Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

The Flyer reads as follows:

Tournament in Roaringshore.
Mostly a Dice Tournament, But if tempers are high the Action can switch to the Pit!

Down on your luck?

Want a little chance to get a little Gold to your name to recover things lost in the War?

Or do you Just want to add to the considerable Horde you've already Amassed?

Well, There is one easy way to do it. Come play in a Dice Tournament in the Shore!

Only a Buy in of Two Hundred Copper pieces (200gp), But the more people that Play the Bigger the pot! So anyone and everyone is welcomed to Try their luck!

Tournament to be held in Two days time at the posting of this Flyer in the Broken Goblet in Roaringshore. (Sun 1900 GMT Time)

Underneath all the colorful writing is smaller but very Visible script:

People not welcomed are Dirty knife ears, Thedran, Any member of the Flaming Fist or Nobility of Baldur's Gate. We don't want your Kind there and if you show up it may be bad for your health.

\\Dice tournament to be held Sunday 1900 GMT, Buy in 200gp, More people who play the bigger the pot. Rules for the Tournament will be explained to all those who show up. Or PM me if you'd like the Rules ahead of time.

*Thedran promptly rips down any and all posters found near Baldur's Gate and informs the guards. *

Upon passing the Elfsong Tavern, Silias notes one of these flyers. She promptly pulls it down, reading it as she walks. Whilst walking in the streets of Baldur's Gate, her eyes wander about, flyer in hand. She makes her way to the nearest trash barrel. She presses her hand against the barrel's tip, lifting it, before crumbling the flyer and lowering it into the barrel.

*A woman watches from her seat at the bar as random people go tearing down the flyers*

*she just laughs*

"Seems like those lot are a bit miffed they are not invited to play a game of dice. Those twits."

*She carries on with her drinking, simply amused at what is transpiring*

/// On another note, I'm glad every righteous and honorable character loves to slum it in the most undesirable places around.

A slender young elf wearing a black cloak reads over one of the posts in passing. Upon reading the disclaimer at the bottom of the notice his lip curls up and he begins to laugh.

With a mischievous grin he turns to the elf woman who is disposing of a copy of the same flyer, "Whatever dimwit posted this must have suffered a few too many blows to the head. Why any elf would want to go near a room full of one-eyed inbreds is beyond me. From what I hear the collective smell of urine stained breeches in the Roaringshore tavern is enough to kill an ogre.". The blue haired elf starts to laugh again, a look of joyous incredulity on his face. "And I seriously doubt even Thedran would enjoy watching a tavern full of moronic illiterates flop around, drunkenly brawling each other while rolling around in piles of their own vomit and feces. Hells, those Roaringshore dimwits will probably sit around the entire time regaling each other with tales of their romantic conquests over each others mothers!"

The young elf is laughing so hysterically at his own diatribe by this point that he has, apparently, forgotten that he is speaking to an elven maiden of potentially noble upbringing. After a short while his laughter subsides and he reaches up to wipe away a tear. Another moment passes with the young elf just shaking his head, then he blinks, "You know... with that many cross-eyed pirate buffoons assembled in one location, perhaps it would be prudent of us to provide their little rat hole with a not so small barrage of fireballs through the windows and front door. Hmm...", he taps his chin thoughtfully before looking over to the other elf with another mischievous smirk.

*edited for grammar butchery and pg-13 compliance ;P

A man clothed in rough leather and a ragged hooded cloak stands not far from the two elves who are insulting Roaringshore and its population. He discreetly glances at them for a moment and then turns his focus back on one of the fliers that were lying in the gutter.

After putting the paper back where it was before it got torn down, he walks pass the two, 'accidentally' bumping into the male elf.

"Excuse me" a tired and rough voice apologizes from somewhere in the depth of the hood. The man continues hastily on his way around the corner, where he disappears.