny fiendish imp flies and lands on the table. Speaking in infernal, it tells Log'thar "The master is ready." Flapping it's wings, the imp flies high towards the ceiling and disappears into the rafters.

The paladin nods politely towards the tiny imp. "Thank you. Your message is received, and will be responded to shortly."

The half-orc doesn't immediately get up to leave, fine with finishing introductions. "I am Log'thar, and as I said to my first arrival here, I have been tasked by Tibidu to gather this meetings attendants together, then escort them in." He nods towards the half-elf. "Ryld, the pleasure is mine. It would smooth things considerably if the rest of you shared your names as well."

He moves his gaze over to the elf that matches the description of an expected guest but who decided to take a different table. For now, he does not confront her about it, assuming she has her own reasons for staying separate.

The warforged sits still, observing the chamber, the imp, the other two, and responds. "It is appropriate for you to refer to me as Tome. I shall respond to that designation." It turns its head from side to side searching the chamber. "From my observations if you are seeking the third, I have eliminated all but two possible occupants as such." It points, with no subtly what so ever, "Either the wood elf seated there or the succubus with the missing eye in the corner." It indicates another figure seated in the corner with a high black collar and one missing eye. "The odds are sufficiently high that it is either one."

Morneth smirks at the words and actions of the warforged and turns to favor the construct with a small smile. "My, my, you aren't one for discretion, are you?" she inquires softly. "That will get you killed here, sooner or later." The wood elf shoves the remainder of her meal forward, but retains the goblet of brandy, and slowly drains it to the dregs.

"I only observe and record, I judge not."

It offers no other reply to the wood elf.

Ryld peeps both of the aloof ladies in turn, and then with a half grin, he nods toward the elf and says in an exaggerated whisper, "Not so loud - or Ms. Eyepatch'll literally turn green with envy! Come on, have a drink with us."