More commonly referred to simply as “Kings,” this large inn is a popular gathering place for travelers and adventurers. Most nights its tables are filled with transients and treasure hunters looking for work or eager to swap stories, truthful or otherwise, about their exploits.
Barnky, the innkeeper and bartender, is always up on the current scuttlebutt and with a little bribe might be able to provide the party with some useful information.
You hear the gregariously loud, and boisterous clamor of tales and speeches unheard. Many folk here to let off steam trade stories and in all regards, entertain them selves for the evening. You see Barnky both acting and barkeep and innkeeper struggling slightly to pick up the current influx of patrons. He looks up with a quick grin.
"A bed for the night is eight silver, meals are three. If you have any stabled animals that is an additional two silver."
He is very busy with his tending to other patrons, but you see that he almost sets into an otherworldly rhythm as you see him glide from patron to patron, still regarding them by name and rekindling any conversation that they left off with in the whirlwind of action that was happening behind the barkeep.
Looking around in the stinky crowded inn, Cerebrindal takes a deep breath and nods to the innkeeper.
Well, I wanted to learn about the outside world. This is it!
"Master Innkeeper, I would like something to eat. And some wine, please. Nothing to heavy. And your beds, are they common room or can I lock the door!"
Please say single room, oh please!
"A mug of your finest!" bellows a newcomer as he sidles up to the bar top. "And a bowl of whatever's simmerin' in the pot."
The newcomer, a literal bull of a man, is a big male minotaur. His massively built frame wears its power well, with broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and limbs massive with bulging sinew. A bovine head sits atop his shoulders, complete with a thick set of meticulously maintained horns. His dark mane is tightly bound in a braid that dangles midway down his thickly muscled back.
He’s clad in a half shirt of worn mail and a hide loincloth. A mighty battleaxe hangs loosely from a hoop on his belt.
"You have any entertainers lined up for tonight?" he rumbles as he begins to slide silver coins onto the bar.
Sitting alone toward the edge of the crowd is a commonly dressed male, watching a copper coin spin on the table. He picked this coin specifically since it was the roundest in his light coin purse...if he was noticing the spin on the coin, he would be happy with his choice. He is deep in thought however.
Oxnar sends me away and I find a way to make a difference. I suppose I shouldn't wonder anymore. Arete guides our paths to where we can do good work. Yes...but you need help Selim...and a job to pay some silver...What is that?
His eyes are drawn to the...minotaur? His hand goes to his waste until he remembers that his weapons are stowed safely in among his things next to him. Eyes bulging he watches the big...man?...approach the innkeep and presumably make a request.
You say you need help and then this walks in. Arete is providing you fool. Go now.
He walks to the bar, forgetting about the spinning copper and leaving his pack stowed in its place. He turns his body so as to keep half an eye on his stuff and addresses the minotaur.
"This will sound terribly unrefined, sir, but I can't say I have met a minotaur before. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Selim Cordray. Mind if I ask what brings you to Kings tonight?"
Selim smiles broadly and extends his hand in greeting.
Barnky juggles several tasks at once, stopping a conversation to look up to the elf that asked him a question pertaining to business.
"M'lady, you will be relieved to know that we here at the King's like to have our guests enjoy the small gems in life. Such as it is we have both single bed rooms and double bed rooms available for the night...They both share the same price, yet the single bed room is noticeably larger."
He puts his finger up amidst a nagging regular patron of his complaining about the sight of his empty mug. Turing his now calm face back towards Celebrindal.
"Shall I book you a room lass?"
As he was waiting for an answer you notice that the mouth of Barnky for an instant seemed to gape open as the shadow of Bjorkus loomed over that particular stretch of the bar. The slight lapse in his character was met full force with his genuine hospitality.
"I really hope my mugs are large enough for you lad. Have some mead here fresh from the carriage this morning. My brother procured it from his inn down King's Road. He has had nothing but praises for it as of late.
He rustles below the barkeep as you over hear some cutlery and tableware brush up against one another. He heaves up a mug, almost twice the size of anyone else's. Pours a beer and pushes the mug towards Bjorkus.
"The best I can do for the size, we can call it the 'Hearty Blessing'. The meal comes with the drink as well, we have butter roasted scallops with a fig pie for desert. Hope you have an appetite, I will get your food shortly."
He whips his head back around to the once pestering regular patrons, and fires off a tongue lashing.
"Clyde, I have told you once I have told you many times. Do not pester me with questions when we all know you only ever ask for a refill."
He pours the ale and slams it in front of a slightly embarrassed noticeably red faced man surrounded by now laughing and jeering companions.
"I really hope my mugs are large enough for you lad. Have some mead here fresh from the carriage this morning. My brother procured it from his inn down King's Road. He has had nothing but praises for it as of late.
He rustles below the barkeep as you over hear some cutlery and tableware brush up against one another. He heaves up a mug, almost twice the size of anyone else's. Pours a beer and pushes the mug towards Bjorkus.
"The best I can do for the size, we can call it the 'Hearty Blessing'. The meal comes with the drink as well, we have butter roasted scallops with a fig pie for desert. Hope you have an appetite, I will get your food shortly."
"A mug of sweet mead would be grand - my father always said mead was the drink of Kings. And the Hearty Blessing sounds like just the thing for a hungry traveler", Bjorkus rumbles in agreement as he tests the weight of the offered mug. "The mug'll do just fine. I appreciate the thought."
Despite the size of it, the minotaur treats the mug with the gentle care of one that's accidentally broken too many such vessels.
"This will sound terribly unrefined, sir, but I can't say I have met a minotaur before. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Selim Cordray. Mind if I ask what brings you to Kings tonight?"
Selim smiles broadly and extends his hand in greeting.
Bjorkus gives a perfunctory snort as he briefly studies the priest, seeming to stare into the very core of his being. Satisfied with what he sees, he beams broadly and swallows up the offered hand in his own enormous hairy paw. "Bjorkus, son of Bjormus. Pleasure to meet you Son of Cordray."
He continues the firm handshake for a breath before continuing.
"I've come to the Kings for a warm meal to fill my belly, hard drink to quench my thirst, and some soft company to fill my bed", he rumbles honestly as his dark eyes search the crowd. "I'm afraid you won't do for the last bit but a bit of conversation in the meantime never hurt", he adds with a knowing smirk.
Looking at the oh so polite Minotaur Celebrindal smirks and edges a bit closer.
"Well for company, I have seen a few farms outside. Maybe there is a minocow?"
Smirking she adds.
"Let´s hope the beds will manage to hold your bulk!"
Taking a deep sip from her drink she ponders her options.
A young man with red hair and amber eyes hesitantly enters the inn. His eyes dart about with the nervousness of a spooked animal. There were so many people here! Suibhne had taken him into town a couple of times before, but then he'd had a friend with him. Now he was alone, and it felt so strange being alone with so many people.
It didn't help that it smelled so different then the forest. He sniffed at the air and wrinkled his nose a bit. People stank in different ways from animals, and he wasn't used to it at all. But... curiosity drew him further in. Hesitantly Faolan walks further into the room, looking around for anyone who looks possibly friendly.
He notices a group gathering in front of the... it was called a bar, right? One of them looked kind of like a bull! That was different! Maybe he was kind of like Faolan, whose true form was fox-like? Curiously he approached, but as he got close he nervously came to a halt. They were all talking to each other... what was the rule about talking to people who were already talking? Faolan tried to remember but couldn't quite recall anything, so he just kind of stood awkwardly, looking and listening.
Mino...cow? Oh my. Is that a roasting jest or is it really what a female is called? Just ignore it.
Selim makes a sound somewhere between an uncomfortable throat clearing and a chuckle. He turns and sees a young man with red hair approaching cautiously. "Hello sir, there is room at the bar here. Speak up and I'm sure Barnky will help you." And with that, he turns his back on the man.
"Bjorkus, I am honored by your presence."
He then gestures to the blonde elf, "And to you my lady, a good evening."
Turning back to Bjorkus he says, "For my part, I am but a servant of Arete, traveling the open road, trying to nudge the world in a better direction...I say...and I don't mean to imply anything on you sir, but have you heard about these villains known as the Green Tree Bandits? There have been some hazy rumors of their terror and I've seen reward signs for their demise but I can't say I've heard much more about them."
Quentin had been sitting at the end of the bar, quietly nursing a tankard of mead, for the past couple of hours. Since arriving in town the previous night, he hadn't found much success in gathering new business or in finding the starting point for the intriguing map he'd acquired.
He had spent much of the past day learning as much as he could about Endholm: its main watering holes, today's big rumors, etc. Ideally, he could use that information tomorrow. But now, seeing this unusual gathering at the other end of the bar -- with a minotaur, no less! -- he wonders if his timetable might have just moved up.
Picking up his mead, he walks over, just in time to hear the man with slightly luminous eyes say something to a red-haired young fellow about getting a room from Barnky.
"That's true," he says. "Barnky has good answers for most things. Speaking of which... Barnky! Answer me why my tankard is suddenly empty." He places the empty tankard on the bar. "And while you're at it, get these folks another round. My treat."
Those at the bar see a human male with short blonde, nearly white, hair and pale gray eyes. A deep scar runs across his right cheek and into his upper lip, but the fine quality of his black tunic and trousers suggests that he's something other than a ruffian. A tattoo of a beautiful woman with snakelike skin adorns the right side of his neck.
"Don't mean to interrupt," he continues, "but you are some of the more interesting-looking people I've seen here since I arrived... not counting you, of course, Barnky. And that deserves a drink."
He takes the newly filled tankard of mead and salutes the group with it. "The name is Kroft. Quentin Kroft. If any of you intend to go looking for something while you're here, I've got the skills to help you."
Toasting to Selim Celebrindal.
"And A good evening to you. What brings you to this beautiful dive!"
Looking at the oh so polite Minotaur Celebrindal smirks and edges a bit closer.
"Well for company, I have seen a few farms outside. Maybe there is a minocow?"
Smirking she adds.
"Let´s hope the beds will manage to hold your bulk!"
Taking a deep sip from her drink she ponders her options.
”It’s been a damn long time since I saw a lady ‘taur. If you spot one, send ‘em my way will ya?” the bull says with a good-natured laugh. ”We’ll put those beds to the test alright!”
"Bjorkus, I am honored by your presence."
He then gestures to the blonde elf, "And to you my lady, a good evening."
Turning back to Bjorkus he says, "For my part, I am but a servant of Arete, traveling the open road, trying to nudge the world in a better direction...I say...and I don't mean to imply anything on you sir, but have you heard about these villains known as the Green Tree Bandits? There have been some hazy rumors of their terror and I've seen reward signs for their demise but I can't say I've heard much more about them."
The priest’s talk of bandits pulls the minotaur’s attention away from a giggling fiery-haired maid.
”I haven’t heard much about these bandits but do tell me more. My appetites might’ve brought me to Kings but purpose brought me to Endholm. When I was a calf my parents told me stories of Endholm as a place a young warrior could prove himself and test his mettle. It’s those stories that called me here seeking adventure and glory! Do you have a charter from the city to deal with these brigands?”
Barnky being amidst the chaos around the bar, perked his ears and leaned in while pouring several more flagons of ale.
"There have been postings around the whole city about the Green Tree Bandits. Last I heard Bragger Bondhome was looking to supply a reward of a hefty amount to anyone willing to 'take care' of this nuisance to merchants and traders."
He leans over again with a glint of adventure in his eyes. Still polishing a mug clutched within his hands, polishing it in almost a meditative manner.
"There are a lot of rumors amongst the rabble that have come in this establishment. I can still gauge myself based on how much they spend while they are here. I can tell you many have gone into caves and hills along Fool's Pass. Have seen many depart, some return, and even more I have never heard from again."
He turns his head to check the ever opening door to the tavern, surveying the clientele at the same time. He glances around ensuring that all his patrons needs are met before looking off into the clearing within the tavern.
"Finally looks as though the entertainment has arrived."
He motions with his head to the clearing where you see a single man garbed in bright and flamboyant attire fumbling with his tools of the trade, a lute, a drum, and a harp. A Minstrel. Still tuning and ensuring all is where it should be. Barnky speaks again.
"He has said to be highly regarded as a Bard and quite a showman."
Barnky quickly clears his throat.
"He better be after the price I paid him for the night."
Not with me!
"Finding bandits does not seem like the most glorious of all tasks, but a good start!"
Taking a sip she looks up when a ministrel is announced.
Faolan jumps slightly when the man with the rings in one ear addresses him, but relaxes a bit when he turns back away. Still, he had sort-of invited him closer, so he walks forward and stands right next to the group. His eyes dart around as he takes in the strange sights at the 'bar', from the person behind it to the bottles and cups to the people.
Still, this group here sounded most interesting. Faolan sniffed at the air, trying to sort out their scents from the others. They were talking about... bandits. He wrinkles his brow as he tries to remember...
"Bandits means bad people, right?" he interrupts Celebrindal, speaking over her last words. "Ones who hurt other people to take their things?"
"Generally, yes," chimes in Quentin, who hands one of the new tankards to Faolan. "And better still, as Barnky just said, there's a reward for capturing them."
He takes a sip from his own tankard. "Civic duty and a tidy profit make for an ideal combination."
_____________
Selim is too engrossed to notice the performer's entrance. Amazing. Arete provides. This bull of a man gets my attention and then these others begin to cluster.
He grabs a gold coin from his purse and spins it on the counter. "Barnky...Who is this Bragger Bondhome? I've seen it on the posters but I have not had the chance to meet him."
He waits a moment and then says, "...In truth all I know of these bandits is what I've said and what you've said...I know you are a busy man but if you were to take a moment and share with us any of the details you've learned..." With a sudden movement, Selim brings his hand down on the counter on top of the coin. "...I'm sure we can make it worth your time."
Selim removes his hand from the gold piece and leaves it on the counter.
Faolan takes the tankard with a look of confusion. He sniffs at it, wrinkles his nose, and puts it on the bar with a look of disgust.
"Reward?" he asks, then sees Selim get out a circle of yellow metal. "Oh. Gold," he answers his own question.
Disinterested with this turn in the conversation, Faolan turns to Bjorkus, points at him, and asks, "Umm, bull guy? What are your kind of people called?"
Barnky wipes his counter and instinctively gathers the coin inconspicuously. As quick as the coin had clattered onto the table, he swiped it with his polishing rag.
"Bragger is the only non-human to hold a seat of authority in Endhome. Bondhome has served as captain of the guard for the past twenty years, and given his dwarven longevity likely continues to do so for at least another thirty. You can find him most of the times at the barracks at his post, or even detailing his tails about his dwarven brethren at one of the finer inns located in the trading district."
He clears his throat and talks over his shoulder as he once again looks over tavern ensuring that everyone is looked after, his eyes meet a patron and he nods quickly as he starts to fill another flagon of ale.
"The bandits you seek are a bit more sly than you would think. I have heard that they never stick to the same camp for too long, preferring to relocate regularly. One thing is for sure, they are definitely within the penprie forest. I do not know for sure but some who live within or nearby the forest may know their whereabouts or movements."
He passes the flagon of ale to the man arriving at the barkeep. As soon as the flagon leaves his hand the minstrel clears his throat and begins a quite gripping drum beat that some locals start hollering, stomping and clapping to. Several patrons begin to dance and join in the beat.
"Minotaur", the bull rumbles proudly. "My kind are called minotaur. You can call me Bjorkus."
The minotaur follows along with Barnky's information. He nods to Selim once the barkeep's said his piece.
"Sounds like you should find us a guide that knows the forest. Wandering the woods with bandits about is an easy way to get your throat cut."
The bard's performance sets the bull pounding the floor with his hooves between draws of mead.
"Minotaur," Faolan repeats the unfamiliar word. "Are there lots of minotaurs? I don't know if there's lots of my kind of people."
Immediately after he says the words, he realizes he'd messed up. He grimmaces as he thinks about how Suibhne had repeatedly told him that people often were afraid of people that didn't look like them. But... Bjorkus didn't seem to be having trouble?
Selim carefully takes in the information from Barnky. "Thank you, Barnky. Do me a favor and keep an ear out for any other information."
Selim takes a moment to think and look up and down the bar, letting the conversation between the Minotaur and the man pass him by.
"That sounds like you have an interest in dealing with these brigands, Bjorkus. I would be happy to accompany you but I am not the guide you need, nor do I know where one could be found that is willing to go into such a dangerous situation." He turns to Quentin and nods, "And you, Kroft, what say you?"
"Well, but who wants to live forever."
Looking at the Kitsune he adds.
"Do you know your ways in the forest?"
"I'm willing," says Kroft to Selim. "I'm new in town and don't know these woods well, but I'm good at spotting trouble. I'll join you and - Bjorkus, was it? - and whoever else wants to pitch in."
He fixes his gray eyes on Selim. "Sorry, didn't catch your name. Was too busy with my mead, which is surprisingly average. I expected much worse. You good with a blade? Or a caster?"
Faolan seems a little started to be addressed by Celebrindal. "Yes, it's my home," he responds, uncertainly. "I just came from there."
Selim turns to the man holding out his hand. "Selim. As I was telling the others, I am one of Arete's faithful. I am neither one of her trained priests nor a holy warrior. Fortunately, however she has seen fit to grant me some small measure of her grace to aid my efforts to make some small improvement in the world. Equally fortunate was I to study swordplay under Sir Tomas Canting while he stayed at our temple."
"My lady, elf. Will you be joining us as well? I will warn you that the road may become rough."
He glances again toward his things near his table and is grateful to see them unmolested by the gathering crowd. He is also shocked to see his copper still spinning on his table. After another moment, it wobbles slightly and falls flat.
My lady, is this another sign? Have I found all of the help that you have brought me?
"Minotaur," Faolan repeats the unfamiliar word. "Are there lots of minotaurs? I don't know if there's lots of my kind of people."
"There's not a lot of us in these parts", the bull explains in a slightly somber tone.
"That sounds like you have an interest in dealing with these brigands, Bjorkus. I would be happy to accompany you but I am not the guide you need, nor do I know where one could be found that is willing to go into such a dangerous situation." He turns to Quentin and nods, "And you, Kroft, what say you?"
Bjorkus briefly grunts in agreement before stepping away in pursuit of a pair of twins making suggestive eyes at him across the common room.
Celebrindal with a smile adds, pointing at Faolan.
"Well we have our guide. How about we try the morrow, have a fine sleep first and then chance our luck first thing in the morning!"
As the discussion of the Green Tree Bandits concluded, you notice a man obviously trying to remain unseen making his way for the door. He has just reached the door and is now exiting the establishment.
On his way to his destination you notice that he is regularily directing his gaze towards the group.
Barnky is now visually bobbing to the infectious beat booming throughout the tavern. He is visually more happy even though this in turn has made his work harder for himself.
"I have some supplies in the back for traveling if you need anything, a few rations and the like. Not really sure how long you are planning on being out and about. The non perishable items are from people who either couldn't pack them or just straight left them in their rooms."
He continues to clean and scurry about trying to meet the influx of orders and demands from his patrons.
With a quick dash Celebrindal runs after the man.
Faolan stands, too, looking uncertainly after Celebrindal, then the others.
"I think she's chasing that man. Should we follow her?"
"Yes!" says Quentin. He looks at Selim and Bjorkus. "There's a man trying to warn the bandits!" He dashes off after Celebrindal and their quarry.
Faolan sprints after them.
” I just assumed she didn’t want to come with us.”
Selim grabs his things and heads out cautiously after the others
Not many stand in your way, as the crowd is quite fluid. Some beer is spilled on your way to the entrance of the tavern. Heads turn to meet the obvious contrast of motion in the room.
The doors open to a canvas of clouds and stars, night has firmly taken hold of the sky. A quick scan of the road and surroundings is all you need to see the same figure climbing up into a saddle of a horse across the road in the small pasture area that is used by patrons of the inn for livestock.
Settling into his saddle and catching the eye of his pursuers.
Bjorkus spots the suspicious patron at roughly the same time Selim points him out. The big bull lifts his potential conquest off his lap and climbs to his hooves to join the others in hustling outside.
Taking a running start Celebrindal jumps over the fence and prepares to stop the rider.
Faolan sprints after, easily vaulting over the fence. As he does he shifts his hands to talons. Almost instantaneously his nails lengthen, thicken, and turn black, while fine feathers sprout along the tops of his hands, making them almost look furred. His palms, in contrast, take on a scaly appearance.
As Quentin runs toward the fence, he concentrates on the pull of gravity, envisioning it as a fist that has him in its grasp. And then... the hand's grip relaxes.
And he jumps.
Selim arrives outside and sees his new acquaintances gracefully make it over a fence. He picks up the pace approaching the fence and leaps...
My lady of the sword, give me your blessing to deliver your justice...
...and lands on the far side of the fence, relieved that his devotion has held true.
The rider slaps his reigns across the steed shoulder and cries out in panic. Kicking the sides of his horse he almost loses his grip on the reigns himself as his neck whips back viciously as the horse takes off and in a hurry.
You can see that the figure and horse end up taking the northbound road.
Despite being hampered by his heavy armor, the bull tries to clamber over the fence.
Dashing off after the rider and his horse Celebrindal tries to take him down.
"He heads north! What lies that direction?"
Selim continues pacing himself, watching the elf try valiantly to catch the man. Looking around briefly, Selim tries to see if there are any other horses around that his new friends could "borrow".
Quentin sees the rider heading for the northern road and he knows he can't catch him on foot.
You look around and see a cart strapped to two horses currently, no saddles around on the ground unfortunately. If needed could either take the cart as is, or use the two horses bareback.
Celebrinal dashes through the grass blades, silent as a panther in the brush. Seemingly almost within arms reach before the man quickly strode away upon horseback.
Still pursuing her prey, she gathered she had only once chance to have anything close to a bounty to her efforts. Nothing in close range efforts would prove effective.
You know that this stretch of road that the man is fleeing down connects to and continues along is called the 'Trader's Way'.
A long stretch of road along the Sinnar Ocean Coast, as well as alongside the eastern side of the Penprie Forest.
Celebrindal continues to run after the man, but alas she has no option to stop him, so after the next corner she looses him.
Me de dan!
Returning to the others she shrugs.
"Sorry, I have lost him!"
Faolan watches him go. "He's probably going to warn his friends. Maybe we should hunt elsewhere until they start thinking we won't come."
Quentin bends over and puts his hands on his knees. "No ... apologies ... necessary," he says to Celebrindal between breaths. "You're quite fast... you couldn't have done any more."
"You too," he says to Faolan, and he now gets a better look at the kitsune. "Are those... feathers on your hand?" he asks with a note of curiosity.
He stands upright, a frown now twisting his scarred cheek and lip. "As for the bandits... I don't know. If we wait too long, they might relocate and we'll never find them again. Let's see if good old Barnky or someone else inside the tavern knows who our fast friend was! If we get a name, we could learn more about the bandits."
"Oh," Faolan seems a bit embarrassed. His hands shift back to just hands, talons turning to fingernails and feathers to skin.
"I can do that," he says by way of (inadequate) explanation.