[hr][center] [color=deepskyblue]Iota[/color][/center][hr]Aside from the unseen Archibald tending to the tavern floor, the Genasi ingested visually upon the slow exodus of the remnant of idiosyncratic collage of races as the owner's father, an aged doppelgänger of his son, entered and bellowed the last rites and call to alcohol. Upon cursory inspection of the previous encounter with the remorse instrumentalist and officers, he eked a refined taste and an even more sophisticated judgment; his spotless reputation seemed to precede the staccato of his boots, anywhere they took him. It made elves nervous and orcs laugh, but the warlock never left anyone nearby unscathed from his wise tongue. Whenever he and the irregulars, who hung around the Grim Lodge heard a bard warble, every rummy would linger until the musical keepsake was crucified upon the walls of the establishment. Then those sober enough would follow up with any bit of doggerel that came to mind and howl that unquestioned dogma, as if dangled by a master puppeteer, brewing the greatest inebriated slogan read in all of Valerith. 

“NO ENTERTAINMENT / NO FIGHTS / NO BULLSHIT!”

Her aquatic mind waded through the oft ebbing and pounding of the heavy oak tables in that timeworn saloon, and for a brief moment, the air wasn't so heavy with a stale burning hearth or the stench of failure. 

It was a vessel where all were first mates, with their proverbial captain Ekleipein at the hull.

Rockmar, like many other patrons who would hoot, as in days prior, after a full expensive palate of Alfengrape with enraged conjunctiva, now quietly haunted the archeologist with an offer of aid, as the troupe similar to Odysseus-like banshees danced around the doctor as other wasted, uninterested protagonists stumbled home to their respective ancient Grecian odes. At this time, the inn wasn't a pub where deputized charlatans or slumming beggars trekked to guzzle ale from jugs. This served a hive where jovial spirits who witnessed hard lives went to expire into a speakeasy.

Slowly. Poisoning themselves along the way with the promise of merriment. 

The hostelry seemed wintry inside, to the sorcerer, during this witching hour, similar to the denouement of a forgotten Shakespearean tragedy, frigid and melancholy except for the few savory instances when an infrequent gaze occurred from an authenticator of memoirs, with its spectral penmanship. Even then, though, that mirth was haphazard, like the instance, a gnome slipped in a pool of spilled liquor and plummeted onto his already bludgeoned face, shoving his Orwellian monocles into his baggy pupils. The whole crowd guffawed at his goggled peepers. However, the dystopian fall rendered him entirely blind in one eye and mostly in the other. And, yet, despite the effervescent cackling and flamboyant discretion to order, the entropic mage still prized it, but more so when the schizophrenic voices and darkness abounded less, in this solitude of buzz.  

It was now her watering hole, the last few months, even if she didn’t own it or toiled there. Her shadow was present more than any other drunk dwarf. In her faded emerald garb, with eyes wide and dewy, legs long and strong, and a Poesque countenance able to fend numerous coarse words and whistles from hoary men, she strutted further into the fray of this thirsty work. 

[sub]"This nice lady says she needs to hire a group of thieves for a job. I told her you might know a guy who knows a guy. Can you talk to her? I'll go find 'Happy' for the nighttime activities."[/sub]

Iota gestured past the trio, towards the resurrected, but seated Reborn and whispered inaudibly. [color=deepskyblue]"It's not polite to stare. Care to join us? Your other hand is invited."[/color] Then suddenly, the watered ethanol from the goblet of the scientist swirled into an erosive whirlpool onto the bar's countertop, coalescing into the now frozen semblance of an [i]ovoid, light green, opaque, and with a gemstone-like sheen, stone[/i]. 

Turning full attention to the matter. [color=deepskyblue] "Neutralization is possible, right?" [/color][hr]Mechanics: [color=deepskyblue]Iota [i]Messages[/i] Arthek Yarnspin, catching his earlier glimpse. She then reveals her knowledge, transparently displaying said object with [i]Shape Water.[/i][/color]