The tall half-aelf approaches the guardsmen with his usual
"Greetings nyght gatekeeps. We have long travelled here and bear goods for the attention of Tausthäuser from an associate The City League and a missive for the Count himself on matters of grave importance."
He jabs a long thumb toward the laden pack animals;
"So if you good gentilmen would be so kind as to allow us entry to your humble village and point us in the direction of an establishment we may slake our thirsts and rest our weary bones."
The guards take in the words, the younger speaking out while the older one takes in your collective countenance.
"So you are Vagabondi? With business with The Count himself? Does Squire Marlen know of your coming..? Per'haps we should wake him?"
Spiro smiles wearily at the lad;
"Yes on both counts... We know not who Squire Marlen is... but no-one would appreciate being roused at this hour, in this weather to speak to visitors not fed, nor rested! Mmm?"
His words are steelier at the question, and the older guard reads the situation best;
"Let them in lad. The Squire can 'ave his parlance with them on the morrow."
The grey bearded veteran beckons you all through the gate, with a frown to silence his younger companion from more questions. As you enter you notice more aged shells of ruined buildings outside the walled perimeter, a legacy perhaps of a conflict past. The wall itself is stockade with each log topped with an spiked iron cap.