You've just felled the bandits, presumably responsible for the attack on Lady Argentea's caravan. The snow and cold closes in and sinks deeper into your bones as time goes on. Previous efforts failing, there seems a large lack of efficient shelter. The time has come to decide, to continue the search, or trod on in hopes of finding an answer.
Only time will tell, and as time goes on you look to those traveling with you for courage and a plan of action.
The doors to the tavern suddenly swung open as if hit with the force of a lead-lined train as a 6-foot half-orc clad in skull-adorned robes strides in as if he owned the place, the most peaceful and pleased of grins upon his features. As he walked, his arms held outstretched slightly to the sides and palms open and held up, he spoke.
"Good morning, sinners! It is a fine day the gods have given us today, for I have heard rustlings from my hovel, and I can smell adventure in the air!"
"It's too early for such loud voices Malik!" emanates a complaint from behind the large newcomer. "..or is it too early? Nevermind! Move yer rump you tree of a man, you're blocking the door!" Out stumbles a short wizened little gnome with large blue eyes and a mustache as wide as double his squat face with eye brows of equal length and impressiveness.
"I told you I was perfectly comfortable at home! Why must you always dra-" halting mid-sentence, the gnome sniffs at the air this way and that before stopping in the direction of the kitchen when a eager expression grows on his face. "Is that... MUSHROOMS i smell?!"
The gnomes eager skip towards the counter is halted as the pungent cloud wafts past his face. Face twisting in a knot and mustache curling slightly, the gnome turns to the source of the sour stench and says with a pinched nose "Bweh! Thwat ith devinitely thomthing fungal there but nwot wat I seewk!" tired of talking with his nose pinched he sighs and releases his nose in resignation. "Its been a long time since anyone killed my appetite for truffles and the sort. Your... Skills are impressive good sir! The names Filibar Flimflam and this is lumbering fellow is my brother, Adar Malik. What's your name? And what did you eat?!"
The half-orc paused, looking down to his diminutive friend as his name was suddenly spoken. "You shouldn't go giving out my full name so easily, Filibar! Only the damned and the dead should know of it! ...Oh, and you too."
"Eh? Oh. Well, it's not like it's your REAL name or anything, amiright?" retorts Filibar as his attention is aimed more towards the kitchen behind the bar looking to see if there is in fact some mushrooms to be had.