(Casual D&D II) The Fellowship of the White Dove

[Guilt Puppy]

(Big moving-onward moment, to try to get the game back up-to-speed...)

Continuing through the mountains, the days finally begin to pass quietly, without trouble. The animal attacks have ceased for now, and the orcs give you no trouble.

The weather seems to change daily, clouds of snow sweeping over in walls and then abandoning you to sunlight; until one morning you notice that the general slope of the pass is generally downward. A dark gray blot hangs in the haze of distance: Raven recognizes this as smoke from the stacks of Eivanrach, at last in sight.

...

The city has a small-town look about it, stout houses with steep roofs, lean wooden frames, rough brick-and-mortar walls. Far removed, indeed, from the grandeur of Bethel.

The signs of wealth are still clear, however, as you walk the streets. While not extravagent, everything is well-made, from homes to clothes; even the cart-horses seem of good strong stock.

It is a city where law seems well-enforced, as well. In the wide-open streets it is easy to spot guardsmen in their heavy studded leather, their red caps and shining halberds signalling their presence in clear warning to any would-be criminals. Their demeanor is noticably informal; Shavah comments on how undignified they seem, but all the same they are serious, and it is hard to imagine them to be truly lax about their duties.

"We should hail a carriage," Hiritus remarks after a few blocks. "The city seems a bit... voluminous to traverse on foot."

 

[DrZombie]

"The lamb's quite good at "the head of the dog", and the rooms are cheap. And he doesn't water down his ale. Maybe we should go there, see if there's any rooms available" Raven suggests.

And we'll see if Elsa's still got her eye on me.

 

[Uriel]

Niccolo pipes up at the sight of the town Ah, civilization at last!. I was getting a bit tired of twigs in my hair and beetles in my boots. I suppose I could be persuaded to change them in for ale and properly aged cheese. Spurring Alexander on, Niccolo moves to the front of the band, his eyes taking in the various building of Eivanach even as his steed took in the myriad smells.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Nurthk attempts to hail a carriage.

"The Head of the Dog it is then!" he says through a grin, "As much as I may love the out of doors, I'll always appreciate a mug of ale, a hearty meal and a warm fire."

[ooc: very kewl reference, doctor ]

 

[Guilt Puppy]

Raven leads you to the inn; it's within walking distance, and Hiritus seems a bit disappointed at missing the ride: The roads in Bethel, you recall, seemed to narrow and winding for more than a pull-cart.

From the look of the place, it was once a military barracks, its heart built from heavy stone. Since then, a wooden front-end has been tacked on, making room for a lounge below, and a hooded open-air tavern above.

One gold per night is enough to cover three rooms to fit the eight of you, or two gold if you want cots for everyone and bath privileges. Either way, cheap compared to the money changing hands at the card and dice games which run thick through the lower lounge. With a glance you can spot enough red caps to gather that these games are, if not fully legal, at least fully tolerated.

Upstairs the floor is painted red, and road wisdom says to be wary when the floors are painted red -- but here the paint is wearing thin, and the patrons are calm and casual. The man who runs the counter -- Mengan, Raven indicates -- is thin and narrow-eyed, and despite his wrinkled face seems somehow youthful beneath his wild crop of no-color hair and thin dark moustache.

"Evenin', folks," he says as he spots you coming up the stairs -- seeming to recognize Raven, but seeming to recognize the rest of you as well. "Take a seat, let me know what you'll be havin'."

Past the not-quite-square frame of the terrace railing you can see the sunset leak between the buildings, illuminating solid earth and what must seem like the first unburdened faces seen since the journey began...

 

[dpdx]

"We should unburden ourselves of these spare weapons, so as to procure enough gold to reprovision ourselves, Pelor willing," says Fendric as his pack (and himself) fall to the table and chair with a thud.

Rummaging through the saddlebag, he sifts through the remaining letters until he finds the one addressed to Aesop Rhandoril, Counsel to the Jury of Sages in the Free City of Eivanrach. Looking at it long enough to note the addressee before he sets it back in the bag, he continues:

"After that, I should like to procure a room. Here is fine. I will want to cast the spells I had neglected while we were on the road, so as to determine magical or evil nature upon these letters. I suppose also I should check in at the Temple before we leave..."

 

[DrZombie]

"Well, my plan is simple : get a bath, smoke some halfling weed whilst letting all this dirt soak away, then have a large hot meal, and then get roaring drunk. It's a simple plan, often tried and it allways seems to work."

"Mengan, I'll be in the bath-house for quite a bit. Just get some ale down there in a few minutes."

"Guys, ladies, you're more then welcome to join the festivities."

With that, Raven grabs his stuff and goes to the bathhouse, eagerly anticipating a good long hot soak.

 

[Festy_Dog]

"I don't get roaring drunk, I get snarling drunk," Nurthk says with a grin, "I remember once I was told that I got up and started abusing an elf in orcish. My friends told me he smashed a chair over my head. Until that point I thought it was just a sanity-rending hangover."

Nurthk recounts the gory details of recovering from a fractured skull as he collects his things and heads down to the bath room.

 

[DrZombie]

"Mmmh, nothing can beat a good bar-fight. With some luck someone will be happy to accomodate us later tonight."
He strips out of his clothing, and with a sigh of relief sits down in the hot tub. He leans over to rummage through his pouch, takes out a pipe and some leaf, and starts to fill it.
"Nurthk, if you could be so kind as to give me a light?"

 

[Festy_Dog]

"Think I've got some flint and steel somewhere..." Nuthk mumbles as he digs through his pack.

After a difficult moment lighting a pipe with some flint and steel, Nurthk eases his scarred self into another hot tub.

"There was a big hot spring back home. It was customary for any successful hunting parties to relax there for a while when they got back, and a celebration feast would be prepared in the meantime," Nurthk said, reminiscing a little.