[D&D 3.5/Eberron] A Quick One While He's Away

[Krug]

Plonk shouts at the half-elves. "We want a refund! And your scones were awful! PAH!" the gnome mutters. "Yes, I could certainly use a drink as well."

 

[Knight Otu]

"Are you sure it is wise to demand a refund? House Lyrandar might decide we did not do our duty well enough..."

 

[MadMaxim]

Gannon turns to face the warforged: "Well, I must admit that Plonk has a point. Even though we were hired as guards, this turned out to be a whole lot more difficult than anyone could have expected. We did the best we could, but someone was helping those sahuagin sink the ship. We were simply unable to stop them from doing it."

Then he looks at Plonk, taking on a very serious look: "However, Plonk, I don't believe we can just walk into House Lyrandar's outpost here in Stormreach and demand to get our gold back. We were hired as guards and failed in our mission to protect the ship. We got to Stormreach as we should. On the other hand, I don't think House Lyrandar can blame us for what happened. It could have happened to any one of their ships."

Wiping some water from his face with his hand, he looks at the ocean. "You all heard somebody talking to us during the attack... Somebody wants us dead... But who...?" After making his little statement, Gannon starts walking slowly into Stormreach. He's clearly exhausted after the fight on the ship. He looks over his shoulder at Rawhide: "Let's find a nice warm inn where we can rest, plan our next move and of course... Have a drink." He smiles at Rawhide.

"By the way, you all did a great job out there."

 

[Ashy]

Rawhide's eyes seem to glaze over with all of the talk - until, that is - the word drink is spoken. Instantly, he seems to snap back into focus and smiles, nodding quickly like an idiot....

 

[Old Fezziwig]

It's easy enough to find an inn — they're all over the place. When a city has a highly transient population, it only makes sense that inns, hostels, and flophouses should pop up all over the place. Currently, you're standing just outside Grendel's Knife, a dusty wooden building that rather shyly bears the seal of House Ghallanda.

OOC: Just a note: the fact that the inn bears the seal of House Ghallanda indicates that it does adhere to a certain level of standards regarding cleanliness and pricing.

 

[Krug]

"Well I would like to dry off now," says Plonk. He enters the inn.

 

[MadMaxim]

Gannon follows the gnome into the inn while he's wiping some water out of his hair with his left hand. "This place will do just nicely."

 

[Old Fezziwig]

Zor, 14th Aryth, 998 YK
Int. Grendel's Knife - Stormreach - Midday

Grendel's Knife is just as dusty on the inside as it is on the outside. The tables and chairs are made of an odd, greyish-tan wood. A number of sailors sit at the tables and at the bar, some of them awake, some of them asleep, all of them drinking. Behind the bar and to either side are four staircases, two leading up, two down. A burly and rather ugly man tends the bar; his bare arms are covered with scars and tattoos, which also reach out of the collar of his shirt, crawl up his neck, and cover his bald head. As you enter, he grins, "Mainlanders. Y'all'll be wanting a room, I suppose." His voice sounds like a saw cutting wood.

 

[Krug]

"No we sleep on your rafters like other mainlanders," mumbles Plonk.

 

[Ashy]

"Nope, wes wants a drink! Oh, and Rawhide wants to eat a Xendrick too!" The shifter shoots the barman his "Gannon-face" and wiggles his bushy eyebrows a little, trying to look charming (and failing miserably...)