Welcome Chums to the Wobbling Worg Inn

[Sidran]

To an observer on the dusty street, the Golden Tankard painted on the shape of a Worgs head gleams like a beacon in the sun scorched realm.

On entering through the doors you find yourself in a modest comfortable Inn fit for a traveling king to rest in. Behind the counter a shady looking Halfling sits on a stool picking his teath with a toothpick. In the far corner a frazzled old timer sits playing a small harp quietly for the entertainment of the guests, and By the fire place an attractive Halfling woman in green woodsmen gear stands dazing into the fire, looking a million miles away

Noticing his guests the shady halfling stands and bows to you

" He'lo mates, M' names Sweetbriar, Jaucimo Sweetbriar at yer serv'n what may I get ye name it an like magikans I swear to ye you'll have it be'fer ye can say rotten Bombardril"

With that the little man stands expectingly waiting for an order, over in the corner the old timer cackles to himself, and the young woman sighs

 

[Krug]

Krug the dwarf stepped in and looked around. His boots were collapsing and he hadn't had a bath for a week, and he smelled slightly... overripe. But he didn't need soap and water. What he needed now was ale. His suit of ragged looking chainmail armor clinking, he walked over to the bar counter.

After trying to bargain down the price of an ale and stopping himself from uttering an ancient dwarven curse that was supposed to turn the bartender's private parts green, Krug picked up his beverage and looked for a place to sit. The fire seemed a nice place, and it reminded him of the forge back home where he had spent his childhood, throwing coals back in with bare hands and putting in new ones with rusty tongs.

The dwarf truddled over to the fire... he wished the Halfling woman would move. Krug took a drink, the liquid dripping down his scraggly beard.

 

[Jalon Odessa]

Wiping the mud from his long black boots as he steps through the door, Jalon Odessa surveys the common room quickly before striding purposefully across the floor to the bar. Unrolling a scroll from the case at his side and displaying it upon the bar, the judge of Tyr turns to address Sweetbriar in a commanding voice.

'I have come by order of the Mailed Fist of Tyr - we have received reports that a known fugitive may have sought refuge in this inn, and is still at large in the area. It is my duty as priest and faithful servant of Tyr to investigate his whereabouts, and ensure that the criminal is brought to justice. I assume that I have your full cooperation to ensure that my investigation goes as smoothly as possible?'

 

[Sidran]

Ye have m' an me owns full cooper.. what e'r ye said in looking about the place but I assure ye that there isn't any fugitive known or unknown in m'pub except for a few fellows flee'n from their ladyships..."

From across the inn the young halfling woman loudy hrrumphs, and glares evily towards the bar. Glancing coldly at the Dwarve, she turns back to gazing into the fire

" The man you seek Man of Tyr once was here but left us long ago, and perished at the hands of your brethren, none now here in this place of lumber, earth, and stone are who your searching for, For he hath perished in the age of your father, and has gone far to the east to sit at the feet of the gods" An unearthly voice comes from the mouth of the Halfling woman who slowly turns towards Jalon

"Your Spirit haunts you does it not, Jalon of Tyr, he who is wise in all things mortal, brave when cowardice is death" With that the light goes out of the young womans eyes and she collapses to the floor

Sweetbriar rushs arround the edge of the bar and dashes towards the halfling woman looking as if he'd seen a ghost

" O' Lilly sweet Goodbottle wake up, Lilly we must hustle you up to bed, for the ancestors are picking at ye again"

And with that cry the little man motions the old bard over to help lift her up and then the three shuffle of up the stairs. Three or four minutes pass by and then the little man returns with a little more color in his face

" I am sorry, about that mate, ye see she's got the seeing eye and grandfather sometimes talks through her you'll have to pardon all of that...Um about searching arround as long as yer quiet, and ye don't disturb m' Sis I don't think Ill object, O an be subtle like don't want ye scar'n off me Custom unless yer willing to reimburce me something"