H.M.Gimlord
Explorer
The party falls in line behind a cart carrying casks of wine, as they make their way up the winding, cobbled path toward the inn at the cliff's summit. When they get there, they realize that the inn is not alone. Outside the gate, a small market district sprawls along the cliff ledge, comprising everything from hovels to thick-walled, stone buildings. Shop fronts and carts line the streets peddling handy, if second-rate, wares. Off the main street, buildings are packed together forming narrow alleyways barely wide enough for three men to walk abreast. Though narrow and deep, these thoroughfares are well lit by bright oil lamps.
The inn stands in stark contrast to its run-down surroundings. It appears clean and well maintained and even as the party rounds the last corner of the ascending road, they can hear the laughter and chatter of the inn's patrons. When the cart stops to unload its cargo, Rujah can't help but notice that the wine cellar into which the merchants are carrying their casks looks uncannily familiar.
Rounding the corner to the front of the inn, they group sees A large wooden placard hanging in front of the main entrance showing a faceted mug through which one can see the amber ale bubbling into a foaming white head and pouring over the sides.
Jin arrives at the front door first, stepping in to the welcoming bustle of a tavern's brightly-lit common room. The smell of roast port permeates the air, a man is fiddling a tune at one of the tables, and fine tobacco smoke hangs in clouds that provide a feeling of comfort and security.
Jin's experience, however, quickly contrasts itself with that of his comrades as they enter. The fiddling stops and cutlasses slide halfway out of their sheaths as Talon and Fenwick step into the room, but as Rujah appears behind them the atmosphere simmers to a quiet tension for some reason.
One man in the room, dressed in a mail shirt and tunic embroidered with an image of a blue dragon spread-eagle in front of a bright shield of concentric circles eyes Rujah standing behind the shifter and the orc as though he half expects to recognize the dragonborn, but, when it is clear that he doesn't, he begins to exchange nervous looks with those next to him at the table. Rujah notices that three of the others at that table wear tunics with the same symbol.
Silently, one or two at a time, the crowd backs away to make room for the company. Dayna and Riardon are hardly even noticed, but the crowd parts for them as well.
The bartender doesn't miss a beat, he leans forward, palms down on the counter and a well-rehearsed smile on his face, "Wa'ull i' be gen'lmen? Needn’ a room futha night?" He doesn't wait for a drink order. He simply places five clear mugs of ale in front of the group before there's any time to protest. He looks sideways around the room, and then back at the five in front of him, "Ne'er ya min' them. They'll b'have... s'long's Jahred's 'ere." He nods toward the man in the mail shirt.[sblock=Mood Pictures]
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The inn stands in stark contrast to its run-down surroundings. It appears clean and well maintained and even as the party rounds the last corner of the ascending road, they can hear the laughter and chatter of the inn's patrons. When the cart stops to unload its cargo, Rujah can't help but notice that the wine cellar into which the merchants are carrying their casks looks uncannily familiar.
Rounding the corner to the front of the inn, they group sees A large wooden placard hanging in front of the main entrance showing a faceted mug through which one can see the amber ale bubbling into a foaming white head and pouring over the sides.
Jin arrives at the front door first, stepping in to the welcoming bustle of a tavern's brightly-lit common room. The smell of roast port permeates the air, a man is fiddling a tune at one of the tables, and fine tobacco smoke hangs in clouds that provide a feeling of comfort and security.
Jin's experience, however, quickly contrasts itself with that of his comrades as they enter. The fiddling stops and cutlasses slide halfway out of their sheaths as Talon and Fenwick step into the room, but as Rujah appears behind them the atmosphere simmers to a quiet tension for some reason.
One man in the room, dressed in a mail shirt and tunic embroidered with an image of a blue dragon spread-eagle in front of a bright shield of concentric circles eyes Rujah standing behind the shifter and the orc as though he half expects to recognize the dragonborn, but, when it is clear that he doesn't, he begins to exchange nervous looks with those next to him at the table. Rujah notices that three of the others at that table wear tunics with the same symbol.
Silently, one or two at a time, the crowd backs away to make room for the company. Dayna and Riardon are hardly even noticed, but the crowd parts for them as well.
The bartender doesn't miss a beat, he leans forward, palms down on the counter and a well-rehearsed smile on his face, "Wa'ull i' be gen'lmen? Needn’ a room futha night?" He doesn't wait for a drink order. He simply places five clear mugs of ale in front of the group before there's any time to protest. He looks sideways around the room, and then back at the five in front of him, "Ne'er ya min' them. They'll b'have... s'long's Jahred's 'ere." He nods toward the man in the mail shirt.[sblock=Mood Pictures]
