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<blockquote data-quote="Quickleaf" data-source="post: 7009121" data-attributes="member: 20323"><p><img src="http://i.imgur.com/pkrp0qb.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /></p><p></p><p>Leaving Old Nan's ruined cottage for the time being, you make your way to the Inn of the Sojourn Plough. Several alarmed villagers peer from shuttered windows or hurry home off the streets of Lower Posada bathed in the ruddy light of the red moon. Two village toughs with hardened leather caps and clubs stand guard over the entrance to the inn, where two torches have been lit. They appear to be only half-drunk, but upon seeing Tamaran, one taps his fellow's shoulder to get his attention. </p><p></p><p><strong>"Oi told ye, there were elves afoot in the woods tonight, Breemly! Quick, we've to run for it or he'll pox our loins, e' will!"</strong> The one says, clutching his fellow by the arm as the two stagger off into the night.</p><p></p><p>The Sojourn Plough straddles the line between quaint and rustic, with a thatch roof that could do with a bit of repair. When you enter through the main door it squeaks loudly on its hinges and is nearly blown wide by an incoming gust of warm air brought down from the mountains. As is often the case with small villages like this, the ground floor of the inn serves as a watering hole for locals and travelers. Tonight, however, there is only one sullen bearded man drinking in a corner by the fireplace. A bumbling portly man, who some of you already know as Guilehelm the Innkeeper's Husband, nervously washes down the tables, eyes darting outside to the supernaturally red moon.</p><p></p><p>Swallowing, he approaches with a pitcher of sourdough ale and oats. His nubby fingers shake as he sets it down at your table, glancing sidelong at Tamaran before quickly catching himself. <strong>"E-evning. It's once in a blue moon that we get a red...well, that is to say...the saying is a bit off...it's...ah...ahem. Excuse me,"</strong> he stutters.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Quickleaf, post: 7009121, member: 20323"] [img]http://i.imgur.com/pkrp0qb.jpg[/img] Leaving Old Nan's ruined cottage for the time being, you make your way to the Inn of the Sojourn Plough. Several alarmed villagers peer from shuttered windows or hurry home off the streets of Lower Posada bathed in the ruddy light of the red moon. Two village toughs with hardened leather caps and clubs stand guard over the entrance to the inn, where two torches have been lit. They appear to be only half-drunk, but upon seeing Tamaran, one taps his fellow's shoulder to get his attention. [b]"Oi told ye, there were elves afoot in the woods tonight, Breemly! Quick, we've to run for it or he'll pox our loins, e' will!"[/b] The one says, clutching his fellow by the arm as the two stagger off into the night. The Sojourn Plough straddles the line between quaint and rustic, with a thatch roof that could do with a bit of repair. When you enter through the main door it squeaks loudly on its hinges and is nearly blown wide by an incoming gust of warm air brought down from the mountains. As is often the case with small villages like this, the ground floor of the inn serves as a watering hole for locals and travelers. Tonight, however, there is only one sullen bearded man drinking in a corner by the fireplace. A bumbling portly man, who some of you already know as Guilehelm the Innkeeper's Husband, nervously washes down the tables, eyes darting outside to the supernaturally red moon. Swallowing, he approaches with a pitcher of sourdough ale and oats. His nubby fingers shake as he sets it down at your table, glancing sidelong at Tamaran before quickly catching himself. [b]"E-evning. It's once in a blue moon that we get a red...well, that is to say...the saying is a bit off...it's...ah...ahem. Excuse me,"[/b] he stutters. [/QUOTE]
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