With Everlund only half a day's journey ahead, you make camp under the cold, dark clouds that partly obscure the moon and stars. Thankfully, Ink's magic keeps you warm in the increasingly chilly weather. The howling of wolves keeps you company throughout the night, but gradually lessens as the moon sinks towards the horizon. By the time the sun's first rays can be seen over the mountains to the east, the only sound that meets your ears is birdsong. You set out again, rested but road-weary.

Only a couple hours later, following the Evermoor Way over the rolling landscape, you crest a hillock to catch the first sight of the mercantile city of Everlund, situated on the Rauvin River.

A thick stone wall encloses the city, and two of the city's gates are visible to you as you approach from the south. Beyond the closest gate at the terminus of the Evermoor Way, a broad, straight avenue leads over the river to the Bell Market at the city’s center. The streets are clean and more than wide enough to accommodate your small cart. Soldiers of the city’s army make a show of patrolling the walls, a reassuring sight for visitors and citizens (as well as a discouragement to attackers, one would presume).

The buildings of Everlund appear stately and well-maintained, with steeply pitched rooftops and tall spires that sport colorful banners. Parks and groomed trees are situated pleasantly along the banks of the river, and children play freely here. At the end of one of these parks is the pub called Danivarr's House. 

Across the city rises the iconic Moongleam Tower, a black stone keep consisting of four narrow, cylindrical towers joined together at the top. An ornate, mirror-like crescent moon assembly adorns the top, shining in the sun.

As they ride in, Crownsguard puts forth a question, “This is Everlund, correct? Remind me, why are we here again?”

 "Before we met you, Crownsguard, we were investigating the recent giant activity. I don't remember now if we brought it up, but we were in Triboar, a small city or large town, where we fended off a fire giant attack. We also got into some... legal.... trouble when we involved ourselves in a towns guard situation when we shouldn't have. Basically, a nasty local wizard was causing trouble - we'll, his gargoyles were - and we paid him a house call. However, the local Lord's Protector gave us an out - as a thank you for defending the city. If we present this platinum badge," Ink produces it from the bag of holding, "to Dral Thelev, a half-orc in Danivarr's House, we would officially join Triboar's special task force and therefore allow us to state that we were acting on the town's behalf, as opposed to acting on our own."

"We also learned that we can get some further information here - and, Harshnag, the frost giant, a possible ally, may be nearby. I believe he was the one that took out the Red Tiger tribe, so he might have seen Rip's family."

Pointing at the Moongleam Tower, Ink offers, "After visiting Danivarr's House, if we're having trouble tracking down leads, I may be able to find us some help in that tower. Friends of friends, so to speak."

“I see. Do you often encounter legal trouble? I have noticed that people do not tend to ‘like’ us, so to speak. However, my experience with you all is limited, perhaps that assessment is unfair. Perhaps trouble is attracted to you, it may not be your fault, but fate just enjoys hurting you.” 

As you discuss these things, you approach the wide bridge towards the Bell Market. The locals and merchants are going about their business, but everyone that glances your way—to a person—does a double-take when they see Crownsguard riding on Horse. Parents usher their children further away from the the street at your approach, and merchants hocking their wares seem momentarily dumbstruck as they lay eyes on you as a group. 

The beggars on the Knight Bridge call out for alms as you pass, keeping their gaze on the ground.

// I’ll assume you want to go to Danivarr’s House, and will move you along there tomorrow if you don’t want to do anything in town at the moment.  //

//yes, Danivar's  house unless we spot a frost giant along the way.//

As they approach the city, Ink asks for a ten minute break to cast "comprehend languages" (lasts about an hour). 

//

Ink looks over the beggars, for any signs of local associations... He passes a few coppers to who looks to be the most connected and asks for rumors from within the city and from travelers and visitors - strange sightings, political turmoil, etc.

Ink suggests to Crownsguard, "Perhaps you should wear a cloak - not many people are used to seeing a person of your... stature."

Once within the gates, Ink will also ask about libraries, stores that sell magic items, or stores known for obscure odd and ends (//  Ink is looking for places he can find scrolls, old spell books, etc., anything to add to his spell book.  //) 

Crownsguard nods, “I understand. I have a cloak for just such occasions.” Crownsguard puts on his traveler’s cloak. It doesn’t cover much.

Marav just pulls his cloak up around himself. Staying close to the wagon. He keeps his orcish features hidden. He is clearly not comfortable in bigger cities.

As you enter from the park side, Danivarr's House appears to be a clean and well-kept pub with modern furnishings and a pleasant ambience. It's early enough that there are no other patrons, and the single worker, a one-eyed half orc in an apron, is sweeping the floor in front of the bar. He looks up as you enter, and gruffly salutes. "Take a seat here while I put the broom away. What can I do for ya?" he speaks over his shoulder as he sets the broom against the paneled wall. 

There are several taps along the back wall, as well as a swinging door which presumably leads to the kitchen. The bar is made of a dark, polished wood, and the barstools are made of similar material. Everywhere else, chairs are sat atop tables for cleaning.

Flint rights a chair and fishes his pouch for a few silvers, "A stable fer  th' horse 'n wagon, ale fer me friends an' yerself, two fer me. We're lookin' fer someone 'ere. Be ye master Dral Thelev?"

Crownsguard looks around to the chairs in the room, then to the stools. He will sit on the comparatively tiny stool, “Hello.” He will allow Flint to take the lead.

Quote from DarthAvarice >>

Flint rights a chair and fishes his pouch for a few silvers, "A stable fer  th' horse 'n wagon, ale fer me friends an' yerself, two fer me. We're lookin' fer someone 'ere. Be ye master Dral Thelev?"

 “Indeed,” says the half orc, thumping his chest. “Proud owner and proprietor. Stables are just down the way, on the street corner. Can’t miss it.”

He begins to pour ale into large mugs.

Quote from JcAndD >>

Crownsguard looks around to the chairs in the room, then to the stools. He will sit on the comparatively tiny stool, “Hello.” He will allow Flint to take the lead.

 The half orc looks you up and down with his one good eye, but says nothing except, “You got a mouth for the ale? Or do you put it somewhere else?”

“I will check.” Crownsguard makes a series of noises as he checks his schematics, “I can apparently become inebriated.” Crownsguard just splashes the whole tankard on his stone face as his wooden bits seem to absorb it. “Thank you.”

Dral gazes at Crownsguard for a heartbeat before bursting out with a full-bellied laugh. “I don’t know what you are, stranger, but I like you already.”

Marav lowers his hood. "So, Everlund is accepting of our kind? Where I am from... not so much." He drains his ale. 

"Now that hits the spot. We have been on the road a while now."

"We're in th' right place then. Got somethin' fer ye outta Triboar..." Flint places the badge on the table and downs one of the ales. "Let me see ta th' stablin' then we'll catch up." Flint grabs the other tankard and goes to stable Boris and the wagon, returning when he is satisfied the wagon is secure.