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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Snipehunt" data-source="post: 1146328" data-attributes="member: 13142">(Sorry for the d-lay.  Moving turned out to be a.  A pain.  Taking over for a second  <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f609.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=";)" title="Wink    ;)"  data-smilie="2"data-shortname=";)" /> . . .)The party walks South to the Sleeping Cat.  A few shadowy figures are lounging about outside, one smoking a small pipe (which may be new to your PC's).  They eye the PC's, but otherwise ignore them.  The sturdy door hangs unevenly from the doorframe.  They push through to enter.Although the Upstart Raven was not the most luxurious or stylish tavern the members of the party had visitied, it was comfortable and homey.  The Sleeping Cat, however, compares unfavorably to the most beaten-down, dirt-floored, flea-infested peasant's hovel.  Only a few grime-covered lanterns shed any light in the single room downstairs.  Mismatched chairs, many with sticks of wood splinted onto broken legs, show the abuse of years of brawls and hard use.  Tables are bare, unpainted wood for the most part, although they appear to be clean.  The floor, however, is littered with the damp, smelly remnants of straw put down to cover the sticky wood floor beneath.  Old bones, bits of hard bread, the heads of carrots and other refuse also litter the ground, as well as shards of broken glass and pottery.  The party wonders at the broken glass, evidence of wealth not shown elsewhere here.Behind the bar is a tough-looking middle-aged man.  One eye is covered by a blue eye-patch with a crudely-painted eye in the center.  Stubble covers his scalp and chin, and he has lost the the last two fingers on his left hand.At least a dozen people are sitting at the tables.  One group of 4, three men and a woman, appear to be wearing leather or studded leather armor and to be armed.  They could be be brothers and sister, all with similar features - dark brown hair, beady brown eyes, and long noses.  Sitting at the table with them is a tough-looking man in exceptionally dark and oily studded leather.  The eyes of the party seem to slide right off of him.  A long scar runs along his chin under his mouth, making him look like he has a second pair of lips.Another group of 3 features a short, thin, wiry woman wearing chain mail, a fat man with studded leather, and another woman, with long, flowing blonde hair, wearing exceptionally fine clothes for such an establishment.   The woman in chain is complaining loudly about the weight of the metal armor as the party enters, and picking some of her black hair out of chain links that had caught it.The rest of the patrons appear to be down-on-their luck farmers, except for the surprsing sight of McDonough, the disgraced guard, sitting with his head down at the bar."Just wear a braid, Legestra, nobody here cares for your pretty locks," the blonde-haired woman says as the party enters.  She appears ready to say something else, but stopsand appraised the new group.In the sudden silence, the bartender speaks up with a hoarse voice."Common ale be a copper, strangers, but we got the finest from Kartakass for 2 silvers.  Whiskey if'n ya want it."  He gestures with a dirty mug to an empty table in the center of the room.  "And for strangers, I does gots two rooms - 1 gold each.  I wouldn't advise sleeping outadoors, if'n ya know what I mean."At that, the other patrons beginning chuckling evilly.</blockquote>

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