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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1703702" data-attributes="member: 2292">A silence settles over the back room of the Fallen Minotaur with Gerbo’s departure, as the inhabitants try to absorb the minute technical details the lawyer explained about the inheritance before excusing himself to sleep.  They look at one another, then towards the small stack of papers Gerbo has left them, then back at one another.Eventually, Hop figures that he’s probably the best person to start speaking.“I don’t know abou’ anyone else, but I think we could use a drink,” he announces.  A quartet of clay mugs are freed from his belt, and he places them carefully on the table one after the other.  With reverent care he plunges the first into the barrel sitting next to him, filling it with amber liquid and offering it to the broad-shouldered Tovaritch.“Da,” Tovaritch says.  He takes the mug and drains it in a single draught.  “Again?”Hop is more than willing to oblige, filling another mug and offering it towards the young woman at the end of the table.  The lady is lost in thought, staring into space with a look of surprise, so the mug is offered towards the hair wolf-man occupying the fourth chair.  “Not for me,” Grroulth says.  He shifts his bulk in the chair, listening to it creak.  Furred fingers clench the table in readiness, should the furniture break, but it manages to hold.  Everyone smiles awkwardly at the sound, and does their best to pretend they aren’t worried about sharing their inheritance with a savage humanoid.  Hop shrugs, drains the mug himself and begins the process of refilling.  The awkward silence returns.“So…yer a gnoll?” Hop asks, trying again.  “Yes,” Grroulth says.“I take ye aren’t one o’ them man-eating type, then?”“Not recently,” Grroulth says.  He lowers his snout a little, trying to avoid everyone’s eyes.  “These days I’m a bounty hunter.”“What made ye give it up?” Hop asks.  “The man-eatin’, I mean.”Grroulth shrugs.“Sometimes you just have to do what’s right,” he says slowly.  “I prefer not to talk about it.”“You ask many questions,” Tovaritch says.  His stern look suggests he is less eager to answer them than Grroulth is.“Best way to get to know someone, ain’t it?” Hop says, smiling broadly.  He looks to Evana for support, but the young sorceress is still looking at the room with wide eyes.  “Five thousand Royals,” She mutters, and it’s obvious she’s having trouble even comprehending the amount, much less entertaining thoughts that even a fraction of it could be hers.“Da,” Tovaritch says.  “According to small gnome person. “One thousand, two hundred and fifty a piece,” Grroulth says.  “Assuming an even split, and no-one else arrives.”“Assumin’, of course, we can find a buyer,” Hop says cheerfully.  “And assumin’ our little gnome ain’t to far gone with his estimates.  It’s an old inn, rickety, but its got a fair supply o’ customers by what I seen when we passed through the taproom.  An Ol’ Barrel may not have gone into the family business like the rest o’ us, but you can be sure he’s used the old skills when he was putting this place together.  Even if he forgot half o’ what he knew, the brew would be better’n half the places in this part o’ the world.” “You seem to know a lot about taverns,” Grroulth comments.“Been inside a few, in me time,” Hop says.  “I might have picked up a few o’ the basics.  Mind if I have a look?”He reaches for the small pile of parchment Gerbo left behind, the details of the will and all paperwork associated with its running.  No one reaches to stop him.“All ours,” Evana whispers again.  “Five thousand.”“Da,” Tovaritch repeats.  “But be not to impressed.  There is cold wind in room, bad draft.  Not good build, I think.“ “We could pay for the repairs,” Hop says, nose buried in the papers.“Is it worth it?” Evana asks.  Her voice is whisper-soft, almost shy.Hop looks up from the papers.“Probably not,” he says.  A frown creases his broad features.  “Accordin’ to the papers, the place is worth five thousand royals even.  Hasn’t made a profit in five years, hasn’t lost a cent.”“That’s strange?”“It might be a bit…unlikely,” Hop says.  “Seems the place has been run by the one-eyed fella behind the Bar, and he’s been in charge o’ the records.”“You suggesting One-eyed barman lie?” Toravitch asks.“Not at all,” Hop says.  “But he might be the man to ask about how it happened.”“I not like One-eyed barman,” Toravitch says.“He’s a might rude, to be sure,” Hop says.  “But he could just be nervous – new management and all.”Grroulth stretches his arms, yawning loudly, and everyone pretends not to notice the long tongue lolling from the side of his mouth as he does so.“Whatever he’s done,” the gnoll announces.  “He sets a fine table.  I’ve not been so full for a year, at least.”The gnoll yawns again, and the dangerous creak in his chair finally turns into a crack, sending the gnoll sprawling.  Arms and legs lash out, knocking against the table and walls.  A mug goes flying, but everyone’s attention is instantly glued to Grroulth’s furred fist as it smacks against the wall with a hollow THUNK.“Sorry,” Grroulth says, pulling himself to his feet.  “I’m not good with furniture.”Without speaking, Tavoritch stands and raps a knuckle against a panel.  The sound is solid, muted by the wall behind.  As everyone else stands and draws closer, Tavoritch works his way along the wall until the hollow THUNK resonates once more.“Other side is empty,” the blond warrior says.  “Perhaps it be secret passage beyond, yes?”“Don’t be daft,” Hop says.  “Who ever heard o’ putting a secret passage in an inn?”“No-one,” Evana suggests softly.  “If we heard of it, they wouldn’t be secret passages.”Hop blinks, unable to argue with the simple logic of that, so he joins Tavoritch by the wall.  The brewers thick knuckles tap on the wood, finding a panel that slides aside to reveal a narrow corridor, placed between two walls.  It’s dark, but Tavoritch quickly pulls a slender sunrod from his pack and lights it up.“Anyone else for looking?” he asks.</blockquote>

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