The Lost Academy of Khazarum

[H Savvy]

Prologue: The Friendly Farmer Inn

The gentle, rolling hills of central Corridan fade towards the eastern end of the continent, becoming first wide, grassy flatlands and then light forest before meeting the great, winding coastline of the Ocean.

Dotting the great Ocean Coast is a line of port cities, stretching from the borders of the southern elvish lands northward, through the Allied cities of Bay Abilon and Bay Harcott and beyond, to the Njorväl fjords of the coastal dwarves.

But while the trade routes along the Corridanian coast are well known and well-traveled, many of the "port cities" along it are little more than fishing villages, ill-equipped to berth the larger ships that merchants favor. It is thus only the very large ships, stocked well enough to travel between the true port cities, that sail the length of the coast with any quantity of cargo. Short-range ferrying, shuttling from one city to another, is still viable, and travellers in a hurry sometimes choose this route, provided they have plenty of coin to spend.

It is for these reasons that many merchants and many adventurers choose instead the East Coastal Road, a vast highway that stretches nearly the length of the continent. A business venture started by the Allied Nations to promote trade, the Coastal Road is a wide, well-maintained road through the Nations, and for a long stretch beyond its borders. The smaller nations to the south, seeing the Road as a way to boost their economy, soon joined in on the project, adding their own sections of the Road.

The Road is continuous, but the quality of its construction and upkeep vary from region to region, being finely cobbled in Wyalla and Holtland, and little more than dirt trail in a few of the poorer nations along its length.

Still, the East Coastal Road is a fine way to travel, as it is for the most part flat and clear, with light forest bordering it on the west and a beautiful Ocean view to its east, sometimes sandy beaches, and occasionally, small but breathtaking white cliff beaches.

In the barony of Pillslydale, an unremarkable and utterly forgettable nation, it is a fine spring day, and travel along the East Coastal Road is as pleasant as it has ever been. The skies are clear and the weather is pleasantly cool, a refreshing change, for it has been hot of late, and the Ocean breeze comes as a relief to the travellers along the Road.

But the wind has a certain cold humid edge, the kind that old grandfathers feel in their bones and declare that soon it will be "a mother's mother of a rainstorm."

They are, of course, absolutely correct. As evening falls, the wind picks up, and ominous banks of dark grey clouds roll in, poised, waiting...

KRACKA-KOOOOM!!!

Somehow, it seems to be raining.

KEERRRAAACK-KOOOM!!

It is soon readily apparent that making camp in this would be foolhardy for all but the most seasoned veterans of wilderness life. It is readily apparent shortly thereafter that even the most seasoned veterans of wilderness life would seek real shelter in this storm. None but the most naturalized and wild druids would be out in this, and they'd likely be soaked to the bone and miserable.

Fortunate it is, then, that the subtle glow of lantern-light is visible up ahead, even through the driving wind and sheets of rain. It appears to be an inn, a squat, sprawling building built along the East Coastal Road to provide a place of rest to its travellers.

KERRAAACK!

The creaking, hand-painted wooden sign swinging wildly in the winds and slapping against the side of the building features a charming image of a cartoon farmer, pitchfork in hand and straw hat perched on his widely grinning head. The bold white text next to it declares it to be the Friendly Farmer Inn.

[Adjudicator]

Prazik Wynn

Prazik scowled in frustration at himself as he left his horse at the stables. It had been so long since he had been in Corridan that he had completely missed the signs of the approaching storm. By the time he had realized how bad the blow was going to be, the Friendly Farmer was the only place in range. By the time he had stabled his mount and made his way to the Inn, the rain was really coming down.

As he entered the Inn, Prazik pulled down the dark green hood of his cloak. The cloth's deep folds occasionally revealed the polished chain mail beneath, but for the most part, Prazik had the appearance of a very bedgraggled traveler. The only exceptions were the two scabbards the ranger wore. One was visible only for a few inches as it extended from beneath the cloak and the hilt of the longsword it carried poked up right behind Prazik's head. The second was clearly visible, as the cloak was tucked behind it on his left hip to leave that hilt easily accessible as well. His pack was in his left hand, worn and battered, but obviously well cared for.

Prazik cast a glance around the common room as he entered and then made his way to the bar. "A pint of ale," he said quietly, putting a few coins on the wooden counter. "And whatever your meat tonight is. Add in some vegetables and potatoes if you have them." As he finished ordering, Prazik moved towards one of the open tables along the room's far wall. Settling into the seat, he shifted his gear to one side and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. It had been nice visiting his parents and now he was looking forward to simply wandering through the countryside before his trip back to Mabarukh.

[Philistine]

Zak Tedins:

It had been a long day, riding south on the East Coastal Road, and as the sky began to darken Zak decided that he'd better stop for the night at the next inn he came to along the roadside. But the sudden flash of lightning and crash of thunder startled his mount Fluffy, causing her to bolt; Zak was caught unaware, and tumbled to the ground with a cry. He clambered to his feet, cursing, and started after his skittish mount on foot just as the bottom seemingly dropped out of the lowering clouds. The sudden downpour at least dampened Fluffy's enthusiasm for running, allowing him to catch her up, and he took her reins in hand and turned her back north toward the inn they had just passed about a quarter-mile back. Fluffy whined and sidled away from him each time he tried to remount, though, and so finally he led her back to the Inn on foot - ten minutes of slipping and sliding and slogging along the muddy road.

Arriving at the Friendly Farmer Inn, Zak leads Fluffy into the attached stable. He leads her into a stall, removing her tack and hanging it up to dry, then hoists her saddlebags to his shoulder and makes his way to the Inn's front door and steps inside. He's a pathetic sight; mud has splashed up to mid-thigh on his trousers, and similarly covers his arms up to the elbows; he'd failed to get the hood of his cloak up before the storm began in earnest, and his red hair is plastered to his skull. Still, he draws himself up to his full three-foot height, and calls for the innkeep in a high, carrying voice. "Goodman! I require a room, and hot water for bathing, and swiftly!" Looking around the room, he scowls and adds, "I believe I shall sup in my room this evening. And have your stableboy look in on my Fluffy, she'll need to eat as well."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed Nashoor

Ahmed rushes along the road, his cloak wrapped around him tightly to keep out the rain. "I've known this was coming all day long, but I didn't expect it to be this bad. I'm glad I didn't try to stop and make camp earlier. This is not a storm I want to be out in. Thank heavens! A light ahead, nobody would deny a traveller a dry place to sleep on a night like this," he thinks to himself. He runs along the wet road very quickly.

As soon as Ahmed gets inside, he pauses to wring the rain water out of his light-weight beige-colored clothing. The man is a fairly typical looking xeph. He stands just under six feet tall and weighs almost 200 pounds, although he really doesn't look that heavy. He has a thin but well muscled body. His face is round, but has thin features, narrow lips a small tightly pinched nose, but large cat-like yellow-green eyes. His head is covered with a thin layer of short black hair. As he wrings out the clothing, the shining links of a chain shirt are visible beneath. He has a well made bow slung over one shoulder and a rapier hanging from his hip.

When he is done, he moves over and takes a seat at the bar. "Excuse me, I'd like a mug of ale and whatever warm meal you might have tonight. I guess I'll also be needing a room for the night, assuming you still have something available," he says to the barman.

[H Savvy]

As Prazik sweeps into the inn, he is greeted by a fat and jolly man behind a counter just inside the door. He has no pitchfork, but the straw hat and wide grin leave almost no doubt, this is surely the Friendly Farmer from the sign.

"Good day, good eventide, aye, an' welcome, to the Friendly Farmer Inn. I'm Jonas Whitby, I am, and I'm both Friendly Farmer an' Friendly Innkeeper o' this fine establishment." He walks along beside the cloaked man towards the empty bar, chattering away.

"'Tis a fine dandy of a rainstorm, so it is. Seasonal, they are, sir. Being right along the coast s'we are, the springtime brings them heavy rains. Now, I'm no expert," he says, in a tone that seems to convey he rather thinks he is, "but I've bin livin' in these parts since I'as a wee lad, and if y'ask me, this storm 'ere is just beginnin'."

He fills a mug with ale, setting it on the counter without pausing his speech.

"Ye're among the first of our guests, but we're no doubt to see more, likely through the night. T'will be a fine and lively place tonight, the Friendly Farmer. Mayhap even to hear some fine tale and song tonight, I wot. And p'raps more'n tonight. These storms can last for days, so they can. We'll have yer meal out in no time, sir, an' enjoy yer stay at the Friendly Farmer Inn."

He turns to the door behind the small bar, pushes it open and calls back to it. "Side o' beef, Susan! Wit' veg'bals and taters, too, fer the man in the cloak."

He heads back to his post by the door just in time to see a halfling step through, dripping wet and covered in mud. "Goodman is it? Arhahahahar. I like that, I do. Goodman Jonas Whitby at yer service, little master, Friendly Inkeeper of the Friendly Farmer Inn. We've no stableboy, I'm afraid, but don't ye be worryin. I'll send Ginny out t'tend yer animal, an' me girl's got a fine way with the beasties.

As fer a room'n a bath, we've both for ye. Here's tha key t'number Six, it's just 'round t'yer right once ye pass the staircase. We've rooms for the plenty at the moment, but we're expectin' a full house with the storm as it is, an' may need to double up in rooms. At a reduced price, o course. Now, now, no need to decide just yet. As I said we've rooms aplenty for the nonce, I jus' thought I'd broach the subject with ye.

I'll send me boy Edmund up to run ye a bath in half a moment, once he finishes tendin' the fire, mister..." He looks at the halfling expectantly.

[H Savvy]

Susan Whitby, an aging but pretty woman in a simple dress, now stands behind the bar. Her long brown hair is showing streaks of grey, but her face is free of heavy lines and her light blue eyes seem to twinkle happily as she serves the xeph.

"Ale it is, good sir. And we've naught still hot, but plenty a-cookin'. There's beef and chicken, and a fine barely soup, if yer interested. As for a room, we've still those aplenty at the moment. Ye'll have to see Jonas at the counter about that.

Make yerself comfortable, though. The fire's gotten a might low, but Edmund's tending it now, and I'm sure it'll be a happy sight in no time. I hope ye have a happy stay here at the Friendly Farmer."

[Philistine]

Zak:

Zak reaches into his purse and comes up with a gold piece before replying, "I am Zak Tedins, of Bay Abila." He reaches up to lay the gold piece on the counter, and accepts the key to #6 from the innkeeper. "Very well, goodman, I shall proceed to my room. The thought of 'doubling up,' as you say, is not a particularly welcome one - but neither is it terribly surprising, I suppose. Well, if it must be, then it must be."

He turns and strides toward the doorway into the hall, leaving muddy tracks across the floor of the common room. A moment after he passes from sight around the corner, his footsteps pause and he returns to the doorway to add, "Oh, yes - and please instruct your girl to see that Fluffy receives meat to eat this evening. I expect that tomorrow will be another long day, and I will want my mount in good condition." With that, he turns again and disappears from sight.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko "Quicktongue" Arabelle

Annikko sighs happily as she trudges down the open road. It really was a beautiful day for a walk. She had no mount, since she had decided that having no place to go, she might as well take her time getting there. Besides, she was in excellent shape, and despite having walked the entire day, wasn't the slightest bit tired.

Rather short and sleek, Annikko could almost pass as a halfling, but anyone familiar with the small folk would know her as a gnome from her golden pigtails and bright blue eyes. She appeared unarmored, wearing a sensible leather skirt and earth-toned cloak. There was however a crossbow across her shoulder and a morningstar that she had hidden away beneath her belt, rather embarrassed about carrying it.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw the storm clouds coming. IOh no you don't. Don't you dare! She hurried her pace, hoping to find some short of makeshift shelter, or perhaps a barn to sneak in if one was available. When the thunder bellows, she lets out a shriek of surprise and then stares scowling up at the sky. Alright. This... is not even a little funny! A lightning bolt causes her to take off into a run, which is when she sees the lantern light in the distance and picks up her pace, heading toward it. She doesn't even glance at the sign, simply rushing up to the door, standing on her tip-toes to grab the handle and pull it open, before dashing in, pushing the door closed behind her. She takes a moment to stick her tongue out. Hah! What are you gonna do now, huh? You can't get me! Having established her victory, she frowns and tries to wring out the hem of her skirt, before finally looking about at her surroundings. Realizing that she was now in an inn, her heart lifted and she slinks toward the bar, before sighing and standing beside a barstool. It was just typical of humans, never stopping and thinking that a gnome might want to visit. Hello? Can someone give me a boost up? And maybe a big mug of cinnamon tea? I'm soaked!

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

"I'll have some of that chicken, and perhaps a small bowl of the soup as well. Thank you," Ahmed says with a smile. "I'll be back in a moment, once I've spoken with Jonas."

He then turns to the little woman standing next to a bar stool a few seats down. He nods with a little grin. "I think I can help you." He reaches down and lifts her up to the stool. "At least with the stool, the wet state you're in, well, join the club," he says, looking none too dry yet himself. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I must arrange for a room. I have a feeling they'll be going quickly."

(If Annikko responds, he'll listen to what she says and possibly respond before moving off.)

When Ahmed reaches Jonas, he looks the man up and down. "I take it that you are the Friendly Farmer. The sign outside is a good likeness. The woman behind the bar suggested I speak with you about getting a room for the night. It's no night to spend without shelter."

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko beams and grabs Ahmed's hand, boosting herself up to her stool. Thanks! You're a true gentleman. She then casts a glance over her shoulder, and lets out a groan. Wait, that was the counter? I was thinking it was the second floor. She turns to the woman behind the bar and grins. Anyway, now that I can actually look at you, is there any chance that I could get a nice hot mug of tea? My favorite's cinnamon, but I'll take any kind.

She hops from her stool with a thud and moves to the counter, trying to get Jonas' attention. Hello? What sort of rooms do you have?

[H Savvy]

"Roast chicken, aye, an' the soup. Very good, sir. We'll have that for ye in no time t'all."

Hearing a small voice from behind the bar, Susan leans over, and seeing the small woman, smiles widely. The strange man Xeph, I think they're called xephs... from Gol-Mar, even. He's a long way from home, he is helped her up before Susan could even offer. But they seem to have nice manners in Gol-Mar, so they do.

"Hello, little mistress, an' welcome to the Friendly Farmer Inn. I'm afraid I haven't any cinnamon tea, but I'd be more'n happy to add cinnamon ta yer tea, if ye've got yer heart set on it. If it's just the cinammon yer after, tho', I've been told a great many times that my hot cider is a fine treat on a cold night."

Susan smiles at the wet little gnome. "As for yer seat, we've a few special stools in tha back for visitors of shorter stature, if ye like." She leans over the bar and turns to her right, calling out to the boy tending the fire. "Edmund! Fetch me one o' the special stools from the back, will ye?"

The boy, clearly Susan's son, nods and offers a quiet "Yes, mum" before disappearing. When he returns, he has a stool with a small set of steps built into the side that he sets at the bar, offering a small and nervous bow to the gnome before hustling over to his father, receiving new instructions, and disappearing.

---

"Very good, Mr. Tedins." He takes note of the halfling's name on his register. "An' don't ye worry about sharin' yer room. For the nonce, we're stocked with rooms aplenty, an' t'is optional, o' course. I'll send Edmund over with yer bath right sharp. Enjoy yer stay, Mr. Tedins."

No sooner had the halfling left than another customer stepped up to the counter. Busy busy today, Jonas. Storm's are good business, so they are. Ahh, tha stormy spring weather, I love ye, I do.

"Aye, the Friendly Farmer an' the Friendly Inkeeper I am, these days." He grins hugely, looking just like the caricature on his sign. "Thass Susan, my wife behind the bar. An' intelligent as she is beuatiful, she is, for I am exactly the man ye need to see about a room. We've shelter a-plenty for ye, but as ye can see, business is fast increasin' in this dismal weather. If'n we run outta rooms, we may ask if ye'd wish t'share. At a reduced price, o' course.

For now, tho, I'll put ye in Number Ten, sir, soon as I take down yer name.


And you, little mistress? I assume ye'll be wantin' a room with small furniture, aye? Ye're in luck, ye are, for I've but one room left designed for littler folk. Number Seven, it is, an a fine little room it is. Simply follow the wet footsteps that yon halfling left, be'ind the stairs and to tha right."

Edmund comes from the bar to the counter, and his father wastes no time in sending him on another errand. "Edmund, me boy. Run a hot bath for Mr. Tedins in Number Six. An' if ye see yer sister, tell 'er to tend to tha stable! There's mounts in need of feed an' mayhaps a rubdown. Busy night, tonight!"

[Adjudicator]

Prazik Wynn

As Prazik waited for the meal to arrive, he watched the steady stream of customers coming through the Inn's door. He wouldn't have guessed there were so many people on the road, but the Friendly Farmer seemed well placed to catch traffic from multiple routes. The appearance of one of the Xeph here in Corridan was a surprise to the bounty hunter. He hadn't expected to see any more of the Gol-Marran race upon his return. It gave him an eerie sense of familiarity, to see the desert-born features here after he had spent so many years among them.

The halfling and gnome followed, along with other travelers and, as Prazik listened to Master Whitby reply, he realized that he needed to ensure he had a room as well. Watching for the innkeeper to turn his way, Prazik indicated that he'd like a word and, when Whitby finally approached, voiced his desire for a room and his willingness to share.

[H Savvy]

Jonas trundles his massive girth over to the table where the man in the cloak is waiting. Whew, no time to rest tonight!

"Ayuh, sir? What can I be doin for ye?"

"Ohoho! Been list'nin mighty fine, I wot. A room it is, then, sir. I'll need to be takin' yer name, o course, but when ye've finished yer meal, no hurry now! I'll hold the room for ye, take yer time an' eat yer fill o' my wife's tasty vittles, but when ye've finished, aye, then ye can come to the counter an' we'll get ye settled with a room. Number 12, I think."

The portly inkeeper shuffles back to his post by the door, and just in time, for the door opens once more, timed just as a stroke of lightning flashes, lighting the pair at the entrance from behind.

KRACK-OOOOM

Inside, the pleasant atmosphere of the Inn, and the warmth of the fire (now roaring contentedly in the massive hearth) had chased away much of the storm's fury, but it is clear that outside, the storm rages harder than ever. The two figures step in and close the door, and the sound of the rain returns to the soft undertone of white noise.

The visitors are an old man and young boy, too young to be his son, but perhaps his grandson, instead. The old man is tall, and broad of shoulder, and it seems he was once a strong man, though many years ago, when he was still in his prime. His hair is white, and shaved close to his head, almost in the style of a monk, and under his dark blue traveller's cloak he is wearing a rusty brown robe. He has a short, neatly trimmed white beard and a pair of spectacles perched on his rather large, beakish nose.

The boy looks to be about fifteen or sixteen, and is thin and short. His hair is dark brown, almost black, and he is pulling the pair's bags and trunks, a fair pile of luggage.

The man exchanges words with the fat inkeeper, and bits of his loud voice carry over, "so they do... hahahahar, indeed, indeed... aye, a right whopper of a storm, sir... Number Eleven it is, Mr. Salandrian"

The boy struggles to carry all the bags up the stairs, and finding it too difficult, leaves half of the luggage at the foot and carries what he can manage. The old man heads towards the fire, and having settled himself into one of the overstuffed, if somewhat threadbare, armchairs directly facing the hearth, passes his hand over his soaked robes, drying them instantly.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Why I'll be thankin' ye kindly me good bigman. Garl Glittergold must've been smilin' down on my poor soaked shoulders to put The Friendly Farmer in me path. Annikko giggles after doing her best to imitate Jonas' gregarious manner of speaking, and winks at him before turning back to the bar.

Hot cider you say? Well, my mom always said that it's bad luck to refuse an offer of hot cider. Yes please! The little gnome thanks Susan when she receives her cider, but soon abandons the bar to sit near the fire, letting herself sink blissfully into a cushy old love seat made for humans as she lets the heat drive the chill from her body.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate the room." He spells out his name for Jonas to write down. "I prefer my own room, but if you have trouble finding space for others to set down for the night, I'd share willingly. Don't want to force anyone out into the rain."

Once he's taken care of that, he moves over to the bar again to await his food and drink. He sits silently, watching the other people come in out of the rain and arrange for rooms.

[H Savvy]

Faint, delicious smells begin to waft from the Inn's small kitchen. Then the door opens, and Susan exits bearing a large platter, and the smells fill the common room.

She moves about the room, dropping off people's orders. She lays a large plate of succulent beef in front of Prazik Wynn, accompanied by surprisingly fresh and well-cooked vegetables and potatoes, a genuine home-cooked meal, and surprisingly good fare for Inn-food. "Will there be anything else ye need, sir?"

In front of the xeph, she lays a deep bowl of thick, steaming barley soup, rich with chopped vegetables, and a large piece of bread. It appears to be fresh-baked, and still warm. The smells are full and enticing, and the barley soup seems lightly herbed. "Here ye be, sir, an' yer roast chicken will be ready quite shortly. Might ye be wantin' something to drink as well, sir?"

She moves in front of the fire, laying a human-sized steaming mug of hot mulled cider on the small end table next to Annikko's overstuffed armchair. The spicy smell encompasses more than cinnamon, but its presence in the drink is readily apparent. "Here's your cider, little mistress, an' I do hope ye enjoy it." The Innkeeper's wife goes into a slight country curtsey. "Is there anythin' else I can fetch for ye, ma'am? Or you sir?" she asks, turning to the old man in one of the other armchair on the hearth.

His voice, as he answers, is deep and rough, but surprisingly soft and pleasant, the voice of an old country storyteller, perhaps, or a retired diplomat. "Not just at the moment, my dear lady. Perhaps once my young companion joins me, we shall have a bit of something. For now, though, I am content to simply sit by the fire, and smoke my pipe" he glances is inquisitively at the barmistress, "if I may."

Susan smiles, offers him a quiet "As ye will, sir," and moves back towards the bar. As she does, an older halfling so enormously fat as to be nearly spherical in the middle enters the room followed by two younger halflings, one fairly fat, like the man who is no doubt his father, the other slim, wiry, and surprisingly tall for a halfling. The older halfling is dressed in a fine suit, and his two sons, for the family resemblence is undeniable, are dressed more modestly.

"Mmm... we've smelled your delicious cooking, Miss Susan, and we just had to come out of room for a meal. We'll be over at our regular table when you've got a moment, ma'am." The three of them head to a small table towards the edge of the room, clearly designed for the small of stature.

[Adjudicator]

Prazik Wynn

Prazik inhaled the steam from his meal deeply and then nodded gratefully to Mistress Whitby. "No, thank you, ma'am. This looks wonderful and I'll be happy to eat for a bit. If I could just make sure my pint stays full, though you should cut me off after three. I need to be on the road again in the morning."

And with that, the ranger set his sights on the fabulous meal before him. He'd never have guessed it, but Prazik thought he missed vegetables most of all. In the desert, fresh vegetables were incredibly expensive and a young bounty hunter's salary was definitely not up to supporting them as regular fare for dinner. He smiled happily as he munched through the plate, who would have guessed how such a simple thing could make such a wonderful evening.

As he ate, Prazik looked around the room. His first pint had taken enough of the travel edge off his weariness to make him interested in the room's occupants. The grandfather and the young boy especially held his interest, as they seemed an odd pair to be out so late.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko beams up at Susan as she is served. Thank you very much. Would it be too much trouble to ask for some soup from the beef broth? Bread on the side too... If you can't do that, I'll just have bread and gravy and ooh, some peas and carrots too. Well, anythings fine really, I don't want to be too much trouble!

She takes a big sip of apple cider and replaces it on the end table, before her gaze shifts curiously to the old man. She scoots to the edge of her armchair and peers at him. Hello there. I'm Annikko Arabelle, cleric of Garl Glittergold. Some of my friends call me Quicktongue, but humans like to call me Ann or even Annie. I don't know why but that's fine too. How about you? You like you have a story to tell... and I'm never wrong either!

[H Savvy]

The old man in the rust-colored robes turns and regards the precocious little gnome, dark blue eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "A story? My dear Miss Arabelle, if I had only one story to tell, I'd be a poor man indeed. We all have stories, let's not forget, and even the simplest of us have several worth telling."

He breaks into a grin. "You are, however, correct in your insights. As usual, it would seem, miss. Tales were once my business, for long, long ago, I was once a humble bard. Many are the tales I could tell, and you seem an enthusiastic listener. Later this evening, perhaps, I will spin a yarn or two, after my young friend and I have had some of Mrs. Whitby's delicious-smelling fare."

He takes a long pull from his pipe, an ornately carved and finely-crafted piece. The bowl seems to be wrought silver, and the stem is ivory scrimshaw. He blows a large smoke ring, and then another, before sinking back into the armchair.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Well yeah, says Annikko as if exasperated by the obviousness of the old man's statement. But there's a difference between having a story and wanting to tell it. Anyway, I'm going to hold you to that. I'm a scholar, actually, so if I didn't follow up on things like this, it would be as though I was neglecting my duty. She extends a tiny hand to the old man. So, you want to introduce yourself?

[H Savvy]

The old man grins at the curious little gnome. "My, but you are..." he takes a puff from his pipe, "persistent, aren't you my dear?" As he says 'persistent', the smoke he exhales forms itself into the shape of the word. "My name," he says, "is Idogbe. These days, most know me simply as "Old Idogbe", and I am a scholar, like you, miss. I've been on the road since before I was born, carried down one path or another in my mother's womb by the wanderlust in her step, and I've seen and heard a great many things in my many years. Forgotten more tales than most learn, lived through more tales than most tell, for in my barding days I was something of an adventurer, as you most certainly seem to have surmised.

These days, though, I am strictly an academic. A scholar certainly, scholar eternally, I should say, but mostly a teacher, instructing and educating my young companion in the ways of the universe.

Ahh.. but you've got me telling you a story already, haven't you miss... miss Arabelle, was it? It is a pleasure to meet you. Old Idogbe Salandrian, at your service." The man extends a large, calloused hand, many times the size of the small gnome's, and clasps her hand in his warmly. He grins, the flash of a single gold tooth shining out from just beyond the edge of his smile.

Taking another puff from his pipe, he winks at the young gnome and blows out a breath of smoke. No ring this time, the smoke takes the shape of a horse and gallops towards the ceiling, where it dissipates.

[Philistine]

Zak

Meanwhile, up in Room #6...

A quick dip in the tub is enough for Zak to get the worst of the mud and muck off his person. His clothing is a different matter, however, and he sets to scrubbing with grim intensity, grumbling all the while about the storm and the way Fluffy threw him when she bolted. Finally satisfied, he wrings out his garments and redons them. Just as well I don't have to worry about passing inspection anymore, he thinks as he gives himself a quick once-over in the mirror. Hmm. I suppose I should go back down to the common room, try to find a place near the fire where I can dry out a bit more. He stuffs his armor into his saddlebag - Not likely I'll need that tonight!, he thinks - then exits the room, drawing the door closed behind him and turning the key in the latch.

Moments later, he emerges from the hallway again. He's still damp and disheveled, but greatly improved from his earlier appearance as he addresses the innkeeper, somewhat stiffly. "Goodman Whitby, I must apologize for my manner earlier. In my defense, I can only plead my discomfiture at having been caught out in that abominable storm."

He shakes his head, then continues, "Upon consideration, I believe I would prefer to take my supper here in the commons. I'd like a portion of," he pauses, sniffing the air, "Roast chicken, is it? Very good. And a pint of ale, if you please."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed accepts the bowl of soup. "Thank you, this should do nicely. And I still have my ale to drink, but I'll let you know if I need more." He picks up his spoon, blows on it for a moment and then puts its contents into his mouth. His shoulders relax as he feels the hot liquid run down his throat, warming him from the inside. "Just the perfect meal for a night like this," he reports.

As he eats, he continues to pay attention to the room around him. The conversation between the gnome and the older gentleman catches his ear. He shifts a little in his seat so that he can watch what transpires through occaisional glances from the corner of his eye and listens with some interest.

[borninbones]

"The heavens appear to have opened up." Jaron staggered through the rain. He pulled his cloak around him and looked for some kind of shelter. The elder bard was begrudgingly setting up camp under a fir tree before he noticed the light of the inn. After packing up what little he had, he made his way to the inn.

"Evenin. It seems to have gotten a bit moist outside and I thought that a dry bard plays better then a wet one. So I was hoping that you aren't full up and may have a room for me. I normally ask to pay with entertainment but tonight, I would like to pay with money and dry off by the fire with a full stomach. Whatever you have would be good." Jaron pushes back his cloak and runs his hand through his graying hair and looks about the inn. After having recieved and paid for his food, he will either join the bard spinning the web of fact or fiction or sit close enough to overhear.

[H Savvy]

At Zak's stuffy but sincere-seeming apology, the fat Inkeeper bursts into uproarious laughter. As it slakes off, he tries to speak, "Ahaha... hahahar.. haha... ha... Ohh, lad, I'm sorry, but hahahar, ye- ye've got no need t'plead anythin' or apologize fer squat. Hahahar, oh, but aye, ye're a right gentleman, sir, so ye are, and we'll get ye a nice large portion o' me wife's roast chicken in ye, an' see if it don't ease yer 'discomfiture'. Ahahahahahar..."

He makes his way over to his wife and has a few words with her before turning back towards the halfling, winking gregariously, and returning to the counter. She nods and heads into the back room.

Shortly thereafter, the door opens once again, briefly allowing the noise and fury of the storm to be known again before being quieted by the door again. Standing in the entrance is a disheveled older man.

"Good day to ye sir, good travels, an welcome to the Friendly Farmer Inn. My name is Jonas Whitby, an' I'm the owner, propri'tor, an caretaker of this fine establishment. Tell ye truth, sir, I was summat hopin' we might see the likes of a bard tonight, so I was. Night like this, ye ken, folk need some right proper entertainment to truly forget th'trials of the road, so they do.

We've rooms available still, sir, don't ye set to worryin, an' me wife over there," he points at the empty bar, "or well, she's in tha back, ye ken, cookin' up these folks orders. She'll be glad to take yer order, sir, as soon as I've taken yer name.

Once ye've warmed yerself, an' dried yerself, an' filled yerself too, aye, then ye can play and sing and speak and whatever t'is ye do. Then ye can come back here, an' we'll see what yer performance is worth, eh? Night's right for entertainment, so it is, an' if entertainment is yer normal way o' payin, yer performance'll be a fine one, I wot."

[Philistine]

Zak:

Zak forces a tight-lipped smile onto his face as the Innkeeper laughs at him, then nods his thanks to the rotund man and moves toward the fire. Tallfolk! Half of them think they can bully me; the other half think I'm either some sort of figure of fun, or a child to be coddled. But at least I know how to deal with the bullies, he thinks.

[Kyroswolf]

Gliff Addel

"The Eastern Coastal Road. Just travel it. Your sure to find a caravan that needs some security. Or perhaps some other well to do traveler. Won't take you long I'm sure." If anyone could hear him over the torrential downpour going on around him, this is what you would hear coming from the 3'7" gnome as he travels north up the highway. As he travels he pulls a lightly obscured object from within his cloak, which he presses to his lips briefly before returning it to its home pocket. So intent on his nips he is that he almost walks past the inn.

Gliff quickly shuts the door as he enters. He seems to sway in place as he takes in his surroundings. A smile appears on his lips as he pulls back the hood of his traveling cloak. The fine weave of a chain shirt is visible through his outer clothing, and a oilskin scarab shows the pommel of a well made rapier. Noticing the stepped stool at the bar, he climbs aboard. "Rum, if you please. No glass, leave the bottle." He removes his flask from his cloak one more time and sets it on the bar. As he waits for his bottle he turns to the Innkeeper. "I suppose I need to pay for a room, though if my habits continue, I believe I'll find myself awakening here at the bar. However you would prefer good sir. You may register me under Gliff Adell."

[borninbones]

"It is an honor and a privilege to meet your kith and kin. At your request, I will be more then please to oblige with a tale or two." Jaron will turn to Jonas's wife, "I will start with a bit of ale." After recieving the ale, Jaron will turn to the stage and test his violin. After guaging the audience as one that needs a little livening up, he starts off soft, not to intrude on the conversations but pulling the attention of those who have nothing else to pay attention to. Just as he is reaching the end of the soft song he will burst into a lively performce (think irish drinking song +2).

perform
(1d20+10)[14]

[Philistine]

Zak:

While the bard's performance isn't bad, Zak is still too damp and uncomfortable to appreciate it. He remains near the fire, paying little attention to what goes on in the room behind him.

[H Savvy]

Susan Whitby smiles at the swashbuckling gnome. "Welcome to tha Friendly Farmer Inn, Mr. Addel. Glad we'll be to put ye up in a room for tha night."

"Aye, an so we shall, sir," Jonas cuts in, "don't ye doubt. I'm afeared we've no more rooms ta fit yer size, though, an I beg yer pardon. We've only three rooms that're sized fer the littler folk'n all're taken f'the nonce. Ye're more'n welcome ta take a big room if it does ya, an we've a bed that's more yer size we could put in one, but tha chairs an whatnot, they'd be rather big, I wot. If ye'd prefer furn'ture what's sized ta yer perportiuns, ye'll havta work out summat in the way of sharin. Mr. Tedins, Miss Arabelle, and Mr. Depappas an 'is sons," Jonas points to each in turn "'ave the wee rooms, if that's yer fancy."

"As for tha rum, good master," Susan adds, a little embarrassedly, "well, when a man asks for a bottle to his lonesome, I'm afeared I'll have to ask ye to see tha color of yer coin, sir. Tha bottle's three gold, if it please ya."

After the bard's performance, the Innkeeper goes to the small stage of the common room, little more than a few planks raised just off the ground along the outer wall, facing the large fireplace. "Not a bad show, me good man, but ye're still clearly travel-weary an' soaked t'boot, so ye are. As ye said, a dry bard plays bett'r. Whyn't ye set yerself by the fire an' have yerself some o' me wife's cookin' to go wi' that ale. Then we'll see wha' kinda performance ye're really cap'ble of, I wot.