After Sandstone presents his quarry as prize and stops barking, someone from inside the White Deer at length unbars the door. The sound of wood being forcibly pried away, followed by what is evidently an interior wooden bar sliding across the door resounds in the evening's thickening fog ere at length the door is flung open by a coal-skinned Shoanti man roughly the height and stature of the Sheriff. "Baylor sent you, eh?" Garridan eyes first Tac then Talashia a moment, then his eyes widen just a hair in recognition. "You'd better be coming in, looks like one of your number's injured and the night's drawing dark." The innkeeper issues everyone inside then, casting a look at Sandstone and the heap of dead goblins at the dog's feet, whistles low. "You too, old pal. I reckon that night's work deserves something from the kitchen."
Those who enter quickly ascertain that the White Deer has become a makeshift station for the sick. Garridan's apron is stained with blood, as is the white apron of his cook, and a pair of patients lie on old blankets on the floor in front of the tavern's hearth. One, a middle aged woman, has a bad cut in her thigh that has been cursorily bandaged with kitchen towels but is still seeping blood. The other, an elderly man with a balding head and a thin grey mullet of hair, lies still a few feet from the hearth and doesn't move. The air of death hangs heavy inside the tavern. Garridan gestures to the elderly man and matter-of-factly states, "They ripped out Old Walt's innards. Wasn't much I could do. Elsie'll probably make it, but we need someone with a better hand to help. Good thing you lot came along--with the crowd of scavengers out front the Deer playing nasty games with that hunting dog, it was only a matter of time before the beasts found their way in. Other than Walt and Elsie, the rest of us're doing alright. What news of my brother and the rest of the town?"
While he debriefs his guests, Garridan puts a plate of sliced ham on the floor for the dog, then lines up tankards of ale on the wooden bar and gestures for Elyra, Grokk, Sivan, and Tac to take one if they wish. The fifth tankard, however, Garridan covers with the flat of his hand before offering to Talashia. "You weren't but a pup of a girl when you left, you sure you're old enough for a drink, lassie?" With a wink, Garridan offers the tankard to Talashia anyway. "Reckon you earned it."
Garridan listens intently to news of Sandpoint and his brother with a solemn shake of his head. Eyeing Grokk with a frown, the innkeeper grunts. "Wounded as he is, his company here at the Deer wouldn't go amiss. If Elsie makes it through the night, the priest can heal her right as rain in the morning after he's got his wind back." Grokk starts to bark in protest but quiets after stealing a glance at Old Dead Hank just as the wound in his own thigh oozes new blood. "I'll stay, you lot go," the priest grunts in pain.
