You find yourself sitting at a table in a large and very noisy room, crowded beyond belief. You can see what seems to be a bar, situated in the centre, but the distant walls seem unclear, not entirely due to the subdued lighting.  It is very smoky, as thick as fog.  The decor is ... unusual.

An inn, you surmise, by the singing and drinking and fighting going on around you, though one that seems impossibly large.  Indeed it must have countless meeting rooms and private areas, for what else could account for all the doors ?  Barely seen on those far-away walls are doors -  every couple of feet there is another door, yet when you try to count them it proves impossible, for the doors seem to be shifting about, vanishing and reappearing !

You sit in an alcove, a somewhat favourable position, you conclude, though given you can see few indeed no other seats available nearby, it seems rather lucky that you were able to claim it, particularly as you don’t remember how you got here.

Suddenly you become aware of the statue standing at the back of the alcove, a most impressive affair, around 10 feet in height and of fine workmanship, depicting a woman with large wings and a great big sword in one hand, a simple brass helmet atop her head.

You realise you are not alone at the table and look towards the person sitting opposite you,.  But before either of you can say anything a blood-curdling scream drags your attention to a rapidly approaching servant, wide eyed, waving his hands around !

“You can’t sit there !” you are uncertain if that’s an admonishment or a warning until there is a whistling sound above you and you both sink lower in your seats as that great big sword borne by the statue sweeps over your heads, parting the air a mere fraction from the servant’s throat.

To his credit, the man responds admirably, as, with no more than a strangled squeak he continues, “or rather, I should say ‘Welcome, indeed welcome to the World Serpent Inn, most worthy gentlemen !  What is your desire ?  Food ?  Drink ?  I am here to serve you.”

He bows low as the blade withdraws and the statue settles back into the alcove.

Cogwitz was trying to get his wits about him as he suddenly appeared in the inn, or at least he thought it an inn.  As things became more and more clear he knew that he was indeed in an inn and sitting at a table with some human he hadn't known.  Nor did he know how he got there as well... was it a dream he had just had or...

As the servant came closer and something caught his eye to cause him to drop lower in his seat, the blade from the statue he had just looked at came swinging by.  Most likely the blade would have missed him anyways, but always better to be safe then sorry he always thought.

The World Serpent Inn?  He thought about the name for a moment to see if he could recall it in his studies at the temple.
 Well, thank you, and it is about time we get some service here!  I would like to have some elven wine and a plate of bread and cheese for me.  He looked over to the human and gave him a wink.  What will youuuuuu have?  He said in a questioning tone asking for a name.

Tesseryn resumes his seat after ducking beneath the swinging blade, glaring pointedly at the statue.  He stares distractedly at his hands while the other speaks to the servant, turning them to look at the palm and the back.  He raises an eyebrow at the gnome's inclination for elvish wine, then frowns darkly when the stranger winks at him.

"Take me to a robing room." he commands the servant.  He leaves following the servant and taking a bulging leather sack with him.

Tesseryn returns a short time later appearing unchanged.  He resumes his seat beneath the deadly statue and regards his companion.  "I am Tesseryn Brightsoul, The Arm of Doros.  I have no idea where this inn is, or why I appear here as I do, or how there can possibly be so many people."  He looks around, bemused and annoyed, then back at his companion.  "You seem at home here, good master gnome.  What do you know of this place?"

OOC: His portrait has changed but he's the same person, RPoL has just recently loaded the pic I requested.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:32, Thu 03 Sept 2015.

Cogwitz had hoped that the waiter would bring back the things he requested, but before that happened the human came back and sat down looking puzzled.  When he introduced himself, Cogwitz smiled.

Nice to meet you Tesseryn, I am Cogwitz.  Have you met many gnomes before?  How about halflings?  I have met many humans before.

What do you mean by your question, why do you appear as you do?  Or how can there be so many people?  Where do you think you are?

After escorting Tesseryn to a place of privacy where he might dress for dinner, the servant hurries off ... and despite his best and most energetic efforts to rally the troops, the paladin makes it back to the table before refreshments arrive.

And arrive in style.

The cherubs bearing loaded platters is a nice touch, though perhaps the angelic choir is taking things a little too far.  Indeed many a head turns to regard you, for it seems that this constitutes rather special treatment.

Bowing low the servant arranges an astonishing array of crockery and cutlery before Cogwitz, as first the platter loaded with exotic breads and pastries and then the other laden with many and varied cheeses is placed onto the table.

Finally he ushers forth no less than six nymphs each bearing what appears to be a handcrafted crystal bottle.  "Of which would you partake, my lord," the ladies chorus as a selection of cups and glasses, goblets and mugs, tankards and drinking horns are wheeled up for Cogwitz's selection.

"And can I bring anything for you, your Radience ?" the servant bows once more as he addresses Tesseryn.

This message was deleted by the player at 06:20, Wed 09 Sept 2015.

Tesseryn averts his eyes from the alluring six armed woman and regards Cogwitz once more.  "A great number of gnomes, yes.  I beg your forgiveness, I have not met a 'halfling' before.  I come from the land of Ardania, where my sword is pledged to the service or Doros, the God of Justice.  I was recruited by His Magesty Toaster789 to rid his realm of evil, for I deemed his mandate just.  My sisters and I were surrounded by legions of the unholy servants of the Lich King when I fell yet again.  Rather than being raised up as usual, I had a vision of the exiled God of the Moon and the Wind.  And now I am here.  I do not know where this place is, perhaps some Elvish bungalow."  The words appear to be distasteful to him.  Have you been here long, Cogwitz?  And was your appearance ... greatly altered when you arrived?"

So this was a paladin of some sort.  I wonder what he looked like before...  I haven't been here for long.  This place is called The World Serpent Inn, it is a gateway to many different worlds.  You say you fell?  Do you mean you died?  Do you know what happened to your sisters?  Do you mean sisters in arms or actual sisters?  You also say your form was altered..  what did you look like before?  I am very much the same as I was previous to arriving here.

When the nymphs arrived with the grand array of goodies, Cogwitz began to partake of the delicacies.

Tesseryn remains stony faced as the extravagant feast is laid before the halfling.  The servant tries to tempt him.  "A mug of ale, if you would be so kind." he replies tersely, through gritted teeth.  Before long, however, the rich aromas make his stomach grumble in a most unseemly manner, and he realises he is exceedingly hungry.  He reaches for the plainest looking bread roll.

Tesseryn watches Cogwitz eat.  The size of the feast seems out of proportion to the size of his companion, but the halfling does not appear to mind.  "Yes, I died, in combat, as I have many times before.  Have you not?  We are a sisterhood of paladins in the service of Dauros.  They fought on, to victory I pray.  My appearence is altered, for as you see, I am now a man."  He smooths a hand down his chest but looks puzzled.  "And you, Cogwitz, whom do you serve?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:00, Wed 09 Sept 2015.

Cogwitz stared long at the man sitting across from him.  So this was a woman previously?  How interesting... Cogwitz had heard of such a thing in reincarnation, but had never seen it before.  It took a moment to realize that the man had asked a question....  I am a Priest of Brandobaris name is Cogwitz as I think I stated before, if not then there it is.  As for my appearance, I am the very same as before I arrived.

After eating a few grapes and some cheese and a long drought of wine, Cogwtiz asks, might you have any idea what we are doing here?

"None whatsoever.  But if it is the will of Dauros, then it will involve putting the unholy, and agents of chaos, to the sword."  Tesseryn nods solemly.  "A lot."

"Brandobaris?" he frowns, pondering the name.  "I have not heard this name before.  Does your deity Stand for truth, justice and the Ardanian way?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:34, Thu 10 Sept 2015.

Cogwitz tried to not let it show on his face, as he laughed inside.  What is the Ardanian way?  I know nothing of this, but since you asked about my god..  Cogwitz lept off his chair and landed to the side of the table and brandished a Khurki in one hand as he tossed it to the other in a flourish.

He is the seeker of excitement and danger wherever ones feet might take them, for risk-taking leads to life's greatest rewards. Lust for thrill, not for treasure, for greed obscures the true prize of the experience. At the end of the day, those with the wildest tale is the most honored in the eyes of the Brandobaris the "Irrepressible Scamp".  With the last words leaving his mouth Cogwitz rolled under the table and popped up onto his chair once again with a glass of wine moving to his now parched lips.

Tesseryn's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he watches Cogwitz' antics.  When the performance is over he frowns and steeples his fingers beneath his chin as he pronounces judgement.  "Hmmmm, sounds Elvish to me.  Your deity would appear to encourage bragging, but I did approve of the part about greed obscuring the truth.  We need not be enemies."

He takes another bite of the bread while waiting for the servant to return with the ale.  "The Ardanian Way, yes." a whimsical look briefly touches Tesseryn's face as he explains the in-joke among his sisters in the Warriors Guild. "It means Law and Order."  His look darkens as he gazes about the room with all its lustful inhabitants and scenes of debauchery.  "There would appear to be precious little of that here.  I pray that my sisers may join me to remedy this World Serpent Inn, if it be the will of Dauros ... if they yet live."


He regards the halfling coolly "Do you know why you are here, Cogwitz?  Did you also die?"

Looking over at his new found companion, Cogwitz didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want to tell him the truth.  A story in a story will help deflect he thought.  I was standing in my high priests office in our temple to Brandobaris.  He was speaking to me as if he had spoken to Brandobaris himself this very day.  He said that there were great plans for me and suddenly the room faded and here I sat.  So, for me I didn't die, but was chosen by my god to perform great things.

There is a loud explosion from somewhere in the depths of the Inn ... followed immediately by a chorus of raucous laughter.  Neither of the servants so much as glances away - indeed they seem most keen to provide service and will not be distracted from their quest.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:37, Sat 12 Sept 2015.

Wrukaog, still a bit confused, "Uh. Bloodworst. And ale. Two mugs. Wooden mugs, not gods damned metal."

He then turns to the table where the halfling and human are sitted. "This place not... the same... it was..."

The orc continues to stand and spins around once slowly, taking in the sights and sounds.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:22, Sun 13 Sept 2015.

Cogwitz looks over the orc as it approached.  Looks like a capable warrior.  As it came to his table and looked at Cogwitz, Cogwitz explained, Have a seat warrior, plenty of drink to go around.

When the orc spoke and said what he said, Cogwitz wondered if the orc had been here before, if so he meant to find out.  So, my fine warrior friend I am Cogwitz and this is Tesseryn.  What is your name?  Also, what do you mean this place is not the same?

The orc looks down at his own body, patting it, then reaching behind him, to confirm if his possessions, both his body parts and items, are still with him.

The orc remains standing. "It was... smaller here." A brief look of realization breaks across his face, "...smaller there." before cycling back to frustrated confusion.

Looking at the halfling, "Wrukoag, little one."

With his nose scruntched up a bit, Cogwtiz says, I am not following, you are not the same?  Or is the Inn not the same?  How is it different either way?

The second servant beams at Wrukaog's request.  "A wise decision, sir," he inclines his head to congratulate the orc, taking a deep breath ...

"We have Butterbeer, Scumble, Elsinore, Norbecker, Alamo, Heineken, Ambrosia, Bloodwine, Binge Beer, Ashbury, Duff, Hammerstein, Mudder’s Milk, Old Dusseldorf, Panther Pilsner, Schraderbrau, Screaming Viking, Shotz, Van Der Brau, Wharmpess, Emu Bitter ..."

He falters, both from lack of air and as he gradually becomes aware of the urgent glances being thrown his way by the first servant waiting at Tesseryn's side, though that worthy is distracted by Cogwitz's confusion.

"I see the problem, sirs," he vouchsafes happily.  "Fear not, whatever," his lips curl distatefully, "place you were at before, any of you, you are here now and free to partake of the many delights of the World Serpent Inn !"  His words indicate a pride in this establishment and seem meant to be a comfort.

Not caring for what the servant said since Cogwitz already knew this information, Cogwitz asks, okay then perhaps you know WHY we are here...?

His impatience growing steadily, the orc finally cuts in. Turning to the wordsy-turdsy servant, "Just bring fraokschecht ale, or go. Both ways, Go. Now."

If the man doesn't begin to leave immediately, Wrukaog will try to begin shoving him a bit. Not enough to knock him over, but enough to move him away.

Turning his attention to the other servant, Wrukaog's face becomes flush with amusement at the halfling being inquisitive. He awaits a response.

On the verge of asking for some other minuscule and annoying detail the second servant clamps his mouth tightly shut then inclines his head respecfully as he backs away, bowing steadily before finally turning and racing off.

"Oh no, sir !" the first servant replies cheerfully to Cogwitz's question.  "We'd never dream of asking.  I assure you, here at the Inn we're very discreet !"

"Fraokschecht ale for you, perhaps, sir ?" he inquires hopefully of Tesseryn.  "I'm happy to rattle that listing of but sample of our wares off again, or suggest many others that may be to your liking ?"

The orc's face goes blank. "If you say again a word before holding ale to me and us for drinking, I will try to cut you to halfs."

"And not with axe." Wrukaog takes a dagger out of his bandoleer, "With this."

"It will take time."

He moves toward the remaining servant to begin pushing him away with the hand not holding the dagger.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:44, Tue 15 Sept 2015.

Cogwitz gave a little grin at the words the servant gave.  Well, at least I know that things are not questioned here.  It still didn't answer his question though and Cogwitz wanted to make sure he didn't seem like he was asking.  That is the answer I was looking for, now I advise you to get the drink for my new friend here before you lose something you need... your life.

Tesseryn was musing on Cogwitz mention of performing great things, then he became distracted by the choice of ale and the waiter's life-endangering determination to be of service.  Most of the names sound elvish, and he loses track of the list, twice.  "The first one." he mutters to relieve the waiter, with a grimace to acknowledgement the fellow's discomfort.

He stands and regards Wrukaog sternly.  There are rules of diplomacy for such situations, and such rules have served him well in the past.  "I serve Dauros, the Law Keeper."  He wonders if this warrior is a particularly misshapen goblin champion of Grum-Gog, or whether he too has been greatly altered.  "What is your quest?  And whom do you serve?"

I'll wait for the response of the NPC before responding to Tesseryn.

Mysteriously, the remaining servant doesn't seem overly troubled by Wrukaog's threat, and the silent but obviously approving bow that indicates he considers Tesseryn's choice to be most excellent seems to be merely the dutiful response to a customer's wishes.  Swiftly he scurries away, narrowly avoiding the orc's outstretched hand ...

... within moments, and impossibly, both servants are back.  The one who took the orc's order bears an exquisitely carved wooden tray from which he swiftly proffers a mug fashioned from some rare and exotic wood of a deep rich brown hue into that hand, placing another that might be its very twin on the table beside Wrukaog along with a board on which are arranged around a dozen varieties of sausage in colours ranging from dark red through purple to black.

"The rest will be along shortly, sir," the servant announces proudly.

The other proceeds to the Elf's side with a silver platter upon which is perched a single large glass tankard in which stands a creamy brew, topped with a rich foam.  Once more he bows, as he offers it up to Tesseryn.

Tesseryn places the tankard on the table without lifting his eyes from Wrukaog.  He is ready to intervene should the goblin's threats turn to violence against the innocent, even though the servant is apparently unaware of his peril.

The servant follows the Elf's gaze.  "Ah !  Perhaps I might bring you a selection of the sausages too ?" he asks hopefully.

The orc ignores Tesseryn's comments, having little time to react before he is seemingly served exactly what he asked for. He takes a hold of the wooden mug with a nod to the servant and drinks half of it in a few long gulps while keeping eye contact with the man.

How does it taste?

Realizing that the goblin does not understand, and in fact appears contented enough with his meal that no violence against the servants will ensue, Tesseryn warily resumes his seat, muttering under his breath "Dauros has spared you, for now."  He picks up his frothy mug and sips his ale.  Its delicious!  His face quirks a half smile of appreciation.  Quickly recovering his composure, he gives Wrukaog one final glare intended to convey 'I'm watching you'. 

He turns to Cogwitz and asks in an even tone. "You mentioned you were destined to do great things in the name of Brandobaris?  What is it you have left undone?"

The servant looks on expectantly as Wrukaog gulps down half of mug of the redoubtable Fraokschecht ale, finding the brew an exemplar of its vintage - perhaps the best the Orc-Not-Goblin has ever tasted !

No less so the Butterbear that Tesseryn has assayed or the wine that Cogwitz sips.  Indeed, it seems that the cellars of the World Serpent Inn are stocked with only the best of all beverages ...

As the Human-Not-Elf's mutters turn into what can only be construed as a smile, another servant joins the others, panting for breath as he wheels a trolley before him, bearing yet more platters of sausages which are dutifully transferred to your table, arrayed before Wrukaog.  One servant opens his mouth, possibly to make a recommendation, but catches the Orc's eye and thinks better of it. 

At the mention of the gods, all three servants look around the room, as if expecting someone else to join you shortly.

Cogwitz was stuffing his face with cheese and bread when the question came asking him about things he hadn't quite done as of yet.  There were soo many things that Cogwitz hadn't done in his life that he had to think about the question just a little.  It was quite obvious on his face too that he was thinking.

After a little bit longer and a good draught of wine from his cup, Cogwitz's eyes lit up.  Well, Tesseryn there are a great many things that I have yet to accomplish.  Becoming rich, performing a great feat in the name of Brandobaris, Thwarting some evil being or beings.  Having a family.  These are all important things I have yet to accomplish.  How about you?  Sounds like you were vanquishing evil just befre you came, though I am sorry that you died.  I am happy though that you are here to join me in some great adventure.

Wrukaog lets out a satisfied "hrmmm" at the taste of the ale. He then sits down at the table and begins to eat in a relatively orcish fashion, with a bit of smacking of the chops and grunting. He doesn't seem to pay much mind to things around him as he does so.

At Cogwitz's mention of "sorry that you died" when speaking to the human, the orc lets out a bit of a sigh in between bites with a nod, as if he was expecting to hear something like that to confirm a suspicion of his.

As you eat, three more servants arrive at your table.  One of them seems senior to both the two with him and the two already attending to your good (or at least non-evil) selves, not only by his manner but also his dress which is immaculate and of such quality material and tailoring that it puts even Tesseryn's fine efforts to shame.

This worthy, however, does seem momentarily perplexed to find the three of you sitting at this particular table, put after a momentary whispered conference with his fellows and a quick glance at the statue behind you, he merely smiles ingratiatingly, remarking that, "You are all most very welcome to the World Serpent Inn - we had not been told that we had such special guests, but rest assured, all is in hand.  Your companions will be joining you shortly."

With a nonchalant wave of his hand, he directs the two servants that accompanied him to lay three more places.

"Most pleased to welcome you," he assures you again.

"Anything else we can get you ?" the original two servants chorus most earnestly.

Tesseryn diligently ignores the spectacle of Wrukaog eating as he finishes his own bread roll.  He nods appreciatively as Cogwitz mentions thwarting evil.  It now seems he has more in common with the halfling than he had first thought.

But then there it is, as he had feared.  A question plainly put, or a falsehood clearly stated, must be answered with truth.  He leans closer to Cogwitz, lowers his eyes and speaks quietly.  "Vanquishing evil, yes, just before I died ... but not just before I came here".  He raises his chin slightly and resolutely speaks the truth. "After death I was raised by the Lich King as an unholy abomination, and used against my will to wreak his evil upon the Kingdom."  His hand shakes as he reaches for his mug.  "Just before I came here I was cut down by those who still loyally served my king."  Finally he looks at Cogwitz again.  "It is a relief beyond measure that I find myself here with you, Cogwitz.  I do not know how or why ... I only pray that I may be given the time to make restitution for my failure."

He sits back and drains the last of the butterbeer, then stares into the foamy dregs of the mug while the servants fuss about full of anticipation but short on answers.

"More ale."

There's a bit of a pause, and then an awkward, "Please." It's as if that was perhaps the second or third time the orc had pronounced the word in his life.

Despite the relatively short amount of time that has elapsed, Wrukaog is making substantial progress on finishing his meal.

In reply to Skald (msg # 38):

Cogwitz looks to the servant at the mention of companions joining.

What do you mean our companions will be joining us shortly?  Whom else is coming?  Then Cogwitz looks to the companions at the table..

Even before the rarest of treasures can pass Wrukaog's lips, a servant is at is shoulder with a pewter decanter and proceeds to refill both mugs.  "Don't mention it, sir," he advises softly.

The senior of the bevy of servants gathered about you snaps his fingers and directs one of the underlings towards Tesseryn's empty mug and two others to fetch reinforcements for the rapidly dwindling feast of sausages set before the orc.  Immediately the offending vessel is whipped away and a fresh tankard of the buttery brew is placed before him, while the pair scuttle off with great haste, vanishing into the smokey recesses of the Inn.

None of those servants remaining seem at all discomfited by Tesseryn's confession, yet as Cogwitz presses the matter of further companions they shift their feet awkwardly and their senior fellow winces slightly (though whether at their footwork or at the question is unclear).

"Ah, that's a little ... delicate," the senior servant leans in, conspiratorially.  "This table you see, is um, actually reserved.  However," he is quick to assure you, "it does seem that you three gentlemen have the right, the obligation, one might say, to be here," his gaze flicks up at the statue at the rear of the alcove and he hunches down almost imperceptibly.

"In any event, we should shortly see the arrival of two gentlemen and a lady to join your group - one Brindle Thistlefoot, a Halfing wizard, the Elven mage Aurion Moonbeak, and," he pauses, considering.  "The Lady Leisha, a woman of many talents."

"All heroes of great repute," he assures you, "and like your good selves our most special guests."

The orc takes out the same knife he previously used to threaten one of the servants and begins picking his teeth, in between, at a slightly reduced rate, gulping down more ale.

He seems relatively detached from the goings-ons around him, as if lost in thought, and his meal.

Tesseryn lets out a low slow breath of pent up tension.  The priest did not seem at all disturbed by his most painful confession.  He feels its great weight shifted slightly.  He glances up at the lethal status that seems to be making the servant so nervous then catches the head waiter's eye.  "More bread, if you would be so kind.  With butter?"  Perhaps it would do no harm to indulge just a little, at least until his opportunity to make amends becomes clear.

He returns Cogwitz gaze.  "I have not heard of these heroes.  Have you?"

Cogwitz could see the relief on the noble warriors face after Cogwitz hadn't judged the man for his previous life.  How could he, Cogwitz wasn't always the stand up guy he is today afterall.

Cogwitz thinks about it for a moment to see if he had heard anything of these heroes before he answers.

"Here we are !" the leading servant announces, proudly, assisting the newcomers to their seats with undue regard and care.

However the original incumbents at the table are not forgotten !  Another troupe of servants stagger over with more plates of sausages for Wrukaog, while a single servant sheathed in purest samite bears a silver platter with fine white china crockery with Tesseryn's bread and butter.

The senior servant refuses to show even the slightest sign of perturbation as he quells the cymbal player with a pointed glance and politely asks, "Sirs, ma'am - would you like me to do the introductions ?" while a sharp snap of his fingers brings a few more servants over to take orders.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:58, Wed 07 Oct 2015.

Wrukaog glances over each of them, his eyes lingering quite a bit longer on the elf, then returns to eating. His dagger still lies on the table, small pieces of fatty tissue stuck to it, in case he might need to pick his teeth once more.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:29, Wed 07 Oct 2015.

Cogwitz had thought long enough, perhaps it was the wine he had drank or perhaps he just didn't remember, but he stated, I think I have heard of Aurion Moonbeak.  I am not sure where or how, but I have heard of her.

As the procession of the newcomers arrive, Cogwitz looks closer at them to see if he recognizes any.

A rather gaudily dressed halfling is the first of the procession of new arrivals to be escorted to the table. He bows low then looks up at the three strangers with open curiosity, and a huge smile.

"Barleyborough Very Special Old Pale Ale, thanks!" he instructs one of the servants before turning to the three strangers.

"Greetings, fellow participants in whatever incomprehensible mission the Gods have decided next needs the attention of our collective talents! Have you done this before? I rather hoped that my recent weekly display of devotion at Olidammara's temple in Greyhawk might have earned me a reprieve, but obviously not. Duty calls, apparently. Have you been told what the next mission is yet? Do I really want to know? Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. You can call me Brindle. I do magic, and when that's not enough I tend to talk, a lot."

Wrukaog lets out a long, sustained burp at the end of Brindle's monologue-esque introduction, then slams his wooden mug down on the table and extends his hand that's not covered in a bladed gauntlet.

"Wrukaog."

He pulls his lips back from over his teeth and gives an orcish smile.

Leisha steps through the doorway in a robin's egg blue nightgown with white lace trim.  Her eyes are almost half closed even as she steps in, and she takes two sort of slow, dreamy steps into the Inn before she stops, really opens her eyes, and looks around.  She reaches out and pokes the most enthusiastic of the servants in the shoulder, and then sighs, entirely too awake.

"I suppose it's not your fault," she grumbles.  She pauses, eyeing the servant thoughtfully.  "Is it?" she asks, pointedly.

Taking a seat, Aurion glances at the others, but shows little interest in the human or the halfling, and sparing only a slight derisive glance for the Orc before ordering a fine, ancient vintage of rare emerald-flavored elven wine, and a plate of exquisite rare vegetables with a series of dipping sauces varying from mundane to bizarre.

Tall and thin, Aurion has green eyes and coppery colored hair. His comrades might note that he has it trimmed a bit shorter than previously.
He wears a scholarly outfit of blues and golds, and a violet colored cape, the hood back over shoulders. Today he wears numerous bangles of copper and gold around his wrists, and his ears are bejeweled, half a dozen or so piercings in each earlobe.
He also wears a golden sun pendant, common among the elves who worship the sun, though nothing about him speaks of the priestly cast many of his fellows fall into. No, Aurion has a sharper edge to him, a sardonic twinkle in his eye, and clearly secular flavor to his dress.
His face and body is heavily tattoo with arcane looking markings, several of which are clearly new to those familiar with the gleam of ointment used to protect fresh ink.
A careful eye might note that two of the supposed tattoos on his wrists are small, sparkling green vipers, each tightly wrapped, though their tongues dance out to explore the new area.


"Glad I was headed out, and not into the bathing area when the gods called. So embarassing to show up here naked."

he first addresses Leisha and Brindle, asking after their free time, families if he knows of any, etc. Once his order arrives he smiles to the newcomers.

"Welcome brave adventurers, to the stereo-trope known as the World Serpent Inn, and the life of a pawn in the games of the gods. My name is Aurion Moonbeak," he holds up his glass in a toast, and takes a sip before sampling a rainbow colored rutabaga slice dipped in something which appears to be a mix of blood and honey. "Sadly I forget how many of us started on our previous venture, but we are the lucky few who survived.
"Would you care to hear of the adventure? It was quite the entertaining tale, though not nearly as entertaining to live thru..."

"Oh, yes please Aurion. Do tell us the tale as you saw it. I am curious to know what you made of it. I wouldn't be at all surprised if your perspective was a bit different than mine," Brindle responds, looking up at the elf.

He climbs up onto a tall stool at the end of the table to help reduce their difference in height. Then he looks at the three strangers a bit more closely.

"It is wonderful to see another halfling in the team. So where are you from, my friend? I don't suppose you would have family in Elmshire, would you? Up north of Greyhawk where the Selintan empties into the Nyr Dyv? That's where I grew up."

He glances at the noble-looking human and smiles.

"Pleased to be working with you too, sir. Are you a knight, by any chance? Which world do you hail from?"

He finishes with the orc and nods and smiles at him too.

"And you too, Master Orc. I must say I've never actually worked with an orc before, although our last mission certainly offered plenty of preparation for this meeting, didn't it Aurion? How do you say your name again? Wuh-roo-kay-ogg, is it? Does it mean anything in particular in the orcish language? I thought I had a fair grasp of that language but I'm afraid I don't recognise it."

Cogwitz easily followed along while Brindle talked as he did.  Brindle was a Thistlefoot, Cogwitz had many times encountered and accompanied a Thistlefoot.  Being a Strongheart himself, he was of a whole other breed of halfling, one much tougher than the Thistlefoot halflings.

Cogwitz smiled as Brindle ordered Barleyborough Very Special Old Pale Ale, good choice in drink Brindle, very tasty I must say.  He looked to the servant and put up two fingers after the order.

Aurion Moonbeak, I think I have heard of you in my adventures.  My name is Cogwitz, and I certainly would like to hear about your adventures indeed.

Another sip of wine and a crunchy bite of a vegetable that appeared to be a cross between seaweed and cauliflower (one might hope it was cauliflower, though it did bear a disgusting resemblance to brains) dipped in a reddish green sauce with glittery bits in it, and Aurion shared his perspective of things recently passed...

"The Gods, in all their wisdom," he began, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice," tend to send us out on missions to deal with various evils, often undead, though not always to the same multiverse, if you are familiar with that concept.
"For reasons known only to the gods, our last quest was begun based on the prayers of a goblin cleric who feared for his people's place in the city of... Scrape was it?
"An apt name, for a town that seemed more like something to scrape off the bottom of your shoe than live in.
"Lived in it was though, ruled over by four Pirate-Kings and a dragon, all as foul as Hades and crooked as the trees of Sandistrator, known both for their warped shape and inexplicable ability to pick pockets.
"Our original plan was to try and convince the kings to fight each other, but it ended up easier to simply sneak around and kill them each by ourselves. It was our luck that each king had more than he could handle of traitors in his midst.
"The king of the goblins turned out not even to be a goblin, but a shape-shifter of sorts from the Fires of Peridition, a Bar-Guest," he offered with a chuckle, "in simple terms, sort of a demon.
"The king of the Orcs was equally disliked among his own kind. We joined the forces already working on toppling him and gave them a hand.
"Brindle there, he was the key to much of our success, his agile tongue planting wyrms in all the right ears. He's helpful that way.
"At that point things got a bit hazy, what with the fcity being on fire, and wandering thru the sewers, but we managed to topple the other kings, which seemed enough to fulfill our quest, or perhaps it was the death of the dirty little goblin priest who summoned us, as the dragon was still alive and spewing acid all about the place when we were separated from that particular service and returned to our homes.
"We lost quite a few people there, but then again it seems we always do."

Taking another sip of his wine, the elven mage sat back in his chair to see what Brindle might have to add.

Tesseryn glances at Cogwitz, puzzled, when it becomes apparent that Aurion Moonbeak is a him, not a her.  He stands to meet the newcomers.  "Tesseryn Brightsoul," he announces in reply to Brindle Thistlefoot, "The Arm of Dauros the Law Keeper.  I am from the Kingdom of Ardania, a paladin in the service of king Toaster789."  To Aurion Moonbeak he adds  "I have not been here before.  Do continue with your tale."  Halflings appear to be jovial race, and abundant in this World Serpant Inn.  Apparently Moonbeak is an elf, although this is barely recognizable beneath the tattoos and other adornments, so Tesseryn decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.  He resumes his seat, his buttered bread and butterbeer while he listens to the tale.

"You left the dragon alive?" Teseryn asks, leaning forward in his seat.  "And what of the other two pirate kings?"

Brindle nearly chokes on his ale, or he would have if he had one yet. Is that statue frightening the staff away again?

"Left the dragon alive? We barely escaped the dragon alive! Vesicant is huge - a mean, green, frightening machine! Well, not a machine, obviously, but trust me, she was far more than we ever had any hope of defeating. Practically immune to my spells, for a start! We did slay all four of the evil kings of Scrape and set things up so the goblin quarter is far better off than they were under the four kings' rule. That was the crux or our mission, you see? But that idiotic little goblin priest, Yurtz, kept insisting we had to slay the dragon as well! I would have loved to wring his scrawny little neck but, of course, the Gods don't let us harm the 'innocent' so that wasn't an option. I didn't intend for us to face the dragon straight after defeating the last two kings but that choice was never ours to make. I really hoped I might be able to persuade her to fly away south with me to search for rich treasure in the pyramid tombs rumoured in the jungles to the south - and I'd have gone with her, too, until she was far away and I could jump off and use my magic to escape. But no, she wouldn't be persuaded and Yurtz kept stirring everything up until he finally got what was coming to him - straight from the dragon's mouth! Even the Gods must have seen the justice in that, 'cause we were whisked away to safety in the nick of time! And I'll gladly drink a toast to Olidammara every time I remember that, 'cause I truly believe he answered my prayers down there!."

After that emotional outpouring Brindle sits back and finally realises that the orc's outstretched hand is not a threat and his bared teeth represent a welcoming smile rather than a mark of anger.

He belatedly leans forward to shake Wrukaog's hand.

Somewhere in the beginning minutes of the minutes upon minutes of dialogue, Wrukaog, apparently having lost all interest, stands up from the table and begins to walk off into the crowd.

After getting in the orders for food and drink, as well as some comments on the mysterious ways of the gods that might not be altogether wise in this particular Inn, where a god might quite easily be standing right beside you, the newcomers settle down to entertain those who had been awaiting them, encouraged by Cogwitz and Tesseryn, much to Wrukaog's disgust.

Brindle's Barleyborough Very Special Old Pale Ale arrives in a locked chest and the senior servant carefully takes the bottle from the padded and velvet lined interior, and cracks the cap with a silvered churchkey, pouring it reverently into the traditionally battered old tankard before throwing the empty bottle over his shoulder.  The distant smash of glass and roars of anger complete the ritual.

Similarly Aurion's extensive order of dishes and side-dishes arrives but a few heartbeats after he takes his place, brought hither on a trio of trolleys, covered with spotless white cloths, and accompanied by another half dozen servants, taking the total clustered around your table well into double figures.  The silver dishes are transferred one by one to the table with theatrical pomp and ceremony and arrayed around the Elf.

But thankfully neither Brindle nor Aurion are kept from either ale or many-coursed meal by the tales they have to tell, though Leisha is a little more reserved, preferring to keep her words few and to the point as she grumbles to the servant.  Indeed, it is more than obvious that the three have not only been here before, but are welcome guests ... if the service that Cogwitz, Tesseryn and Wrukaog received was attentive, then that afforded the newcomers might best be described as obsequious.

Overwhelmed, the Orc rises to his feet, looking around the Inn, before striding off.  Three of the servants fall in behind him, though admittedly none seem keen with their allotted task. 

"Not I at all, my most gracious lady," the senior servant assures Leisha, "but we at the Inn will always have a special place for those so favoured."

"Eat up !  Drink !" he exhorts you all, an old hand at this.  "Undoubtedly the gods will soon reveal their purpose !"

"That is well, that you defeated all four evil kings."  Tesseryn nods in approval at this news from Brindle.  He presses on endeavouring to understand the situation further.  "The gods called you together to aid goblins.  Was this the work of the goblin god Grum-Gog?  And have you now been brought together again by the same god, this time with greater numbers, to finish what you have begun?  Are we to slay this dragon, Vessicant?"

Between the crowding servants Tesseryn glimpses Wrukaog's back as he walks from the table.  "Not one of your goblins then?  An Orc I heard him called."  He adds this new race to his list of unworthy types.

"He was apparently a priest of the goblin god Khurgorbaeyag, and apt god for pirates as he is particularly cruel. As to the dragon, it seems unlikely that we would be sent back to the same world Master Brightsoul, but we do serve at the whim of the gods, all of the gods it seems, not simply the gods of the goblins. In fact, our tasks are usually more clearly placed on the great wheel of alignments, this was the furthest from fighting pure evil that we have been asked to stray."

The elven mage reached for more slices of vegetable, his tray now nearing empty. Catching the eye of a server, Aurion requested a platter of fruit.

"Don't get me wrong, I am as omnivorous as a bear, but I am currently cleansing for a ritual I hope to cast before we are summoned away for our next mission, fingers crossed."

Dipping his finger in one of the sauces, he allowed first one than the other of his pets to lick the flavor off his finger.

"We have been thru quite a lot in our efforts to complete our quests, but if you survive, I hope you will find it all quite rewarding..."

Tesseryn listens intently as the elf's explanation fills in many of the gaps.  "My sword is pledged to the service of Dauros.  I shall not stray from fighting evil, Moonbeak."  His words are resolute, yet he lowers his gaze then glances momentarily at Cogwitz.  "Whatever opportunity is given me, I shall not fail."

"Glad to hear it, servant of Dauros, someone like me is always happier with someone like you there to offer assistance.
"Tell me of this Dauros, I am not familiar with the name. A god of Justice and Champions, I have no doubt..."

The orc makes use of the latrine.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:52, Sat 10 Oct 2015.

When Wrukaog leaves the table Brindle takes the opportunity for a confidential word to the rest of them.

"Look, don't mention it to our new orcish friend but two of the evil kings we killed in Scrape were actually orcs, too. But don't worry about him being an orc, as one of the rules that the Gods impose on us is that we cannot attack each other or any innocents, so we should be perfectly safe with him. I must admit, actually, he does seem quite civilised for an orc."

Tesseryn nods solemnly to confirm Aurion's astute assessment. "The law of Dauros is above all others."

"Hmmm... potent," Aurion said, "yet vague. I would hate to tread upon your toes by breaking his law, no clues or hints? Does he have a favorite color perhaps?"

Aurion seemed quite serious in his query, knowledge was a passion, even if the target of his curiosity could change from day to day.

For example, he knew an amazing amount about the sex lives of Lavirian Roses...

While the needs of those new to the Inn require careful and, at times, lengthy interrogation, the tastes of old customers are well known, and Aurion's request for a fruit platter is met, not with an exhaustive listing of every type of fruit imaginable and some unheard of, but with a polite smile, an incline of the head and a snap of the fingers to summon them hence.

As the discussion descends to what sounds dangerously like agreement on the never-ending (or is that 'nerves-rending') search for justice and so forth, Wrukaog returns, stepping out of a nearby door. 

A new arrival is heralded by the staccato beat of his shoes as he approaches, no mean feat given the ambient noise of the Inn.  A thin fellow, with wisps of hair atop his egg-like head, and of middling height, dressed much in the manner of the Inn's servants, yet he lacks their obsequious nature.  He glances around the table, head bobbing as if making a tally, eyes flicking back to the book he holds open.

The servants eye him warily.

"All here then," he nods with some satisfaction, snapping his book shut, eyes shining, though his tone remains steady.  "Are you ready to do your duty as loyal servants of the gods ?"

For some reason his lip quirks at this last ...

The orc mumbles to himself, his patience tempered by a few mugs of ale.

He retrieves his dagger from the table and remains standing to wait for whatever it is that is going to happen.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:40, Sun 11 Oct 2015.

"Do not seek to mock, elf.  Thrust together we may be by the will of the gods," his glance acknowledges Brindle as the source of this truth, "But the experience need not be unpleasant if we all allow ourselves to be guided by what is just."

When the official announces the imminent revelation of their fate, Tesseryn kneels to offer a prayer "Dauros, reveal my destiny."

Brindle smiles cheerfully at the newly arrived official. He murmurs something back to Wruakog, [Language unknown: "Reut one!"]

He finishes his tankard of Barleyborough VSOP Ale and sets it carefully on the table. Then he pulls a folded sheet of parchment out of his belt pouch. He holds it up and says, "Ah, good, someone in authority at last. I would like to lodge an application for annual leave, please. A one year vacation from all duties, starting immediately. That won't be a problem, will it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:10, Sun 11 Oct 2015.

Sighing at Master Brightsoul's baffling response, Aurion stared blank faced as the orc and the Halfling he knew shared something in a language the elf did not seem to grasp.

Turning to the Herald, he nods. "Yes, I'm ready to go."

Brindle's request for time off catches him off guard. He somehow doubted the leave would be accepted, but he hoped that if it was, the gods felt the remainder of the were sufficient to handle the task at hand.

Finishing his glass of wine, he stands and pulls the hood back over his face, resigned to action, ready for anything.

Wrukaog raises an eyebrow toward Brindle, then lowers it, and continues to wait.

"Well."  Leisha considers the question, looking at the reedy emissary as critically as she has been watching the other servants in the inn.  Perhaps even a bit moreso.

"No?" she replies.  "I really don't think I am.  I'm not entirely sure I'm likely to be, to be totally honest, but why don't you try back in a month and I'll let you know?"

The clerk consults his book, "Dauros, yes," he confirms for Tesseryn, while he finds himself nodding in full agreement with Wrukaog, noting, [Language unknown: "Na tedis e haan not, ousresevende."]

However, the requests put forth by Brindle and Leisha seem to confuse him a little.  "Very well," he concedes with a shrug, pulling a small round object from his pocket to which it is attached by a chain, staring at it for a few seconds before putting it away.

"That was about a year," he assures the pair, "perhaps a little bit more."

Having been listening to the others talk about this and that Cogwitz slowly sipped his wine.  When the servant arrived and explained it was time to go Cogwitz said,  This is what I have been waiting for.  To see what Brandobaris has in store for me and what greatness I can achieve in his name.

Be careful what you say Wrukaog, [Language unknown: herac oulss paolst olunwach.]

Tesseryn nods his appreciation to the servant, confident that his prayer will be answered.  Then an afterthought has him bounding to his feet.  "But, if I too may have a moment, to don my armour?"  He hefts his leather sack and heads for the robing room.

Brindle snorts with barely contained laughter at the clerk's response to his request.

"I'm just glad I didn't ask for longer!" he chuckles. "And glad I didn't leave dinner on the stove when I left home this morning!"

When Tesseryn heads off Brindle rolls his eyes and murmurs, "Isn't that just typical of your holy warrior types? They have all year to get ready but leave it right to the last minute before they bother to get dressed for the big event!" But he grins and chuckles again, which makes it clear it was only said in jest.

Leisha, on the other hand, meets the clerk's eyes.  "Still not ready," she declares.  To be fair, standing there with bare feet and a nightgown, she has a case.

With a sigh, she drops into Tesseryn's open seat.  "But whatever.  I'm sure the Gods know what they're doing, in a very precise sense."

Tesseryn marches back to the table 4 minutes later wearing shiny full plate armour, the servant he commandeered to help him don properly trailing behind carrying the neatly folded leather sack with his clothes.  He clanks to a halt beside Leisha and raises one eyebrow briefly before turning to face the official with a nod to signify that he is ready to proceed.

Brindle glances at Leisha and frowns as he understands her predicament.

"Ah, yes," he says to the clerk, "the precipitate nature of our summons here has resulted in our dear Lady Leisha arriving without proper attire and equipment for the forthcoming mission. Can you arrange for it to be brought here, please? And anything else any of us would have brought if we had had sufficient warning of that summons, please."

Following Brindle's example, Tesseryn asks a servant to fill his waterskin and to pack up the leftover food to go.

"Not my department," the clerk quickly informs Brindle and Leisha, drumming his fingers and sighing meaningfully as he waits for Tesseryn to don his armour.  The servants bustle, as servants do.

Once all are gathered, he opens his book, leafing through a few pages till he finds the one wants and launches into his speech.

"I have been sent by your respective um, wise and let's say mostly benevolent deities," an outright lie in some cases, "to inform you of the <cough> singular honour they have bestowed on you ..." he falters.

The clerk sighs and closes his book.  "Look, there's this village ... some call it Mistra's Fist, others call it Mitra's Curse.  I call it an absolutely disaster.  Untold ages ago, a young man by the name of Mitra established a sanctuary there, and went on to launch a holy crusade against the worshippers of a lowly snake-demon called Set.  Mitra succeeded in destroying the demon's mortal form, but died so doing."

"Years later, pilgrims to the sanctuary found healing there, and a temple to Mitra, was established.  Years passed and a tall ornate white tower was raised on the site of that first temple.

A millenium later, Set - no longer a demon but a fully fledged god himself, saw fit to attack the birthplace of the religion that opposed his, and raised his own mighty tower of black stone, crushing half the village in the process.  Desperate battle ensued, and in the process, the mountains themselves were shattered, burying the towers of both Light and Darkness.

For a time all was quiet, both temples believed to be destroyed ... but now they stir again, and that conflict threatens to consume not only the village that now lies atop the ruins of the old, but all the lands around, perhaps the world itself."

"Your task, gods help you, is to get in there and ... sort it out."  The clerk seems to pick his words carefully, running what he'd said back over in his head, nodding with satisfaction before continuing, his voice picking up a most formal cadence.  "And thus you are bound, by the will and the word of your gods who do lay a duty upon thee, that thou strive with those of like destiny to fulfil this Quest, taking care that in thy zeal thou harmest no innocent."

There is a prickle that starts somewhere behind your eyes and finishes between your shoulderblades as these words bind you.  The clerk lets out a deep breath, relaxing somewhat.

"Any questions ?"

"A Quest!  Praise Dauros!"

Leisha's own eyebrow lifts in an unknowing mimicry of Tesseryn's expression when he found her in his seat, as she glances up briefly.  "I think you'll find that's an exclamation," she notes, with a small smile; teasing a bit, but not mocking.

"I have... several," she admits, returning her attention to the clerk, "But I think the most relevant is this.  It's clear that Set's side is backed by Set, but if there is truly risk of a battle to engulf the world, I presume that Mitra's side has a similarly powerful patron?  Did Mitra ascend to something greater than a corpse, then?"

"On a more personal note, if I might ask and if you know, which God has laid this duty upon me?"

Wrukaog's mouth drops open a bit. His disbelief in the previous event is obvious. Confusion slowly turns into anger.

Not quite yelling, and apparently not registering Leisha's nearly identical question, "What god sent me here to amuse it? I am no errand boy."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:13, Wed 14 Oct 2015.

Brindle also has a question or two to ask.

"Get in where, exactly? The black tower? Is there a particular outcome that must be achieved for us to have actually 'sorted it out'?"

Then he realises he needs to add the obvious follow up question as well.

"Please tell us what it is?"

Brindle had echoed Cogwitz thoughts exactly, he had the same questions.

Clearly they were leaving no time soon. Aurion felt little reason to question the gods, instead following suit in requesting a backpack of food and several skins of assorted wines.

Sitting down he also ordered some roast beast for himself to nosh on while the others got their questions answered, clearly he wasn't going to have time for his ritual...

"Also one more of these..." he said, holding up his glass with a scant half inch remaining of the emerald wind in the direction of a servant.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Wed 14 Oct 2015.

Tesseryn is distracted momentarily from the rapture of the quest by Leisha's enigmatic comment.  He frowns, "Indeed." but his attention is drawn back to the quest.

He listens to her questions, and those of the others while he straps on his greatsword and the servants fill his pack with the leftovers of the meal.  "It is clear, this is the will of Dauros.  We must throw down what remains of this tower of darkness and smite all who dwell there."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:48, Sat 17 Oct 2015.

Brindle grins at the paladin and raises his tankard in salute. (Sadly, it is an empty gesture.)

"I admire your enthusiasm, Master Tesseryn. Let us hope that our mission becomes clear - and achievable - when we get there. The will of the Gods is often difficult to fathom."

The cadre of waiting servants spring into action, racing off on a quest of their own, spurred on by the the various requests for supplies, and Aurion's sterling efforts to get in a last feast before you head off.

In the face of all this activity, the clerk remains motionless, at peace in the eye of a storm, a twitch of his mouth the only indication that he is in any way troubled by the questions he faces.

"Mitra too has his followers, and ascended from his mortal state to godhood," the clerk advises Leisha, his tone disapproving, suggesting that nobody herepresent should be getting any ideas of emulating the sun god.

"It is your own gods who have laid this quest upon you," he states sharply, astounded that any would question their will.  It's technically true, as well.  "My task is merely to advise you of the exact instruction laid down, no more, no less."  It is clear he considers this answer enough to Brindle's request for clarification, though a ghost of a smile plays over his lips momentarily at Tesseryn's latter pronouncement before if vanishes as if it never was.

"Where are those supplies ?" he looks around in some consternation, raising a brow at the senior servant who responds in kind, undaunted even by a messenger from the gods.

Still just on the verge of not shouting, "Which of my gods would send me on this errand?"

Brindle looks at Wruakog in surprise.

"You pray to more than one god? That could get interesting in your current situation!"

Not at all surprised that chatter would ensue, Aurion digs into his meal.

While the Inn is possessed of every form of food and beverage known in all the many worlds of existence, and has whole armies of wait staff dedicated to match these offerings with the appropriate dish, platter or cup ... they seem to be somewhat lacking in the backpack department.

So it is with a thunderously apologetic expression that the senior servant shakes his head as your requests are filled, albeit in picnic hampers, more suitable for a noble's day punting on the stream than in a foray into the dark and dangerous depths that the gods are wont to sent you.

The clerk either does not notice, or does not care, for the big Orc's insistence has him turning back to his book, flicking page after page, scanning each with eye and finger until finally he finds the entry he is looking for.

"Wrukaeg, Wrukaeg, ah here we are," he announces in triumph.  "Yes, your presence was specifically requested by Gork," he frowns and squints at the ornate lettering, "sorry, Mork.  There was some sort of contest or wager on your performance, I see."

Snapping the book shut he looks up to see Leisha's arched brow, and with ill-concealed impatience opens it again.  "Ah, top of the list," he remarks with some surprise as his finger pauses at the very start of the first page.  Leisha ... your participation was demanded by ... my that's quite a lot," he looks up at her archly.  "You seem to have been selected by quite a lot of them," he chides her, "most of whom don't even appear to have actually ever heard of you.  That's the proxy system for you - swings and roundabouts."

He shrugs, closing his book once more.  "But that's between you and Them.  I'm just the bearer of tidings."

"Now," he looks around, "if we're quite done ?"

With a negligent flick of his wrist the Inn begins to fade away ...