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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Old_Man_Fish" data-source="post: 2282290" data-attributes="member: 26697">Session 2 Part 1: To ThurmasterSession 2 (05/22/2005) Thurmaster, Rock Dale and Broken Spire Keep:Day 5:    I awoke with the dawn.  The mists coated the river, as though some brilliant artist had gently touched the surface and pulled a hint of white up towards the sky.  A short while later, the rest of the group awoke.  We slowly made our way down to the common room to enjoy a well-cooked breakfast.  I spotted Trisha through the kitchen doors.  She once again looked at once busy and relaxed.  It is so hard to find someone as much in his or her element as she appears to be while in the midst of the morning’s commotion.  As we rose to go and meet with the ferry master, I looked on one more time at the inn.  It was not the nicest I had stayed in.  However, I hope that I will have the opportunity to frequent it again.Within a half an hour we had met with the ferry-master, Quinn, and secured free passage down to Thurmaster.  This was, of course, on the basis that we would help protect the ferry should anything go amiss.  The trip down the river lasted through the night.  We did not encounter anything more threatening than a few crocodiles that lazily drifted past us.  We did, however, have the chance to enjoy the tour of the countryside.  I managed to spot three different types of birds and one type of deer, which I had thus far only heard.  We were also lucky enough to catch a sight of a giant black bear fishing for salmon not 50’ from the ferry. Day 6:    We arrived in town to a damp mist that soon turned to a down poor.  There was not a single soul out as we trudged our way to the only visible structure that appeared to entertain travelers.  In a rush to get out of the rain, I did not even catch the name of the tavern as we entered.      “Wipe your feet!” a rather homely looking woman yelled at us before we had even made it a step into the relative sanctuary of the large wooden building.  “I don’t have time to be cleaning up after all the mess you’s is about to be leaving.  And don’t even think about letting those cloaks drip all over my floor.  What do I look like, your maid?  Are you daft, or just stupid?”    This caught us all a little of guard.  I have not had the ill fortune of ever being greeted as such upon entry into a serving establishment.  It seemed quite odd that we were being berated by this woman, whom we had yet to meet, let alone been given the opportunity to have already aggravated in some fashion.  I stood in the doorway for perhaps another five seconds trying to let this sink in.    “What are you letting all my warm air out for?  And the rain, you’re letting it get in.  Look, now you’ve done it.  The rain’s all over the floor.  Don’t you be thinking I won’t remember you for this.  That’s it.  I won’t take this I tell you.  All you are doing is making more work for me.  Little old me.  Do you think I have all the time in the world? Is that it.  You don’t think I have enough to do, do you?  Well, you might as well come in.  I’m going to have to mop the whole bloody thing now anyway.”    We let the woman’s voice drone on as we found a table towards the back, near the bar and the kitchen door.   It was, quite possibly, the most grating voice that I had heard in the past 10 years.      “Well, what’ll you have then?” The woman asked, a sneer evident in her voice although somehow absent from her face.      “We’ll take some beer and food.” Lucien said.      “Three ales and three mutton pies then.”     And with that the woman was gone.  We sat down; sullenly drying out with every intention of waiting the time our food would come.  At this time, however, the door was thrown open.  In an instant the lady was back out, yelling at the poor soul who would dare enter her establishment.  The man, a tall, black haired fellow with a slight glint in his gray eyes and a smile upon his face, entered the inn with a decidedly different approach than that of our band.    “Shut your hole woman.  You know no one listens to your yappin’.  And while you’re shutting that fat face of yours, move your ass and go get me ale, and some of the beef stew.  None of that Mutton, or by tempest I’ll gut you like the sow you are.”    And with that he walked over to the table next to ours and threw himself down into the chair.   He glanced over at our table and smiled for an instant before returning his gaze back towards the door of the tavern.  The lady glanced back and forth between the man and the large rolling pin that she grasped, her face red with fury.   After a moment’s hesitation, she stormed off, once more into the kitchen.      “Well, I’ll be.  Anyone who will dress down that nagging witch is a friend of mine.  The name’s Bragi, let me buy you a drink.”    “Well Bragi, I’m Larry.  Larry the Tax Collector is how most people here abouts know me.”    Lucien spoke up.  “A tax collector?  Here? You’ve got to be kidding me.  This place isn’t large enough to support a decent market let alone a tax collector.”      “It’s true all the same.  I know we aren’t that big of a town, but we have our fair share of troubles.  And troubles take taxes to take care of you know?  I work for the Palfrey’s.  They’re the ones who take care of the area surrounding Thurmaster.”    At this point the lady slammed down the food and drink, sending a fair portion of the liquid over the rim of the mug in her attempt to show Larry her contempt.  She also slid our food and drinks over to us.  Larry said, “He’ll be paying for this one woman.”     “Got the mutton did you?  You’ll regret that one.”  He said as he smirked and shook his head.  He took a very tender bite of the beef stew before smiling and nodding to himself.        “What is wrong with the mutton?”  I said after I had already taken a large bite.    “Oh nothing now.  But tomorrow you’ll regret it.”  He paused for another mouth full of the stew.  “So, as I was saying.  The Palfrey’s; they’ve been in control here for about the last fifty years or so.  It all started when a large group of bandits was terrorizing the countryside.  No one knew what the hell to do.  The locals just sat there, in their homes, waiting and hoping that something would happen.  It probably would have stayed that way if not for Father Pelfrey.  He’s the one that finally took the initiative and started up his own guard to try to help protect all of the people.  By golly, he helped them out and a whole lot more.  After the bandits were dispatched he continued on, keeping the roads and the river safe.  And that wasn’t all, he also started trying to keep the town clean and to keep up with everyone.  You know, just to check in once in awhile and what not.  Eventually, all of the citizens started to fall into a kind of feudal system.  Now, here we are, paying taxes to try to keep everything up and in working order.”      At the end of this short tale, he took the last bite of his stew, wiped off his chin and stood up.  “Well, I did enjoy meeting all of you.  I’ve got to be on about my business though.  Enjoy your stay here in Thurmaster.”  As we said our farewells, he threw a few coins down for his meal and went out the door.</blockquote>

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