[IC] Into Barovia

[GM Marvel]

[OoC: Ok, I already gave you the description of the tavern.]

Additionally.. 

The 3 gypsies lurk near the door.  They notice your arrival but return to their own whispered conversation.  The barkeep seems to be just mindlessly clean the glasses, one after another.  The man quietly sipping his wine, does seem to notice of you entering.  His eyes shift from you to the two gentlemen (one human and one halfling) who have also taken notice of you.  A blazing fire in the hearth gives scant warmth and the silence here is broken only by the occasional sip of watery wine.

[Sumayl al-Akhir]

Sumayl will calmy walk over to the innkeeper at the bar. 

"Good evening sir, my name is Sumayl, Might I ask, what's do you have that will warm our bellies on this chill evening?"

[GM Marvel]

"Wine," the barkeep replies in a dull, hollow voice while seemingly completely focused upon cleaning the glasses.

[GM Marvel]

[Meanwhile...]

@Reion Hallowbrook and @Eloric Aetherion have been sipping their watered down wine and lamenting their misfortune of not being able to make it to the next village before sunset.  That would mean they would need to find a place to stay, fast.  They knew, once the sun goes down, this bleak village will turn into a horrifying different animal.  They knew, the main reason there hardly anyone walking about during the day was because that is when the villagers slept. At night they must huddle themselves away in cellars and in corners under tables, clutching stakes or silver weapons created from melted down heirlooms, to hold off the terrors of the night.

Suddenly your attention is drawn to the noise of the tavern door opening.  Walking inside is a young, Elven maiden in platemail but with her piercing, green, almond shaped eyes and a mane of coppery red hair that frames her soft, lightly tanned skin, she doesn't look anything like the Dusk Elves native to the area.
Behind her, a man wearing armor from a distant land walks into the tavern.  And behind him walks a tall, slender, short bearded young man, with medium length dark brown hair, dressed in dark shades of browns and grey.

They briefly look around and then makes their way to Airk, the barkeep to ask, "Good evening sir, my name is Sumayl, Might I ask, what's do you have that will warm our bellies on this chill evening?"  Obviously they were strangers and in Barovia, strangers weren't very welcome.  But upon spotting their fine weapons and armor, you both look at each other and in unison you whisper to each other, "Adventurers!!"

[Sumayl al-Akhir]

"Wine," the barkeep replies in a dull, hollow voice while seemingly completely focused upon cleaning the glasses.

"Wine it is then, do you have any mulled wine to at least give some warmth? And no food at all, eh?"

\His tone is light despite his gruff voice. He is trying to get the man to be friendly, so the last thing he wants is to come across as confrontational.

[Eloric Aetherion]

Eloric, having sobered up a bit, gives Reion a wry smile. "Well, that solves one problem." then he gives Reion a sour glare. "Hopefully they last longer than our last few associates."

[Reion Hallowbrook]

Reion looks at Eloric with an affronted expression and points at his sour friend, "Hey! That …was not my fault. I told them there were nasty things in that crypt but they just charged right in." 

He straightened his leathers and nods to the adventurers that had strolled in bold as brass, "They look seasoned at least. Judging by that elf, I bet they're foreigners." He turned to point at Eloric again and hissed, "I'm gonna go talk to em. DO not be a sour puss if they come over to share our table."

With that said, Reion walked over to where the armored fellow was trying to get some of the weak wine this place had to offer.  Reion was honestly surprised this dingy little hole had that, considering every trade caravan between here and Forlorn knew to avoid this place. He set enough coin to buy at least three bottles of decent wine on the counter and added politely, "Two bottles please." He knew he wasn't going to get decent bottles, but hopefully it was enough coin for the innkeeper to be at least a little less grumpy. 

He looked up at the armored human. "Hello!" He extended a hand to the man. "My names Reion. You and your friends care to join me and my friend at our table." Then he added with a smile, "Maybe you and your friends can help me finish off that wine before my taciturn friend over there drinks both the bottles."

[GM Marvel]

"Wine," the barkeep replies in a dull, hollow voice while seemingly completely focused upon cleaning the glasses.

"Wine it is then, do you have any mulled wine to at least give some warmth? And no food at all, eh?"

\His tone is light despite his gruff voice. He is trying to get the man to be friendly, so the last thing he wants is to come across as confrontational.

[GRRRR...  I lost my post!!    ]

"A glass of wine costs 1 cp. A pitcher of wine costs 1 sp," the barkeep replies in a dull, hollow voice.  "Mulled Wine?  We got no spices here.  But..."  He reaches for a candle and places it on the bar in front of Sumayl.  "Warm it up yourself.  As for food, go to Bildrath's Mercantile.  You likely walked passed it in the fog on your way here."

A halfling appears beside the Cavalier and orders two bottles of wine.  Arik replies, "Reion, you know we don't sell wine by the bottle."  The Halfling would guess they sell by the glass or pitcher because it's easier to water down.  But Arik glances down at the 3 silver and grumbles, "Make it a gold piece for each and I'll 'find' you your bottles."

[Sumayl al-Akhir]

The tall figure in plate armour looks dow at the diminutive halfling and smiles, shaking the fellows hand. "I am Sumayl al-Akhir, servant of Brave Hajama. A pleasure to meet you. I think we will gladly join you, for news of this town." 
He has trouble keeping his dissappointment at the poor service hidden, and is noticeably being overly polite to attempt to hide irritation from his voice. Though it is notr directed at the halfling.

Sumayl places two silver on the bar and asks for a pitcher.  "A pitcher and 5 glasses please."

He is perfectly okay with the thught of the wine being watered, he doesn't intend to get drunk, and in his culture watered wine is the norm when drinking wine during the day. He was hoping for a hot meal not rations though, so has trouble hiding his dissappointment.

[GM Marvel]

[OoC:  The woefully depressed Barovians manage to grow just enough food to get by and can make their own wine.  None are interested in spending time on a Saturday night to take the fam out for a bite to eat.  The rare few visitors who are allowed to pass through aren't sticking around to eat.  They just grab something to drink to dull their misery then get the hell out of town. There are much less oppressive places to eat in the next region. You just came from one.  And frankly,  Barovians don't trust strangers so they have no interest in hospitality. ]

The barkeep pours you a pitcher and places 5 glasses on the table.