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piosenniel · 10-19-2002, 01:20 PM

***** DALE - INKEEPER *****

It was an unremarkable structure which stood at the intersection of the Old Forest Road and the Langflood. Built on the western side of the river, The Trade Inn had seen the comings and goings of many years and many peoples. Wars had been lost and won about it, Kings risen and fallen in the winds of shadow and light.

Still, the need for trade wove through all - foods and the necessities of life in leaner years; welcome comforts and adornments afforded by the richer years of peace.

Bram polished the dark wood of the old bar in the pale light of late afternoon. There were only a few customers at the moment, and he was enjoying the slow pace. Business had picked up since the Great War was done, and he hadn't gotten round to hiring another helper for the kitchen and the common room. Oft times, now, he ran himself ragged filling the role of three as he poured the ale, served the food, and kept the rowdier ones in check with the threat of his great cudgel.

'Done!' he said to no one in particular, as he wiped the last stain from the wood. He stowed the cloth beneath the bar, and poured himself a pint of the dark, creamy topped ale that was the mark of the Inn. He sighed contentedly as the first swig of obsidian liquid poured down his thirsty throat. A swipe of his tongued cleared the foamy residue from his mustache. The tankard was half raised to his lips again when he heard a loud clattering on the wide, wooden porch fronting the Inn.

The doors swung open, and a ragtag group entered the common room. 'Dwarves!' he said quietly to himself. 'Now this is a rare occurrence.' Taller figures followed close on behind them, and all stood blinking in the dimness of the room. 'Elves, too! And Men, if I'm not mistaken.'

He sat his tankard carefully on the bar, and reached below to lay his hand on the stout handle of his cudgel. The unlikely group came toward him, and he watched them closely.

'Good sirs!' He hailed them in an even tone. 'Welcome to the Trade Inn. How may I serve you?' His grip tightened on the club, and he gave them an appraising look.

10-19-2002, 01:20 PM	#8
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	*** DALE - INKEEPER *** It was an unremarkable structure which stood at the intersection of the Old Forest Road and the Langflood. Built on the western side of the river, The Trade Inn had seen the comings and goings of many years and many peoples. Wars had been lost and won about it, Kings risen and fallen in the winds of shadow and light. Still, the need for trade wove through all - foods and the necessities of life in leaner years; welcome comforts and adornments afforded by the richer years of peace. Bram polished the dark wood of the old bar in the pale light of late afternoon. There were only a few customers at the moment, and he was enjoying the slow pace. Business had picked up since the Great War was done, and he hadn't gotten round to hiring another helper for the kitchen and the common room. Oft times, now, he ran himself ragged filling the role of three as he poured the ale, served the food, and kept the rowdier ones in check with the threat of his great cudgel. 'Done!' he said to no one in particular, as he wiped the last stain from the wood. He stowed the cloth beneath the bar, and poured himself a pint of the dark, creamy topped ale that was the mark of the Inn. He sighed contentedly as the first swig of obsidian liquid poured down his thirsty throat. A swipe of his tongued cleared the foamy residue from his mustache. The tankard was half raised to his lips again when he heard a loud clattering on the wide, wooden porch fronting the Inn. The doors swung open, and a ragtag group entered the common room. 'Dwarves!' he said quietly to himself. 'Now this is a rare occurrence.' Taller figures followed close on behind them, and all stood blinking in the dimness of the room. 'Elves, too! And Men, if I'm not mistaken.' He sat his tankard carefully on the bar, and reached below to lay his hand on the stout handle of his cudgel. The unlikely group came toward him, and he watched them closely. 'Good sirs!' He hailed them in an even tone. 'Welcome to the Trade Inn. How may I serve you?' His grip tightened on the club, and he gave them an appraising look. __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.