The light only flashes briefly, seeking its way through the heavy iron-framed shutters of the Red Unicorn, before a deafening roll of thunder is heard. For a moment everything seems quiet, but then the incessant pattering of the rain can be heard again. Only slowly do conversations resume in the crowded inn, just to be silenced once again by another of Rondra's thunderbolts.

@Adessa:
You are just glad that you finally made it to the inn. Just a second ago you dodged some falling wooden shingles and your cloak is already completely soaked. You've seen many a storm surge against Havena's lower town, but weather like this away from the coast...

@Corian:
Oh, thank the goddess you still got a seat. When Magister Rauma von Rondentrutz wrote in the 3rd edition of her work "Kosch, its mountains and valleys. A topographical treatise" about "sudden weather changes in late summer", you think she could have mentioned the words "torrent", "cloudbursts" and "ankle-deep mud" more often. Speaking of ankle-deep, the dwarves crowding around the same table as you are looking like their beer is going sour at any moment since she discovered your staff....

Adessa slumbers into the Unicorn and pulls back his rain soaked cloak and looks for an open table closest to the hearth for sum well needed rest,  while eagerly waiting for a hot cup of herbal tea, hot stew  and a Spirit shot to wash it down. He recognizes no one at first glance and finds an open small table as he looks for the bar maid to fulfil his thirst.

quote:

He recognizes no one at first glance and finds an open small table as he looks for the bar maid to fulfil his thirst.

Due to the hustle and bustle in the inn, it takes quite a while before a barmaid turns to Adessa: What would you like?

"Ahh, I thought you were ignoring me because of my looks....I'll take some hot tea, the best stew you have and a Spirit shot, make that two... please my lady!"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:17, Mon 19 Apr 2021.

She smiles wryly, "Far stranger folk find their way to the Red Unicorn, we're just overrun today. It's a mess out there though, isn't it?"

Eyeing the dwarves from the corner of his eye by his seat close to the fireplace, Corian instinctively pulled his staff a bit closer to his chair, but otherwise merely gave them a curt nod coupled with what he hoped was a friendly smile.

He had walked in to the Red Unicorn only a short while back; despite the rainfall outside Corian's plain looking gray robes had been suspiciously dry with only a few wet patches, though his boots were covered with mud. While he had been a resident of Kosh for most of his life, much of that had been spent at Magister Alrik Dagabor's tower, with nary hardly a time to explore the outside world.

So when, after his old master proclaimed him a graduate and conferred upon him the title of Adeptus Minor and told him it was nigh time he left the tower to make his own way in the world for a bit, Corian had only been too eager to jump at the opportunity.

While he enjoyed himself at the beginning, all too soon the young mage began to miss his home with Magister Alrik, especially during the nights spent on hard earth or harder floors. Today seemed to be becoming one of those days; in all his days Corian could not recall witnessing a storm such as this one. He had been only too happy to spot the inn and barge inside quickly.

"A hot mug of tea my lady, with a dollop of honey and a teaspoon of spice," he said cordially to the barmaid when she walked by him. Corian's speech immediately marked him as a man of at least some learning and etiquette (and no doubt an easy mark for those with roguish intentions nearby).

It takes a considerable time for the barmaid to make another round but it's worth the wait. The jugs are filled to the brim and the wooden plates groan under the weight of the generous portions.

The storm, on the other hand, seems to know no pause or rest and has only increased in strengt. Most of the guests seem to be getting used to the idea of spending the night in the Red Unicorn. 

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 7):

As Adessa ponders the barmaid's question, he notices seated next to the rowdy dwarves falling off their stools a particular fella robed in gray, thinking to himself, I know him from somewhere, but I'm unable to identify this person. Could he be an associate I owed a debt to, or someone I lifted a coin purse from.....

"Yes my lady, a storm of the century as they say, I have have a question for you as well, the man over by the crowd of dwarves  wearing a a gray robe, would you happen to know this gentleman? I have a suspicion of recollection but cannot place him"

"Nah, but from the way the good gentleman speaks and what he says, I'd say he is a travelling scholar. Say what brings you to Honningen?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:03, Wed 21 Apr 2021.

Taking a cautious sip of his hot beverage, Corian felt it warming him instantly as it went down his throat. Putting down the cup he leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to relax a bit as he adjusted to his new environs. He pulled back the cowl on his cloak, letting the light of the fire shine on his youthful features and his shoulder length silver hair.

The roaring and crashing of the storm had made him jumpy to say the least, and Corian felt quite pleased to have found shelter when he did. He took time to glance at the other patrons, and it appeared to him most, including the dwarves were regular patrons. One individual appeared to be an outsider like him, going by the way he sat along at a small table, whispering something to the barmaid.

A sudden flash of recollection came upon him, and Corian could have sworn he had seen that fellow somewhere...

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 9):

"Aye, he does look like the literate type. I've been on the road a few days and just needed to get in from this horrible storm, I really needed a rest."

Truth is: Acting on a favor, Adessa is actually scouting out a particular group of bandit thugs, who have been scourging the local trade route, which is effecting a very powerful merchant back home, and in turn effecting an even more powerful individual.

"Hmm..., then I hope for your sake that you have prepared yourselves for not too much rest. The dormitories are already sold out and it seems you'll have to make do with a sleeping bag in the taproom if you want to spend the night here."

As the hour wears on, the thunder seems to recede into the distance, but still the rain pelts relentlessly against the windows. The taproom slowly empties. More and more guests make their way home or head upstairs for the night's rest.

It is not long before you are some of the few who remain in the taproom.

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 12):

Adessa observes who is remaining and looks to make conversation, always trying to gather information to get him home quicker.

You don't seem to be the only one who has been waiting for this moment. An elderly grocer with snow-white hair, matted clothes and a fully-baked rucksack turns to you. Numerous trinkets, from small pendants to crookedly carved spoons, hang from small ribbons from his travel bag. Your trained gaze tells you that he certainly doesn't have to fear being mugged.

"Say, say good sir. You look like you could use some equipment and divine assistance for your further journey."


You too, Corian, notice how the parlour is rapidly emptying as the hour grows nearer, and even the hard-drinking dwarven-folk seem to prefer an earlier hour today. Apart from you, a strange grocer and the person who seems strangely familiar to you, there is no one left in the taproom. The rain can still be heard outside, but something seems different...^<INT?>
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:36, Fri 23 Apr 2021.

Though the man's features tickled something in the back of Corian's mind, he avoided meeting his gaze, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself.

The taproom slowly yet surely emptied as he finished his cup of tea; hearing the rooms were all full it seemed he would have to spend the night in the commons. Shaking his head slowly as he took one last sip, the mage wistfully recalled his comfortable bed in Magister Dagabor's tower, with its cozy fireplace and his own small library of beloved books and tomes.

Why did I ever leave? he thought for perhaps the hundreth time this month.

The taproom had nearly fully emptied of patrons by this time, thankfully the dwarves were also gone. Only a strange, senile looking old man remained, and he appeared to be hawking some suspect looking goods to the other remaining patron. As Corian stared at him again his eyes widened as a sudden memory from years back struck him!

It had been a fleeting moment at a country fair Magister Dagabor had given him leave to go to, along with a purse full of coin to spend. Only a little while into the fair that very same pouch had been stolen by the man speaking to the grocer. He had led Corian a merry chase through the crowd until the young mage tripped on his own robes and lost sight of him. Despite the years that had passed Corian was certain it was him; for months his smirking face echoed by the mocking laughter of the crowd as he had fallen had haunted Corian, giving him many a sleepless night.

"You! I remember you, you stole my money at the Oldenbridge fair years ago!" Corian said loudly, pointing an accusatory finger towards the other man. There was not any malice or even anger in Corian's tone, only shock and surprise at having met his thief again after such a long time.

---

ooc: Yerodin, I assume you want an INT check. If so:

Intuition Check: 07

Adeesa, disregards the traveling junk salesman for now and soon realizes this man yelling at him was the gentleman he lifted a purse from  that run down fair years ago, if memory serves him right, he was flaunting those coins like a jester juggling colored pins. It was an easy con and profitable as well.

<pre>“My good Sir, please be careful with your accusations of such thievery, I’ve never seen you in my life, and  I’ve never heard of this such fair, you  must be mistaken. By the way where are you from anyway? Where I’m from accusations like that get you in a world of hurtin.”

Corian scowled as the man brushed off his accusations and actually threatened him in turn.

What cheek! Corian thought, a surge of rising anger welling up inside of him. He was sure the thief had recognized him and could just feel the man smirking at him on the inside, but there was little he could do here in a public place without evidence. Heck, given that the event had occurred many years ago, Corian wasn't really sure he wanted to do anything about it now, but the memory of his humiliation still rankled. He couldn't let the thief get off too easily, his conscience would never forgive him.

Leaving his travel bag and staff propped up by his chair, Corian stalked forward to stand in front of the man, fists balled up in indignation. "My name is Corian, good sir, and this is no mere accusation, as I am sure you well remember. The fair was in Oldenbridge, about six years ago. A village girl had taken quite the liking to me before your stunt, after that she only laughed when she saw me."

That was the bit that rankled the most...Corian may have lost his virginity on that day had it not been for the thief and his illegal antics!
This message was last edited by the player at 17:26, Sat 24 Apr 2021.

The old grocer moves aside, confused by the whole situation and almost as if a finger had been pointed at him too many times in his life.

The innkeeper of the Unicorn, on the other hand, steps out from behind the counter, arms raised reassuringly in the air: "Gentlemen, who is about to..." when suddenly there is a deafening clap of thunder, followed by a loud thud and the hiss of flames.

Before you know it, the lower floor is covered in darkness.  The fireplace, which was blazing just a moment ago, only glimmers and the individual oil lamps seem to have given up the ghost at the very same time.

Even the rain can no longer be heard...
...an eerie silence seems to spread, as if Boron himself had put a cloak over the Red Unicorn.

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 18):

Adessa, crouches to a lower stance as he struggles to see directly in front of him and tries to orient himself on a way out.