-
                                                 BILL OF FARE

WINE and SPIRITS


House Ale, Mead, Lager, and Red or White House Wine  1 SP.

Bitter Black - This hearty stout is one of the inn's major exports. This stout is jet black with a heavy head of foam and a kick like a mule. 2 SP

Dragon's Breath Beer - A strong fiery brew that is best consumed with our dark rye bread and death cheese. 5 SP

Golden Sands Brew - This light lager is very easy on the taste buds with a faint hint of orange. 4 SP

Bite the North Wind Brew - Living up to its name, this dark amber liquid has a harsh but not unpleasant aftertaste (Revered by Northmen as "the bite of the north wind" that is, for many, an acquired taste. 1 SP

Black Bart - This hefty stout is as black as ink and nearly as thick. Possessed of a sweet flavor and a frothy head, this halfling brew is nothing to smirk at. 1 GP

Old One Eye - The kegs of this brew are stamped with a stylized Cyclop's skull. This molten colored lager with its hot aftertaste makes this drink a one-of-a-kind lager that will surely make you cross-eyed or stand you on your head. 5 SP

Desert Runs Dry - This fine red wine is very dry and is served at cellar temperature to best exhibit its woodsy undertones and slightly berry-like taste. 4 SP

Sunbeam Dark - This is heavy, sweet, and burning wine. It's a very dark hue, almost black, and very high in its alcoholic content. 3 SP

Clarry -  A blend of table wines sweetened with honey and spices. 5 SP

Evermead - This Elven mead is the one which all other meads are judged. A sip is reputed to taste of the higher planes themselves. Aged for a hundred years and a day, very few kegs of this mead ever reach non-elven lands. 25 GP

Fire Wine - This thick, dark, almost black wine is named for the fire it creates in ones belly. Fire wine is extremely strong and spicy. It is reputed to have medicinal properties. 5 SP


FOOD


House stew, a 1/2 loaf wheat or rye bread, and a slice of pie or a piece of cake. 3 SP

Healthy serving of meat, cheese, a 1/2 loaf wheat or rye bread, and a slice of pie or a piece of cake. 5 SP (All types of meat, fish, and seafood are available at your request.)

Brick Cheese - What is a glass of wine without the taste of cheese. We offer every variety of cheese available for consumption, and maybe some that are not. Just name your vice, and we shall have it served to you. 3 SP

Platter of Spicy Potatoes - 2 CP

Cold Meats Platter - This platter is served with lettuce or endive and sauces for dipping. 2 SP

Soup of the Day - Usually fish of some kind but on some occasions plain vegetable. 2 CP

Hot Meat Pies - Mixed meat and vegetables stuffed into a dough pastry and baked to perfection. 2 CP

Pease Porridge - 1 CP

Sausages and Sauce - Mild, Spicy, or Fire-breathing hot. 5 CP

Beans and Meat - 1 CP


DESSERTS


Cream Tarts - 3 CP

Cake of the Day - 4 CP

Pie of the Day - 4 CP

_
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:39, Sat 23 Dec 2017.

*
Today's Economy (04/26/2020)

Bolt Case +3 cp

Chicken         +2 cp

Beef / lb -1 sp

Hawk, Fledgling +5 cp

Reptile Hides +3 sp

Wood Cart -2 cp


The concept of a fluctuating trade system is difficult in this kind of game, so I won’t be implementing this in regards to pricing every single commodity. However, at times I will raise or lower the price of a few commodities. This could happen at any time. The selling of treasure, alchemical ingredients, raw materials, and the cost of crafting items will be at the prices listed in the various WotC published sourcebooks, and I’ll allow prices that are recommended in The Great Net Equipment List at http://members.tripod.com/lord_eadric/netequip.html.

At the start of the game the cost of these goods will be at the prices listed in these references.

This will be the only thing I’ll do with the economy in the game, though the economy could be affected by players buying and selling among themselves. Shrewd players could buy and sell to make a profit, and of course a player can try to charge anything he wants for things they’ve crafted, gained as treasure, or bought from another player. Selling to NPC vendors will only get you the going economy rate, but you might try selling the item to another player for a profit above that which an NPC vendor would give for it, and etc…


_
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:33, Sun 26 Apr 2020.

Reserved
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:45, Sat 06 Jan 2018.

Reserved

You suddenly appear in an area void of color and of which everything that you do see appears in shades of gray. It is bitterly cold. Before you materializes an immense building that appears as if it has continuously been added on to for many years ambles about the yard like an apparition with many arms. A ragged sign beside the entrance announces the establishment to be the Wayfarer’s Inn. If the building is the first thing to capture your notice, then the eight roads that come in from all angles like the spokes of a great wheel are the second thing that attracts your attention. Each road only goes a few hundred yards before vanishing in the mist and fog that utterly hides the surrounding countryside.

The drab dark grey shingles drip drops of water on the soggy ground below as if either heavy dew or a light rain occurred. Looking aloft, you see that the overhead sky is as dull and grey as your surroundings. Thick heavy rain clouds loom ominously above, and appear to move very slowly as if no wind could possibly push their bulk onward. A whinny comes forth. The sound comes from the other side of the inn letting you know that life does exist on this plane; a hopeful sign indeed.

Looking more carefully at the walls of the inn you notice that there are quite a few windows, but all let out no light as there seem to be hung across them thick hide coverings. A waft of smoke rising from one of the many extensions, and the smell of bear stew lets you know that within is at least a warm hearth and a hot meal.

Time has come to a standstill and you neither care nor desire to know what the hour is, or what day, week or year it may happen to be. You can choose to wear what you like for the temperature here will always stabilize so you will always feel comfortable. Step forth now and usurp your destiny!

(The inns door faces north, and the inn is like the hub of a wheel. The roads leading away from it are like the spokes of a wheel. The north road runs smack into the door of the inn. Clockwise, the roads are northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest; respectively. The lands between the roads vary with one direction leading off to the oceans, another into the swamps, hills, mountains, forests, and etc.. If you choose to wander about this plane, you'll have to discover these areas for yourself.)
_
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:02, Wed 17 Jan 2018.

Tandon looks at the strange surroundings ... he looks again unsure of the passage of time.
The older man taps him. Young Hahpet, is this our destination?

The prince jumps out of his reverie I suppose he says without commitment. He walks forward entering into the Inn.

The gray weather and gloom suit Flyd's mood as he squelches through the mud in his equally soggy boots. It feels like he has been stumping along for an eternity, stubbornly ignoring the wet and the chill trying to creep into his bones...and the empty churn gnawing away at the pit of his stomach.

The thickly-built Dwarf's leather skullcap drips water into his gray-white beard and from his bushy brows and the end of his thick nose.  A thick nose which starts to twitch, wiggle, and snort, "Eh, whazzat? Bear stew?  It cannot be...oh.  Well there we go. An inn...wit' a hearthfire and brew! 'Bout time! I'd like to o' starved clean t' death."

Stumping to the door he thumps it open unceremoniously and saunters in, "Ah!  By the Ancestors!  I'd be Flyd, an I'll have and ale...erm..." he squints at a menu placard, "Dragon's Breath, s tasty!  ...And yarp! Wit' the rye an' death cheese.  I'll be sitting here wit' Grandad."

The dwarf pulls off his wet cap and hangs it from the back of a chair, clambers onto whatever rest he can find for his weary arse, and plunks a stout urn on the table next to him, adjusting its positioning carefully, "There ya be Grandad...supper's comin'" While waiting, he untucks a pouch and pulls out a thick cigar, struggles to get it lit, and finally settles for chewing on one end unceremoniously, waiting for his repast.

The minute the door becomes even the slightest bit opened, a cacophony of sound is emitted. To begin to describe the chaos that is the Wayfarer’s Inn one must not look inside and expect to see a room of set dimensions. No, one must put perceptions of normality aside, and just accept that the inn simply is whatever size it needs to be at any given moment.

With that aside, you see the inn bustles with activity as patrons unlike you’ve ever seen call out to the serving staff for food and drink; typical of any inn-like environment, but very much atypical in its clientele. The gleaming polished bar seems to go on forever, and the kegs are stacked so high you wonder if the place even has a ceiling. But surely, though skepticism pervades, there is indeed one up there somewhere?

Tankards clink as people fellowship in cheerful camaraderie at tables of all shapes, heights and sizes. Cubby hole alcoves can be found down the outer walls where games of chance are always in full swing. If you head towards any of the many corners of the room you are sure to find some form of entertainment from bardic serenades to plays or even small circus acts.

(OOC: I’ll not be delivering drinks and food to characters, if you desire to actually talk to the serving staff, then I’ll NPC the talk, but as far as basic services go, it is an assumed thing that this is always happening. This inn is the chat room for players to engage in roleplay among themselves until they take off on an adventure. It is the trading post, the crafting hall, and will serve as the place all business is conducted. Have fun!)
_

OOC: my post begins at Lestroniuk's previous world and describes how he enters a portal ending up at the Wayfarer's inn.

Lestroniuk witnessed the apocalyptic end of his world. Seeing all life forms being suffocated by the toxic fumes, Lestroniuk fled to the nearest mountain. He was near the top when he saw that thousands and thousands of humanoids had gathered there, hoping to escape death for a day or two. There was a lot of pushing and pulling going on as everyone tried to get to the highest point of the mountain. People were being trampled to death, it was horrible. Lestroniuk didn't want to enter this death struggle. If he had to die, let it be without violent struggles and killings. He patted the eagle on his shoulder and said:
"So, Presky, this is the end. We shall not struggle in vain to keep alive. We shall fly towards our end, you and I, and that is how we say goodbye to this world"

So he turned around and ran down the steep slope of the mountain again, unfurling his wings, he rose a bit into the air and started to glide, with Presky the eagle at his side. What could be a better end for a raptoran than to glide towards one's end? So Lestroniuk glided towards the toxic smoke below. He held his breath when he entered them, wanting to enjoy his last glide as long as possible. As he glided through the billowing smoke, his air ran out and he knew he would have to breathe soon. But then, suddenly, through the haze he saw a blue flickering light. He steered towards the light and saw that it was some kind of portal.
Normally Lestroniuk would have stood back and taken ample time to consider whether to enter the portal or not. But now, with hardly any breathable air left, he entered it right away and Presky did likewise...

Through the portal, they entered a new world, a bit darker because of the clouds heavy with rain, but with breathable air!
The ground, however, came up to meet them hard and the old air was knocked out of Lestroniuk, who immediately gulped a breath of fresh air. "Brave New World, what a wonderful miracle, Fresh, Luscious, Fertile Nature!". Presky had entered the world close to, but a little higher than him and managed to avoid a crash to the ground. Presky flew a few circles of joy to show how delighted he was to be here.

Soon they spotted the strange large building which was moving around. He folded his wings and called Presky to sit on his shoulder again. Lestroniuk wondered whether he was dreaming. This couldn't be real, could it?
Lestroniuk decided to investigate and entered the Wayfarer's inn. He was amazed by the bustle of activity there and the strange mix of creatures sitting at all kinds of tables. He walked over to the dwarf who's just put his wet cap on a chair.
"Hello, I am new here. This is a miracle. How can one arrive here so suddenly? And what are all these people doing here? Oh, uhm sorry, I am Lestroniuk, a raptoran. My world is at the end, the apocalyptic end, toxic, smoke, death."

Tandon and Ankhatup meander to the bar and look around taking in all of the chaos and wonder of this place. Tandon scratches his head wondering what exactly brought him here. ”I feel foggy, were we looking for a particular place? Perhaps a meal would help ....
He wonders and Ankhatup shrugs.

Tandon begins to look over the bill of fare. Then is interrupted when his companion taps him to point out the bulletin board.

The youth looks at it for a long moment ... ”Yes - perhaps what we need is a job, it would give me time for my head to clear and we can discover where we are ... hmmm we must be near Neverwinter, that’s interesting. They have many temples and such there. Huh, hiring a mercinary leader? “ he chuckled ”Not me, I’m not much of a guard either. Perhaps you could help me find herbs? Or I can kill a goblin or two. ... could you identify Old Keep?”

Ankhatup gets the attention of one of the staff to identify the Keeper and the two gentlemen approach.

Good Keeper, thank you for your time. Could you tell me more about our whereabouts? It seems Neverwinter must be close by according to your posts here....
He listens ...

Ah thank you, can you tell me more about this job of killing goblins here? What are the problems of these goblins?

    A dark grey hooded form barely failing to leave five feet tall, willowy figure moves slowly forward , out of the fog.
   The form slowly separates from the fog, wearing a cut of cloth often seen on fellows of monastic orders.  Loose tunic and long trows, dark grey, not belted, but bound with even darker grey sashes at waist, and limb joints and cuff hems.  Oddly the figure has no emblem, chop, or colors to mark the monastery.  It also carries and odd weapon for such on the only visible belt(?)s a baltei, crossed over the shoulder on each side.

- On the left belt hangs a black scabbard holding a matte black basket hilted rapier the hilts basket framing a macrame of black wire. 
- On the right a simple cross hilted short sword, simple in construction, and design, but an elegant swept shape.. Just as matte black as it’s partner on the other hip.
- An equally matte black backpack also relying more on sashes and loops then buckles carried on the figures back a bedroll bound beneath, and a throwing axe similar in design to the short sword hanging on the pack near the right shoulder.

The hooded form studies the grounds, the air, the lay of the “land”, a young voice whispers;  “[Language unknown: Siremo icte pre uspl Wenc nti, ven ounmenoun acmace Neev]”.. after a pause “[Language unknown:  Malefona ous Eaushe'ingwit whei icaousons th ne.]”

The form turns away,.. Exposing on it’s back, a heavy bullet pouch, a very small bolt quiver, as well as the little crossbow. The form takes a step away.. The voice sighs “[Language unknown: Rom ill it ble reaoulrat virur yindersan]”

Turning again to look at the building: The young voice mulls over thoughts aloud; [Language unknown: "Ro trhano plioai, ck es meilur.. Olect iouundiou ictepeinpl.. Conan ivwess ho urer.. Oer.. Il.. Ingstaati.. Ntna Tr."]

The figure moves..
To Road ⇒
To Door ⇒
Past threshold ⇒
  Wiping the sandals dirt off, on the thresh for which the threshold is named the figure removes the sandals and hangs them from the pack.
  Stepping forward on matte black soft leather boots.
  Looking around the figure spots the others.. those quicker then her, to charge into Chaos.  and Steps in their direction..

Message board ⇒
But stops, at the sight of a message board, the stretches to read the list.  Then the menu. Checking the other announcements and proclamations.

   The figure slides a hand into a pocket of the pack and pulls out a stick of tinder char..
Reaches up and scribes;
 Min'OrImKakee: Wanted; Hand maid, none but local experience necessary, one language required; common, undercommon, elven, draconic, goblinfolk.
  “Coldeye” not desired.. But if hired subject to “Mistress” protocols. (soot chop)
The figure pulls out a flask of oil mixes it with soot from the char rubs it on an archers thumb ring and roll it against the board leaving a “chop” signature. Of a throne built of range weapons.

Turning away the figure move into the room.

To Table with PCs ⇒
  A young voice comes from the hooded figure; "[Language unknown: Ncilet atil Oulanyine e vir arfoie..]"
The voice pauses; [Language unknown: Artastoul es erehislar aipa p Ntiainastnde . . .
O a Riatalerilel, allnc bleer eauwerera p u illoes.. U ame was lin Itnoil mi Arloonma tio riadul utmi riher ce andfi, P paof ate ca setac.. Der whithaest e ons wh.]


Sitting the hooded throws back the hood, places it’s pack on the floor, bullet pouch on the table, and waves down a passing staff member; "Servitor I would have Soup of the Day, Hot Meat Pies, and.. Tea."  pulling out a set of sling bullets.

While the creature sorted out two specific bullets it can be seen that the hood didn’t hide the face for under the hood was a black on black studded leather skullcap helm fastened to the elven head by matte black sashes, hiding all the face but the eyes and eartips. The Skin as black as the armor.. The eyes blue.. Unless they looked directly at you then a purplish hue appeared.

Finishing the sorting, Min'OrImKakee, scraped back the waxy coating showing two of the three gleamed the bright of silver while the third the dull sheen of lead. "[Language unknown:  Renees deriv olpeilth som whred ri m erhiet notthehat ckei ouniwh, ecri iteve m herateanytra iouil.
 E i pe wh a icavennte ce li ssth thoonsvor.
 Ar i ast hat reivle p conthoshe, na ho di.
Notte totaeschec evebleonsame atsese i eehine o one loiewa, we t t p arec un essca.]"

The young elf takes the left hand and impresses the thumb ring on the waxy surface of the two “silver bullets” and hands them to the servitor; [Language unknown: "ou U ut oneicaher thast a e “ast” I andwheant."]

The Dark Alf looks at the Table mates; "Stone-walker I greet you." Looking at the other pausing only briefly "Wind-walker I greet you."


OOC;
09:26, Today: Min'OrImKakee rolled 18 using 1d20+4 ((14)). (dungeoneering) is there stone roof above?
09:31, Today: Min'OrImKakee rolled 19 using 1d20+2 ((17)). (geography) Can this be near.. ?? underdark?
09:41, Today: Min'OrImKakee rolled 20 using 1d20+4 ((16)). (nature)  what do the plants an animals tell? .

This message was last edited by the player at 19:03, Mon 08 Jan 2018.

In the mist, nearly invisible for the untrained eyes, a small figure quietly observed the many arrivals.

[Language unknown: "Pali ul leel'aitr ti peof be Na nctr alndca sassca."] he muttered.
[Language unknown: "Lo herdinart U thna oertrawas llli e oerthaall... Wi evpais wa e anycomsom nde andrutred wane entandear"]

He looked around, trying to see if someone else was about to get out of the mist.

[Language unknown: "Io illousmen ess wi laen at... Korom mawhcano der, N aiosulle di er werandout, poarst din..."]

He looked again at the strange inn.

[Language unknown: "And, o tin ereicasta wiliv m teev ck moli poat urha"]
He finally said as he moved toward the door and opened it (he had to push it quite hard, in fact)

A bit surprised by the amount of people - and of noise!- inside, he blinked a few times before moving toward the bar.
[Language unknown: "Ineeri hou un u the m icie whiastter? Wiei nte haro He hiilad enc?"] he asked after buying a bowl of the day's soup, keeping his ears open for any hint of useful information in the various exchanges. A very difficult task he quickly realized, due to the sheer amount of said exchanges.

An inky blotch seems to pull itself from the everpresent gloom and coalesces into a humanlike shape, moving toward the inn with erratic movements, keeping various amounts of cover between itself and the surroundings before judging itself to be safe and carefully opening the door, peeking inside.

Surprised at the sheer size of the inn and how full it was, the shadowy figure slinks into the inn, shedding the clinging darkness and revealing herself. She's far enough from home to know she's mostly safe in the strange inn.

Nabbing herself an empty spot at a bar she orders herself a hot meal and a strong drink, and as she waits she turns to look around her immediate area, listening to all the languages that fill the air, ears perked for anything that might catch her interest and eyes wandering over the crowds, quietly amazed at the sheer scope of figures in such a place.

In reply to Tandon Hahpet (msg # 14):

You approach what can only be described as an ancient being of a life form unknown to you. The being looks up as you attract his attention, and though the being appears human, its constantly shifting outline clearly indicates it’s not. The beings wrinkly skin is of a yellowish color liken to one that is jaundiced. Milky eyes that once were a pale green peer out beneath a heavy brow crowned with bristling white eyebrows. Whitish-grey stubble can be seen along the beings jaw line, and chin, and there is a faint trace of an equally colored, and recently trimmed mustache.

At first you thought the Keeper was sitting, but as he approaches the counter, you see that the being is merely hunched over as if the weight of the universes is weighing down on his shoulders. The clothing of the being, leather jerkin shirt, breeches, and low boots are nondescript and neutral tan in color.


It is apparent that is all that will be forthcoming.

(He doesn't leave, but he's no longer paying you any attention. This doesn't mean you cannot ask him another question, but it's obvious he's done with the interaction regarding your initial questions.)
_
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:41, Sun 10 June 2018.

Pulling his cloak about him to fend off the bitter cold Ploplol gives Copenesen a pat. Goodnesss Copensen, what a pickle we have fallen into. he comments, grinning at the irony of his comment as Copenesin hooves the ground noncommittally. Following the sounds they emerged from a cave pausing at the entry Ploplol noticed the ground had considerable number of Bear tracks, suggesting they were in its lair. Copensen snorted distastefully at the smell of Bear which inturn  confirmed the caves previous inhabitant. A grey dank mist clung to the countryside concealing the area and lending it a eerie aspect, pierced by the occasional sounds of voices. Nudging Copensen towards them the pair quickly located at ramshackle structure which bore the plaque Wayfarer's Inn. Well now that's fortuitous, don't you think Copensen? Ploplol commented prompting a snort from the Stallion, Hopefully there'll be a Warm Dry Stable and fresh hay and oats for you, a hot meal for me... he added giving Copensen a pat.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:33, Tue 09 Jan 2018.

In reply to Felmin Pasdeloup (msg # 16):

You requests are arranged and brought to you. At your two questions, you are returned a queer smile.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:10, Tue 09 Jan 2018.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 18):


Tandon stares at the keeper as he speaks

Thank you, he says, feeling as though he should have so much more to say than that. But something about this whole set up seems strange and off putting.

OOC: 22:12, Today: Tandon Hahpet rolled 14 using 1d20+8.  knowledge planes to understand what this place is.

Come, let's find the apothecary and we can then look at what they have in the various shops.
he tells his valet as they make thier way to the apothecary.

The modron unit RU57-8UCK37 steps out of the mist and into the strange clearing. It is some kind of construct; basically a wood, stone, and metal cube with arms and legs. Two cones sit on the top side of the cube are filled with glassy orbs that appear to be eyes. The front face of the cube has a grid of square tiles that can rotate on a bisecting horizontal axis to change individually from black or white. A small, sooty smoke stack projects off the backside of the unit, and as it moves, occasional puffs of steam jet out of a joint here or there.

The unit turns its "head" around 180 degrees, legs staying planted, to look behind it. Then it turns back. Then turns 90 degrees right, then 90 degrees left. Then it stands there for a few moments. Then it proceeds to approach the structure.

Upon opening the door and being blasted by the chaos within, it slams the door shut again and takes a few steps back. It looks around again in its odd way and is about to move again when Tandon exits the inn.

"Excuse me, fleshy, bipedal units. What is this place?" it asks in a metallic voice. The tiles on the grid on its front plane rotate in a ripple, forming a crude, pixelated image of a humanoid nose and mouth.

OOC: In reply to Lestroniuk and Min'OrImKakee:

---

The stout dwarf nods as arrivals come, one after another, as if summoned by dreams to bear witness to a strange day. The first to approach him as he awaits a gnosh...has wings



[Language unknown: "Whbut t pe...k...ortwheeve oresetwas evecommen. Es en Bleil."]  The dwarf stubs a thumb into his chest and points the still unlit cigar across at the jar, [Language unknown: "Ishiit Tioithcom, Enfodi Oveousoereraeau bletheyin. Thiek...orttheleshou te eraastard, caon wileenwhi roseou? Ek thaoutnti en ive isevet n stcalo."]  The dwarf indicates his cigar with a rueful grimace.



[Language unknown: "Traantughver ceckce orttedard tedameshe iealwi! Wh her sa korainhat linoneles of ioive esnti hailsa n thna se redlarlar. Ac lat st noeiio stofis andntimen e.  Ck nita i."] the dwarf's blue eyes haze over in a gray opaque haze as he looks the shadow-clad figure over, [Language unknown: "Sanos...riishi setlarted, saver eehota moishi And stronsstr. Ncmo usnius Oumiss Andstaoreliname, p Timiee.  Whe wermi li p witwitsti."] The dwarf seems adamant about introducing the remains of his departed ancestor.

He scoots his chair around loudly to ensure those new to the table have room.

Lestroniuk took a step back each time a newcomer came to the table. This was the raptoran way: give each other room.
But because so much newcomers had joined, Lestroniuk ended up far from the table.
He called out to the dwarf: "Flyd, nice to meet you. I offer my condolences with your grandpa Boneshaker. Was he a good dwarf, has he ever been to this place? I would like to know how you came to be here?"

He then made a little bow to Min'orImKaKee: "Nice to meet you too, sir, though I must say that I'm not a wind-walker yet. I've not yet mastered the art of flying, but I hope to do so later this year. How did you arrive at this miraculous place, sir?"

Circling the structure in the hope of determining if the Inn included Stable capacity Ploplol assessed its the Wayfare's defensibility and perspective number of occupants.

  The dark alf reached down to the pack sliding open a flap and pulled an oil lamp..  placing it on the table removing the hood.. with a box to lay next to it.  The Elven voice responds as flint and steel emerge lighting the flame; "[Language unknown: Ess eces Nopant lahi mo icaeauthe encwi oscapo cefith ceilnd plss ckal tase ch ncas asho we proingall.]"

As the flame lit the Dark one, put up a hand to block the light.. but stopped.. instead gazing at the flare until it calmed to a steady flame.

Resuming; "[Language unknown: Lai se hou con asar ecreev.. Nclo? Acma ?Onsandderticive?. Ck caplat u hatreavenest steeto m thfoce ntilarthu.. wi pona acie ratichugh a setiv. Stilinrat ssent Adouan Manineout etur oneall'eraiou etlaho osar Virsontra ounbutrattha ri cechwe comvirera alsana be rom romoutlat vernteine a niiolo.  Rom neplis no prfout orteaulin nano Oulthiingrom tic olil er one k estme urset.  M a beul noca entureoer wit ai winore romhaspro ntse Strearica ul ulll utroomnd to urekorstr icaerscomsti inst o encaretio.]"
 Watching the rest of the persons entering and scattering through the room;  The Elf resumes with a glance at the winged one; "[Language unknown: Se ek iontramen linughhou ma riliun erto an respe ncsaceprin, atithuoer verundres vor il notentenc ionthilat.  Ur ho nde evpast ncaspe dinwheartera ess ursa anbere illrutdin.. o uskor.. O me ugh intonsate verstrtio.. a t T i waslesfor stiowe.  Se toen.. ?Butountin ??]"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:43, Tue 09 Jan 2018.

In reply to Tandon Hahpet (msg # 21):

Shaking his head - Tandon seems out and approaches the apothecary.

In reply to Tandon Hahpet (msg # 28):

You wander about the disproportioned inn; amazed at how many artisans have attached themselves to to it in a manner which defies all logic. As luck would have it, you stumble upon a wing of the inn that its vendors cater to the making of herbal concoctions, alchemical wares, magical elixirs, and some that simply cater to the carrying of the ingredients that make them.

Some of the vendors have permanent establishments within the structure of the wing, and other nomadic traders liken to peddlers, and gypsies, have set up makeshift stalls using wagon beds, planks upon barrels, or have even placed their wares upon colorful blankets on the ground.

These traders, all vie for your attention by calling out loudly to get you to stop at their stall first. The permanent establishment proprietors, not to be outdone, call out even louder, and soon the area is a filled with deafening voices trying to out call the other.

The noise quickly attracts other shifty looking panhandlers with wares hanging from within cloaks, orphans with brushes to clean your shoes, and vagabonds with hands outstretched for alms.