An Inigma

[eriwoj]

An elf enters the tavern shaking snow from his cloak. He glances over all of the messages posted along the walls. A man and his page enter. The man removes his cloak, shaking the snow from it, as he approaches the elf and whispers something to him. The elf knods and continues to scan the walls as the man and his heavily cloaked squire walk up to the bar, place an order, and then retire to a table.

The elf sees that many of the messages have been left by a band of warriors who are grouping to preserve and defend local forest lands. "Good," he thinks, "It is about time someone did that. I would join, but I am too busy."

He continues to scan as his friends sip their drinks at a table near the fire place. He spots a few papers with letters to home written on them. His interest is sparked by one addressed to "Czasohil and Luka Timaukogacki". He quickly reads through it and then rips it from the wall and tucks it in his bracer as he makes his way to the bar to order a drink and ask a few questions.

A hunched over form in a heavy, undied, wool cloak limps in by another door. The elf at the bar takes no notice as this new comer limps to a dark corner leaning on an unstrung bow for support. He limp seems faked but not many notice.

As this figure seats himself and sets aside the bow, one of the bar maids approachs to take his order. The person speaks not, but simply waves a hand, gesturing to be left alone. His dark fleshed hand reached into a pouch at the belt and remove a pipe and some smoking herb.

After lighting the pipe with the candle on the table, and snubbing its flame, the figure pulls one foot up on to the chair and begins to scan the room. The man by the fire meets his eyes but turns away. His page notices his master dodge the glance but says nothing.

The dark man stays silent in the corner watching and waiting as the rest of the other tavern patrons continue on with their normal evening.

 

[eriwoj]

Ditto

 

[Gerik]

The door bangs open, causing snow to swirl in and the wind to blow, much to the dismay of the customers and the barmaids. A traveler stands in the door heavily cloaked and covered in snow. They stand in the doorway a moment, causing the fire to gutter, shaking of some of the snow they finally shut the door and walk over to the fire.

After warming up the person pulls their hood off, reveiling shaggy raven hair and a well shaven face. He walks to the board where the elf had just been standing. Looking through the notes he pulls out a note of his own and adds it to the rest.

*Attention*
For those seeking employment where the scenery changes and has regular pay. Seek out Lord Gerik or leave a message at here or with the InnKeep.

Nodding in satisfaction he heads to the InnKeep and orders his dinner, got lodging for a week and informed the InnKeep that he was Lord Gerik if any should ask for him. Getting his meal he found a table near te fire and began eating.

 

[eriwoj]

The ebony skinned smoker turned and watched the new comer's movements. He again caught the glance of the man who had earlier looked away. This time the smoker in the corner faked a cough, the man leaned over and whispered to his servant. The boy picked up and went to the bar. He ordered a pitcher of milk.

This caught the attention of the elf who was still asking questions. He knew the man and his page and also that milk was a drink associated with special occasions. Figuring that this was a signal, the elf offers to carry the pitcher for the page.

"What is it, Gil?" the elf bent close to the man pouring him a glass.

"Him," Gil shoot a look toward Gerik; the elf looked over his shoulder to examine the man. "What do you think?"

"Go," he whispered and returned to the bar as Gil gave a nod to the dark skinned pipe smoker. Who nodded back and set down his pipe. He lifted the bow that he used as a walking stick and openly limped over to the table where Gerik sat enjoying his meal.

Speaking in a merchenary dialect, Are you not afraid of poison?

 

[Gerik]

Gerik had seen the man approch his table but continued to eat his meal. As the man sat down Gerik shifted a little, making room enough for an attack or a get away, for which ever would provide safest.

His attention was perked when the man spoke in a mercenary dialect and made a comment about poison. Deciding that making a scene would suit this meeting better he spoke in common. "Nah, don't normally think about it. See no one knows who I am until I tell them and besides, I've had worse in my system then poison."

Then taking a large swig of ale and eating a mouthfull of potatoes to prove his point he sat back. "So Sir, what can I do ya for? Ya don't look like the fightin' type, so ya ain't here fer that. Naw you want me for somethin' don't ya?" Grinning and running his hand through his hair, much to the delight of several barmaids, he finished his meal, called for another ale, and propped his booted feet up on the table.

 

[eriwoj]

"I know who you are. I also know that you are looking to hire, Lord Gerik," the man switched to common just as quickly, "What your little note fails to say is what you are hiring for. Do not look so shocked that I know what the note said. We have been searching for you for some time, and are glad we have finally found you.

"Now,that also means my friends and I have a few ideas as to what you need 'workers' for, and if we are correct then, you will have several good men at your service."