IndyPendant
First Post
It was a long, boring trip. It was also an awkward one. Mr Hanover had hired you due to rumours of increased bandit activity--and worse--along the route between the two towns. During the trip, you never saw anything worse than a few crows along the way while guarding the merchant's wagon of high quality weapons. However, a nasty rainstorm blew in, cutting visibility and turning the muddy roads to a quagmire. Faced with a choice between holing up somewhere for a day or two and continuing on, Mr Hanover decided to push forward. He would come to regret that decision.
Along the way, one of those quagmires decided to grab a wheel and not let go. With some of you helping by pushing from behind, the oxen managed to pull the wagon out--but not without damaging a wheel. Again refusing to stop, Mr Hanover managed make the wheel last the trip by going slowly and carefully. Late in the day you were supposed to arrive, barely beating nightfall, soaking wet and caked with mud, the wagon managed to limp into town.
From what you can see, it isn't much of a town. A handful of buildings along a wider strip in what the locals call the New Road, that serves as a gathering place for local farmers. Maybe it will look more impressive under the light of the sun.
Rurik Lutgehr, a dwarf serving as the local blacksmith, has informed Mr Hanover that it will take him three days to fix the wagon. Since this was his destination anyways, Mr Hanover is only a little upset. He even showed all of you into the Ol' Boar Inn, giving Garon the innkeeper enough coin to put you up for the night, including a plain supper and breakfast the next morning.
Not five minutes after Mr Hanover left, thanking you for your good service--the downpour started to wind down, and now that there's a roof over your heads, the sheets of rain have stopped completely. That was less than half an hour ago. It is early evening, and already dark outside.
You have cleaned yourself up as much as possible using the meagre resources of this town's tiny inn, and entered the commons for some much-needed food and rest. The inn itself is surprising; Garon and his wife Fachelle obviously take great pride in keeping the inn as well-maintained as possible. There are three tables, the largest being occupied by a large group of rowdy and rough-looking men who are obviously out-of-towners like yourselves. There is even a young lad sitting in a chair in one corner with a lute, entertaining the guests with music. If he were only any good at it, and if only the other guests seemed better than gutter-trash, it might have been more enjoyable. Still, the innkeeper and his wife treat you with courtesy, and apologize once more for having you squeezing the six of you into two rooms as they serve you your meal. But they only have four rooms available, and two of them are occupied by "them other people".
Along the way, one of those quagmires decided to grab a wheel and not let go. With some of you helping by pushing from behind, the oxen managed to pull the wagon out--but not without damaging a wheel. Again refusing to stop, Mr Hanover managed make the wheel last the trip by going slowly and carefully. Late in the day you were supposed to arrive, barely beating nightfall, soaking wet and caked with mud, the wagon managed to limp into town.
From what you can see, it isn't much of a town. A handful of buildings along a wider strip in what the locals call the New Road, that serves as a gathering place for local farmers. Maybe it will look more impressive under the light of the sun.
Rurik Lutgehr, a dwarf serving as the local blacksmith, has informed Mr Hanover that it will take him three days to fix the wagon. Since this was his destination anyways, Mr Hanover is only a little upset. He even showed all of you into the Ol' Boar Inn, giving Garon the innkeeper enough coin to put you up for the night, including a plain supper and breakfast the next morning.
Not five minutes after Mr Hanover left, thanking you for your good service--the downpour started to wind down, and now that there's a roof over your heads, the sheets of rain have stopped completely. That was less than half an hour ago. It is early evening, and already dark outside.
You have cleaned yourself up as much as possible using the meagre resources of this town's tiny inn, and entered the commons for some much-needed food and rest. The inn itself is surprising; Garon and his wife Fachelle obviously take great pride in keeping the inn as well-maintained as possible. There are three tables, the largest being occupied by a large group of rowdy and rough-looking men who are obviously out-of-towners like yourselves. There is even a young lad sitting in a chair in one corner with a lute, entertaining the guests with music. If he were only any good at it, and if only the other guests seemed better than gutter-trash, it might have been more enjoyable. Still, the innkeeper and his wife treat you with courtesy, and apologize once more for having you squeezing the six of you into two rooms as they serve you your meal. But they only have four rooms available, and two of them are occupied by "them other people".
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