Mud. Mud and rain. Mud, rain and grey skies. A trio that seem to have been your constant companions since you set out from Darkwall, a little over a month ago. A scrawled notice on some of the boards around Darkwall had drawn your attention and for one reason of another you'd ended up signing on. A quick few weeks, that would eventually let you return to the city with some easy money in your pockets. Of course it was never that easy, and it had been a miserable trip so far, with the weather and the soggy ground slowing you down, with the downpour swelling streams and causing more than one wheel to break and have to be repaired on the road.

From hamlet to hamlet, from village to village, all the faces, names and places all started to blur together a little, but the feeling of the ice cold rain remained constant. Even the campfires you light every night fail to chase away the cold and damp, further darkening the mood among the hands, except for the caravan-master.
Mervin Alae, the elven merchant who hired you, had apparently not had a very profitable year so far.
Failing crops had ramped up the price of grain and had left him in the red. You gathered that this trip was not something he usually undertook this late in the season. Having more riding on this trip than usual, had caused Mervin to hire on more guards then the five he usually had. Choosing to bank on taking his wagons and carts to some of the more remote villages and towns, places not often visited by traders carried its own risks. If the venture failed then he would have lost even more money for little return, but then again if it succeeded, he would possibly have earned enough to tide him over until next year. Luckily the gamble seemed to have paid off. Everyone of the seven wagons and two carts you've been guarding are now filled. Burlap sacks of wheat, oat and rye, barrels of salted fish and game, as well as crates of smaller items.

For the last few days its been coming down harder than before, seeping into your clothing and belongings, and turning every road into a slippery morass. You wind your way through the Gravestone foothills, and along with the bellowing oxen you push and pull, heaving carts and wagons along, until you finally crest a rocky hill and see the lights of Oakfield ahead. The torch lights promising, a chance to get warm, a decent meal, and a dry bed at the large inn that is easily spotted through the rain.
As you trudge into the town towards the inn, you look around and take in the small village of Oakfield. You can make out stocky wood and stone structures with thatched roofs, a few with seperate stables, from which you can hear horses and other livestock. A lone dog runs across the road, stopping to sniff the air and then quickly scurries off at the unfamiliar smells.

As you approach the inn, easily the biggest building in town, you spot a sign hanging above the door with a simple painting of a gilt cup or tankard,a sizable crack running down the side, and the name 'The Cracked Mug' written underneath it. You can hear faint noises inside of music and of people talking.



Pulling to the entrance, Mervin steps down from the lead wagon, and leaned back a bit, cracking his back with a tired sigh, "Orh by the gods I need a drink". He pulled down his hood and looked around, before turning to you and the rest of the guards, "You should head inside. If you see the barman or someone else who workds here, tell them to send someone out to give us a hand with the wagons".

Erdan walked hunched over; a futile attempt to feel like he was staving off the water.  It did no good.  Water dripped off his hair and ran down his face despite the sopping wet hood suctioned to his head.  Even for a wood elf who enjoyed nature in all the seasons, this was miserable and his irritability was equal to everyone else's, albeit late to the party.

The misery had also been delayed more by the caravan leader.  Between him being a fellow elf and his unabated optimism, Erdan clung to that as long as possible, but the chill he felt in his bones made the world feel darker and foreboding.  It had even elicited bad dreams during his meditations, imagery of a potential future in a twisted wood, unwelcoming and sinister.

When the wagon wheel had broken, he assisted with the tools he brought along, further endearing himself to the crew of the caravan.  He had made jokes to lighten the mood and the job proved quicker with the extra pair of hands he brought to the task.

The animals were a source of comfort for him and he had spent time helping to tend to them throughout the trip, brushing and changing their blankets.  Some of the other mercenaries had mocked him from afar, questioning if he was there to guard or serve the footmen.  The wood elf had ignored them.

When he wasn't helping, he was at his post or socialized with his companions, navigating whatever moods they portrayed as best he could until the weather claimed his.

He never thought he'd be so happy to see a town and an INN.  Erdan resisted the temptation to rush inside and practically throw himself at a fire.  Instead, he stayed behind to help settle the caravan.  It didn't feel right leaving the animals and everyone else out in the rain while he languished in warmth.

He'd join his friends when the work was done.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:20, Tue 10 Jan 2023.

The idea of signing on as a caravan guard had amused Sasyra immensely (as well as Mervin, until he'd seen her shoot). The day before they had set out, the weather had been full of the memories of summer and the endless possibilities of the road. Now the road was just another lie laid bare, covering her feet- her ankles - her shins in dull grey mud. The entire affair hadn't just dampened her feet (her boots leaked, her feet were always wet!) nor soaked her skin (the knitted shawl was little protection against the endless rain), it had drowned her lively spirit.

So seeing the lights of Oakland brought a glimmer of hope to the poor girl. Her pace didn't quicken, but she lifted her eyes from the soily suspension that coated her path to the buildings beyond.



Sasyra approached and then paused just before the door. The lights were on, and the rain might have masked the sounds of habitation in the Inn itself, but on the porch, under the eaves of the building, surely she could hear music of chatter from inside the building?

---

OOC: Are there any sounds of life coming from inside the building?

It was about the middle of his term of enlistment with the Darkwall Watch when Tegan had decided that the true measure of a man-at-arms was whether he could do his duty -- and do it well -- when the weather turned rainy, cold, and nasty. It was easy enough to wear shiny uniforms and strut about, winking at the lasses, when the weather was balmy and mild. But many of those whom the Half-Elf thought of as "sunshine soldiers" could not function very well in the sort of weather that the caravan had suffered through for their entire journey.

That did not mean that Tegan had to like the rain, cold, and the mud, of course. But he had persevered, and did what needed to be done without whining or complaining.

The good news was that as near as Tegan could tell, Master Mervin seemed to have won his gamble and would have a profitable outing, when all was said and done. As the son of a blacksmith who ran his own smithy and shop, Tegan well knew that oft-times there was a fine line between turning a profit and having a bad month.

One thing that had pleased Tegan immensely was that the group of caravan guards who had signed on at the same time he had all seemed seasoned enough to give a good account of themselves if push came to shove -- which had not happened, at least as of yet. Whilst serving in the Watch, he had sometimes been in skirmishes where, as the squad leader, he had found himself covering for new recruits who had not yet mastered the concept of using the pointy end of their swords to stab their foes with.

One thing that had disappointed him a little was that the entity whom he had come to think of as "The Light" had not made further contact with him since that night in his bedroom, above his father's smithy. But, upon further reflection, he decided that it was not his place to have any expectations as to how or when -- or even if -- he would be contacted by The Light once again.

But all of that aside, when the caravan crested a hill (whose incline required Tegan and some of the other guards to get down and push on the mud-encrusted wheels as a means of aiding the weary oxen) and the Half-Elf caught sight of the beckoning lights of a village, Tegan grinned broadly. Tonight he would have a roof over his head and could dry out his sopping-wet clothing and boots, and dinner would almost certainly be better than what they had become accustomed to on the road.

Tegan heard Master Mervin give the crew of caravan guards leave to head into the inn, but he did not feel right doing that as long as there were still goods packed in the wagons of the caravan that needed to be unloaded -- and guarded, for that matter. Truth be told, now that the wagons were at a standstill and most of the wagon-drivers and guards had relaxed their vigilance, 'twould be a perfect time to work some mischief, to the Half-Elf's way of thinking.

He nodded to the caravan-master and said "Thank you, Master Mervin. But if it is all the same to you, I think that I shall stay out here with the wagons and stand o'er-watch until all of the goods are stored away somewhere safe for the evening."

Tegan caught sight of Sasyra, who had paused on the doorstep of the local inn, perhaps in an effort to shake some of the rain from her cloak. Following up on the caravan master's idea, he called to her. "Sasyra, can you send some brawny lads out to help with the unloading?"

With a chuckle he added "I suspect they'll be much more inclined to help a comely lass than to listen to the rest of us filthy mudlarks."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:52, Mon 09 Jan 2023.

If there was one in the group who would be unaffected by poor weather, it would be the young man that marched proud and straight-backed through all of their travels, as if he was on a military parade ground. Often was he found humming some marching tune, or song from his childhood in order to life the spirits of others. But now that there was such a downpour that his white-and-blue surcoat was so soaked that it was becoming a waterlogged anchor, even his spirits started to dim somewhat. That was evident in the quiet poem he recited to himself as they slowly made their way into Oakfield.

"O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
‘I love thee true’.

She took me to her Elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘The Merciless Beautiful Lady
Thee hath in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing..."

The poem died on his lips as they finally pulled up to The Cracked Mug. Brushing his short cropped, dark brown hair back, his usual smile found it's way back onto his face. Warmth, good company, a few libations, and a few hands of cards were just the thing to raise the spirits of anyone.

But that might have to wait for now. As miserable as this little company was, he could only imagine the discomfort of the horses that pulled the wagons and provided transport for all the goods that they protected. Leon had a fondness for horses. His father had owned several fine Selincourt destriers, and Leon had learned to ride upon them, and developed a deep sympathy and empathy for the animals. He hoped to own his own some day.

"I will help with the horses, Master Mervin. With all this mud, someone will have to check their shoes, and they will need thorough brushings to get all the mud and water from their coats," Leon offered to his current employer.

He knew he wouldn't be able to rest easily until he knew the horses were properly squared away. And even the ministrations of strange stable hands would be barely enough to set his mind at ease.

It had amused Adeline to hear the complaints of the other guards and caravaneers over the constant damp and wet. She might be as miserable as anyone else, but that was a normal state of affairs for the grizzled bounty hunter; the weather didn't have much impact on her usually dour mood. Oft times she'd be heard remarking "No such thing as bad weather. Just bad clothes." So much so it almost became a mantra for her before raising her hood and heading out into the rain to scout the road ahead for the day. Her well weathered and maintained clothes were designed for this and she fared better than most for it.

For all of her sourness, she inevitably returned to the wagon train each night with fresh supplies; clean spring water, nuts, berries and mushrooms were common, but every now and then there'd be eggs or small game for the night's cook-fire. A welcome change from the dried meat and hard tack of their trail rations.

She was glad to be on the road and away from Darkwall. Although she and Erdan had returned there to resupply and find work, she hated the place. Too many bad memories and too many old rivalries and scores to settle. Out here she had the luxury of releasing her guard, not that she ever really did, but the thought that she could comforted her. She enjoyed working with the rest of the team; Tegan had a military air of command which she respected, despite his Elven blood and young Leon had a refreshing enthusiasm. Only the Fleck girl irritated her; despite her prowess with a bow, Adeline couldn't help but wonder what she was doing out here in the wilds, but didn't care enough to ask and left her to her business.

As the wagons pulled up to the Inn, Adeline emerged from the rain to meet them there. She waved a curt greeting to the others to announce herself and set to helping with the physical labour without comment. She knew what needed doing and got to it with a will.

Mervin frowned, as if surprised by anyone turning down the chance to get out of the rain, but eventually shrugged, "Suit yourself, appreciated though". The other guards, already on their way inside, stopped and looked at eachother,  before turning back to the wagons with a sigh.
As you begin to find room for the wagons, you see a scrawny looking teenage boy come scrambling out to you, a large oilskin cloak pulled up over him, and looking around for any sign of who was in charge. Mervin sighed and stepped up to intercept him, "Oi! Over here...".

Eventually you, the other guards and the rest of the caravan hands get all the animals under cover in the large stable attached to the inn. Rubbed down and fed, the oxen and horses finally begin to settle in for a rest.
Taking a last look around each beast, Mervin calls you all over, "Now I told that kid to get us some tables, and to get some ale and food ready, So lets out of this infernal cold".

Finally making your way to entrance to the Cracked Mug, you push your way through the door and are immeditely met with a wall of noise, smells and warmth. Coming in out of the cold evening rain, the interior of the inn seems very bright at first. Taking a second to let you eyes adjust, you see a large tavern room. Covered lanterns and candles set in sconces on the walls, and on the tables, give the interor a warm cozy feel.



Though there are other patrons it is immediately clear that you and rest of the caravan hands are the largest party in the place tonight. A few outsiders, like yourselves, easily recognized by their packs, travel gear and clothes, as well as the local patrons. All look up as you make you way inside, but quickly turn back to their own drinks and conversations. As you begin taking of your wet cloaks and coats, a redheaded halfling girl, dressed a light brown dress runs and points to the back of the room, "This way please, Master Steelback has your tables set up by the fire". Following the serving girl, you are led towards four large wooden tables that seemed to have been moved so as to be as close to the fireplace as possible. On each table you see mugs and tankards as well as three foaming flagons of ale waiting for you. "We're still getting the food prepared. I'll bring it out as soon as it's done". She nods to you all and walks back towards door behind the large wooden bar on the other end of the room, opposite the fireplace.

Tegan overheard the words "brown-nosers and lick-spittles" and could hear the general tone of complaint as some of the guards from the other mercenary company passed him by. He straightened up and gave the men a hard stare, intending to both give them something to think about and to make certain that he remembered who the troublemakers were.

He had known men -- and women -- like these in the Watch. Some people were more than happy to collect their pay, but were considerably less than eager to pitch in when there was any work or fighting to be done. It always seemed that they had some excuse as to why they needed to sit out for a while, rather than doing what needed doing.

~I'm tempted to call them out on it here and now. It might result in a fight, but I'd rather deal with it now than have men like that at my back if we run into any trouble between here and Darkwall.~

After a moment's thought, however, the Half-Elf thought better of it. ~I need to back off. Master Mervin hired these people, and I won't be doing him any favors if I cripple or run off some of his guards whilst the caravan is still on the road. Suck it up, Buttercup, and get back to work.~

With a last, lingering look at the complainers, Tegan went back to helping to move the beasts of burden into the village stable. Eventually the animals and the wagons were squared away to the caravan master's satisfaction, and everyone headed inside.

The warmth that Tegan felt as soon as he stepped through the door of the Cracked Mug was nearly as comforting as the warm embrace of a beautiful woman. The warmth was the first thing that he noticed, but he could also smell the wood smoke from the fire, as well as some of the delicious smells of food. The Half-Elf thought that he could pick out roasted venison and boar by their smells, and felt certain that Adeline could do so.

He was pleased when the flame-haired Halfling directed them to the tables that had been pulled up close to the fire. Tegan claimed a seat that would give him a good view of the interior of the room and the doorway. ~It's probably not necessary, but a little caution in an unknown place is not a bad idea,~ he thought to himself.

He set his shield and backpack down on the floor, leaning both of them against a nearby wall. Then he unfastened the broach that held his woolen traveling cloak closed, and hung it from a nail close to the fireplace so that the heat would dry it. As he turned to sit down, he noted the steam coming from the wool as the warmth of the inn's interior began to take effect.

Tegan began filling the waiting tankards and mugs with ale, and handing them to those who had chosen to sit at the same table as he had . . .

---

OOC:

I like to make it easy to distinguish between my character's spoken words and his unspoken thoughts. Accordingly, Tegan's unspoken thoughts will be written in lavender (which looks to be a blue-gray against my background color) and italics, and will be bracketed with tildes (~) instead of the more familiar quotation marks that are used with spoken words. Tegan's spoken words will be written in blue.

I have cleared this methodology with the DM. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 22:51, Tue 10 Jan 2023.

The care of the beasts finally over, Leon felt the weariness of the road finally catch up with him. Upon entering the fire lit interior of the inn, all present could see fresh streaks of mud and dirt on his face and hands. Placing his soaking cloak with the rest of the traveler's cloaks, which would no doubt dry out over the course of the night, the young knight walked over to a chair and sank into it.

"A fine day's labor my friends!" Leon declared cheerily, looking up at the others and having his usual grin fix itself back in place.

But before he began enjoying the provided ale, the young knight still had some work to do before he relaxed. Placing his shield next to the fire, the young man also unstrapped his sword-belt from across his waist and hung it from the back of his chair. He then unstrapped his surcoat from his body, and hung it by the hearth for the flames to do their drying work. It was strange to see him out of the blue and white bit of clothing, as the emblem of his House was something he proudly bore on both chest and shield. A two-headed griffon on a blue field clasping a white chalice catching a raindrop from the heavens. Now only in bare chainmail, he struggled out of the links with a terrible clamor. Once free of the armor, he drew a dry rag from his bag, and began cleaning the wet steel. Once he was satisfied that it was dry, he pulled a small cask from his bag, popped the cork, and poured what looked like a strange mixture of oil on the rings, before slowly and methodically massaging it into every single ring on the entire suit. That finally done, he dried his hands with that same cloth, pulled his slightly less wet gambeson off his body, mussing up his wet hair in a most comically spiked fashion. That left him sitting in the chair in only his riding trousers, a simple white tunic, and his mud-stained boots.

Much different than the heavily armed and armored knight that had wandered in a few moments ago.

"May I please get a bottle of wine when you get a moment, mademoiselle? Pinot noir, if you have it. A twenty year bottle of Château Louareux, if the gods have smiled on me and seen fit to deliver me a miracle in your fine inn..." he called to the redheaded Halfling girl. Turning back to his employer and his companions, he grasped his mug of ale and raised it high, and gave a short toast to them all.

"May there always be work for your hands to do,
May your purse always hold a coin or two.
May the sun always shine warm on your windowpane,
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you,
And may the gods fill your heart with gladness to cheer you!"

Adeline paid no mind to the dour glances and snide remarks of their fellow guards; if all they wanted was to suckle at the teats of civilisation like children, then they were welcome to it. They'd reap their reward in the long run. Hard work and hard living made the body strong and she took pride in hers and the things she did to maintain it. Once the labour was done and they were invited in to dine, Adeline followed behind the others, giving one last, wary look outside before closing the door behind them. Last to enter, she was last to sit and didn't mind that it put her back to the room. She trusted Tegan enough to give her the nod if anything went down, let alone her own prickly senses.

Like Leon, she took the time waiting for their ale and meal to disrobe of her cloak and armour. First her boiled leather bracers and greaves were removed and rubbed down, followed by her scaled brigandine with much less of a clatter than the young knight. She'd take the time to clean and oil it later. She re-fastened her belt over the padded jack she wore beneath her armour, keeping her bullwhip at her hip alongside the customary set of chained manacles that jangled ominously whenever she moved. Both were knotted expertly to stay firmly in place, but ready for quick release. Her sword, a functional thing if not pretty, she kept close to hand hung from it's baldric from the back of her chair. Shield, pack and cloak were neatly stacked by the fire to dry.

Adeline snorted derisively at Leon's expensive taste, but saluted his toast nonetheless; she might not have agreed with all of it and said as much in response. "The gods can do as they please with their rainbows, but I'll raise a mug to honest work for honest coin." Which she promptly did before downing half the tankard in a single swallow. Out of her armour and cloak, she exuded animal physicality; lean and athletic, there wasn't a spare bit of fat on her. Anyone that dare look in places that might garner her ire, might notice the keys hanging from a leather thong around her neck, tucked loosely inside her tunic. She looked around their group judging the mood by their faces before throwing a glance over her shoulder at the other occupants of the room, reading it like a book.

Most of the caravan hands fill into the seats surrounding the prepared tables, shrugging off their overcoats and cloaks, as they take a mug or tankard. Some don't even do that but simply slump into their chair, the trials and tribulations of the day finally catching up to them. Soon food begins to filter out from kitchen, the serving maid reappearing with steaming trays of cooked meats, roasted, and boiled vegetables, dark bread, hard cheese and gravy boats filled with thick sauce, "There you go". A loose silence descends on the group as the food is ladled onto wooden plates and passed around the crew.
As you eat, you notice Mervin getting up from his seat and walking over to the bar. Behind the large dark wooden bar, you see a young, dwarven man wiping down the table top. Bald with a shortly clipped beard. He is wearing a stained, worn leather apron and a white shirt with rolled up sleeves. The two seem to fall into a friendly conversation, with Mervin clearly gesturing to the outside and the road ahead.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:38, Wed 11 Jan 2023.

Unlike Leon and Adeline, Tegan refrained from removing his chain mail. He planned to do so later in the evening, when he could devote more time to cleaning and drying it. Mains had taught him never to let water sit too long on armor or weaponry. It was much easier to deal with water than rust, once it had gained a foothold.

The Half-Elf did, however, remove his helm and sit it down on the table-top, alongside his plate. He had filled his own mug last, after he had poured ale for everyone else at his table. Now he lifted his mug to Leon and Adeline in turn, in recognition of what they had said.

Truth be told, Tegan was a bit puzzled why The Light had chosen to elevate a blacksmith's son to the paladinhood (for, as he grew more accustomed to his powers, he slowly realized what the boons that had been gifted to him meant) instead of Leon -- or someone very much like him. For, to Tegan's way of thinking, the young man who hailed from the Selincourt Barony seemed the perfect knight -- unfailingly polite, with courtly manners and a smile for all, yet always willing to pitch in and do his share when the situation called for it.

And although it seemed that Leon had not learned trade of a man-at-arms in the same way that Tegan -- and Adeline, for that matter -- had, the Half-Elf would bet his last copper that the Human would prove to be a stout shield-brother when the time came to form up the shield wall.

Tegan found himself smiling at the Half-Orc's comment. "My father would agree with you," he replied. "And he raised me up in that same fashion."

The longer he was around Adeline, the more Tegan found himself feeling comfortable around her -- which was not something that he had expected when the caravan first set out upon its journey. But now that he had come to know the bounty hunter better, he could think of no one whom he had rather have at his side if it became necessary for them to draw steel ere their trip ended.

Truth be told, he had come to think of both Adeline and Leon as his shield-sister and shield-brother, for he well knew that 'twould fall to the three of them to hold the line against Trouble, should it come their way. He hoped that the mercenaries from the other company could also be relied upon, but he did not regard them with the same level of confidence as he did the two who were sitting at his table.

By now steaming hot food had been brought out to them, and Tegan did not plan on letting any of his go to waste. As he began eating, it did not escape his notice that Master Mervin had gotten up from the table and gone over to speak with a Dwarf who was working behind the bar.

~Most likely asking the innkeeper about conditions on the road betwixt here and Darkwall. If 'twere me, I'd want to learn as much as I could before heading out for the remainder of our journey.~

"Does anyone know how close we are to Darkwall?" he asked. "I will confess that I have never before been on this stretch of road."

Tegan knew that the Half-Orc had traveled about more than a little in pursuit of her bounties. When a man or woman took to their heels and fled from the Law, they oft-times wanted to put as much distance between themselves and Darkwall as they could.

"How about you, Adeline? Have you been to these parts afore?"

"Or mayhap you, Sasyra?" he was quick to add, for he knew that the Fleck were a footloose people, who traveled far and wide.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:10, Thu 12 Jan 2023.

As the food arrived, Adeline turned her attention back from the room and to the task at hand. She packed away the hearty fare as well as any of the trenchermen present, perhaps even more than most. Though she was loathe to break a smile at the best of times, the rich meal was a welcome change from that which they'd enjoyed on the road, even supplemented by her meagre forage. Lubricated by the houses ale and a full stomach she even managed a hearty, if solitary, chuckle at a passing joke.

Her hunger sated and the conversation turning to matters of import, Adeline leaned back in her chair nursing her tankard as the unfortunate piece of furniture creaked under her not inconsiderable weight. She grunted at Tegan's query before answering. "I've walked just about every road leading out of Darkwall, but I can't say I've ever really been this far north too often. Maybe once, Oakfield was somewhere I'd find a bounty but from what I hear it's days are numbered. All's here is coal and beans; ain't no riches, glory or fortune for the bla'guards I normally chase." She shrugged nonchalantly as if that said everything about the place.

The bounty hunter took another sip of ale and sighed her satisfaction before raising an eyebrow at Tegan and Leon and jerking her head over at one of the patrons, giving her companions a pointed look. She lowered her voice and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Seems to me that all's not well here. Mother there looks like she's something to say, but can't find her voice. Not my business, but figured you upstanding folk..." she made the epithet almost an insult "...might want to grease the wheels if you want to hear her sing." The patron in question looked to be a middle aged local by her dress, nervously nursing an untouched drink whilst throwing glances at the group of newcomers. Her piece said, Adeline leaned back once more and attended to her drink, her eyes half-closed as she listened to the hubbub around her.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:18, Thu 12 Jan 2023.

Erdan helped settle the last ox and took a moment to lean his ear against its side, listening to its deep bovine breaths and pounding heart.  He inhaled that earthy scent of domestic beast.  Home, he thought with a sigh.  How long had it been since he left?  How long had he been traveling with Adeline and Sasyra before joining this caravan?

It didn't matter.  The wagons, the animals, and the hard working people all had a familiarity he had unknowingly missed for some time.

With another sigh and a gentle pat on the ox's neck, the wood elf exited the stables and trotted to the INN, arriving last out of everyone in Mervin's company.  He paused under the awning outside and took off his cloak, wringing it out as much as he could and kicked the post to knock off some of the mud. He shook his head in vain, then twisted water out of sections before entering with his cloak hung over his forearm.

He allowed himself to smile at the patrons with an occasional nod.  His cloak found a hanging near the hearth.

The toast had been missed, but certainly not the serving.  He leaned in between Adeline and Leon to snatch up a plate and a mug.  "Who'll be singing?" he asked innocently in response to Adeline's comment as he bit a chunk out of the dark bread and washed it down with several gulps of ale.

His boots squished as he rounded the table to take an empty chair and set the plate down while emptying his mug then reached for the next available one.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:54, Thu 12 Jan 2023.

Around the crew are still digging into their food, the tension of the last few days dissipating as their mugs empty and their bellies fill.  At the other end of the tavern space you notice an older looking human man, a long swooping moustache  on his face and clad in brightly colored, if a little fader clothes, shuffles over to a small raised area next to the bar and slings a lute off of his shoulder. Checking the instrument was in tune, he adjusted a few dials, cleared his throat and began to play. Soon lively music began to filter through the air, giving the already pleasant evening a more relaxed feel.

"I am a man of poetry, stories, and song. You should never tempt me, Master Amakiir..." Leon chuckled, setting down his drink and gently dabbing his lips with a pure white handkerchief that he had pulled from somewhere.

Leon often sang songs of old heroes, tales of glory, and drinking songs of his homeland. This was no exception, as the music being played by the others put him in the mood to celebrate freedom, and martial spirit.

"There's a sound heard across the land
It's heard across the sea
You'll only hear it
If you listen with your hearts
And one day hope to be free

To hear the sound of freedom
Many gave their lives
They fought for you and me
Those memories will
Always live inside us
And now, it's our time to be free

Where the eagles fly
I will soon be there
If you want to
Come along with me, my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again

So ring out loud for all the world to hear
From the sea to shining sea
Let freedom ring and every man be king
To live as one through the year

Where the eagles fly
I will soon be there
If you want to
Come along with me, my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again

Now is the time
We all must stand together
So raise your hands
Show them we are strong
Side by side, the fight goes on forever
Marching to the battle with this song

Where the eagles fly
I will soon be there
If you want to
Come along with me, my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again

Where the eagles fly
I will soon be there
If you want to
Come along with me, my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again

Where the eagles fly
I will soon be there
If you want to
Come along with me, my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again

Where the eagles fly
I will soon be there
If you want to
Come along with me, my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again!"

Now, it was clear that the gods had not seen to grant the youth the voice of an angel. However, he more than made up for it with enthusiasm and unwarranted confidence.

OOC Mechanics
16:58, Today: Leon Renard rolled 7 using 1d20. Performance: Song.

Sasyra walked into the Cracked Mug and almost blocked the door as she paused, looking at the different sights around her. She saw the selection of bottles behind the bar, the kegs being steadily emptied by servers handing tankards to the crowd.

"It do be so warm and cosy in here," she muttered to herself, finally moving along and following Adeline and Tegan, setting onto a seat with them. "It do be so warm in here, it be like I'll melt like a candle!" The warmth of the tavern already starting to work on the frozen limbs that the deluge on the road had caused. It was like her bones were feeling the heat for the first time in an age.

Leon's singing wasn't the most fantastic - but the look on Sasyra's face didn't give that away at all. She clapped as he finished his song and then paused, before trying her won version.

"Where the eagles fly
We've all been there
Me and him and you
Come along with me, my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
Flitting the air with glee
Say the words, you'll be free..."

And stopped when she realised she was singing aloud. "Oh, Sorry." She smiles at a passing server. "Small ale and some food please..." she said.

There was a lot of noise in the common room of the Cracked Mug. Some of the locals were talking to one another, and over this background hubbub Tegan could hear the sound of the lute that was being played by the fellow up on the small stage, and -- nearer to where the Half-Elf sat -- Leon and Sasyra had raised their voices in song.

But none of this was what held Tegan's attention, for he had heard Adeline say quietly, her voice very nearly a whisper, that all was not well here.

~Not well in a general sense, or not well here and now, immediately?~ the paladin found himself wondering. Clearly one version was much more serious than the other, but what was Adeline implying? To Tegan's eye, the Half-Orc did not appear to be readying herself as if Trouble was close by, but it could be that Adeline was one of those rare people who could stay calm and keep their heads, even when faced by nearby danger.

Tegan had heard enough to think that something about an elderly woman who was seated partway across the room was what had caught Adeline's eye. He rubbed his forehead (intending to hide his own eyes, at least somewhat), and gave the woman in question a side-eyed glance, hoping to be able to spot what the Half-Orc had noticed . . .

---

OOC:

20:14, Today: Tegan rolled 13 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 11.  Perception Check re: Noticing What Adeline is Talking About.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:06, Fri 13 Jan 2023.

Adeline scowled and opened her eyes, glaring wide-eyed at the others in mixed incredulity and irritation. "What are you morons singing like larks for? Or perhaps more like crows in your case Leon; stick to the swordplay, boy. I guess they don't teach turn of phrase north or south of common folk. I weren't talking about none of ye yodelling for our supper; that's his job." she jerked her head at the minstrel playing. "I were pointing out that woman there." Adeline's beefy arm blatantly pointed out the woman in question and raised her voice so she could be heard at least at the next table, if not the entire establishment. "The one obviously having trouble plucking up the courage to come and ask us band of fine adventuring folk something important to her when she'd really rather not, either because we're a bunch of ruffians from out of town that she's got no inkling of who we are or what we're capable of doing to her, or because it'll hurt whatever passes for her reputation around these parts to be associated with such outsiders." Her scowl deepened. "But then again, perhaps she's changed her mind now that we've clearly established that we're a traveling circus rather than potential mercenaries for hire." Adeline downed the last of her ale, slammed down her tankard and looked around for the woman she'd spotted earlier, genuinely expecting her to have fled at her outburst or at being pointed out in a crowd. Then again, if she had then Adeline didn't really care; if the woman was too full of fear or doubt to ask what she wanted, that wasn't the bounty hunters problem.

The wood elf's eyebrows raised as their companion had her outburst.

"Adeline," he said calmly. "Inside voice, please...  We're all a little ruffled by this infernal weather, so allow the boys to blow off some steam the way they please.

If you like, we can start a bar fight with the mercs who've been giving us glares all day." He smirked, enforcing the suggestion as a jest. "I'm sure throwing fists will make you feel better."

In the tavern room the minstrel's music stopped as Leon begins to sing, and he cocked his head slightly as if listening intently. After the first verse he chimes in, the lute gaining in strength as he becomes more comfortable with the melody, until he's accompanying the young knight.

As the music ends and as Adeline points her out, verbally if not physically, the lone woman blanches and swallows hard. She glances at the door for a second, but seems gather up enough courage to decide not to run. Standing up, she tries to straighten her clothes and walked over to your table. As she approaches, you see dark lines under redened eyes and a  "I'm sorry I didn't mean to stare. I couldn't help but overhear...", she looks around at your table, "You're bounty hunters? You find people?".

Tegan rose to his feet as the woman whom Adeline had previously pointed out hesitantly approached the table where the group was sitting.

"Please, goodwife, have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the spot on the bench that he had just vacated, "and make yourself comfortable."

When the woman inquired as to whether they were bounty hunters, Tegan replied, "At the moment, we are working for Master Mervin, over there by the bar. We signed on to guard his caravan."

He refrained from mentioning that Adeline was a bounty hunter by trade, thinking that the Half-Orc would speak out if she wished that fact to be known.

"Why? Has someone gone missing? Someone whom you would like to have found?"

Adeline gave Erdan a toothy sardonic grin. "Hah! That it might sharp-ear, that it might." She gave her travelling companion a 'friendly' thump on the arm that was intended to take the sting out of the slur as much as allay any fear of recrimination from the Elf's admonition, but it would probably leave a bruise come the morning.

As the woman approached and Tegan addressed her, Adeline was inwardly glad that she'd found her courage in the face of the half-orc's unstated challenge. She turned a shrewed gaze on the nerve-laden woman "Takes guts, missy." she admitted with a nod, her tone deferring respect. "But yeah, the sarge has the right of it; we's employed for the now. Less'en ye've a better offer, of course. I, for one, don't work for free but the songbird here..." she jerked her head sideways in Leons direction "...he's a soft spot for them's in need. Might be willing to leap hero-like to a damsel's distress!" Adeline guffawed brashly at her own sense of humour and poured herself another ale, chuckling to herself as she took a swig. The little confrontation had got her blood up and lifted her spirits. Added to the possibility of a sideline earning her a bonus on this trips pay, it had put her in a good mood.