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<blockquote data-quote="Xorn" data-source="post: 4337787" data-attributes="member: 61231"><p>For a town the size of Winterhaven, the Wrafton Inn—as the old, weathered swinging sign at the door proclaimed the establishment—was fairly clean, and surprisingly large. The building was comprised of two floors, with a main entrance on the narrow south end, and a porch branching off of the east side, facing the city gates. As the adventurers strode into the large doorway, the harsh light of the sun splayed across the floor, making the shady room seem almost black compared to the outdoors. As their eyes slowly adjusted to the dim room, they could see a dozen round tables spaced more or less evenly about the room, with wooden chairs resting upside down upon them. A few tables had chairs pulled down and were in use now, but it was clear the inn was waking up, along with the rest of the town.</p><p></p><p>“Wow, somethin’ smells pretty good!” exclaimed Percy. Everyone else agreed as the scent of frying meat and strong spices wafted in from a back area and gripped their stomachs. Hearing the halfling’s exclamation, a healthy looking, rounded woman came out of the back, wiping her hands with a towel that was stuffed into the belt of an apron that was struggling to contain her ample belly.</p><p></p><p>“Aha!” she smiled, “I see we have some travelers, in from…” she sized up the four of them quickly, “Fallcrest?” Daichot nodded respectfully at her deduction. “Well then! Have a seat, have a seat!” She turned her head quickly and called to the back room she had come out of, then extended her arm to invite them to sit at one of the tables that had been readied for use.</p><p></p><p>“Salvana Wrafton, at your service!” she exclaimed brightly as she quickly pulled chairs out from the table for each of them to sit, and deftly snagged an upturned chair from an adjacent table to accommodate them all. “Now you’ll be needin’ some breakfast this morning, and how many rooms?”</p><p></p><p>Daichot paused before sitting down and held up a finger. “Yes to breakfast—and we are waiting to meet the lord of the town, if that’s alright.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh! You have business with his lordship then! Traveling dignitaries from Fallcrest no doubt, here to talk about important matters much too complex for a simple inn keep such as meself!” She briskly snatched a pitcher of water from a young girl that had answered her summons from the kitchen, and started pouring more or less clear water into mugs and slamming them down onto the table in a rush. “Petal, dear,” she addressed the young girl, “go and fetch four plates for our dignitaries then, and be quick about it!”</p><p></p><p>“What’s fer breakfast, lass?” asked Omar.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, a delicious hash of shredded potatoes, mixed with fresh eggs, and scrambled with a fine piece of sausage; we make it ourselves!” She looked to make sure all of them had their water and looked across the room at a slender, leather clad elf sitting in the corner eating the food Sylvana had just described. “Ninaren, do you need anything else?”</p><p></p><p>The elven woman looked up from her meal quietly. She was wearing a mismatched collection of leather hides, and a bow leaned against the corner behind her, along with a string of fur pelts, suggesting she was probably a hunter in town with goods to trade or sell. She barely even acknowledged the rotund inn keeper when she shook her head to decline.</p><p></p><p>If Sylvana was at all put off by the elf, it didn’t show, and she was off into the kitchen with a final reassurance the group would be served soon. Daichot looked about the rest of them and spoke in a low tone. “Again, for a place that’s badly in need of help, you wouldn’t know from being here.”</p><p></p><p>Omar nodded in agreement. “I think from tha looks a’ that one,” he thumbed towards the kitchen, “this place is safe an’ secure.”</p><p></p><p>Oleaf was quietly looking at another customer hobbling into the inn, and old man walking with the help of a cane who sidled up to the bar and slowly positioned himself onto a stool, smiling briefly at the assembled party.</p><p></p><p>“It’s bad for business, obviously.”</p><p></p><p>All three of them looked at Percy, whom until now had never used words like ‘obviously’ in casual conversation. “What? Don’t you guys know anything about business?”</p><p></p><p>After a moment of silence Daichot found his voice first. “Please, do tell.”</p><p></p><p>Percy didn’t seem to catch the sarcasm in the tiefling’s voice, because he continued enthusiastically, for knowing something the rest of them didn’t. “Was I the only one looking around on the way in here?” He pointed out the open doors, “Okay, did anyone besides me notice that big area just beyond this inn? It’s a market square—only it’s empty.”</p><p></p><p>Omar shrugged, “Maybe they only have an open market on certain days.”</p><p></p><p>“Sure, that’s even likely,” continued Percy, “but there would be something out there. There’s nothing—except for a local selling flowers.” He turned to Daichot and answered before he could ask, “No tackle for a horse or mule attached to the cart, that’s how I know she’s local.” Daichot considered the point and nodded.</p><p></p><p>“So next take the guards on the way in. Not the two up top, but the others, that were talking about us on the way in.” Seeing the blank look from the warriors, he looked to Oleaf in surprise. “Are you telling me you didn’t hear them!?” When she shook her head as well, a huge smile broke across Percy’s ruddy cheeks. “Well how about that!? Looks like there’s a new pair of ears in this group!”</p><p></p><p>Sensing the annoyance building rapidly, he continued, “Alright, well there were two guards down by the gate that were talking about us as we walked past them,” he leaned in close, ready to share his secret, “they were talking about help finally arriving, and maybe this town would have a chance.” He sat back confidently, “Don’t ya see? The kobolds don’t have to attack the town to starve it out. You said it yourself, tall, red, and dashing—we’re probably the only thing to make it from Fallcrest in who knows how long, because no, I <em>haven't</em> seen any dragons! And that Wrafton lady knows—but first rule of running an inn: don’t frighten potential customers!” Leaning back in his chair, he laced his tiny fingers behind his head arrogantly and basked in the knowledge that he figured something out before the others.</p><p></p><p>Lady Wrafton returned with the serving girl and four steaming plates were quickly laid before them; the food smelled fantastic, even in comparison to Percy’s admirable skill at roasting a rabbit. The three others looked at Percy, unable to refute what he had surmised, and it only made him smile wider, before he abruptly called after their chubby host. “Missus Wrafton!”</p><p></p><p>She turned about with a flush to her cheek. “Oh I’m not married, dear halfling.”</p><p></p><p>The shock displayed by Percy seemed truly genuine and for a moment he looked speechless. “I find it hard to believe that some lucky man hasn’t swept a fine business-savvy lady such as yourself up by now—you’re what, twenty? Twenty-one?”</p><p></p><p>She laughed hard, and it was actually a frightening, raspy bellow that shook her bosom and neck with equal vigor. “That’s enough from you, shorty!” Her smile betrayed her desire to hear more flattery, but she didn’t let her job as host falter, “What do you need, my charming little halfling?”</p><p></p><p>“A fork and knife, if it’s not too much trouble.” He pointed to the table, showing that he didn’t get utensils.</p><p></p><p>“Oh my!” she seemed a bit flustered, having missed that, and quickly produced a pair for the halfling with an apology that he waved away before she ducked into the kitchen to scold Petal loudly.</p><p></p><p>Percy already had a mouthful of sausage and potatoes before Oleaf spoke up. “Why did you steal your silverware?”</p><p></p><p>The rogue reflexively looked at his pouch before meeting the elf’s gaze and accepting that she missed little. “Well,” he spouted, dribbling some grease down his chin, “they said that lord <em>might</em> pay for our breakfast. So… you know…” his words trailed off, as his hunger overrode any desire to explain himself.</p><p></p><p>Omar was looking at the rogue with a frown, but decided the issue wasn’t worth making a scene over, especially right before meeting Lord Padraig. Daichot showed similar restraint, but could not hold his tongue completely. “I suppose you heard the guards that we didn’t because you were busy picking their pockets.”</p><p></p><p>Percy coughed on his food as he tried to object mid-swallow. Banging on the table as if it would help him stop choking, he finally managed to gasp his protest. “I resent that! I’ll have you know for a fact that they weren’t carrying coin purses!” He stabbed another juicy piece of sausage, and then speared his fork into some of the scrambled eggs. “Not that I was looking… or anything.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Xorn, post: 4337787, member: 61231"] For a town the size of Winterhaven, the Wrafton Inn—as the old, weathered swinging sign at the door proclaimed the establishment—was fairly clean, and surprisingly large. The building was comprised of two floors, with a main entrance on the narrow south end, and a porch branching off of the east side, facing the city gates. As the adventurers strode into the large doorway, the harsh light of the sun splayed across the floor, making the shady room seem almost black compared to the outdoors. As their eyes slowly adjusted to the dim room, they could see a dozen round tables spaced more or less evenly about the room, with wooden chairs resting upside down upon them. A few tables had chairs pulled down and were in use now, but it was clear the inn was waking up, along with the rest of the town. “Wow, somethin’ smells pretty good!” exclaimed Percy. Everyone else agreed as the scent of frying meat and strong spices wafted in from a back area and gripped their stomachs. Hearing the halfling’s exclamation, a healthy looking, rounded woman came out of the back, wiping her hands with a towel that was stuffed into the belt of an apron that was struggling to contain her ample belly. “Aha!” she smiled, “I see we have some travelers, in from…” she sized up the four of them quickly, “Fallcrest?” Daichot nodded respectfully at her deduction. “Well then! Have a seat, have a seat!” She turned her head quickly and called to the back room she had come out of, then extended her arm to invite them to sit at one of the tables that had been readied for use. “Salvana Wrafton, at your service!” she exclaimed brightly as she quickly pulled chairs out from the table for each of them to sit, and deftly snagged an upturned chair from an adjacent table to accommodate them all. “Now you’ll be needin’ some breakfast this morning, and how many rooms?” Daichot paused before sitting down and held up a finger. “Yes to breakfast—and we are waiting to meet the lord of the town, if that’s alright.” “Oh! You have business with his lordship then! Traveling dignitaries from Fallcrest no doubt, here to talk about important matters much too complex for a simple inn keep such as meself!” She briskly snatched a pitcher of water from a young girl that had answered her summons from the kitchen, and started pouring more or less clear water into mugs and slamming them down onto the table in a rush. “Petal, dear,” she addressed the young girl, “go and fetch four plates for our dignitaries then, and be quick about it!” “What’s fer breakfast, lass?” asked Omar. “Oh, a delicious hash of shredded potatoes, mixed with fresh eggs, and scrambled with a fine piece of sausage; we make it ourselves!” She looked to make sure all of them had their water and looked across the room at a slender, leather clad elf sitting in the corner eating the food Sylvana had just described. “Ninaren, do you need anything else?” The elven woman looked up from her meal quietly. She was wearing a mismatched collection of leather hides, and a bow leaned against the corner behind her, along with a string of fur pelts, suggesting she was probably a hunter in town with goods to trade or sell. She barely even acknowledged the rotund inn keeper when she shook her head to decline. If Sylvana was at all put off by the elf, it didn’t show, and she was off into the kitchen with a final reassurance the group would be served soon. Daichot looked about the rest of them and spoke in a low tone. “Again, for a place that’s badly in need of help, you wouldn’t know from being here.” Omar nodded in agreement. “I think from tha looks a’ that one,” he thumbed towards the kitchen, “this place is safe an’ secure.” Oleaf was quietly looking at another customer hobbling into the inn, and old man walking with the help of a cane who sidled up to the bar and slowly positioned himself onto a stool, smiling briefly at the assembled party. “It’s bad for business, obviously.” All three of them looked at Percy, whom until now had never used words like ‘obviously’ in casual conversation. “What? Don’t you guys know anything about business?” After a moment of silence Daichot found his voice first. “Please, do tell.” Percy didn’t seem to catch the sarcasm in the tiefling’s voice, because he continued enthusiastically, for knowing something the rest of them didn’t. “Was I the only one looking around on the way in here?” He pointed out the open doors, “Okay, did anyone besides me notice that big area just beyond this inn? It’s a market square—only it’s empty.” Omar shrugged, “Maybe they only have an open market on certain days.” “Sure, that’s even likely,” continued Percy, “but there would be something out there. There’s nothing—except for a local selling flowers.” He turned to Daichot and answered before he could ask, “No tackle for a horse or mule attached to the cart, that’s how I know she’s local.” Daichot considered the point and nodded. “So next take the guards on the way in. Not the two up top, but the others, that were talking about us on the way in.” Seeing the blank look from the warriors, he looked to Oleaf in surprise. “Are you telling me you didn’t hear them!?” When she shook her head as well, a huge smile broke across Percy’s ruddy cheeks. “Well how about that!? Looks like there’s a new pair of ears in this group!” Sensing the annoyance building rapidly, he continued, “Alright, well there were two guards down by the gate that were talking about us as we walked past them,” he leaned in close, ready to share his secret, “they were talking about help finally arriving, and maybe this town would have a chance.” He sat back confidently, “Don’t ya see? The kobolds don’t have to attack the town to starve it out. You said it yourself, tall, red, and dashing—we’re probably the only thing to make it from Fallcrest in who knows how long, because no, I [i]haven't[/i] seen any dragons! And that Wrafton lady knows—but first rule of running an inn: don’t frighten potential customers!” Leaning back in his chair, he laced his tiny fingers behind his head arrogantly and basked in the knowledge that he figured something out before the others. Lady Wrafton returned with the serving girl and four steaming plates were quickly laid before them; the food smelled fantastic, even in comparison to Percy’s admirable skill at roasting a rabbit. The three others looked at Percy, unable to refute what he had surmised, and it only made him smile wider, before he abruptly called after their chubby host. “Missus Wrafton!” She turned about with a flush to her cheek. “Oh I’m not married, dear halfling.” The shock displayed by Percy seemed truly genuine and for a moment he looked speechless. “I find it hard to believe that some lucky man hasn’t swept a fine business-savvy lady such as yourself up by now—you’re what, twenty? Twenty-one?” She laughed hard, and it was actually a frightening, raspy bellow that shook her bosom and neck with equal vigor. “That’s enough from you, shorty!” Her smile betrayed her desire to hear more flattery, but she didn’t let her job as host falter, “What do you need, my charming little halfling?” “A fork and knife, if it’s not too much trouble.” He pointed to the table, showing that he didn’t get utensils. “Oh my!” she seemed a bit flustered, having missed that, and quickly produced a pair for the halfling with an apology that he waved away before she ducked into the kitchen to scold Petal loudly. Percy already had a mouthful of sausage and potatoes before Oleaf spoke up. “Why did you steal your silverware?” The rogue reflexively looked at his pouch before meeting the elf’s gaze and accepting that she missed little. “Well,” he spouted, dribbling some grease down his chin, “they said that lord [i]might[/i] pay for our breakfast. So… you know…” his words trailed off, as his hunger overrode any desire to explain himself. Omar was looking at the rogue with a frown, but decided the issue wasn’t worth making a scene over, especially right before meeting Lord Padraig. Daichot showed similar restraint, but could not hold his tongue completely. “I suppose you heard the guards that we didn’t because you were busy picking their pockets.” Percy coughed on his food as he tried to object mid-swallow. Banging on the table as if it would help him stop choking, he finally managed to gasp his protest. “I resent that! I’ll have you know for a fact that they weren’t carrying coin purses!” He stabbed another juicy piece of sausage, and then speared his fork into some of the scrambled eggs. “Not that I was looking… or anything.” [/QUOTE]
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