Monday, The Second of September, Year 342 of the Second Age of Erradon
Colbrook, The Meat and Mead, 10:00 AM
You climb the three well worn wooden stairs leading to the open porch of the weathered two story clap board house. It's a calm sunlit morning here in Colbrook as per usual, cool but warming, and while that may have been a welcome change from the crowded and bustling cobble paved avenues and boulevards of Ebrem, where the sunlight is welcomed when it can be found between the tall cut stone buildings and the granite and marble spires, towers, and walls of that city, you've been in Colbrook for a couple of months now, and the refreshing calm is becoming a bit stale of late.
Hanging from the porch eave is a wooden sign with a plain script painted in bold black, Meat and Mead. This has been the local gathering place for the townsfolk of Colbrook since you can remember; for you as well, being a Colbrook resident up until the more recent years. The open windows by the doorway leading into the common room show it to be mostly empty at this hour, and that wasn't unexpected. The people of Colbrook are farmers and tradesfolk. They eat early and work the day through, and don't have time for idleness this late in the day. Still, the smell of sausage on the grill and biscuits from the oven lingers in the air, and invites you in.
And in you go, through the swinging door and into the common room. The room itself is about 35 feet deep and 50 feet wide, with plaster walls and wooden floors. The plank ceiling is 10 feet high, supported by rough cut wood beams. In the center of the wall to your left is a 5 foot wide hallway, leading to a stairway up to the rented rooms on the second floor and two doors, one under the stairway that leads to the basement, and one that goes farther into the house and the proprietor's private living space.
The pub is as causal as you might expect in such a town. Two long wooden tables dominate the center of the room with benches on either side. Above them hang a couple of cart wheel chandeliers, a dozen beeswax candles half melted there. There are two tables at both the corners to your right, with a large stone hearth fireplace, currently unlit, between them. Windows, now with shutters open and panes raised to allow the fresh breeze to pass through, sit above these tables. Above the mantelpiece of the fireplace is a large framed painting, a map of Colbrook and the surrounding lands, complete with favorite hikes and haunts of the local patrons which they might want to share drawn in different colored inks, as chosen by the contributor. At the back of the room is the bar, with a well polished bar top, a darkly stained bar wall, and a cut stone footrail. Behind the bar is an area for food preparation and cooking, complete with a grill and brick oven. A dozen stools are arranged along the bar. Patrons sit in two of these.
Behind the bar is a tall lanky man wearing an apron. This is Tiernan, and he has been operating the Meat and Mead for longer than you've been alive. He's currently got his back turned to you, throwing a couple of slices of blood sausage on the grill. He must have some elf blood in his veins, because as long as you've known him, he hasn't seemed to age a day. Same lank brown hair tied back with a leather thong, same short cropped beard, though perhaps showing a bit more grey at the chin than before.
As you go to take your seats at a table, its his daughter that comes to greet you. Kara is her name, and she was quickly wiping down a table when you walked in, looking up with a start as you did so. Her straight black hair framed a pale and narrow face, much like her father's, but hers is quicker to smile, as it does now.
"Hey, you two." Kara said as she tucked the rag she was using to clean the table under the belt at her waist, wiping her long fingered hands on the skirts of her green and yellow flannel dress. She was in her late teens, maybe twenty by now, and she'd been working for her father since she was old enough to carry a serving tray on one hand. "Its a bit late in the day, but dad must have heard you coming. He's already got the grill going." she said with a short laugh. "It'll be a moment, make yourselves comfortable."And she turned back toward the bar, her quick stride closing the distance to it in short order.
One of the two individuals sitting at the bar you recognize. It's the old half orc rancher Tokkar. He runs a sheep fold to the east of town with his wife and their boys and their wives and children. You imagine he might have stood as tall as seven feet in his younger years, but stooped with age he is, and he walks with a gnarled staff now, which he has resting against the bar beside him. His green tinged skin is tanned dark and weathered, his short tusks worn and yellowed. He's busy sopping up some of Tiernan's corn mash with half a biscuit, talking in low tones with the other patron sitting near him.
That one you don't recognize, though you might venture a guess as to his occupation. He wears a plain hooded blue cloak, the hood pulled back at the moment to reveal long dirty golden locks falling to his narrow shoulders. Pointed ears poke through, showing him to be of elvish descent, though his height and frame would make him more half elf than a pure blood. Thick gloves are tucked into his belt and mud splattered boots rest on the foot rail. The wheel and compass clearly tattooed on the back of his right hand marks him as one of the Wayfolk of Erradon for you, though. He is in quiet conversation with Tokkar, and he must have said something amusing, because the half orc gave him a good chuckle, before offering a word in return and taking another bite of biscuit.
Kara was on her way back to you then, serving tray in hand. "Here you are." she said, as she put a wooden plate of sliced and grilled blood sausage made of pork rind, bacon, and barley, a buttery honey glazed biscuit, and Tiernan's unique 'corn mash', a combination of shredded savory fried potatoes smothered in a sweet creamed corn, in front of you. This was accompanied with a pint of what Tiernan called his breakfast beer, which was actually a cyser mead, a fermented apple and honey drink spiced with a dash of cinnamon. This was breakfast at the Meat and Mead. It was the only breakfast at the Meat and Mead. And if you didn't like it, Tiernan was apt to tell you to go break your fast at someplace catering to weak stomached weasels, and you could go to the nine hells to find it, for all he cared.
When she was done, Kara set her serving tray down on a nearby table, and made a show of wiping it down. This had become the routine with her when you arrived and business was light. She was a very curious young woman, and she seemed intrigued with your status as hometown folk returned from the big city. Before you could begin discussing your plans, before even you managed to get a bite into the breakfast set before you, the first question came.
"So..." Kara said. "You'll be returning to Ebrem in a couple of weeks to resume your studies, I suppose, right?" She swept imaginary crumbs off the clean tabletop, as her pale blue eyes glanced in your direction. "I wish I could go with. To walk the Golden Road, visit the crystal domed Peyton Abbey... hells, to eat something other than blood sausage for breakfast for once..." she added with a wry smile. "To wear something other than rough wool or flannel." She straightened, wiping her hands off on her skirts again. "I'd pay a pretty pence." She sat quickly beside you then, leaning in and speaking in a low tone. "That fella with Tokkar over there..." and she nodded in the direction of the half elf sitting with the old half orc shepard. "He's a Wayfolkman. I overheard him talking about business he has with the jeweler's guild. Tokkar was asking on a gift he wanted to surprise Marist with, and the Wayfolker said he would see what's what when he visited the Stone Haven District in Ebrem. He said he had an order of raw rocks to drop off at the gem cutters of The Brilliant Hall there, and he'd see what he could find for old Tokkar while he was visiting. I can't imagine. It must be like walking into a vault full of shining stars." A dreamy quality had started to take over her eyes, which she then quickly blinked out of. "But I imagine Ebrem houses all sorts of wonders. You must have seen some in your time there. Tell me about another, won't you?" She glanced up toward the bar to see if her father had noticed she wasn't about yet. It seemed he hadn't. She looked back to you then. "Just one. Where would you go, if you wanted something really... exotic to eat in the city? Something really different, but good." And she waited on you expectantly.
(OOC: This will be a world building exercise we may do from time to time. Feel free to use your imaginations and improvise here, if you'd like to come up with and have your characters describe to Kara some specific location in Ebrem they might frequent. It may come into play later. Also, please do give a physical description of your character, as they are when they walk in to The Meat and Mead this morning.)
Monday, The Second of September, Year 342 of the Second Age of Erradon
Colbrook, The Meat and Mead, 10:00 AM
You climb the three well worn wooden stairs leading to the open porch of the weathered two story clap board house. It's a calm sunlit morning here in Colbrook as per usual, cool but warming, and while that may have been a welcome change from the crowded and bustling cobble paved avenues and boulevards of Ebrem, where the sunlight is welcomed when it can be found between the tall cut stone buildings and the granite and marble spires, towers, and walls of that city, you've been in Colbrook for a couple of months now, and the refreshing calm is becoming a bit stale of late.
Hanging from the porch eave is a wooden sign with a plain script painted in bold black, Meat and Mead. This has been the local gathering place for the townsfolk of Colbrook since you can remember; for you as well, being a Colbrook resident up until the more recent years. The open windows by the doorway leading into the common room show it to be mostly empty at this hour, and that wasn't unexpected. The people of Colbrook are farmers and tradesfolk. They eat early and work the day through, and don't have time for idleness this late in the day. Still, the smell of sausage on the grill and biscuits from the oven lingers in the air, and invites you in.
And in you go, through the swinging door and into the common room. The room itself is about 35 feet deep and 50 feet wide, with plaster walls and wooden floors. The plank ceiling is 10 feet high, supported by rough cut wood beams. In the center of the wall to your left is a 5 foot wide hallway, leading to a stairway up to the rented rooms on the second floor and two doors, one under the stairway that leads to the basement, and one that goes farther into the house and the proprietor's private living space.
The pub is as causal as you might expect in such a town. Two long wooden tables dominate the center of the room with benches on either side. Above them hang a couple of cart wheel chandeliers, a dozen beeswax candles half melted there. There are two tables at both the corners to your right, with a large stone hearth fireplace, currently unlit, between them. Windows, now with shutters open and panes raised to allow the fresh breeze to pass through, sit above these tables. Above the mantelpiece of the fireplace is a large framed painting, a map of Colbrook and the surrounding lands, complete with favorite hikes and haunts of the local patrons which they might want to share drawn in different colored inks, as chosen by the contributor. At the back of the room is the bar, with a well polished bar top, a darkly stained bar wall, and a cut stone footrail. Behind the bar is an area for food preparation and cooking, complete with a grill and brick oven. A dozen stools are arranged along the bar. Patrons sit in two of these.
Behind the bar is a tall lanky man wearing an apron. This is Tiernan, and he has been operating the Meat and Mead for longer than you've been alive. He's currently got his back turned to you, throwing a couple of slices of blood sausage on the grill. He must have some elf blood in his veins, because as long as you've known him, he hasn't seemed to age a day. Same lank brown hair tied back with a leather thong, same short cropped beard, though perhaps showing a bit more grey at the chin than before.
As you go to take your seats at a table, its his daughter that comes to greet you. Kara is her name, and she was quickly wiping down a table when you walked in, looking up with a start as you did so. Her straight black hair framed a pale and narrow face, much like her father's, but hers is quicker to smile, as it does now.
"Hey, you two." Kara said as she tucked the rag she was using to clean the table under the belt at her waist, wiping her long fingered hands on the skirts of her green and yellow flannel dress. She was in her late teens, maybe twenty by now, and she'd been working for her father since she was old enough to carry a serving tray on one hand. "Its a bit late in the day, but dad must have heard you coming. He's already got the grill going." she said with a short laugh. "It'll be a moment, make yourselves comfortable." And she turned back toward the bar, her quick stride closing the distance to it in short order.
One of the two individuals sitting at the bar you recognize. It's the old half orc rancher Tokkar. He runs a sheep fold to the east of town with his wife and their boys and their wives and children. You imagine he might have stood as tall as seven feet in his younger years, but stooped with age he is, and he walks with a gnarled staff now, which he has resting against the bar beside him. His green tinged skin is tanned dark and weathered, his short tusks worn and yellowed. He's busy sopping up some of Tiernan's corn mash with half a biscuit, talking in low tones with the other patron sitting near him.
That one you don't recognize, though you might venture a guess as to his occupation. He wears a plain hooded blue cloak, the hood pulled back at the moment to reveal long dirty golden locks falling to his narrow shoulders. Pointed ears poke through, showing him to be of elvish descent, though his height and frame would make him more half elf than a pure blood. Thick gloves are tucked into his belt and mud splattered boots rest on the foot rail. The wheel and compass clearly tattooed on the back of his right hand marks him as one of the Wayfolk of Erradon for you, though. He is in quiet conversation with Tokkar, and he must have said something amusing, because the half orc gave him a good chuckle, before offering a word in return and taking another bite of biscuit.
Kara was on her way back to you then, serving tray in hand. "Here you are." she said, as she put a wooden plate of sliced and grilled blood sausage made of pork rind, bacon, and barley, a buttery honey glazed biscuit, and Tiernan's unique 'corn mash', a combination of shredded savory fried potatoes smothered in a sweet creamed corn, in front of you. This was accompanied with a pint of what Tiernan called his breakfast beer, which was actually a cyser mead, a fermented apple and honey drink spiced with a dash of cinnamon. This was breakfast at the Meat and Mead. It was the only breakfast at the Meat and Mead. And if you didn't like it, Tiernan was apt to tell you to go break your fast at someplace catering to weak stomached weasels, and you could go to the nine hells to find it, for all he cared.
When she was done, Kara set her serving tray down on a nearby table, and made a show of wiping it down. This had become the routine with her when you arrived and business was light. She was a very curious young woman, and she seemed intrigued with your status as hometown folk returned from the big city. Before you could begin discussing your plans, before even you managed to get a bite into the breakfast set before you, the first question came.
"So..." Kara said. "You'll be returning to Ebrem in a couple of weeks to resume your studies, I suppose, right?" She swept imaginary crumbs off the clean tabletop, as her pale blue eyes glanced in your direction. "I wish I could go with. To walk the Golden Road, visit the crystal domed Peyton Abbey... hells, to eat something other than blood sausage for breakfast for once..." she added with a wry smile. "To wear something other than rough wool or flannel." She straightened, wiping her hands off on her skirts again. "I'd pay a pretty pence." She sat quickly beside you then, leaning in and speaking in a low tone. "That fella with Tokkar over there..." and she nodded in the direction of the half elf sitting with the old half orc shepard. "He's a Wayfolkman. I overheard him talking about business he has with the jeweler's guild. Tokkar was asking on a gift he wanted to surprise Marist with, and the Wayfolker said he would see what's what when he visited the Stone Haven District in Ebrem. He said he had an order of raw rocks to drop off at the gem cutters of The Brilliant Hall there, and he'd see what he could find for old Tokkar while he was visiting. I can't imagine. It must be like walking into a vault full of shining stars." A dreamy quality had started to take over her eyes, which she then quickly blinked out of. "But I imagine Ebrem houses all sorts of wonders. You must have seen some in your time there. Tell me about another, won't you?" She glanced up toward the bar to see if her father had noticed she wasn't about yet. It seemed he hadn't. She looked back to you then. "Just one. Where would you go, if you wanted something really... exotic to eat in the city? Something really different, but good." And she waited on you expectantly.
(OOC: This will be a world building exercise we may do from time to time. Feel free to use your imaginations and improvise here, if you'd like to come up with and have your characters describe to Kara some specific location in Ebrem they might frequent. It may come into play later. Also, please do give a physical description of your character, as they are when they walk in to The Meat and Mead this morning.)