20th of Patchwall (Autumn) 579 CY
Ostler Gundigoot was a rotund man of great empathy and intelligence. I was able to speak to him while we waited for the elf to return. We talked of the weather and the hazards of travelling in these parts. I inquired of the location of the church of St. Cuthbert and spoke of our intent to plumb the depths of the infamous edifice near the town of Nulb. He seemed a bit disturbed that we were planning to take on the temple, being so obviously new to the adventuring game. His suggestion to me was to seek counsel with the blacksmith here in Hommlet. I asked, "What would a blacksmith have to do with such matters?" Gundigoot chuckled and shook his head saying, "He's just down the street from here. Likely, ye passed 'is cottage on the way to me Inn - tell 'im I sent ye." I smiled at his pleasant demeanor and tossed him a noble for his advice and service.
I informed my companions about the kindly advice of the inn-keep and sat waiting for our roguish partner to arrive. It was then that Sir Branden noticed the two surly fellows sitting at a corner table. The tall one was oily and wiry. The short one was a rotund scowling fellow. I noticed that they were throwing seedy glances in our direction. My information about Hommlet was that it was a quiet, safe little village. These fellows were not the sorts to be found in such a quaint place. I turned from the sour faces of the rogues and to the face of... Elledan. He was a sneaky fellow! While I had been contemplating the situation in which we'd found ourselves, the slippery elf had found his way in and sat his arse at our table. The elf was locked in a glare with the lanky fellow and it seemed for a moment that a brawl was soon to be had.
Elledan signaled for the serving wench who soon arrived at our table. I noticed the Suel readying some arcane component, presumably preparing for a confrontation. The elf tossed the girl a gold orb and gestured toward the slimy tavern-goers, "Two ales, for those gentlemen across the room." She scurried off and returned shortly to our neighbors' table with two large flagons of good ale. I saw her gesture toward our little group and the men raised their mugs heartily and swigged the frothy brew.
Elledan took to a tavern like a stirge to a naked longshoreman. It was his element. He danced and preened, gambled and cajoled. The Suel sat brooding over some tome he pulled from his pack. The Pelorian began to entertain the group with cat tricks. The cat, known now as "Kitty" jumped and swayed, chased mice and entertained nearly as much as the rogue. It was all very much uncommon and likely something that my old canon would dismiss as overly peculiar. I drank a little more and found myself singing an old bawdy hymn from my days on the streets of Hardby, quite enjoying this "peculiar" situation.
Ostler Gundigoot was a rotund man of great empathy and intelligence. I was able to speak to him while we waited for the elf to return. We talked of the weather and the hazards of travelling in these parts. I inquired of the location of the church of St. Cuthbert and spoke of our intent to plumb the depths of the infamous edifice near the town of Nulb. He seemed a bit disturbed that we were planning to take on the temple, being so obviously new to the adventuring game. His suggestion to me was to seek counsel with the blacksmith here in Hommlet. I asked, "What would a blacksmith have to do with such matters?" Gundigoot chuckled and shook his head saying, "He's just down the street from here. Likely, ye passed 'is cottage on the way to me Inn - tell 'im I sent ye." I smiled at his pleasant demeanor and tossed him a noble for his advice and service.
I informed my companions about the kindly advice of the inn-keep and sat waiting for our roguish partner to arrive. It was then that Sir Branden noticed the two surly fellows sitting at a corner table. The tall one was oily and wiry. The short one was a rotund scowling fellow. I noticed that they were throwing seedy glances in our direction. My information about Hommlet was that it was a quiet, safe little village. These fellows were not the sorts to be found in such a quaint place. I turned from the sour faces of the rogues and to the face of... Elledan. He was a sneaky fellow! While I had been contemplating the situation in which we'd found ourselves, the slippery elf had found his way in and sat his arse at our table. The elf was locked in a glare with the lanky fellow and it seemed for a moment that a brawl was soon to be had.
Elledan took to a tavern like a stirge to a naked longshoreman. It was his element. He danced and preened, gambled and cajoled. The Suel sat brooding over some tome he pulled from his pack. The Pelorian began to entertain the group with cat tricks. The cat, known now as "Kitty" jumped and swayed, chased mice and entertained nearly as much as the rogue. It was all very much uncommon and likely something that my old canon would dismiss as overly peculiar. I drank a little more and found myself singing an old bawdy hymn from my days on the streets of Hardby, quite enjoying this "peculiar" situation.
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