With the priests out of the picture, things seem to naturally gain a more relaxed air.  Quite why that should happen when Aarnr leaves the room isn't entirely clear, but happen it does.

The meal proceeds, with polite conversation gradually replaced by ribald jokes, and a slow increase in the volume of those jokes.  The food and drink are of the finest quality, and the barkeep is considerably less surly than when the group had arrived.

Oddly there seem to be less and less other patrons in the inn as the evening continues.  By the time a servant politely announces that the baths are now available there are, perhaps, only half as many people present than when the party had first entered.

Through a door at the back of the common room is a single large room containing the baths.  An ornate tapestry divides the room into two sections, and the servant explains that male party members can use the tubs to the left, whuile the female ones can use the ones to the right.  There is a table in the centre of each half of the room, with towels, soap, and perfumed oils.  And benches where patrons can get undressed and leave their clothes...

There is, eventually, a tapping on Eilieen's door.  Through the panel the voice of the serving maid calls to her, "Miss.  The baths's ready, if'n you want to come down and take one."

Aarnr, having arranged for no such alert, sleeps soundly.  Not even disturbed by his own window-rattling snores.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:00, Sun 22 Feb 2015.

Ozzy is the first one in the tub. Of all the luxuries provided this evening, THIS was the most important and satisfying. For nearly three days he has lived with the stench of orc urine and the perfumed waters are a welcome olfactory change. The little Halfling scrubs, suds and scrubs again, determined to smell more like a flower than a latrine.

Having had his fill of the nourishing and delicious meal, Arkan retired to his room. While he still had one more night's residence left at the earlier inn, during his sojourn Arkan had grown accustomed to traveling lightly, and thus usually kept all his belonging with him in his travel bag and various assorted belt pouches even if he had a room at an inn, both for being able to leave on a moments notice and also, in less reputable inns, lest he return to find his few things vandalized.

Now he deposited both his travel bag and the large sword sheathed on his back upon his bed, and then did the same with his cloak and gloves. His belt pouch he kept on as he went to the baths, finding Oswald already there. Removing his clothing and placing it in the afforded place he entered a tub beside the halfling, glancing with appreciation at the assorted scents and soaps nearby.

"Many thanks for paying for this night of indulgence friend Oswald. We will surely be the nicest smelling and cleanest scrubbed delvers ever to delve into Rappan Athuk." Arkan said to Oswald with a chuckle even as he reclined back for a while and let the hot water relax his muscles and soften the dust and grime of travel, before starting to scrub himsef with the scented soaps and soft brushes.

ooc: After he is sure he smells like a bouquet of flowers Arkan will gather his stuff and head off to his room to sleep.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:54, Fri 20 Feb 2015.

Having picked the most remote of the tubs Bilfro takes great care to fold up his articles of clothing - save a gown-like undergarment - and miscellaneous items before sinking into the water with a long, drawn-out sigh of utter relief, not unlike that of a ant that took a wrong turn and had wandered for many hours (that is like years for an ant) before finding a trail that after almost as many more hours led it back home, where it was met with another gruelling task since it neglected to complete the first one when it got lost (ants live to do task, it is their favourite pastime).

Next comes the launch of a wee tortoise who happily takes to the waves, bravely setting forth towards new shores and new adventures.  Or at least the other side of the tub.

Sinking down in the water until only the eyes (and anything higher up, obviously) remain above the water, hands fiddle around the ears and, with the wiggling of ears, produces another sigh.  It is not until now that the last undergarment comes off, quickly being put into a vigorous washing, bundled up into a, uh, bundle...

Eyes scan around and then the head dips down for a quick... dip... before resurfacing until the nose clears the water.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:22, Sun 22 Feb 2015.

The water in the tubs is hot, almost too hot to bear, and scented with perfumed oils.  The air in the chamber is filled with aromatic steam, and somewhere beyond the room, but within earshot, a harpist is playing relaxing music.

Fergus lowers himself into the tub, laughing.  Then explains, "Never had a hot bath before.  Me and dad used to wash up in the pond, so long as it wasn't frozen."  He picks up a block of soap and sniffs at it, "What's this?  Some sort of vegetable?"

Meanwhile, closer to Bilfro, Colwyn hops into the water, sending a fair quantity slopping onto the floor.  Sitting down, he lifts both feet and places them on the side of the tub.  "Was always telled ter keep me feet dry.  Seven times out of eleven, if yer's seein' a cove with a cold, an' yer checks, yer'll be findin' as 'is feet're bein' wet.  Wet feet is givin' folks colds, see?  Not bein' good fer yer body on account of 'ow the water's carryin' evil spirits in ter the soles."

"Any'ow, cheers Ozzy mate."  Reaching out, he lifts his wine cup from the floor and raises it in Ozzy's general direction.

A suspicious burst of bubbles erupts noisily from the depths of the tub to compete with the perfumed steam...  "Well, that were bein' better out than in."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 20:50, Sun 22 Feb 2015.

Luckily for several someones there is no tapping at Aarnr's door to rouse him from his slumbers with some ludicrous and downright offensive suggestion that he might like to bathe.  Colwyn has only but touched upon the perils.

The priest's dream this night is the usual pleasant one where he is roaming the wild lands in the form of a wolf, stalking his prey, the fear-scent as he draws ever closer, the blood spattering his snout and fangs as he makes the kill, the ripping and tearing of raw meat ... for any who've shared either campfire or table with the priest, there would be much there that is familar.

Perfect.

"My thanks," Eilien murmurs, exiting the room.  She offers the girl a silver coin. "If you would take me there immediately, I would be most appreciative."

Once arrived, SAFELY ensconced in her section of the room, Eilieen immediately divests herself of her clothing (including the now-repaired and renewed gown) and heads for one of the tubs.

In the bathing room, Fergus relaxes, leaning back in the water as a servant adds more hot water.  The farmer's eyelids start to droop as the warmth seeps into his flesh and bone, easing the ache of injuries, both old and new.  Struggling to keep his eyes open, he mutters, "Feels nice... "

Colwyn dutifully keeps his feet out of the tub, and waves away the servant who offers him more water, before calling the man back and saying, "More wine!  That's bein' what I's needin'.  If'n yer can be bringin' a 'ole tub filled with it, that'd be bloody good."

"Eilieen ?"  Perhaps for the first time ever in the history of the order, the first thoughts upon someone finding a Priestess of Zadastha in their bedchamber is a surly realisation that they're going to get shouted at again. ¹

But no, the garb in which the woman is attired is not nearly pretty enough that Eilieen would wear it, though the patchwork of fur and leathers seems oddly familiar.  If only he could ...

Aarnr's eyes open wide with alarm.  "Mother ?!!"


¹ Or perhaps not.  Even in the Vastness, one hears rumours. 

The bathing continues, with more refreshments for those who want them, and copious amounts of hot water...

"Grandmother ?!!!  Aren't thee..."

In once sense, it's vindication.  Aarnr knew he should have just headbutted that beslubberin' bum-bailey the second he opened his froggin' mouth, matter not the sensitivities of his friends and companions.

But in another, it's a harsh realisation that he's going soft, falling victim to the very disease of decadence that he's been railing about all this time, failing his god in his attempts to curry favour with those who will never be worthy.

"I will kill them all this night ..." just when he was getting comfortable too, but his religious observances must come first.

"Except for Ozzie."  Aarnr feels he should put in a good word for his blood-brother, and looks to his grandmother, hoping she concurs.

Even past the point of smelling like a kings summer garden on a warm summers day, Ozzie continues to douse himself, scrubbing every inch of his small frame and washing his hair repeatedly. His mind reminds him again and again of the foul stench which lingered on him for days afterward, which only causes him to repeat the process until his arms are too tired to function. Eventually he would make it out of the tub and upstairs to a soft bed. He passes out quickly, enjoying the high cost of comfort for one final night before getting back on the road.

After the rich and fulfilling meal the warm water had started to loosen up Arkan's muscles and he caught himself dozing off more than once. "I believe it's time to call it a night comrades, I will see you on the morrow." He said to the others. Wiping himself dry Arkan put on his clothes and started moving back up to his room, wondering where Aarnr was and why he hadn't joined the rest of the men in the mens section of the baths.

ooc: Arkan will hit the sack and sleep till morning once he gets to his room.

Arkan makes his way up to his room, guided by one of the servants.  The room, as one might expect in (probably) the finest inn in Bard's Gate, is positively luxurious... to the extent that the resident ticks, should there be any, probably wear only the finest silks.

Colwyn too drags himself out of the bath and calls for somebody to show him to his room and fetch him more wine, in no particular order.

After some brief consideration, Fergus decides that the hot water in the tub is far more comfortable than bathing in the pond at home (even at the height of summer).  He elects to continue soaking for a while longer, enjoying the sensation of becoming cleaner than he can remember at any time in his life.

Eilieen is more than happy to keep the bathing going for a time.  A fairly lengthy time, in fact.  However, not wanting to turn into a prune, she removes herself before that point, drying off with the provided towels.  "Have a good night, Sir Arkan," she replies through the concealing curtains, having correctly identified the nearly-unfamiliar voice.  "I bid you all a good night, and offer my thanks again, Oswald!"

Then, in turn and now dressed, she heads up the stairs for an early night.  It has been a most taxing day, most taxing indeed; dirty back alleys, running, fighting...

Messy, messy.

Much like a shark swimming just below the surface, even though he had no idea what that was, Bilfro was almost completely submerged.  Like an owl, which he actually knew what it was, each time the servant came with hot water the eyes grew bigger and rounder until said servant removed themselves anew.

In-between he would forget himself and scrub and splash water out of the tub, nearly washing a certain tortoise out along with it at occasion.

There he would stay until no one else would be around, even if it would take all night, cold water and the price of sporting more wrinkles than a wrinkly thing shoved into a alternating moist and cool corner behind a box that was being pushed in and out of the corner at highly irregular, nay, even suspicious intervals.  In other word, impressively wrinkly.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Aarnr isn't stupid either, just very, very direct, and the subterfuge his grandmother suggests goes somewhat against his nature.  Not the betrayal or murders, you understand, just not being upfront about it all.

"So because he'd want them dead, it's best not to give them to him ..." the priest works through the theosophical implications.  Perhaps it's like the way everyone else begs favours of their gods whereas Bowbe's servants just yell at him a lot.  Presumably because that's the way he likes it.  But wouldn't that mean it'd be better to send up flowery prayers to annoy him ?  Except then he wouldn't grant his favours, and Aarnr would not want to head into battle without Bowbe's blessings strengthening his thews.  Or is it the one about teaching a man to kill instead of killing for him ?

"Too much too soon," Aarnr finally grasps it (like a drowning man clutching at a rope thrown his way).  It would be like he himself had killed all the monsters so there was nothing left to kill.

"Then they can live for now."  Secretly the priest is relieved - truth be told he'd not been looking forward to slaughtering his friends.  He's far too comfortable where he is ...

Eilieen finally leaves the bath and, after wishing her friends a good evening (decently concealed behind a curtain), she retires to her room...  Having grown uncomfortable with the wrinkling effect on his skin, Fergus follows shortly after.  Not to her room, but to his own.

Which leaves only Bilfro and the two halflings soaking in their respective tubs...

Arkan crawls into his bed and, in the quiet of his room, he can hear Aarnr's voice, muted by the sturdy wooden wall.  It seems that his new friend is talking to somebody, somewhere nearby.  The words are indistinct, but there are pauses in the flow of them which suggest that the man is engaged in a conversation.  Even if other party's words can not be heard at all through the wall...
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:24, Mon 09 Mar 2015.

Entering his room Arkan stripped down to his undergarments and hung his traveling garb on the hook provided on the door. His battleblade, Crescent Fall, he propped up by the side of his bed, within easy reach. Even sheathed an untrained eye could see that the blade was longer than a longsword, though slightly less so than a greatsword but wider and thicker than a either. It would be a hindrance in close quarters fighting in a room at an inn, but luckily this room was far larger and roomier than Arkan was used to. The sword also had sentimental value and Arkan would be loathe to loose it to any errant thief, or to abandon it in case a hasty exit from the inn was required. Such were the perils of an adventuring life, after all.

His many pouched belt he kept on the table by the side of his bed, and then took out a sturdy yet slender archaic looking tome from his travel bag and placed it by this belt on the table. His curved dagger he put underneath his pillow. Blowing out the light Arkan was about to lie down when he suddenly heard a voice speaking from another room. It was faint, and he could not make out the words, but the timbre was unmistakably Aarnr's. But who could he be talking to at this hour, especially when the others had been in the tubs downstairs.

Is he speaking in his sleep? Arkan thought curiously, and strained a bit to see if he could make out the words.

ooc: 2 on listen check :P

Once in her room, Eilieen spends a solid hour combing her hair, examining her clothing, buffing up her holy symbol, and other important tasks.  Right before finishing, she recalls a less-important but still noteworthy necessity, and proceeds to clean and sharpen her spear.

There.  Finished.

Proud with her accomplishments of the night, she offers a lengthy prayer to her goddess before crawling into the smooth, soft bed and simply lying in it, awake, for the better part of another hour.

Such things must be enjoyed when they are encountered.

Then she sleeps.

"Then kill the rest of the tribe and take the gold !"  Aarnr gets quite carried away, expanding with great enthusiasm on the cunning plan his grandmother outlines.

Lots of gold, lots of killing and become chief.  Aye, a simple but brilliant scheme, devoid of any flaws.  "I like it !"

Erista starts her bath - a luxury she certainly isn't going to decline, especially when it's already paid for - by washing out her dress, and then more or less has to wait until it has time to dry, doesn't she?  So much of her bath is arguably less a "bath" and more "swimming", as she spends a good deal of time splashing around, moving back and forth, ducking herself under the water and blowing bubbles...

When she finally does climb out of a tub that has been emptied of a good deal more water than her small body should reasonably have displaced, she dries off quickly, dresses, and makes her way to her own room, and props open the window to give Astral some air, or maybe even a bit of hunting time.  Then, of course, she pulls the pillow off the bed, stuffs her pack in its place, tucks the blankets up over it, and then slips underneath for a more comfortable place to sleep.

Colwyn ensures that the window is firmly closed, and then ties a length of heavy twine around the latch to ensure that it stays that way.  Can't be too careful in a new city...  Then he smashes the empty wine bottle with the small hammer from his kit, and liberally sprinkles the unlit fireplace with the broken glass.  With luck, anybody coming down the chimney should get some nast cuts in their feet but, at the very least, the crunching sounds as they tread on the glass should wake him up.

The door is such an obvious entry that it's barely worth considering.  Nonetheless he uses a chair to wedge it shut.  Finally secure, he falls into the bed, fully clothed and with his blade nearby.  Sleep follows quickly...

In the other rooms, his friends make their own preparations for sleep.

In his room, Ozzy sleeps on his coin as if it were a solid gold pillow.
He dreams of dancing girls, scarves, and complicated math, grinning contentedly in his sleep.

Stay friendly with the outlanders  Aarnr sighs mightily.  Certainly sounds like a lot of hard work.  And undoubtedly means he's not allowed to kill whoever he likes, such as that rat-spleened, dung-witted sheep-biter downstairs !

But the ends are worth it ... as is not getting heavily smited by Bowbe in the interim.

Good old Uncle Aargh (even Aarnr might think twice about correcting his dead grandmother's shade's spelling, but luckily he really doesn't have an idea how it or any other name or word is spelled) - a cautionary tale indeed.  A most embarrassing way to go.

"P'raps the froggers will turn to Bowbe ..." the priest's voice slurs as sleep threatens to overwhelm him, the usual response to religious debate, indeed, to strenuous thinking of any kind.  Though Ozzie might be halfway to a conversion already, and he's definitely had an effect on Eilieen too, given her fondness for stabbing people with that spear ...