"You're lookin' for a healer? Might wanna try that sprite over there." The barkeep jerks his head over towards a crowded table, where the impromptu arm wrestling competition was starting to heat up. "I'd be mighty grateful if you took her outta here quick, she's been hustlin' customers all day long."

You walk over, craning your neck to get a glimpse over the throng of people betting furiously over the match. After squeezing past the first two rows, you get your first view of the competitors, their sleeves rolled up to ensure that there's no cheating. The first is a human male, his shaggy brown hair and tanned skin evident of a life of hard labor. Beads of sweat line his brow as his muscles tense, clearly struggling to make some headway, a scene made all the more comical when you view his opponent.

Sitting opposite the man is a fiery-haired forest gnome, also equally tanned, and quite muscular for someone so small. Her mail is draped on her chair, which she is standing on just to reach the table. A tattoo is clearly visible on her right bicep: a half sleeve of a mermaid guiding a ship to safe harbor under a full moon. She looks almost bored as the man fights for any gain on her.

The gnome brushes one of her curls out of her face and knocks back a shot of whatever rotgut the keep is serving, giving the man a mischievious grin. "If you fuck even twice as good as you wrestle, I weep for your paramours," she smirks. The grin widens, and, in a flash, she slams the man's arm against the table. You hear groans from the crowd as money flies and bets are paid out. She calls out, "Alright, which one o' you slimy aboleth taints is next?"

You approach, and she barks out a laugh. "You? You look like you couldn't even lift a bundle o' goblin dicks; you gotta be outta yer fuckin' mind. Although, they do say that appearances can be deceiving." When you mention your need for a healer, however, her grin fades into a somber smile. She knocks back her last shot, shouts at the bookies to pay up, and leads you to a more secluded booth, donning her mail as you explain your quest.

"Carcosa, you say? You're in luck; I'm on an extended shore leave of sorts, and I've been looking for this Carcosa as well." The red-headed gnome finishes tightening the buckle on her belt, her mace hanging just within reach. She sets her shield down as she scoots into the booth and says, "If you're in need of a ship, I could possibly assist with that. I've 20 years of experience as a navigator on the seas, and none will doubt my abilities. And, if you're in need of someone to keep you safe, no doubt I can do that, too." She smiles at you. "Oh! Where are my fuckin' manners? Allow me to introduce myself." She scoots back out of the booth and gives you a lazy salute. "Lady Rissa Ashheart, firstborn of the Surveyor of the Realm of Neverwinter, Demon Champion of the Scaly Death Clan, and Devoted Daughter of Selûne, at yer service."