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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Gregor" data-source="post: 5559712" data-attributes="member: 11751">The innkeeper, heavyset older man with a trim grey beard tries to keep up with your flurry of requests.  He goes by the name of Klaus Vanderson and occasionally check in on your well being.  He is a friendly man and obviously cares about his establishment, which after an hour or two begins to fill up.The Sword and Plow tap room is rather large, with room to seat at least 75 patrons at once.  Two large hearths keep the place warm and dry and oil lanterns hang from nails in wooden pillars to provide extra light.  Wooden stairs lead up to the rooms where Torrent has rented you two rooms with enough beds for everyone.  There is a small raised dais in the centre of the room, presumably for performers, but the spot looks dusty and unused.  To your requests he brings out what is available for food and drink, apologizing for not having 'fine wine' or 'roast fowl' on account that this is a small farming community and not the trade hub it used to be.  However, the two gold coins pressed into his hands, perhaps the equivalent of a month's income, drive him forward to please you.  He blusters around ensuring his most attractive serving girls work your table and you can hear him hollering in the kitchen for this and that.  Torrent pays everything in advance and old Vanderson's smile reaches new extremes as the gold glimmers in his eyes.Your table is cluttered by a full keg of Dwarven ale, a smaller cask of local cider and a few bottles of aged malt.  Massive slabs of roasted mutton rubbed with herbs and salt are delivered, along with freshly baked dark bread and hard sheep's milk cheeses.  After two weeks of trail rations and water, this seems a feast and you hardly hear the innkeeper telling you that baths and soap will be brought to your room before you turn in.  To Lars he mentions that the general store in town can set him up with fresh new clothes. The inn is eventually packed tight, with even the standing spaces being filled by farmers and labourers seeking a cold drink and hot bite.  You are obviously the centre of attention and many stare at the scene you've created.  Serving girls sit on your laps, to which Torrent rolls her eyes, and you holler and laugh as pint after pint is thrown back in pleasant relaxation.  Pipe and hearth smoke hovers along the ceiling and the hum of the tavern fills your ears.  You notice that many of the patrons are soldiers and a few of the Dwarven ones have begun playing a game of axe throwing at a large wooden target at the back of the room.</blockquote>

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