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Ends Meat (Boddynock Judging)

Reis steps back, giving Ciprinius ample room to interact with the horse, though he still watches with a certain amount of interest, recognizing the druid's greater skill with animals.

Recalling a certain thought, though, the half-elf turns to Leesha Honeylott with a thoughtful look. "If I could trouble you with a question, Miss Honeylott, my companions and I came across a painting in Yarman's basement of a small group of adventurers, along with someone of your surname... Derrin, I think, or something like that."

He shrugs. "I doubt it serves any purpose but my own curiosity, but all the same if you could shed any light on that I'd appreciate it."
 

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Leesha smiles fondly,

"Derrin, yes he was my husband. He passed away some years ago, he was a good man. Though if I'm honest I think Gunt, you know Yarman, took his death harder than I did. He won't tell me what happened which means I don't want to know... I never really knew him that well, it was more hero worship than love if I'm honest, I used to run this place and the ranch for him while he was away, and now they're mine."

She shakes her head sending her locks tumbling and and grins mischeviously,

"Besides he was a bard of no mean skill, if you ever hear a song called "Tumble in the hay" well, modesty forbids." Although apparently it doesn't since she points to herself and mouths, "about me!"
 

Midias stands back. The others doesn't seem to need his help.

[sblock=OOC]
AC 17 (T11, FF16), HP 10/10, F +4,R+1,W+4
0 Level: Detect Magic, Light, Resistance
1 Level: Cure Light Wounds (d) - Bless, Command
[/sblock]
 
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"Well, obviously a song was in place to honor your beauty. You husband was a clever man I think. I'm sure this big boy thinks the same don't you Porthos? Yes you do, you're clever too I can see it in your eyes." The druid says, patting the horse forehead.
 


Porthos looks unimpressed and turns around moodily.

"He's too smart for his own good, or at least for mine." Leesah replies fondly, though worry is evident in her tone. "Everything I have tried has failed to snap him out of it, thats why I want you to use a bit of that nature magic and ask him what's up - I can't figure it out for the life of me. Poor fella."

She steps back with a sigh,

"In anycase its been a long day I'm heading over to te Bard's Tail after finishing up here, you fellas are welcome to join me if you would like. Or you can stay here and make yourself comfortable as you can, there's clean hay and empty stalls, I'm afraid I can't offer much more than that."

OOC: So rest here and advance until morning or head to The Bard's Tail - or something completely different?
 

"Well, I'll get a spell ready for tomorrow. We shall see what can be done about this sturdy boy." Ciprinus comments, ready to follow the woman.
 


"Let's go to the Bard's Tail," Sarn says. "We may not hear anything there, but I'm sure we won't learn anything from the hay."
 

"Ha, well glad to see you've got some sense lets go and get plastered!" Leesha says happily. "Give me a second!"

The comely Widow Honeylott pulls off her gloves sniffs herself, shrugs and brushes a bit of the hay from herself. With a self concious grin she winks and strides off to the Inn.

The party cross the street and begin to hear the faint sound of music filtering from the Inn's common room. Entering behind Leesha they see a clean establishment filled with what appear to be fairly well to do patrons - many of whom have the look of young nobles "slumming".

The bloated form of Fat Sal is instantly recognizable at a corner table, and the obese thief is surrounded by four thug-like individuals one of whom has a female halfling seated. Upon the fat mans lap is a small halfling woman - though it is likely she is average sized for her race and simply dwarfed by the lap in question - who is feeding him chicken legs wearing a forced smile. From her dress this might be a professional engagement.

Seeing Sal, Perkiss stops at the door and looks enquiringly to the party. Leesha meanwhile is already striding to the bar. A young noble leering to his cohorts pinches her posterior and slurs,

"Nice breetches lovely."

The stable owner smiles and leans in alluringly giving the lout an eyefull of cleavage as the rest of the bar chuckles. Those far enough away can see that she has hooked a boot around one of his chair legs and all burst into laughter as she yanks his chair out from under him leaving him bruised befuddled and dripping in his own wine.

Within second she is at the bar with a full tankard in her hand chatting to the bartender - a large, but attractive woman wearing what looks like dark red velvet.

In the far right corner is a small stage upon which a young man is playing a lute with his eyes closed, he does not sing, but he is mouthing words silently. He appears to be lost in the music - which is pleasent, but hardly spectacular.
 

Into the Woods

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