As Tizzy Barrelbottom looks around the unusual tavern, she does so with new eyes. Almost literally that is, as her violet irises and purple skin have been replaced by the yellow eyes and green skin of a goblin. She'd been able to pass herself off the day before as simply being a rare demon variant, but she knew her story raised a lot of questions as it was and her cover could use a few improvements. She had learned however that goblins were also a known species of long-eared travelers from distant lands, and even better, they were approximately imp-sized. Which was important, as her illusion spell could fake physicality within certain limits but making herself a few feet taller would have been far beyond them.

For the moment however no one seems to be much suspicious of her origins, rather instead she finds herself constantly invited to join the fresh-started party in one direction or another. The door outside had eagerly welcomed her and a group of other adventurers to enter the inn, and as soon as she'd hopped through the indicated portal ring a woman with patches of fur and long rabbit-like ears had invited her to claim a seat and order a drink. Although it's relatively early in the evening there's already no tables left entirely empty, but folks seem to be claiming spare seats wherever they can be found, and that suits the scout just fine. She's here to chat people up and gain intel, after all, and the fact that she can get free booze while doing so is just a very nice bonus.

She does spot the young Miserables at one table, but given that she doesn't want to raise any uncomfortable questions about her changed appearance, the newly-minted goblin instead makes her way towards another table of low-level Challengers, judging by their gear. Looking over the group, they seem perfect for her needs - a mixture of backgrounds, displays of outgoing behavior, and already half-drunk. Climbing into a seat, she gives a smile to a gnoll woman in the chair next to her. "Heya, mind if I take this spot? Seems like the place is already filling up pretty quick!"

"Please, sit, sit! Although the staff says more rooms will open up as more arrive, so perhaps we will not be sitting elbow-to-elbow all night, eh? I am Leyiff Ryoll, Archer. You are? Have not met many goblins, no!"

"Tizzy Barrelbottom, Arcane Eye!" The scout gives her introduction with a grin, which stretches wider as the gnoll recognizes the Master-level class title the woman had granted herself. It had taken her some time to decide on a suitable cover identity - she didn't want to pretend to be a complete newbie to magic, as it would greatly limit what abilities she would be able to display. She had also deduced that it would be important to pretend to be one of these 'Challengers', as it apparently looked very strange for a highly-trained adventurer to be wandering the land but without having any sort of Challenger Association rank to their name. She'd spent the morning pouring over the freely-available records at the local Association office, and picked out a class of magically-oriented scout for her preferred title. There was of course the minor issue of her not actually having such a rank, but if anyone asked she'd simply claimed that her paperwork was left behind at another office on another continent, and that she'd lost the copy she'd brought on her 'travels'.

"A Master, yes? Listen, all! A Master has graced our table for the night!" That certainly gets the attention of the other members of the gnoll's party, and Tizzy soon has an orc fellow, an elf woman, and one odd-looking man with a thick beard and horns turning her way. The orc speaks up first, his eyebrows raised.

"A Master and a goblin? You must be one of the most unique people in here tonight, and that's saying something! What brought you to our humble table, ma'am? I regret that we are but Advanced-rank ourselves, and I imagine our stories will pale in comparison to yours!"

Blushing with false humility, Tizzy gives the orc an 'ah, shucks' look. "Oh, I ain't here for bragging and boasting...well, maybe a little, but not too much! I'm here to learn about this here place, and I imagine you'll be able to help me out just fine with that sort of thing. Ah...for example, I'm mostly familiar with the ethnicities of the New Continent, but I admit, I'm drawing a blank on this fellow here..." She nods towards the horned man, and he grunts.

"Half-minotaur. On my momma's side. Didn't get no fur, but my hooves got a hell of a kick to em, heh heh."

"Oh?" Tizzy pauses for a bit, but she seems to need to prod the man a little further. "And the other half is...human?"

"What? No, dwarf, of course. Couldn't tell?" Tizzy eyes the man again, and while the beard and gruff voice was perhaps a clue...the fact that the man is clearly at least six feet tall is a little hard to correlate with what she knows of local dwarves.

"I, ah...not really, to be honest? Are all dwarves around here so...large?"

The elf gives a light chuckle from behind her hand. "Do dwarves not have the same reputation back on the Old Continents? Certainly, dwarves can produce rather tall children when they set themselves...lofty goals. Although I imagine it helps when the mother is the one of the larger persuasion, though given what I've heard about dwarves, perhaps they make things work well enough either way."

"Yeah, yeah, we ain't here to talk about my daddy's taste in women, now are we?" The half-minotaur tilts his head, staring at Tizzy through his bushy eyebrows. "Tell me that ain't what you traveled all this way to hear about."

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"No, no - interesting as that may be." As she shakes her head, Tizzy gestures at the inn around them. "I'm actually here to learn more about this dungeon, at this moment, at least. I hear it's...unusual."

The elf smiles but makes a sound that's half-laugh and half-sigh. "Oh gods, where do we start? It's blessed by Kahlia, obviously, which is a first. Eight floors in its first year, which sounds like a record as far as I know. But I'm not sure which particular trait is the record-holder for weird - the reincarnated bosses, or the, well...you know." The woman leans in, and whispers with a blush. "The sex stuff."

Tizzy listens attentively, but she's really not sure where even to begin with that statement. "The uh. The sex stuff? What?"

The gnoll next to her laughs in the animalistic way that only gnolls can. "Oh ho ho, she does not know about the sex stuff, no!" Grinning at the scout's confused expression, the Archer deigns to educate her. "Did you think being blessed by the Goddess of Fertility would have no side effects? Oh, it has corrupted the very concept of a dungeon, yes. For starters, if a woman finds herself with child after a night here, her child will be also be blessed by the goddess and the Church of Bounty!" The woman giggles to herself for a few moments. "I have a cousin who is trying very hard to accomplish this, yes, yes, hehee."

Given that Tizzy doesn't know much about dungeons at all, at least she doesn't have much in the way of preconceptions that need shattering. Still, one particular word in that explanation catches her attention. "...For starters? There's more?"

With the gnoll caught up in a bout of giggles, the orc takes over. "It used to be just a rumor, but the evidence seems to bear it out. They say if you fuck a dungeon monster here, you get bonus rewards the next time you beat a boss. Ain't tried it myself, but heard a few folks who swear by it, especially from that one weird trio who hung out around here for a good while."

"Fuck a monster? Who'd do that, even for a reward!?" In answer to Tizzy's exclaimed question, the orc simply gestures towards a group of rabbit-folk working at the bar. Examining them for a moment, a realization dawns in her mind. "Wait, the bar staff here are monsters?"

The man gives a deep laugh. "What, did you think they were rabbitkin? Not enough fur for that! Probably not that many of em on the entire continent, neither. But yeah, most of the staff are monsters, mostly. There's a couple locals who've been hired on, including one elemental dancer - and damn, am I looking forward to earning entry to the Lounge so I can see that in person!"

Tizzy looks around the room again, studying the adventurers she finds with her newly-gained knowledge in mind. "So...people come to Worthy Dungeon to...fuck...monsters? I mean, I get it a little bit now if that's what they look like, but still..."

The half-minotaur rolls his eyes. "Please, we're not all perverts. Hells, the Dungeon Fuckers were doing the work of any twenty of the rest of us when it comes to that sort of business. No, this dungeon is deadly serious when it means to be. Even with the place going easy on folks for the first few floors, every other group of newbies who comes in here walks out of Floor Two or Three with less limbs than they walked in with. After that, there's a wandering boss that'll ambush you at any moment, and no one's actually cleared Floor Eight so far. And it's been months!"

His elven companion sighs, this time without any trace of laughter. "It's that boss, really. Mimics aren't so bad if you're expecting them, or so I hear, but a shapeshifting boss...they're apparently nearly impossible to entirely plan for. Not that we're getting anywhere near there anytime soon! Without any Experts on our team, even going past Floor Three would be a bad idea for us." Having said that, the look she's giving Tizzy shifts. "...Tell me, Master Barrelbottom, do you have a party?"

Before she can answer, the gnoll interrupts her. "Are you crazy, Branwen? You cannot just ask a Master to join our party! No, no! Such a waste of time it would be for her, yes!"

"I - I didn't ask her, though, did I?"

"But you were leading up to it, yes!" The gnoll turns back to Tizzy. "Forgive her, Master - we would not dream of being so forward!"

Tizzy is about to dismiss the gnoll's worries, when she has another thought. "...Well, actually...I do have some friends coming, but it might be a little while yet. And maybe it'd be better to try things with a group? After all, you certainly seem to know more about the dungeon than I do."

The table goes silent for a moment at her suggestion, and a quick round of non-verbal communication seems to pass between the others at the table. Eventually, it's the bearded man who speaks up first. "...If we have a Master on the team, we won't get much Association credit for the run...not if it's the first few floors, anyhow."

The orc snorts. "Aye, but we'll still have the rewards, and what's a run or two in the scheme of things, eh? Besides, haven't you ever wanted to see a Master at work? I know I have!"

The elf nods along. "I feel like we could learn a lot!" Refocusing on Tizzy, she turns on her brightest smile. "The Red Talons would be happy to have you along for a run or two! Oh, that's our party name, by the way."

The bearded man grunts. "Right, if we're doing this, suppose we ought to introduce ourselves properly. You know Yiffy there's our Archer, and the elf lass is Branwen, she's...also our Archer. Well, one's an Alpine and one's a Woodlands, though damned if I can see a difference in how they shoot their damned bows."

Branwen gives a haughty sniff. "You'd notice the difference if we did more outdoors-based dungeons, you know. The grump here by the way is Metz Longflanks, he's a Vanguard, though he fights more with a hammer than a shield. And the green fellow at my side here is Hurlash of Niad'osh, a Green Mage. Ah, not because he is green, though! Being green is a pleasant color, of course, but I mean..."

As she trails off into awkwardness, Hurlash takes mercy on her. "It's fine, at least you're a better shot with your arrows than with your words! So, Arcane Eye - you really up for slumming it with the likes of us for a run or two?"

"Sure, sure!" Tizzy nods, but her attention is pulled away by a stir elsewhere in the tavern. "But - perhaps tonight we can focus on the party, hmm? Seems like it's just getting started..."