Page 4 - Just Inn time...

 

As we approached the Inn, a large three story white stucco place with black shutters, we could hear conversation coming from inside… heart warming rich sound that I knew so well from home. A young lad, probably no more than ten years old stood in front of a hitching post Gaeren asked him to take his animals and wagon into the yard and introduced the lad as Tim… he seemed like a pleasant enough youngster.

 

The inside of the inn was just as welcoming with the wonderful sounds and smells that I remember so well from home. Two large fireplaces crackled with warmth and I stood on the threshold a moment and let it soak into me. A giant bear of a man came from behind the bar and greeted us with a fine ‘welcome strangers’ smile and introduced himself as Anders Sogenford, proprietor of the inn which he runs with his wife Briget, Daughters Angrid and Gretchen and young son Ralph. We were shown to a table near to one of the hearths and ale and food were brought for Bohun, Gaeren, Byron and I while Brother James took his leave and made for the temple.

 

I asked Anders, a northern barbarian by all accounts, how he had come to own this place and he told me that he had inherited it, lock stock and barrel, thirteen years ago during one of the Troll Winters... He seems to have been quite the fighter in his day and obviously still spends some time outdoors as his skin has that ruddy weathered look. Anders warned us about some unsavoury types that have come to Tristor seeking to claim the reward offered for solving the mystery of the mutilations and warned us against letting them find out we were after it too. Of course I told him the truth... that we knew nothing of the reward and he laughed amiably and went back to his bar to serve another patron.

 

It was pretty busy inside in spite of the early hour, a couple of tough looking mercenary types were talking and laughing overly loudly which immediately made me discount them… all bluff and bluster! A couple of locals, farmers by the look of them were talking quietly and I was able to hear them talking about Corris’ place being attacked the previous day. I left them be and moved on to another of the Inn’s patrons… A Halfling in a fine suit of supple leather armour lay drunk as a lord by the fire and would not be roused... It is Halflings like that who give us all a bad name...