THE SWORD AND BOARD: Where retired Adventurers and wannabes congregate. The food is overpriced and the old fogeys hog the best seats.

The main hall is smokey and loud. Servers that have been around a while are rude to newcomers, especially wise-crackers; the young ones still have that naive optimism and love of adventurer's tales (maybe).

There are private meeting rooms for hire as well as rooms upstairs for rent; these include single and group bunk rooms. But today, the inn is full for some reason.

There’s Ambathar the old ranger. He’s had too much to drink again..

“...SO NO SHIT THERE I WAS! So I grabbed THIS beholder by his eyestalk and the OTHER beholder by his eyestalk and I started BASHING them together like cymbals! Rays! Rays everywhere!”

An Elf walks into the bar. He looks for a table. Not finding any, he picks a group of old warriors, sits down among them asd says, "Hey, guys. Remember me?"

You see a smallish female human wandering between the tables solicitating: "Wisdom of the Forest for a copper? Fortune read for a copper? Oh hello sir, The Chill Breeze and The Broad Leaf tell me you will have great luck today, have your fortune read for a copper?"

The Elf holds out a copper for the soothsayer. "I seem to have more copper than fortune, these days," he says.

"Oh thank you, Sir. May you rest in the shade of the Mother Tree. Now, let's see here ..."

You see the slight female dig in her bag and pull out a handful of twigs, leaves, and pebbles which she casts on the floor. She looks over them and then furrows her brow.

"It says you will take a job from a prostitute and your way will be beset by thorns. Perhaps not so lucky after all." She smiles weakly and hands back the copper.

"Well, I can't be too surprised by that result. That was my past you read. You see, there was this Doxy, whose cat was stuck in a tree, and I am very good at climbing trees. It was an orange tree. Have you ever seen the size ot the thorns on an orange tree? You could make darts out of them..."

Creston caught him self begining to ramble and suddenly stopped talking, accepted the return of the coin, looked at the old men he was sitting among, then asked, "Seriously, guys. Do any of you remember me?"

In reply to Creston Fairwood (msg # 7):

A grizzled veteran stares at the elf through bleary eyes, then his face turns into a scowl of hate.

“MARKESSA!”

He reaches for his sword, but because it’s been peacebound for a decade he only tugs at it. A bald old wizard with a stringy white beard pulls his arm away from his sword belt.

“NO NO NO we killed her, remember? TWICE!”

"What? I was a girl? I don't remember ever having been a girl..."

“You’ll have to excuse him, his eyes ain’t what they used ta be.”

"I suppose that goes for all of us. My memory isn't what it used to be."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 18:28, Sat 18 Aug 2018.

"Tell me travelers, have you seen or heard of the Mother Tree in your journeys? I go by Rain-drumming-on-ground-and-leaves, or just Rain" She does a quick bow.

In reply to Rain Drumming (msg # 12):

In answer to the Cleric's question, Creston simply points at his ears and looks at her like she's being silly.

In reply to Creston Fairwood (msg # 13):

“Mother Tree Eh? Thatt’s way up north where the hernes roam!”

In reply to DM (msg # 14):

The actual tree, perhaps, but every tree, nay every plant, has something of the Mother Tree in it. She is everywhere.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:09, Mon 20 Aug 2018.