It's almost time for supper as the newest arrivals to Bryn Shandar find their way to the Northlook Inn.  This is the first place anyone in town would point a road weary traveler to and the Northlook is known for welcoming adventurers and mercenaries.  Some locals from the Ten Towns are already gathered here.

At one end of the common room a low fire burns.  It grants warmth to the room and is covered by a large stone hearth.  Above the hearth is a mounted knucklehead trout with the name "Ol'Bitey" engraved on its plaque.  The rest of the walls are lined with various other mounted animals.

Against the long wall facing the door is a bar where a number of regulars are drinking but there are plenty of seats.  There are also quite a few tables empty where groups can gather.

Anyone who enters is greeted by a serving girl "Sit wherever you like.  Scramsax or I will be with you in a minute."  She motions to an older human male behind the bar.
This message was last updated by the GM at 23:18, Fri 24 Feb 2023.

Merrel blinks, "His name is 'Knife'?  Misspent youth?" Merrel grabs an empty table. He examines the stuffed animal heads looking for something new to him.

[Private to Merrel: OOC: Updated for the city name.  I misspelled initially and it rolled through both our posts.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:19, Fri 24 Feb 2023.

Eofric entered the inn and stopped at the open door.
Rather blatantly his gaze wandered around at the customers. It was not a challenging or intimidating stare but still one that might offend for its directness.
Just before the grumbling became too loud as he had left the door open he hawked up phlegm and spat it outside before he closed the door and shut out the offensive cold.

He looked at the servant girl and said.
"And what is your name?"
"I'll be sitting there", he pointed at an empty table at the back of the room, "but first stop is the bar."
Eofric made straight for the inn keeper, put some coins on the counter and said.
"Got any decent schnaps? Fill up Scramsax. Please."

As Halgotin came into the Northlook Inn from the icy cold, he reflected momentarily on how far from home he was. Having spent many years down south in Baldur's Gate, tragedy had led him to hit the trail north, through Waterdeep and Neverwinter. Never feeling at rest, at home, anywhere he wandered, something was drawing him on, northward toward the frozen wastes. Joining a caravan on the Ten Trail in Fireshear, he had only recently found himself in Bryn Shandar.

Scanning the room, he took note of a few others who appeared to be from elsewhere. Finding a place close to the fire to seat at an empty table, he ordered a beverage from the spritely serving girl, and waited, what for, he did not know.

Bisa opened the door to the Northlook Inn, not that she was in Bryn Shader too often but when she was this was the establishment she always found her way to.

She took a step in and looked around, a usual amount of various people sat around, the Dwarf walked up to the bar and  took her usual seat, it was angled so Bisa could see most of the common area and the door.

The Paladin nodded to Scramsax and patiently waited to be addressed.

Eofric glanced at the dwarf who had just taken a seat next to him at the bar as he waited for the inn keeper to serve him.
He nodded to the dwarf, not exactly as an encouragement to initiate a conversation.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:57, Sun 26 Feb 2023.

Out of Caer-Konig, Artim Adoxxilo was now in a much bigger town than he was used to. It was not his first visit to Bryn Shander, but he hadn't been here a lot. After all, as he could judge it, it was a trek of some twenty miles. He wiped snow off his hood and shoulders before entering, possibly attracting some attention on account of the noise he made, having both heavy chain and heavy feet.

Artim was a young dragnborn male, with silvery scales and yellow eyes. He had a doublet and shield marked with the symbols of Moradin the dwarf god (hammer and anvil) and a mace strapped to his belt. The amulet around his neck glowed with the colors of fiery embers. There were blue marks on his face that were painted symbols, but they were half-worn-off, seemingly having been applied some time ago.

"Peace to hearth and home." said the tall dragonborn to the serving girl, before looking around; taking quick note of who was here. Sometimes there were familiar faces. Other times not. He found a spot to sit, after dumping his backpack on the floor and taking off his outer layer of wool and fur. Artim gave people sitting around the nearest table greetings in the form of respectful nods.

As Uriah entered the tavern, he took a deep long breath to warm his gnome-sized lungs, that had been punished by the cold winter air. The smell of food too tantalising to pass, the wizard made his way to the bar.

Climbing onto a stool with some effort, he tried to make himself visible to the innkeep, so he could make his order. Seeing she was busy and fancying a conversation, he let out a sarcastic "Lovely weather we are having, eh? Hehehe" at noone in particular, hoping one of the people at the bar would humor him.

Shesha had been reluctant to emerge from her furs after coming in. Having stamped the snow off her boots and sat down, she had just sat there for a while hoping to adjust to the temperature. But she knew full well she'd have to unlayer a little to warm up properly.

With more poeple crowding in she decided to remove her gloves and untie her cloak. She looked around, oberving each person in turn to try and get their measure. Well, if any of them wanted to strike off into the wilds and needed a guide, she might just have work guiding them. But then she'd have to talk to them.

She sighed and continued removing her outer layers.

Silas said his good-byes to the caravan master and his crew after arriving at Bryn Shander. Looking around, he had seen neighborhoods in Waterdeep that were larger than the town he was in. At least it will be easier to see the night sky here than at home.

Tucking his shield over his back, he made his way to the tavern they had told him about.  A real bed to sleep on that was not tossing and rocking like the one he rode into town on would nice. Taking night watch was easier on him than the others and Caravan Master Husgar was happy that he was able to help tend their wounds and such.

Smelling the food cooking in the air, it made him hungry as he entered the Northlook Inn.  Told to take a seat, Silas looked around to see if there was any followers of the Moonmaiden. As he looked around, the Dragonborn wearing the symbol of Mornidin, a dwarven deity caught his eye.  "Greetings follower of the Soul Forger, may I join you?" the human asked as he made his way towards the dragonborn. Wearing chainmail but with a warhammer hanging on his hip, his tabard was light blue with a pair of silver eyes surrounded by seven silver stars.

While Halgotin is mostly content to stay apart, sipping on his beverage by the hearth, something about the interaction between the cleric and the dragonborn draws his attention. He has always been curious about those of faith. He decides to make an attempt at company by approaching them.

"Greetings, my name is Halgotin, a traveller from down south. I would hope you might be willing to accept my company."

Eofric looked again to his right at the dwarf.
Then he looked to his left to consider the gnome, or rather the gnome's comment on the weather.
He took a swig from his glass then actually chuckled.
The small folk next to him would make him appear much larger than he truly was. Which might be a good thing to stay out of brawls.
He did not truly mind bar room brawls as long as weapons remained out of it.
But truth be said, he could well live without one tonight.
The journey through the dismal weather had been more taxing than he cared for and he anticipated a warm bath, if available, to smooth his cramped muscles.
"Well, I suppose if one were to talk about weather being either good or bad one would need to notice a change in the weather.", he paused to take another gulp, "Seriously pray tell: did you notice a difference? Looks to me like there’s only one type of weather here: cold, dark, snowy, windy."
"All of which I would not call lovely."

Artim rose when the other man approached. He was quite tall, standing some four inches over six feet. Artim held out his arm to shake his hand. "Please. The silver moon has a special place in my heart." the silver dragonborn declared. "Moradin says: When the light of the sun sleeps in the north, the moon shall provide us with light, and the forge shall keep us warm. I am Artim."

He flashed a smile and sat down briefly, only to rise again when another figure approached. "Greetings. My name is Artim." He pronounced it with emphasis on the last syllable. "Please join us. Moradin says: Our tables shall be set for a visitor at every chair, for all who travel with good faith are welcome in my halls." He gave a nod, hoping he had remembered that right. "May I ask where you are from?" His eyes flashed between both of them.

In reply to Artim Adoxxilo (msg # 13):

Halgotin was momentarily taken aback from the height of the dragonborn, but felt a certain kinship with him. He did wonder, as he listened to the dragonborn reciting what appears to be some kind of scriptures or ancient sayings of wisdom or piety.

Halgotin nodded in return to Artim, and answered, "The place that I have dwelt in the longest since I can remember was Baldur's Gate, but otherwise in the past months I have wandered my way up the Coast towards the north."