"Indeed," Eilieen replies to the innkeeper.  "For everyone.  And yes, including my friends, if you would."  That last stated with a smile.  "And yourself, of course, should you so desire."

At Arkan's urging, she studies the mentioned men, taking a small sip from her glass to hide her face.  When the urge to cough passes, she turns back to Colwyn and the warrior-mage.  "Likely as Colwyn says, though it means we should be wary of causing issue here.  With guards here, their side of the story will matter most."

She has to raise her voice a touch to be heard over the enthusiastic singing.

Not put out by Eilieen's coughs and gurgles, Aarnr eagerly claims his mug of beer as soon as it is poured and takes a large gulp.  Indeed, most alcoholic beverages that have passed through the priest have benefited from being swallowed quickly, and he's seen no reason to change that winning formula.

Even so, the priestess does seem to be suggesting that in the event of, say someone angrily attacking the guards, the best course is to kill them all and any witnesses.  And Aarnr has to admire her logic - dead men tell no tales, after all !

Keeping watch on the militiamen from the corner of his eyes beneath his hood, Arkan takes a seat on the closes table available and tries to appear nonchalant, while nursing a cup of the foul brew that passes for drink here.

He spared a gaze over the other patrons as they received their drinks, looking to see if the innkeeper gave the militiamen the free drinks also and how they might react.

The innkeeper wastes no time in distributing the drinks.  As people approach the counter, he serves them and refuses their coin.  The few who actually bother to query the latter receive a brief explanation as the innkeeper moves on to the next customer.  Most who have had their free drinks at least take a moment to smile in the general direction of the party members (though in Eilieen's case the smiles are more in the nature of leers).

The troops reach the counter, and are served free ale.  One of them peers suspiciously into the mug, and sniffs at it, before taking a small sip.  The other doesn't even pick his up.  Instead he leans forward, and says something that can't be heard above the noise.

The innkeeper's reply is similarly drowned out, but the finger he points in the direction of the party is very clearly visible.  The guards look in the indicated direction, and the one who has tasted his ale raises his mug in a gesture of appreciation, while the other gives a nod and a smile of thanks, then turns to snatch up his own mug.  They then move away, and start bullying a couple of locals into giving up seats at a table close to the fire...

Colwyn turns his back on the watchmen and scowls.  He looks relieved when they move away.  "I's not likin' this, not one bleedin' bit."

His empty hand gestures in the general direction of the guards, who are settling into their newly acquired seats.

"If'n them's bein' drinkin' in 'ere, then like as not the rest of the buggers is bein' doin' it too.  Could be gettin' bad in 'ere afore we's knowin' it."

Nodding back in kind at the guards who signal their appreciation at the free drinks, Arkan glances at Colwyn as he speaks and and voices his own concerns in a low voice, "It does seem they are regulars here, and regular also to getting free drinks. None of the other patrons seem surprised to see them settling down in here. Likely they do this every night."

He ponders what they should do; asking about the masons openly in here would likely attract the attention of the guards, and who knew where their allegiance lay. They could be in league with the minions of Orcus, for all they know.

"Gorbellied, milk-livered, dankish, cullionly, half-faced ..." Aarnr does not return the guardsmen's smiles, though without the uniform to guide his animosity, he directs his muttered litany of insults at anyone who could possibly of that persuasion.

Colwyn and Arkan raise valid points, but as always the priest's keen wit is equal to the conundrums they pose.

"Ye think this crowd of toad-spotted scuts will froggin' scare the vile-standin' nuthooks off ?  I ... suggest ," that word is a tricky one, but the priest mightily wrests it from his vocabulary, "we watch that weedy gate from without an' get them when they try to leave !"

PM

Eilieen suffers the attention with a distinct lack of irritation - leering doesn't endear her, but it's far less than what she suffered back at Temple.

Every.

Single.

Day.

...and night.

Instead, she offers a small smile of her own to the guards, and nods her head.  That smile becomes a thoughtful frown as she turns to regard Arkan and Colwyn.  "So...you mean that we will be up to our necks in curious guards, before long?  Perhaps we ought to find another tavern."

A pause.

"IF this village -" she won't call it a city, and town is stretching things "- has more than one such inn.  In any case, I'd rather not get in a war with the local guard.  Aarnr's idea...."

Her throat dries up and Eilieen has to make several false starts before continuing.

"Aarnr's idea h-holds merit," she finally manages, astounded.

"I reckon as 'ow yer'll be out of luck if yer's wantin' another tavern.  There were only bein' two big 'ouses in the town, as I was seein'.  One were bein' this place.  The other... well I'd reckon as that'd be belongin' ter that there King Arranol, seein' as 'ow it was bein' a bit bigger than this one, an' right nex' ter this one." Colwyn says to Eilieen, with something that might be an apologetic smile.

"Waitin' outside the gate'd be workin'... if'n we knew fer a fact as 'ow the buggers was even 'ere.  We might be waitin' fer days, an' the trail'd be gettin' cold, an' then we finds out as 'ow they was never stoppin' 'ere."

As the party appeared to be torn on a decision, Arkan decides to take a bit of a risk; he saunters over to the innkeeper with his mug of drink in hand and leaning over the bar says, "Nice way of handling business before it became ugly." He refers of course, to the earlier brawl the innkeeper smoothly put an end to before it could begin.

"For your troubles and good service," Arkan adds, taking out some silvers from his belt pouch and discreetly sliding the coins across the bar in the innkeepers direction, trying to ensure the militiamen do not see.

"By the way, me and my friends were hoping to run into some old henchmen of ours. They were supposed to come in last night or the night before; I don't suppose you saw them around? They were supposed to be dressed in thick robes, and might have claimed to be masons," he asks after sliding over the coins.

When his initial surprise that his suggestion might have found merit is stabbed and gutted by Colwyn's objections, Aarnr is about to once more propose that they just burn the place down and either get the masons as they come running out or find their bodies in the smouldering rubble ... when Arkan approaches the innkeeper.

Thinking that perhaps another beer might be forthcoming, the priest listens attentively to the conversation ... and while it looks like he might be disappointed (and somewhat confused as coin is handed over for nothing in return, as far as he can tell) about the drink, it seems that Arkan is using a cunning lie to trick the information from the man.

Aarnr bares his teeth approvingly.

The barkeep regards the coins suspiciously for a moment, before pocketing them with a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"No, never saw nobody like... " he pauses, as Arkan's description catches up with his denial.  "Ah... wait... masons you say?"

When he speaks again, his voice is much quieter, and he hardly seems to move his lips.

"I think I did see them.  Foreigners, like yourself, but a bit more given to cursing and swearing?  Came down the road from Bard's Gate, by all accounts?  Would that be them?"

"Any rate, they were in here last night, just long enough to grab a bite to eat and a drop of moonshine.  Then they went over to the palace." and he inclines his head in the general direction of the other large building in the village.

"I heard them say about how they were going to speak to King Arranol."

"Never saw them come back, so unless they left town, they're likely still there."

A sad smile is offered Colwyn.  "Likely you are correct," Eilieen sighs.  The idea of sleeping here...ugh.  Give her a farmer's haystack any day (and not for 'rolling', either).  "Similarly with your thoughts on the matter."

Then Arkan intervenes, and information flows.

More given to cursing and swearing?  Eilieen casts an appalled glance on Colwyn and Aarnr.  Impossible.  Unimaginable.  Horrific.  Not the twain; the idea.

"Well done, Arkan," she whispers, taking a firm hold upon Aarnr's arm.  "No, Aarnr, we shall not speed off to the palace."  This said sotto voce, hopefully outside of the innkeeper's hearing in this noisy hall.  "We need to discuss this quietly.  Outside of this inn."

"Filthy fen-sucked, beslubberin' dog-hearted, ruttish, maggot-nosed basket-cockles !"  Aarnr offers, perhaps somewhat indiscriminately to the cautious observer, as he allows himself to be dragged outside (after a few tugs he gets the idea and tries not to take too large a stride with each step which would defeat the attempt).

"Ye have a plan," the priest surmises confidently, a broad grin splitting his face as he imagines the possibilities, looking about to see if there's any tools, implements, materials or the like that might suggest some more.

Eilieen starts marching Aarnr towards the door, while Colwyn  considers following.  He pauses first, though, to finish his drink.  It doesn't look like any food is on the agenda for the moment.

Which is a pity - he could do with a spot of breakfast...

Beyond the village, Bilfro is meditating and making a noise like distant thunder.  His meditation is disturbed as his owl lands on his shoulder hard enough to break the clavicle of a lesser man.  Just for good measure, it also bites his ear, resulting in a certain amount of pain.

The wizard is immediately alert, and hears the sound of approaching voices coming from the woods to the east...

Trying not to appear too elated at the windfall of information, nor Eileen's praise, Arkan follows the others outside, eyeing the 'palace' in the distance while standing near the others.

"Honestly, we could just set it on fire and do this place a favor. It would improve the view, and take out our enemies fast and easy," he says quietly, almost wistfully. Ofcourse, nothing is that easy and such a reckless move could be catastrophic if there were any innocents inside.

But then again, did a den of scum and villainy such as this have any innocents?

Seeing the others headed outside, Erista slips out and joins them.  "I think they're in the palace," she confides as she rejoins the group.

The outside of the palace bears some resemblance to the tavern.  Basically it looks like a barn, with a thatched roof.  A row of openings, just below the eaves on each side serve as windows, allowing ventilation and, perhaps a little illumination.  Though, at ten feet above ground level, they are perhaps a little too high to allow anybody to look through them.

The wooden walls have numerous chinks and openings, most of which have been packed with mud, grass, or turf.

The strongest part of the palace is definitely the large double door - an old structure, which appears to have been taken, frame and all, from a much better-constructed building.  The doors themselves are of old oak, ornately carved and decorated, and worn almost to the colour of old silver by decades (if not centuries) of exposure to the elements of nature.

A half dozen guards stand watch outside the entrance, eyeing the party with a certain degree of suspicion...

Among the trees at the eastern fringe of the clearing, Bilfro watches as a patrol of a dozen or so men come along the road from the east.  They are dressed in uniforms similar to those worn by the attackers of the night before - mail hauberks, pot helms, and dragon-emblazoned surcoats for all.  One, the leader, is mounted.  The twelve men with him are on foot and armed with spears.

They come closer, and the leader calls a momentary halt as he spots Bilfro on the cart.  Then he spurs his horse forward, riding slowly towards the stranger...

"You there!" he calls, as he comes within range, "Why do you sit by the side of the road, outside our fair city?"

"Setting fire to the place would only improve it," Eilieen mutters, in agreement with Arkan.  "NO, Aarnr, that is not part of my idea and we will not carry through with burning the inn."  She pauses as Erista approaches and delivers her information.

"I see...my thanks, Erista.  Might in inquire as to how you came to this conclusion?"  She raises a hand.  "Let it be said, I do not doubt in the slightest.  It is but curiosity."

As for the palace....

"Well, it's not fortress," Eilieen murmurs, studying it from a distance.  "But well-guarded and difficult to enter."  A small smile touches her lips.  "For me.  Colwyn?  Your thoughts?"

"Some people were talking," Erista explains.  "Said some masons just came into town and one of them wanted to hire them, but then the other said they were up at the Palace and nobody could compete with whatever Arranol's offering."

Seeing the guards looking, she smiles back at them and waves.

For his part Arkan glowers back at the guards staring at the party from, his dark eyes all but smoldering from underneath the shadow of his hood.

Turning his head towards the others he says, "Instead of setting fire to the whole building, perhaps we can just set the roof alight. The smoke should cause everyone inside to run out and we can pick them off in the confusion."

Scratching his chin thoughtfully he adds, "Doing it at night would be the best, it will allow us a greater chance to escape without getting caught."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:09, Tue 28 Feb 2017.

"I could be gettin' in there, easy."  Colwyn says happily.

"There's bein' all them there bloody great 'oles in the walls, an I'd be climbin' up ter them in no time.  But not now.  It's bein' mornin, an' the sun's gettin' brighter.  If'n there's bein' folk in there what's bein' even 'alf awake, I'd be bein' framed in the 'ole, with the light back of me.  Easy ter see."

"So if'n I were ter be tryin' it, I'd be waitin' fer it ter get dark.  An' then I'd like as not be only doin' it if'n there weren't bein' no moons up.  Or if'n there was bein' plenty of clouds."

The rogue shakes his head, and adds, "Not that I'd be tryin' it, normal like.  The place don't look ter be bein' worth the work."

The mounted man rides a little closer to Bilfro, angling his head to one side, before hailing the mage again, "Speak up man, or are you mute?  Why are you loitering outside the city?"

"What?  Mute?  Aye, very much so.  Are thee unreal, alike the previous troop that didst traversed through hither mere moments ere, to dither?  The pale fellows over yonder?"

Bilfro motions towards the side of the clearing, in which direction there is positively not a single living soul within sight.

"In truth, why do I repose afore the glorious gates of tremendous city yon?"

Bilfro motions towards the dingy little village which he was happy to not enter.

"I be watching this here corpse."

Bilfro taps the side of his nose and then nods his head backwards onto the cart upon which end he rests.

"Watching o'er this here unseeable corpse of tremendous dragon non-corporeal.  Aye, this be the head, resting in the cart, while, as thou canst see, its body tremendouser still float o'er thine heads, bloated with the gas of its rotting corpse.  That be the smell you can not smell, it being inodorous and all.  Best not bring open flames near, it be prone to explode and blow thee up.  Done so to me three times already."

Bilfro nods sagely and picks up something invisible and grabs the air in front of his nose.

"The would not let me enter thy fair city with it, nay, though my friends didst.  So I sit here, observing the passer-by's and whittling on my nose, the better to smell tomorrow with, whilst I wait for them."

He smiles blissfully and stares through the patrol as if they were not quite there.

The patrol leader opens his mouth to speak several times during Bilfro's discourse, but each time he does so, Bilfro says something else which renders any response completely pointless.  Finally he raises one hand to signal for the madman to be silent, for madman he surely is.

"Very well.  You may remain here, but be careful not to obstruct the King's highway.  And if there is any trouble, we shall know where to look for a potential cause."

He raises a hand to signal to the troops and calls out, "Onward lads!  Tharizdun has started early today it seems."  This remark is followed by some nervous laughter from his men, and curious stares, and not a few gestures known to ward off bad luck as the troops pass Bilfro...

Meanwhile, at the palace, two of the guards break away from the rest and march (though "saunter" would probably be a more accurate term) towards the group of adventurers.  One of them, the larger of the pair clears his throat and demands, "Oi!  Why are you standing around just looking at the palace?  Not planning a robbery I hope."

"Yeah!  Planning a robbery." adds his companion, with a hissing, wheezing laugh.

Colwyn desperately tries to not appear furtive...