SWORD AND BOARD
It was a large-ish sort of creature that then next poked its head through the door of the Sword and Board. A myriad of smells assaulted the sensitive nose of the otherwise nondescript animal. It edged further in, struggling against something from the outside not yet seen by any patron who might lift their eyes from their cups and plates long enough to notice. Upon its back, which had now became visible, was a harness of sorts and various pouches were slung tightly. As if it weren't bad enough that the hairy brute had been turned pack-animal, there was a small wooden keg attached to the collar about its neck. Finally, the beast pulled its way fully inside, revealing a wagging tail and a bit of a leather rein or leash tautly pulled beyond the door. The dog then sat with a look of infinite patience upon its face.
"Bah! Fine, have it your way for once you scruffy worm barracks!" The voice was strained with the passage of countless seasons and belonged to a shockingly thin pilgrim who, having given up resistance, entered through the door holding the end of the dog's leather leash.
"Trust that foulness-favoring nose of yours to lead us into a place like this! Some of these sots don't look like they've left their stools for a fortnight! Alright then, c'mon Chomper."
Pulling back a tattered burgundy hood, the skinny old man shook a head covered with a shock of white hair that was aggressively waving to everyone in the vicinity. His walk was more of a shuffle really, and he began making his way toward a spot in the corner, recently vacated by a tubby chap who'd gotten up to visit the alley. The dog followed obediently and protectively behind, and sat down next to the old man on the floor of the tavern.
Grabbing an empty mug on the table, the wizened and rail-thin traveler banged it loudly to draw the attention of whatever wench he could attract. While he waited, he wiped his nose on a handkerchief that might have last been washed in the great floods of '27.
