DM: Phae begins her search at Berotuttle’s Brews. She has heard that the odd little pub has become a popular establishment, no doubt due to their quality selection of ways to drown the soul.

Her fellow guilders are winding down and setting out about their business. Quolp greets her but quickly heads out. He seems to be on some urgent mission of sorts once again.

Out of the guilder’s district she pasts by a large makeshift tent, crude symbols of barbed pentacles were painted in a dried crimson. Several short guilders, wrapped in filthy rags stood guard. They seemed to stare as she passed, but Phae paid them no attention.

Through the central plaza, the dark market square seems to be getting ready for the weekly auction.

It is early still but the pub is packed. Just outside the bar and a short raggedly clothed person rudely grabs Phae’s shoulder and pulls her towards him. “You, you are from House Sargon? I have something to give you. His voice is hoarse, his words spoken brokenly and through a heavy breath. A glint of steel catches Phae’s eye she screams and just then Franky leaps onto the short mans face. Obscenities fly as the short man stabs wildly at the toad who immediately jumps away to safety.

Phae quickly backs away, but a crowd has already gathered. What do you do?

“What is it that you have for me? Please leave Franky alone, sir. He is simply trying to protect me.” Phae calls on Desna for help and summons her riding dog just in case.

Continued here