A post about Blayne's experiences while he was unconscious perhaps...
“It’s your turn to get a round.” the heavyset blonde woman at the table said. Blayne blinked and rocked slightly on the hardwood stool he was sitting on. The table before him was clean enough - though there was a platter of cheese and some bread in the center of it and a half dozen empty tankards resting in front of the people sitting with him. “What?” he said, his confusion probably evident. His table was occupied by a fairly diverse group - there was a large half orc next to him with a cheerful glint in his eye sipping at a mostly empty tankard. He could have been intimidating were it not for the friendly expression he wore and the plain silver symbol to Cayden Cailean on chain around his neck.
Across the table was a small dark woman with vaguely fox like features in brown leathers also wearing one of Cayden’s symbols - in fact they all were. The six of them gathered around the table and the others in the inn. Even the musicians at the small raised stage - currently playing a fairly bawdy version of Old Farmer Pell to enthusiastic whoops from the crowd had them. “Where am I?” His table mates were all looking at him. The blonde woman said “It’s your turn to pick up a round. It’s the tradition.” They all seemed so friendly Blayne felt peculiarly comforted - perhaps knowing where he was wasn’t so important after all. He was in a pub. There were friendly people, beer, and music. Mysteries like his situation could wait - and the answers might be improved upon by an ale. He smiled and stood saying “OK, back in a moment.”
The walk across the common room was short and the bar beckoned. The batman was a cheerful looking man - he was speaking with a red headed woman and an old man as Blayne approached, but looked over quickly as Cayden reached the bar. “Welcome lad. What’ll you be having?”
Blayne reached for his purse and noticed for the first time that he didn’t have one - nor any of his weapons or equipment. He looked back to his table but there was nothing there. “How did I get here?” he asked the barman.
“I’m not sure - I didn’t see you come in. You’re over at that table there, right?” He pointed across the room to Blayne’s table. “They look about ready for a new round.”
“Yes, but I have no money.” Blayne admitted.
“Naught to worry over there lad, your credit is good here.” The barman replied. “I’ll not take any coin from you or yours. Drinks are on the house.” Blayne paused and looked around him again, a bit wild eyed.
“Um, a round of ales for me and my table then, please.” He said as his thoughts seemed to whirl around some conclusion he resolutely refused to look at very closely at all. He felt dizzy as he tried to remember where he had been before waking in this comfortable tavern. Nothing. No clear memories of the past at all though an absolute certainty that there had been one.
“Here you go lad - this’ll ease the wait.” The barman said as he slid a tray of mugs over the bar towards Blayne. “Enjoy!”
“Thanks.” Blayne said as he scooped up the tray and carried it back to his table.
Passing the drinks around brought smiles from his companions. “I’m Blayne.” He said as he sat.
“To Blayne, may Cayden ward his every step And may he always have a full pint.” Toasted the large half Orc beside him. The rest of the people at the table cheered and all drank. Blayne reached for his own tankard, but the dizziness returned, this time he felt himself fall forward towards the table though he never made contact.
Awareness returned with the stench of the battlefield around him. Bastion, Torriki and the Instrument were standing around him, one holding a wand leveled at him.
“Cayden’s glory - I feel like I was hit by a great axe...or had far far too much ale. By the smell I imagine it was the former?” Memories started to click into place, though for days after he had the persistent sense that he had been in a tavern having an ale with friends, and not fighting for his life in a subterranean dungeon. “Thanks” Blayne said as he gratefully accepted a hand up from Bastion.
