The rundown appearance of the building does nothing to improve Sir Roland's mood. And as the companions draw nearer, a smell of unwashed bodies and food gone bad wafts through the air to assail their nostrils.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he turns his face to one side and spits in disgust. He snarls. "It's a hovel. But I suppose it will have to do for tonight..."

His armor rattling and clanking, the knight approaches the front of the inn, making for what appears to be a door of some kind. Placing his hand on the worn and splintered wooden surface, he pushes on it and enters without waiting for his companions.

Larson followed up at the rear of the group, his huge bearskin clad frame making him look like he actually fitted in here.

Yes this was a hovel but it was still someone's home and the big man noticed the open distain on some of his companions faces and sighed civilised living had made these southerners forget they were all just men and equals in the eyes of the gods.

He adjusted the large warhammer that was strung across his back and followed the rest towards the tavern and welcome warmth and food

Garl follows Sir Roland into the Prancing Gryphon.  He tries hard to conjure the smell of musty old scrolls and fresh ink, and to dispell the stench of mediocre food and peasant sweat.

It doesn’t quite work, but he still looks forward to spending the night indoors.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:19, Sun 03 Dec 2017.

The first thing that welcomes you is a big fireplace warming up a big, common room made in stone, with small windows covered by heavy fabric. The floor is made of compact earth and covered with hay.
There are a handful of customers sitting around crude wooden tables, eating stu and drinking some foaming liquid. They all wear warm clothes, mostly furs.

A young, scarred man approaches you with a broad, broad smile: "Welcome gentlemen to the Gryphon's Nest, the best place to eat of Gallows End!
Tonight we offer a deal: a meal, a Thunderbrew and a bed in the tavern’s common for the night for you will be for just one little Crown. Extra Thunderbrews that you may want, will come just at 5 Schillings.
If you are interested in doing deals with the Emporium, I'm running that as well!"
[Private to Garl Ligoosh: After all the stu doesn't smell too bad... probably they cooked meat before it was rotten, but it smells very raw, with not enough herbs and carrots]
[Private to Sir Roland Halfstaff: After all, the stu doesn't look too bad, but you notice they put quite a few carrots... an old trick to avoid putting good meat instead... but propably so far from the castle is better than you expected]
[Private to Larson fossas: The stu actually looks like an honest dish for simple but straigtforward people]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:20, Sun 03 Dec 2017.

Upon entering the tavern, a pleasant wave of warm air greets Sir Roland and washes over him. He feels it beginning to drive away the chill of the cool night air outside. Perhaps this isn't the hovel it looks like from the outside.

The knight remains standing there near the entrance for some seconds, ignoring the fact that he is keeping the Innkeep waiting. As is his custom, his cold blue eyes calmly survey the inside of the Gryphon's Nest, taking the measure of each individual. Satisfied, he turns and makes his way to an empty table near a corner where he sets down his shield and pack, and proceeds to sit down on the bench. He turns to see if his companions follow him to the table, then to Wyatt who had waited on him patiently, then followed behind as he made his way to the table.

"You the Innkeep?" Seeing the young man nod, Sir Roland continues. "We would like rooms for the night, dinner, and a mug of your Thunderbrew each." Sir Roland eyes Wyatt coldly. "I don't want that cheap soup they are having. I want to see good juicy meat in my stew. Lots of it." The knight reaches into his money pouch and claps three Crowns on the table. "And make it quick. We are hungry."

OOC - deducted 3 crowns from the char sheet.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:23, Tue 05 Dec 2017.

Wyatt swiftly makes the gold disappear from the table: "My dear Sir, you shall be served swiftly, but please note that we don't have rooms here. We have a single common room.
I will personally make sure that in the fireplace there will be enough wood until dawn and that your beds are nice and comfortable.
Please enjoy your Thunderbrews... our speciality!"
In few seconds you all have a foaming flagon in front of you.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:28, Mon 04 Dec 2017.

Garl sits at a rickety table and runs his little finger over the foam of his Thunderbrew, dreaming of poisonous clouds and midnight castings.  He is grateful he hasn’t seen any musicians so far...

Larson looked over at his companion

"Sir Roland the stew here looks to be s fine made if simple afar and the meat used seems to be of good quality. I would say the innkeeper here be an honest man and it would be far to treat him as such" stated the dwarf before turning to the innkeeper.

"I would have your stew, drink and warm sleeping corner for the night" he said with a smile "my friend here is paying" he grinned
This message was last edited by the player at 15:55, Mon 04 Dec 2017.

Eventually, Garl gets bored with touching his Thunderbrew and tries drinking it.  Although it’s not entirely to his taste, he swallows gratefully.

The Thunderbrew reveals to be a spicy, strong ale. While the first sip doesn't taste fantastic, the more you drink, the more you feel a pleasurable warmth spreading in your bodies. The first flagon empties just on time for your stews to come in wooden dishes and with a wooden spoon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:06, Tue 05 Dec 2017.

Sir Roland glances at Larson but decides that arguing with the dwarf over culinary matters is beneath him. To the knight's mind, it is indeed just a culinary matter - the thought did not occur to him that the Innkeep might be a dishonest man. He says no more on the matter but picks up his flagon and takes a deep long draught of the Thunderbrew. A pink cast comes over his features as he lowers his flagon to peer into it. It is obvious he likes it. Lifting it again, he drains it in a single draught. He looks around the table at the empty flagons of his two companions and calls out to the Innkeep for another round, before tucking in to his bowl of stew with a keen appetite.

As Wyatt comes by with the second round of drinks, Sir Roland looks up at him, his disposition slightly more agreeable and pleasant than before. "Your brew is something Innkeep. What news from the road?"

The innkeeper, with obvious pride, serves you one more round of Thunderbrew. "I'm afraid I don't have great news about the road, dear Sir: a band of cutthroats, led by a dark robed bandit, elected the forest its home."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:22, Tue 05 Dec 2017.

The knight raises his brows. "And they have been preying on travelers and locals? How many are they? Anyone knows their hideout?"

"Sorry Sir, that's all I know, as I seldom go out of Gallows End and I can only report about the rumors I hear at the Gyphon's Nest. Perhaps some other customer can tell you more."
The Innkeeper bows and serves one more Thunderbrew to another customer.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:52, Tue 05 Dec 2017.

Garl grins at the mention of the bandits.  At last, he will get an opportunity to try his spells out on live targets!

As the Innkeep moves to another table, there is a moment of silence around the table. Sir Roland looks at his companions thoughtfully. He notes Garl's enthusiastic grin.

"Let's find out more..." Finishing up his bowl of stew, the knight wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, picks up his flagon, and walks over to the next table where there are seated several other patrons. As the men turn to look at him, he remains standing beside the table while he calls out his greeting.

"Good evening to you Gentlemen. Cold night it is. Mind if I join you?"

With a disarming smile, Sir Roland glances around at the faces around the table, and seeing no objection, takes his seat between a rough looking man who looks like a hunter, and an older man with a soot-blackened face and big rough hands gnarled from a lifetime of work at the forge.

"So Gentlemen...what news from the road?"

OOC - So DM...let me know if I need to make any roll check. Sir Roland has the Silvertongued talent.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:21, Tue 05 Dec 2017.

The men looked like huddling between themselves, aparently with no sign of hospitality, before Sir Roland addressed them, but, perhaps due to his broad smile or to the many empty Thunderbrew flagons on the table, they nod cheerfully, welcoming you, and happily share their news.
The old smith informs you that the Forest of Bron is a perilous place, inhabited by ferocious beasts and monsters, but in ancient times it was home to a benign druidical order.
The old hunter instead tells you that this has been the cruellest winter in
decades. The Hellwinter peak is violently shaken by fierce thunders almost every night.

[OOC: the power of Silvertongued Talent... ;) ]
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:43, Tue 05 Dec 2017.

Passing by and asking if you want more Thunderbrews, the Innkeeper informs you: "The last knight to reach for Hellwinter was a sad man named Gallaharn,
well-known and respected by the villagers. Some years ago, Gallaharn’s wife died to an incurable fever. No one in the village has heard of him since he reached the tower at the beginning of winter."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:46, Tue 05 Dec 2017.

His ears prick up at the mention of Sir Gallaharn, and Sir Roland leans forward at the table. He looks at the faces around the table, that of the rough hunter and the old blacksmith, as well as the other men nursing their Thunderbrew.

"Did he come in here...Sir Gallaharn? Did you know him?"

"Of course... all knights on the way to Hellwinter stop at the Gryphon's Nest for a night... and then, occasionally, come back here to buy some food or tools... We are very honoured by their presence in Gallows End."

"So you spoke to him.. Did he say or do anything that you found...out of place?"

"Innkeep, you said Sir Gallaharn arrived at the Tower on winter's onset. And he has not been seen in the months since?"

Sir Roland continues his questions in a matter-of-factly tone. His manner is not impolite, but his interest in the matter is obvious. He tries to find out as much as he can from the villagers and the Innkeep Wyatt about what Sir Gallaharn might have been up to.

Garl finally tries the stew.  It is not as spicy as he would like, but it will suffice.

As he eats, he follows the tale of the sad Sir Gallaharn with great interest, wondering if he still lives.

"He came here only once at the beginning of the year on the way to Hellwinter and everything seemed perfectly right with him... and he never came back until now, which is strange, as the knights of Hellwinter usually come back here from time to time, to buy more food and other tools, for example...
Any more Thunderbrews?"

Sir Roland looks at the Innkeep, shakes his head at the offer for more drink. He stands up from the table, drawing himself up to his full height to address everyone in the Inn. His deep voice is clarion, ringing with confidence and rightful authority as he makes his announcement.

"Villagers and residents of Gallows End. My friends. The Baron of Tyntern, Lord Graystone, has long heard about the dangerous conditions under which you live out your lives. He sent Sir Gallaharn to man the Tower of Hellwinter, as well as to see how he can make this area safer for you and your children..." The knight pauses for a moment. He looks around at the faces before continuing. "...Unfortunately, there had been no news from Sir Gallaharn these past three months. I am here with my companions to find out what happened. And to finish what Sir Gallaharn started..."

"Any news or information you might have on the dangers you face here in Gallows End and it environs, would be helpful to us. As are information on Sir Gallaharn when he first arrived here and engaged with you."

He turns to the hunter, the blacksmith, and the other villagers at the table. "How far is Hellwinter from Gallows End? In this weather?"

In his mind, Sir Roland is already thinking about the journey to the Tower - supplies needed, and perhaps oil-skin protection for the rations, tinderboxes and torches, lanterns, rope maybe... He turns back to his own companions. "We shall rest here tonight. Make for the Tower tomorrow morning. I will procure some needed supplies."