Torban Ingpol, the bartender; Omri Bine
Essess/Bredonshire/Bredon/The Sawtooth Inn
29 Mother/8:05 PM (after sunset)
Weather: 80 F/27 C; No wind; Light rain
Torban beamed and caught the gold piece. “Of course, citizen!” he said, pocketing the coin. “Take your pick of rooms,” he told them.
As the bartender gathered up a few empty mugs and brought them back to the bar, there was a sound of breaking glass outside, and then someone screamed.
Torban straightened up and reached under the bar, taking out an axe handle.
“What was that, Torban?” the older gentleman asked, sitting up in his seat by the fire.
“I don’t know, Mr. Bine,” the bartender said.
From the door to the kitchen came the sound of pounding on the back door of the inn and more commotion from the town square outside the front door.