"Don't worry, we won't cause any trouble." Vesper replies, before heading towards the larger building and knocking on the door.

"We certainly won't go out of our way to trouble your abode," Kess would nod, following the group. "Just how long have the people of Melton been harassed by these goblins, if you don't mind my asking...?"

Krackle would shiver inside the bag... not from cold... but from fear. "I don't think they are goin to like me..." He would say quietly from the sack.. clutching his tail nervously 

Frida answers, "We been lucky... so far they've left Melton well enough alone, and that's the way I'd like to keep it."

You make your way down the road to the large building in the center of the village. It's long and low, with each shuttered windows facing the muddy street. There's a sign above the entrance, indicating that this place is called The Weary Knight.

Noise and firelight seeps out from the closed front door. It's obvious that this place is an inn, so there's no need to knock. You swing open the door and poke your heads in and see a small common room with a huge fire that's roaring in a hearth in the corner. There are about twenty people inside, who are spread across half a dozen rough-looking wooden tables. All conversation stops for a few brief moments at the sight of a group of strangers who are standing at the entrance. 

At that point, a wiry old man with white hair scolds you from his place behind the bar.

"Close the door, it's cold!!

Before entering Vesper sends a message to Krackle. "Then stay in the bag until we've gotten rooms and don't make any noise."

Vesper closes the door at the man's scolding. "How much would it be for me and my friends to stay the night?"

"Ah got three rooms open an' they'll cost ye two silvers each." the man says in his rough, heavily accented voice.

Vesper puts down the six silvers for three rooms; one for whoever had the saddlebag, one for Lumen, and one for those left over.

"OK.." Krackle would reply before staying very still.. 

Chrys makes sure Krackle is well nestled within the saddlebag before approaching the old man behind the bar.  She draws out the purple cloak with the dagger she'd wrapped earlier, and shows it to the barkeep.  "Any o' this stuff look familiar to ya?" she asks.  "Maybe seen someone passin' through here carryin' this stuff?  Human fellow, he was, Chondathan, lotsa brown hair, and sportin' a braided beard.  He feel afoul o' some trouble on the road, an' we'd like to pass it on in case anyone was lookin' for 'im."

Is there any music playing in the common room? Lumen has been in dozens of these rooms and faced the initial suspicion and distrust - and sometimes he offers to play some tunes that people love to hear. Can he do a read of the room to see if this is likely to be welcomed or not?

The barkeep takes your money and gives you the keys to three rooms. "Four, five and eight... down the hall," he says, dropping the silvers into a pouch on his waist. He then turns around to pour a couple of dark ales from a barrel and drops them on the bar, where a stout red headed dwarf grabs them and takes them back to his table. 

When he's finished, he takes a few seconds to glance at the items that Chrys presents and then answers. "Nah... I see a lot o' folk in here, an' I don't pay much mind to what their wearing, just what they want to eat 'n' drink and if'n they need rooms fer the night. I keep to myself and don't get in with other people's affairs. Yer welcome to ask some o' them other folk if they seen your friend, I can't stop ye. Now, ye be wantin' some stew an' ale tonight?"

As he looks around the room, Lumen sees that it's not an exceptionally lively place. In fact, the overall mood seems pretty dour. There is no music, in fact, it doesn't look like there is any kind of stage or open corner that might be designated for entertainment. The twenty or so patrons seem quite engrossed in their ales. Some are talking, few are laughing, and some are sitting by themselves, including the only other half orc you see. Most of the other people here are human, with a small handful of dwarves and a pair of gnomes.

"I'd appreciate that, though if it's all the same ta you, I'll take it in my room," Chrys replies, giving her saddlebag a reassuring pat.  Turning around, she clears her throat and raises her voice, unfurling the cloak and holding it as high as she can.

"Any o' you lot here recognize this cloak?  Come 'n find me if ya do," she bellows, holding the cloak aloft for a few moments longer.

"PSST... PSSSTTT... Get some stew please.. I'll pay for it... " He would whisper to Chrys from inside his sack.

The red headed dwarf who had just picked up the two ales from the bar speaks up from where he's sitting at one of the tables. "Yea, I think I seen it."

Chrys takes off her saddlebags and hands them over carefully to Lumen, saying "Sorry for bein' rude, but could I ask ya ta make sure my 'pack' and 'my' stew get to my room please?" 

Taking the cloak and dagger, she approaches the dwarf.  Smiling warmly in greeting, she says in dwarvish, "'Tis good to see a brother in a place like this.  My name's Chrysoberyl, o' the clan Vos'rorn, from Twilight Tor.  Thanks for speakin' with me."  Switching back to common, she displays the items once again to him.  "Did ya know him?" she asks, gesturing to the cloak.  "He an' his horse met their end on the road outta here.  Couple o' stirges did 'em in.  Wasn't right to let 'em lie there, so we gave 'em a proper burial, an' now we're lookin' to make sure anyone who might be missin' him knows his fate."

"Likewise, friend," the dwarf responds, while taking hearty sips from his mug of ale. "Tis good to know ya, Chrystoberyl. Name's Flint. Flint Frostforge. I'm the blacksmith here in Melton. I seen that cloak recently, if it's the same one. Fella came passin' through, maybe two, three days ago. Sold him some crossbow bolts."

"I ain't seen him before... but we talked a bit. Seemed like an eager enough bloke...said he was on his way south...went on about a magical pool or something that he'd heard about. Said he was gonna go look for it. Like I said, that was a couple days ago."

"Never saw him again. Too bad the poor fellow met his end, so good on you to do right by him, even if you didn't know the guy. And sad to say, but I don't know anyone who might be missing' him, he never said if he had any friends or kin nearby."

"So, if it's alright of me asking'... you and yer friends headin' east up The Way?"

"A decent burial an' someone thinkin' of me kin is the best any adventurer could ask for," Chrys says.  When she hears of the magical pool, her brows scrunch together.  "I gotta admit, I don't know too much 'bout magic, but one of my mates here might be able to make head or tails of that guy's story... maybe you could tell her all 'bout it."  Looking over her shoulder, Chrys waves Vesper and Kess over to join them.

She turns back to Flint and says "Sorta... we're a mercenary group callin' ourselves the Pie Pals.  We been hired to take care o' the goblin problem 'round these parts.  An' from the sight o' yer constable at the gate, it's none too soon.  What kinda guards have ya got here, cowerin' before a goblin threat instead o' goin' out to deal with it, or askin' for reinforcements?  They're like cockroaches!  If ya don't stamp 'em out right at the start, they're gonna keep multiplyin' 'till they become a serious problem!"  She sits back and crosses her arms, a shrewd look on her face.  "Or... don't tell me we're already past that point here, are we?  Have they taken root here like a bad toothache, and nobody's worryin' 'bout takin' care o' the rot?"

Vesper heads over with Kess to join Chrys. "Hey, did you need our help with something?"

Chrys introduces the dwarf to the two other women:  "This here's Flint Frostforge, local smithy o' Melton.  An' these are my friends, Vesper an' Kess.  Vesper here's got that magic touch... could ya tell her what ya just told me 'bout what that man was lookin' for?  If he had a fire lit under his pants to get to this magic pool, it mighta been somethin' important that she can makes some sense of."

"The Pie Pals, 'eh? Interesting name for a mercenary group." The dwarf lets out a brief chuckle. "So yer here to kill goblins? I'll drink to that, Chrystoberyl. Yer here none too soon I'd say, on account that a new tribe's moved into the area recently. They been hastlin' travelers and caravans along the road since early spring. 'Parrently, they been callin' themselves the Bloody Mask Mob."

"Pleased to meet you folks," Flint says to Vesper and Kess as they come over and sit down at the table. "As I was telling her friend here, I seen that fella with the purple cloak, he passed through Melton two or three days ago. Said he was headed off to find some magical pool he'd heard about somewhere south o' here. Didn't elaborate, so I don't know exactly what he was seekin' or where it was, but he was pretty sure he knew where to find it."