In the center of town stands a large, newly build roadhouse of fieldstone and rough-hewn timbers. The common room is filled with locals nursing mugs of ale or cider, many of them eyeing you with curiosity. Behind the bar a short, friendly young human male is pouring a tankard or two as a barmaid waits with a tray.
"This is more like it," Serwa says. "A decent reception, where no one has called us a dog or threatened to sheathe anything without consent. Civilization isn't dead after all."
Tomora has been quiet and somber as the group left the scene of the fight and walked to the inn. After the confrontation, she has been debating within herself what the right course of action was: to spare the dying men or let them live. She feels conflicted and naive, but Serwa's song makes her feel better.
Approaching the young man at the bar, she tries to get his attention, "Pardon me...we're needin' a meal and a few rooms, if you have any."
The young man behind the counter tilts his head slightly at Tomora's greeting, but waits until the tankard he's pouring is full before turning to look at her. When he does, his face lights up. "Ah, welcome, strangers, welcome!" he beams. He hands the ales to the barmaid, who whisks them away, and wipes his clean hands on his clean apron. "Welcome to the Stonehill Inn! The honorable Toblen Stonehill, proprietor." He gives a slight bow. "At your service. What can I do for you travelers? Meals and rooms? Certainly!" His gaze takes in the five of you. "Five meals, right. One room? Two?" he inquires. As the party considers, he calls across the room. "Elsa! Table for five!"
Tomora agrees. At this point Tomora is visibly drained and dragging from the eventful day, and is eager to rest for the evening. Her mood is melancholy, remaining fairly quiet during the meal and retiring to her bed early.
During a quiet moment she does ask "Xianon...is there a god that you follow?"
Xianon, too, is ready for the day to end. Once the team is seated, he breaks a hunk of bread of a loaf in the center of the table and bit of the block of cheese and goes to it, enjoying the simple fare. He accompanies this with a pitcher of water and a glass of red wine - but only one, which he nurses with sufficient care for one his size.
When Tomora asks her question, his eyes crinkle with his impish half-smile. "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun," he replies cryptically.
Xianon, too, is ready for the day to end. Once the team is seated, he breaks a hunk of bread of a loaf in the center of the table and bit of the block of cheese and goes to it, enjoying the simple fare. He accompanies this with a pitcher of water and a glass of red wine - but only one, which he nurses with sufficient care for one his size.
When Tomora asks her question, his eyes crinkle with his impish half-smile. "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun," he replies cryptically.
Religion: 4 OOC - To see if Serwa can guess whether he is referring to an actual diety.
OOC: Let me know what Serwa might make of Xianon's professed faith, based on her knowledge of religions, and her experience traveling and working with the elf.
(OOC: Now, now, we're not going to start rolling vs. other players. Let the elf have his fun. You'll figure it out sooner or later - and probably sooner rather than later.)
Xianon Lathalas
"I wonder what the locals know about these Redbrands," he elf muses. He pops a morsel of cheese into his mouth and chews slowly. After a moment he washes it down with the pinot noir and says, "They may be organized, but the ones we saw didn't seem disciplined enough for them to be any sort of local militia."
He gets the barmaid's attention long enough to inquire about the meat pies. On her recommendation, he orders the beef stew instead.
"I don't know this town well enough to guess, but it seems like a place of extremes. The first one we wander into it seemed like a town of hardened killers fighting for territory against whoever doesn't wear their colors, and here it seems like a pretty bucolic and peaceful place. I guess we wandered onto the wrong side of the wagon tracks,"Serwa says. "They didn't seem like military or militia, I agree. Aster can likely confirm, soldiers can behave pretty beastly, especially when it comes to their behavior when they're sacking an enemy keep or a town, but there's still a big difference between the way a military unit functions, and a gang. A gang is all posturing and threats, as much for the benefit of their fellow gang members as whatever outsiders they're picking on."
Serwa orders a water or chilled tea if the tavern can provide it, along with her meal, declining any offers of strong spirits or ale. "I'm concerned with how this gang could interfere with our mission. We still have another man to rescue, right? If these people aren't connected, they certainly could continue to be an inconvenient distraction, at least. We don't need this many enemies to worry about."
Sindar agrees. "If what we've just been through is any indication, then these Redbrands have compromised the security of the entire town. I'm going to talk to the townmaster first thing in the morning. He's the closest thing they have here to an elected leader," he explains, "and I'll find out what the situation is. But you're right, Serwa, these thugs may have to be dealt with before anything else. They may know what has happened to Iarno. Someone has to. And hopefully he, or someone else, has some idea where this Cragmaw Castle is where they've taken Gundren."
“Tomorrow, then, we head to their base of operation and give them a reasonable mandate to cease all their criminal activity and disband their little gang, and the opportunity to leave this city without harm,” Serwa says. “And when they say no, we kill them. Easy enough.”
Sildar gives a wry smile. "I like the way you think, paladin of Kelemvor," he says. Rising, he excuses himself. "It's been quite a day," he explains, adding earnestly, "and I thank you all for rescuing me." He looks down at his maimed hands for a thoughtful moment. "I think I was close to losing more than just my little fingers. If there's anything I can do for you, let me know." With that he takes his leave.
Serwa waves as he leaves, then reaches into her pack and produces the Dragon Chess set she purchased. "Anyone want to play? Dragon Chess is the game of master tacticians, kings, and generals. Or bored adventurers." She will pass the evening with games with her comrades, and then retire to bed.
The elf, too, demures. "I have a date," he says with a wink. Rising to his feet, he bows slightly and heads upstairs.
The room the men share is one of two rooms with windows that look out over the front of the in, over the porch. Once he has made himself at home, Xianon opens the window and slips out onto the porch roof. There he sits under the stars and stares up at the crescent moon, meditating.
Serwa spends a bit of time trying to strike up a game with random tavern patrons, “Theres always some old guy who is a chess master hanging out in places like this, isn’t there?” If her theory is proven wrong, she also retires for the evening, joining Tomora in her room and taking a Full Rest.
An old farmer takes Serwa up on her challenge. Moving to her table, he asks the Elsa for another ale. "These turkeys gave up long ago," he laments, indicating the crowd behind him. "I don't know why."
"Don't you believe him," warns Elsa, bringing the old man's ale. "And if Narth tries to make a wager on a game, tell him no." The old man sticks out his tongue at her, and she gives him a wink back. "Anything more for you, dear?" she asks Serwa.
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In the center of town stands a large, newly build roadhouse of fieldstone and rough-hewn timbers. The common room is filled with locals nursing mugs of ale or cider, many of them eyeing you with curiosity. Behind the bar a short, friendly young human male is pouring a tankard or two as a barmaid waits with a tray.
"This is more like it," Serwa says. "A decent reception, where no one has called us a dog or threatened to sheathe anything without consent. Civilization isn't dead after all."
Im gonna count that as bad choice of words on your part. Forgotten and forgiven. It has been an exhausting day, and i think it shows.
Olloray Dim - Limbo's Pit
Gunther Korroden - Nightmares in the Mist
Serwa nods to Aster's comment, and stays close to the others as they approach the staff to procure rooms and food.
Tomora has been quiet and somber as the group left the scene of the fight and walked to the inn. After the confrontation, she has been debating within herself what the right course of action was: to spare the dying men or let them live. She feels conflicted and naive, but Serwa's song makes her feel better.
Approaching the young man at the bar, she tries to get his attention, "Pardon me...we're needin' a meal and a few rooms, if you have any."
The young man behind the counter tilts his head slightly at Tomora's greeting, but waits until the tankard he's pouring is full before turning to look at her. When he does, his face lights up. "Ah, welcome, strangers, welcome!" he beams. He hands the ales to the barmaid, who whisks them away, and wipes his clean hands on his clean apron. "Welcome to the Stonehill Inn! The honorable Toblen Stonehill, proprietor." He gives a slight bow. "At your service. What can I do for you travelers? Meals and rooms? Certainly!" His gaze takes in the five of you. "Five meals, right. One room? Two?" he inquires. As the party considers, he calls across the room. "Elsa! Table for five!"
“Two rooms is cheaper, Tomora and I can share one,” Serwa agrees. “But five meals, definitely. I’m not sharing my dinner with anyone.”
Tomora agrees. At this point Tomora is visibly drained and dragging from the eventful day, and is eager to rest for the evening. Her mood is melancholy, remaining fairly quiet during the meal and retiring to her bed early.
During a quiet moment she does ask "Xianon...is there a god that you follow?"
Xianon Lathalas
Xianon, too, is ready for the day to end. Once the team is seated, he breaks a hunk of bread of a loaf in the center of the table and bit of the block of cheese and goes to it, enjoying the simple fare. He accompanies this with a pitcher of water and a glass of red wine - but only one, which he nurses with sufficient care for one his size.
When Tomora asks her question, his eyes crinkle with his impish half-smile. "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun," he replies cryptically.
Religion: 4 OOC - To see if Serwa can guess whether he is referring to an actual diety.
OOC: Let me know what Serwa might make of Xianon's professed faith, based on her knowledge of religions, and her experience traveling and working with the elf.
(OOC: Now, now, we're not going to start rolling vs. other players. Let the elf have his fun. You'll figure it out sooner or later - and probably sooner rather than later.)
Xianon Lathalas
"I wonder what the locals know about these Redbrands," he elf muses. He pops a morsel of cheese into his mouth and chews slowly. After a moment he washes it down with the pinot noir and says, "They may be organized, but the ones we saw didn't seem disciplined enough for them to be any sort of local militia."
He gets the barmaid's attention long enough to inquire about the meat pies. On her recommendation, he orders the beef stew instead.
"I don't know this town well enough to guess, but it seems like a place of extremes. The first one we wander into it seemed like a town of hardened killers fighting for territory against whoever doesn't wear their colors, and here it seems like a pretty bucolic and peaceful place. I guess we wandered onto the wrong side of the wagon tracks," Serwa says. "They didn't seem like military or militia, I agree. Aster can likely confirm, soldiers can behave pretty beastly, especially when it comes to their behavior when they're sacking an enemy keep or a town, but there's still a big difference between the way a military unit functions, and a gang. A gang is all posturing and threats, as much for the benefit of their fellow gang members as whatever outsiders they're picking on."
Serwa orders a water or chilled tea if the tavern can provide it, along with her meal, declining any offers of strong spirits or ale. "I'm concerned with how this gang could interfere with our mission. We still have another man to rescue, right? If these people aren't connected, they certainly could continue to be an inconvenient distraction, at least. We don't need this many enemies to worry about."
Sindar agrees. "If what we've just been through is any indication, then these Redbrands have compromised the security of the entire town. I'm going to talk to the townmaster first thing in the morning. He's the closest thing they have here to an elected leader," he explains, "and I'll find out what the situation is. But you're right, Serwa, these thugs may have to be dealt with before anything else. They may know what has happened to Iarno. Someone has to. And hopefully he, or someone else, has some idea where this Cragmaw Castle is where they've taken Gundren."
“Tomorrow, then, we head to their base of operation and give them a reasonable mandate to cease all their criminal activity and disband their little gang, and the opportunity to leave this city without harm,” Serwa says. “And when they say no, we kill them. Easy enough.”
Sildar gives a wry smile. "I like the way you think, paladin of Kelemvor," he says. Rising, he excuses himself. "It's been quite a day," he explains, adding earnestly, "and I thank you all for rescuing me." He looks down at his maimed hands for a thoughtful moment. "I think I was close to losing more than just my little fingers. If there's anything I can do for you, let me know." With that he takes his leave.
Serwa waves as he leaves, then reaches into her pack and produces the Dragon Chess set she purchased. "Anyone want to play? Dragon Chess is the game of master tacticians, kings, and generals. Or bored adventurers." She will pass the evening with games with her comrades, and then retire to bed.
Yawning, Tomora staggers off to bed as well.
Xianon Lathalas
The elf, too, demures. "I have a date," he says with a wink. Rising to his feet, he bows slightly and heads upstairs.
The room the men share is one of two rooms with windows that look out over the front of the in, over the porch. Once he has made himself at home, Xianon opens the window and slips out onto the porch roof. There he sits under the stars and stares up at the crescent moon, meditating.
Serwa spends a bit of time trying to strike up a game with random tavern patrons, “Theres always some old guy who is a chess master hanging out in places like this, isn’t there?” If her theory is proven wrong, she also retires for the evening, joining Tomora in her room and taking a Full Rest.
An old farmer takes Serwa up on her challenge. Moving to her table, he asks the Elsa for another ale. "These turkeys gave up long ago," he laments, indicating the crowd behind him. "I don't know why."
"Don't you believe him," warns Elsa, bringing the old man's ale. "And if Narth tries to make a wager on a game, tell him no." The old man sticks out his tongue at her, and she gives him a wink back. "Anything more for you, dear?" she asks Serwa.