Six From Gate Pass - Chapter 3: Shelter From The Storm

[Gregor]

The innkeeper, heavyset older man with a trim grey beard tries to keep up with your flurry of requests. He goes by the name of Klaus Vanderson and occasionally check in on your well being. He is a friendly man and obviously cares about his establishment, which after an hour or two begins to fill up.

The Sword and Plow tap room is rather large, with room to seat at least 75 patrons at once. Two large hearths keep the place warm and dry and oil lanterns hang from nails in wooden pillars to provide extra light. Wooden stairs lead up to the rooms where Torrent has rented you two rooms with enough beds for everyone. There is a small raised dais in the centre of the room, presumably for performers, but the spot looks dusty and unused.

To your requests he brings out what is available for food and drink, apologizing for not having 'fine wine' or 'roast fowl' on account that this is a small farming community and not the trade hub it used to be. However, the two gold coins pressed into his hands, perhaps the equivalent of a month's income, drive him forward to please you. He blusters around ensuring his most attractive serving girls work your table and you can hear him hollering in the kitchen for this and that. Torrent pays everything in advance and old Vanderson's smile reaches new extremes as the gold glimmers in his eyes.

Your table is cluttered by a full keg of Dwarven ale, a smaller cask of local cider and a few bottles of aged malt. Massive slabs of roasted mutton rubbed with herbs and salt are delivered, along with freshly baked dark bread and hard sheep's milk cheeses. After two weeks of trail rations and water, this seems a feast and you hardly hear the innkeeper telling you that baths and soap will be brought to your room before you turn in. To Lars he mentions that the general store in town can set him up with fresh new clothes.

The inn is eventually packed tight, with even the standing spaces being filled by farmers and labourers seeking a cold drink and hot bite. You are obviously the centre of attention and many stare at the scene you've created. Serving girls sit on your laps, to which Torrent rolls her eyes, and you holler and laugh as pint after pint is thrown back in pleasant relaxation. Pipe and hearth smoke hovers along the ceiling and the hum of the tavern fills your ears. You notice that many of the patrons are soldiers and a few of the Dwarven ones have begun playing a game of axe throwing at a large wooden target at the back of the room.

 

[digimattic]

...coming up between Arnir and Alric as he does so and draping his arms on their shoulders.

"I wasn't sure about these folk when I first laid eyes on 'em, but a stout-hearted lot they've turned out to be! I mean, the elves can be a little weasely sometimes, if you know what I mean.", he says, squeezing Arnir.

Arnir allows himself to crack a faint smile as he is jostled by the thickset warrior. Though he is not so eager to draw attention to himself as Bannock, he is visibly pleased to be out of the forest and in to a town full of living people. He puts his own arm over Bannock's shoulder, holding his bow with his free hand and allows the younger human to speak uninterrupted.

Walking towards the inn, he tingles with anticipation of a well earned night of relaxation. Finding his room, he drops his pack and cloak, but takes his bow, the ivory necklace, his gold, the party's gold, the platinum necklace and the rubies with him. All of those would be a tempting target for a thief, and he has no desire to see the spoils go to waste.

Sitting at the table for supper, Arnir pours himself a large glass of cider and begins to help himself to the mutton, bread and cheese. closing his eyes, with a smile on his face, he savours every single morsel, eating slowly- a bit of this, then a bit of that, followed by a swig of cider.

As he pushes away his plate, his eyes light up as a dark haired serving girl lands in his lap "Well hello..." he says with a broad smile

 

[Adjuntive]

Seeing the contest across the room, Alric nudges Bannock with his elbow and then seems to catch himself from having tipped himself in the opposite direction. He then says in slurred tones motioning to the contest of axe throwing, "Shall we show 'em how it's done?"

 

[fromage67]

Lars drinks several glasses of cider and eats as much mutton and bread as he can stuff himself with.

He then sets his sights on female companionship and bypasses Torrent's arrangements and attempts to secure a private room for himself.

When his bath his ready he excuses himself, luring a serving girl with him with a gold piece.

 

[Bannock]

"...but it was just a wee flesh wound, so then, I step right up to his face and grab him by his snakish beard and say 'You'll have to do better than that you ugly goat!' So he...", Bannock is saying to the pretty redhead in his lap as he is interrupted by Alric's poke. Never one to turn down a challenge, he looks at Alric, and then back at the girl, and says, "I'll be right back darlin', this will only take a minute!"

He rises and pats Alric on the shoulder. "Ok then, let's see how you throw when you've got this much drink in you! Haha!"

He walks over with Alric to the axe-throwing game and greets the dwarves.

"What stakes are you fellows playing for? Mind if we join in?"

 

[digimattic]

Arnir whispers in the serving girl's ear with a smile "This should be good..." and he pivots in his chair with the girl still on his lap. As he does so, he lets his hands fall to her hips, and he is certain that he can see Torrent's disapproving gaze out of the corner of his eye.

As he waits for the competition to begin, he creates a crude rose out of nothing using a simple prestidigitation spell and presents it to the nubile young waitress.

 

[Gregor]

Lars leads a pretty human maid up the stairs and a few boys from the kitchen follow up with hot buckets of water for his tub.

******

The three Dwarves pause from their game and look up at the two humans who have come to join the game. One of them wipes foam from his beard and says: "We be playin' a round er two of Axe-er-a-Dram! Tis an ancient game cobbled t'gether by me granda. Twas a grand way to pass tha time b'twixt slayin' Orcs at the siege of Koldaroon! I'll buy tha malt, but tha loser buys tha winner a keg o' the fine Dwarven stuff yer sipping like dandies back at yer table."

He steps up and lobs an axe at the target. Despite his casual toss, it lodges itself firmly in the target. He turns back after removing the axe and hands it to Alric and Bannock.

"Name be Brondwyn of tha Nickel Hold by tha by! Who ye be and where do ye hail from? I ne'er toss er drink wit strangers."

GM: Axe-or-a-Dram is a game where you throw axes at a target to score points. The target consists of three concentric rings and players have to throw axes at the various rings to score points. Each ring is worth a different value and the first player to 15 wins the game. The outer ring is the largest and easiest to hit and is worth 1 point. The middle ring is a bit harder to hit, but is worth 3 points. The inner ring, or bullseye, is the most difficult to hit but is worth 5 points. Each player alternates shooting until one is declared the winner. Each time a player misses he is required to shoot back a dram of malt. To throw an axe, you make a ranged attack vs. the target. Meeting or beating AC 10 strikes the outer ring, AC 12 the middle ring and AC 17 the bullseye). After 3 misses (and therefore 3 shots) the player must make a Fort save vs. 15 or be intoxicated (-2 to each ranged attack and -2 to each subsequent Fort save which is made after another 3 misses, and so on).

******

Back at the table, Arnir enjoys the company of a gorgeous young half-elven wench and Torrent laments the lack of shirtless handsome men to sit on her lap. Diashan mostly keeps to himself, sipping from cider and scanning the room. Arnir feels a slight tug on the sleeve of his shirt and sees Diashan looking straight at him quietly speaking a few words in elven.

[sblock="if you speak elven"]"Couple of guards near the bar are pretty deep in the drink and seem to be giving us a stare down. Think you're with someone's girl?"[/sblock]

 

[The Bashar]

Hrimr plops himself down at the table and is absolutely delighted to see the large keg of Dwarven Ale. He begins to feast on the delicious food and throw back the ale as it were water. He gets up on his feet and smiles at everyone at the table, bar maids and all.

"Cheers comrades! Let us drink and be merry!"

He slams back the drink and sits back down to continue his feast.

 

[Adjuntive]

Alric smiles his best slightly--faced smile and extends his hand in greetings to Brondwyn, "Well met Brondwyn. I am Alric and this large stout friend of mine is Bannock. We hail from Gate's Pass in the mountains between Ragesia and Shahalesti and I don't consider anyone a friend until I've had a drink with him!" And with the last he holds out his cup to the dwarf in toast and takes a long haul.

Alric then slams his empty cup down on to a table and accepts the axe from Brondwyn. The axe is not his favored weapon, but he hefts it in his hand a couple of times to get a sense of the balance. He then closes one eye trying to line up the haft of the axe with the bulls-eye and then hurls with as much accuracy as he can muster.

OOC: omg of all the luck. at least this isn't life and death.

 

[Gregor]

Alric's axe strikes the target handle-first and then lands on the floor with a clang. Brondwyn chuckles as he picks up the axe and heads back to make his throw. "Twas a fine first shot fer a noodle arm'd youngin like yerself. Let ol' Brondwyn show ya how she's done back in the Nickel Hold!" The dwarf lines up a throw and lets the axe loose with a firm overhand toss. It strikes the outer ring for one point.

Looking over at Alric he says: "Not me finest I'd wager. But I ne'er play well without a few drams in me belly! So Gate Pass ye say. Pardon fer askin', but how did ya manage the freezin' winter in tha mountains and the murdr'us ogres and giants that live there? I be assumin' that be the way ye came given that the ol' elven woods've been ablaze since afore ye was on yer ma's teet!"

He nods his head at Bannock. "Yer up big lad!"

GM: Fort saves after every THREE misses/shots of malt.