Re: After the Fires
The common room of the Sparrow and Briar is partially filled with patrons, the various wooden tables occupied. The party sits at a largish, hickory table scarred with small burns and the impact rings of long-ago mugs of ale thumped down hard. The circle of faces belonging to the party members looks, in a word, exhausted. Aine appears pale and haggard, her wounds still very much an issue. Dominique also seems tired--although physically uninjured, the priest has utilized every spell at his disposal this day. Caylin, somewhat singed, doesn't seem quite as tired, packing his pipe and calling out for another ale.
Hau'dn, his day spent poring over old maps and evening spent rescuing guardsmen and being thrown in with this motley crew, also looks drawn and weary. Asher is another sorely wounded, and draws upon his monkish devotions to stem the twin tides of pain and exhaustion. Villhalas is also worn--his intent scrutiny of of the necklace, ring, and dagger laid on the table is yielding little of informative value. Garryn, with Caylin, appears the most awake and least injured.
And then there is the large, course-featured human who sits at the table--an apparent peasant that Caylin has insisted is actually Totmacher. Since the party was led here to the inn by the guardsmen, no one has said a word, and only the deposition of the ring, necklace, and dagger onto the table has elicited any conversation since the party left the manor.
A large, corpulent man brings several bowls of a savory-smelling goat stew and sets them in front of the companions, bringing Caylin's second ale along with an unrequested second round for everyone else. "Alderman's compliments," the man murmurs as he deposits food and drink, then moves away.