The dracomancer steps out of the inn and addresses whomever seems to be talking. "My friend and I just arrived in town by way of the forest. We heard terrible beastly sounds that sounded like a man being mauled to death."
The crier seems surprised and uncertain when Zashier addresses him. He hesitates for a long moment, then lamely asks, "Well, uh... did you see anyone else?"
Zash shakes his head "No, we were too far away. Just heard what sounded like an animal attacking it's prey."
"I see. You're lucky to be alive then, travelers, if you were that close to a beast and there's a pair of murderers on the loose. I'd recommend you stay indoors until we apprehend them--and report anything suspicious you see."
With that, the crier starts walking towards the other end of the main street to repeat his warning.
Motioning for Tael to follow, the dracomancer makes his way back to the lodge, and the bouncer out front. "Well met again. Thank you for the directions to the inn. Good, solid food. My name is Zashier, and I'm a storyteller by trade. Who could I speak to about possibly selling my services for the night to the Masters of the Lodge?"
The bouncer sticks his head in the door and shouts, "Imed! Entertainer for you!"
After a minute or so, a thin, harried-looking man comes out of the door and looks Zashier and Tael over.
"Well, let's hear it," the man says in the tone of one who expects little.
"I'm a storyteller by trade, having wandered the Silver Marches the last eight years, gathering tales to tell. I enhance my stories with very minor magics, which I finds aids in making more entertaining and interesting. I don't ask for much in payment, aside from the opportunity to learn new stories."
Imed frowns. "We do have room tonight. But you'll be paid how I choose, and that depends on how good your stories are. Come."
He turns and leads Zashier and Tael into the lodge. The room immediately behind the door is a huge great room, spread with tables and chairs where men and women in the garb of rich would-be hunters talk, laugh, and eat.
"You will not mingle with the guests," Imed continues, leading the pair along the wall to another door. "You will stay here until called, tell your stories, and then return here for payment."
He opens the door to a considerably less grand hallway, walks into it, then opens another door, indicating a small room beyond. It has about a dozen chairs, half of them occupied by various entertainers.
Zash is kept cooped up in this room until his time on stage... which gives him plenty of time to talk with the others in the room. With some careful inquiries he doesn't get any word of anything that sounds like Cult of the Dragon activity in the village... except for one thing. Apparently a couple of weeks ago, a fair-sized group of people (somewhere around 20) came through town. They asked a lot of questions about dragons in the forest (which most people think is ridiculous of them), then headed out into the woods. A few days later about half a dozen of them came back in a hurry, looking rather ragged. They hurried west without stopping. When he asks where else they may have stopped, he's told that The Calling Horns would be the first place they'd come to along the road.
Zashier is brought out fairly late at night, when the common room is starting to empty. His captivating tale holds his audience spellbound, though, so much so that they seem reluctant to see him go at the end. A few even toss him tips.
With that he's escorted back out, then stays the night. No one bothers him as he leaves in the morning and heads down the road towards the Calling Horns.
Nothing bothers the pair along the way to The Calling Horns. They reach there in the late afternoon. It is a rather impressive inn--a two-story, sprawling affair with an elaborate sign of a pair of armored men blowing horns over the double doors.
Across the road from the inn, a man is working on small structure of some kind. Two other men, one holding a horse, are standing and talking in a yard on the side of the inn, where the stables are.
As the two travelers lacked horses, they didn't need the stables, but as they walked into the inn, Zash tilts his head slightly to try and overhear the conversation the two men were holding.
It seemed to be a pretty ordinary conversation about conditions on the road, trade prospects... wait, what did they say about "Those crazies camped out over that way?"
The inn itself has a spacious common room with a number of tables set up in it. It's not quite time for the evening meal, but there are several small groups scattered about the tables, chatting, gambling, or otherwise passing time. The barkeep glances up at Zashier and Tael as they enter and gives them a nod, but doesn't address them immediately.
The dracomancer peers around the room, seeing if there's anything or anybody of note.
He then walks up to the barkeep. "Hello. My name is Zashier, a wandering storyteller by trade. I'd like a room, two meals, and perhaps the chance to entertain tonight."
Zashier doesn't see anyone that sticks out immediately.
The barkeep is a heavyset, jovial man. "Ah, well! May have to talk to the fellow we've already got lined up tonight." He nods at a well-dressed fellow with a lute at his side talking with a couple of other patrons in the corner. "Maybe you two could arrange a joint act or something?"