Three weeks later

The scene at the Red Masque Tavern was quite lively for a night where a band was not playing. Word had gotten around the small village of Varden that a well-known adventuring party was currently staying in town, and the tavern was filled to capacity with people wanting to see them. Garik, an aspiring adventurer himself, had intentions no different from everyone else here. He sat alone in a dimly lit corner of the room, no one daring to join him at his table despite it being the only one that wasn’t completely filled. 

One of the few perks of being a 'monster,' the half-orc thinks to himself as he finishes off the large plate of food he had ordered. A regular customer at the tavern, he had been here long before most of the townspeople had arrived.

A few minutes pass with no sign of the adventurers, causing some of the crowd who were not fortunate enough to get a place to sit to step outside due to the heat being generated in the overcrowded room. Garik looks on, searching around for someone who piques his interest. 

Coming up unsuccessful, he turns his full attention to his drink. Garik downs the entire mug of alcohol, his second of the night, and slams it down with a satisfying thud onto the wooden table. Looking back up, he is surprised to find a cloaked figure now sitting opposite of him. Taken aback by this man who seemed to appear out of thin air, Garik leans in closer to get a better look at his new companion.

"Now who might you be?"

The hooded figure continues to look down at the table, refusing to answer Garik’s question. Garik takes a moment to study his guest and instantly discovers that this man is unlike anyone he has ever seen before.

While most of his face is obscured by the cloak, a large snout covered in bluish silver scales and a dark blue horn, not too different in color to Garik’s own hair, protrude into plain sight. Sharp, white fangs extend down from the top of his mouth. A pair of reptilian eyes move up to glare directly at him.

The young half-orc’s eyes widen. Although he had only heard about them from travelers visiting this very same tavern, there was no mistaking it. 

This man is a dragonborn.

The city of Varden was founded by a group of young, rebellious aristocrats fed up with the strict policies placed upon them by the older generation in the capital city. The original settlers largely consisted of aspiring actors, playwrights, tavern and brothel owners, and escorts. Varden’s, as well as the country’s, population is overwhelmingly human. Half-orcs descended from the orcish servants and slaves kept by the original settlers, making up about ten percent, is the next largest group. Dwarves and elves are rare, and none of the other races reside in the city. 

Slavery has been outlawed since the founding of Varden, but the half-orcs, due to their history of servitude, are treated as second-class citizens. Although these half-orcs look nothing like the people of Garik’s tribe, who Varden had been in an on and off conflict against for decades, they live in a small community separated from the rest of the populace for protection. 

Most of what Garik had heard about dragonborn had been from well-traveled patrons of this very tavern, but the description of a huge, hulking presence did not fit the man in front of him at all. Even while sitting down, Garik could tell that this dragonborn was considerably shorter with a more athletic build than what he had been told.

The dragonborn continually steals glances toward the entrance behind him. Garik tries to ask him another question before he is interrupted by the man speaking for the first time.

“Just don’t bring any attention to us, and I’ll move on,” the dragonborn says while putting his head down even lower.

So much for being fun to be around, Garik thinks, dismissing another thing he had learned about the race.

Garik leans forward in his seat and puts his elbow on the table. “You’re at the wrong table if you don’t want to get noticed,” the half-orc says while gesturing towards his bright blue face.

This guy is hiding something, Garik thinks to himself as he looks through the crowded establishment. After a moment, he spots a red-faced human man angrily looking around the tavern. Garik calls a nearby waitress, the frown on his guest’s mostly-covered face clearly disapproving of his actions.

The waitress comes to the table with a genuine smile on her face, her attention focused on the one who called her. Garik whispers something unintelligible to the other person at the table, but he does notice the half-orc take a glance past him. 

The waitress giggles and stands up straight. “It will be ready in just a minute,” she says before nodding at the two men and leaving towards the bar.

Garik feels a death stare aimed at him that screams, “What the hell are you doing?” but is unfazed by it.

A few moments later, the half-orc sees his plan in action. The waitress he had been talking to spills a tray of the bar’s cheapest drink all over the man who had been patrolling the tavern. Unable to see what had happened, the dragonborn’s stare turns into one of confusion.

Garik looks at the man across from him and says, "if you want to get out of here, now's the time,” while motioning towards the scene behind the dragonborn.

With the entire tavern’s attention turned towards them, the cloaked man can just barely make out the two figures of the waitress and the man he had been hiding from.

How did he know? The dragonborn ponders this as Garik stands up from the table and signals him to follow. 

As his new acquaintance gets up, Garik notices something about him that he was unable to see before. The dragonborn had a long tail with four spikes coming out towards the tip. Pretty cool, Garik notes as he leads him towards the hallway at the back of the tavern.

They reach a dead end. The dragonborn starts to protest, but then notices an all too familiar sight on the back wall. Upon seeing his recognition, Garik smiles and undoes the mechanism keeping the hidden door closed.

“After you,” he says as he opens the door for the dragonborn. They both escape into the cool night.

Once they are outside, Garik casually paces around, taking in the night air.

"I've never seen anyone like you before. What are you doing in a place like this?" 

He can feel the dragonborn’s sharp eyes boring into him, but, as he expected, he doesn’t receive an answer.

Who is this guy? How could he see through that crowd so easily? Why did he help me? The dragonborn continues to study Garik without saying a word.

The half-orc shrugs and walks to the cloaked man. “My name’s Garik,” he says while reaching for a handshake. 

The dragonborn shakes his hand but still does not return the conversation. Not wearing any sleeves, Garik shivers a little and goes back to the hidden entrance.

“Laeus,” the dragonborn calls to him, putting his hood down. “My name’s Laeus.”

Garik’s green eyes brighten as a wide grin creeps across his face. “Nice meeting ya, Laeus,” he waves as he heads back into the tavern.

What a strange kid. Laeus covers his head once again when he hears a familiar voice in his head.

Solaeus darling, I hope you’re enjoying your time off. I know how you are, so please try to have some fun. Stay safe my love.

Laeus smiles after hearing the message. He takes off down the street while sending his response.