TABLE OF CONTENTS

Sequence 1: At the Ol' Boar Inn
Sequence 2: The Village Green at Misty Morn
Sequence 3A: On the Road to Parley
Sequence 3B: The Supply Caravan

OUT OF CHARACTER THREAD[/u]

Oakhurst is a pleasant little village, with about 40 permanent residents and a greater population in the surrounding farmlands (mostly to the east) of 900 or so. It's way out on the edge of things and there are no other major communities within easy traveling distance. (The closest city of any notable size is Southcourt, and it's a hike.)

Folks in town:

Kerowyn Hucrele is part of the bloodsworn Hucrele clan. The bloodsworns run long distance trade through most of the known world and the Hucreles have this swath of territory pretty much under their thumb. Kerowyn's store is in the village square and deals in foreign exotics and commissioned trading.

Dern Nacre is the local healer and a follower of the Old Ways. She tends the dragon circles around town and her face bears the green draconic tattoos of the Faith. She speaks the dragon tongue (Draconic) and quite a few folks back up in the hills speak the same.

The town's luck to have a dwarf, Rurik Lutgehr, as a blacksmith. Gives it the air of civilization, if you know what I mean. He seems to appreciate the quiet tasks of the local farmers, but he's had a few nicer weapons hanging on his walls for as long as anyone can remember.

The whole thing is seen over by Mayor Vurnor.

The local geography:

Oakhurst itself is surrounded by a large dragon circle of standing stones. They're said to protect the town, although what they protect against no one can rightly say.

An avenue of stones cuts away from the circle due west, ending just shy of the nearest edge of the Ashen Plain. This vast, gray expanse of dead earth is a bleak and barren no man's land.

The Old Road runs off to the southwest and smack dab into a ravine. Dern Nacre warns the locals away from that crevasse, although they usually don't need encouraging because everyone knows there's a tribe of runty goblins that live down in those deeps. Beyond that ravine is the further expanse of the Ashen Plain.

Local legends says that the Ashen Plain was burned to gray dust by the red dragon Ashardalon. The demon-winged Ashardalon features in a host of local legends, though, and they can't all be true.

THE GOBLIN APPLES

Each midsummer, a small group of goblins arrives in Oakhurst. Everyone assumes they must belong to the tribe that lives in the ravine off to the west, but they're not seeking trouble: They're seeking trade. Each year they bring with them a perfect, ruby-red apple that grants vigor, health, and life. It cures the ill and rejuvenates the injured. Over time, the people of Oakhurt have come to prize these fruits and are willing to enter fierce bidding wars to win the rights to it. In recent years, Mayor Vurnor and Kerowyn Hucrele have quashed the more violent squabbles by offering a very high price and then apportioning the fruit according to need.

Attempts have been made to cultivate more of the fruit by planting the seeds, but the goblins are apparently jealous of their monopoly: Although the seeds germinate in their proper season and produce a twiggy mass of twisted sapling stems, the goblins always manage to steal into town and steal the saplings.

THE THREE MOONS

There are three moons, but they are never in the sky at the same time. Rather they follow each other in sequence, with each appearing as a new moon, waxing to full, and then waning to a lunar senescence before passing from the sky and being replaced by the next. The moons are:

Tiamat (the Chaos Moon)
Abzu (the Ordained Moon)
Hubur (the Mother Moon)

Each is roughly the same size of our world's moon (although Hubur is slightly larger): Tiamat is a dull and ruddy red; Abzu is a silvery-white; and Hubur glows blue (apparently being covered in water). The dark side of Abzu is pinpricked with lights, which are said to be cities. (Although who, exactly, lives in them is disputed.)

It's said that murders and violence spike under the "chaos light" of Tiamat, but women are more fertile under the light of Hubur.

There's a complicated calendrical system which tracks the occasions when multiple moons will appear in the sky at the same time (generally at the end and beginning of their cycles through the sky).

The current moon is Hubur, which is waxing gibbous.


AMINDA SCROPPINGS (Character Sheet)
Aminda Scroppings was the oldest servant of the Wyverntongue household: Midwife, nanny, herbalist, and whatever else might be needed. She has been old for all the years that Lady Jastian has known her, which has been all her life. She would do anything to protect the Lady and would never accept being far from her. She can be quite insistent in this respect.

In fact, when Lady Jastian left her ancestral home it was her intention to go alone. But somehow Aminda knew what she was planning and refused to be left behind.

It is perhaps well that she did: During Lady Jastian’s many travels and adventures, Aminda has become something akin to the expedition’s quartermaster. She arranges supplies, organizes the hiring of local muscle, and the like.

CERTH THE BAKER (Character Sheet)
Certh is the village baker, a stout fellow who makes a brisk trade in delicious baked goods. Technically, he works for a fellow named Cudberct at the Ol’ Boar’s Inn, but that’s only until he can afford to rebuild his bakery which burned down a few years past in an unexplained fire in the middle of the night. Working for Cudberct gives him access to a decent oven, though, and so he’s able to serve both Cudberct’s customers and the baking needs of the village at large. (And Cudberct only keeps a fairly reasonable percentage of the latter.)

Certh also trains with the village militia… which is also run by Cudberct. He’s never seen any actual combat though. At least, nothing more involved than scaring off the odd wandering goblin. (During the lycanthropy scare three summers back he was charged with watching the town square, but all the excitement happened out on the east farms.)


CUDBERCT (Character Sheet)

Cudberct was born in a small village within the Garland Emerald, a vast swath of rich, independent duchies loosely aligned far to the east. He escaped his life as a farm boy by joining the Amaranthine Legion and was fortunate enough to garner the favor and respect of the local septenant. He was recommended and accepted into the entourage of the duchy’s general, allowing him to leave the vale which had been his home all of his life. He traveled, he served, and in a corner of the Garland Emerald he had never even heard of only a year earlier he met and fell in love with a girl named Ermengilda.

But then the Doppelganger Wars reignited. This time, the doppels had suborned the entirety of the Karth Valley before they were detected. The fighting was fierce and dirty and bloody, even before it reached the cities. Paranoia was rampant.

By the time the war ended, Cudberct’s general had been slain. Cudberct resigned his commission, took his pension, and married Ermengilda. They left the Garland Emerald and traveled to the edge of the civilized world. When they came to Oakhurst, they knew they had gone far enough: Cudberct spent much of his remaining coin on the Ol’ Boar’s Inn and he and Ermengilda settled down to the joys of raising a family.

… for the most part. A few years back, some of Cudberct’s buddies from the Doppelganger Wars passed through town. They wrangled him up for some extra adventuring and they journeyed into the Ashen Plains and up into the Bone Hills and even poked around in the Witch’s Hallow down to the south. Some of these ventures were successful; others were busts. Eventually, Cudberct’s buddies grew tired of Oakhurst and moved on to “bigger and better things”. Cudberct stayed: He’d found the best things and he felt no wanderlust. He settled down to run the inn, serve as frequent deputy to Sgt. Llewellyn, and keep an open hearth and an open door the local farmers to feast their fill on food, drink, and old tales. During this time, Cudberct also became the head of the town’s militia, such as it is.

A few years later, though, some youngsters came to town: They’d heard about Cudberct’s exploits and wanted to “learn from the best”. He taught ‘em what he could, but they went out into the Ashen Plains against his best advice. And most of them died.

The sadness of that is a burden indeed. Cudberct does his best to turn the foolhardy away from such follies now. He was mightily distressed a few weeks back when a prideful knight named Sir Braford rode into town with his companion Karakas. They talked big. Got the youth of the town stirred up. And when they heard about the goblin apples they got excited, too. Braford and Karakas talked the Hucrele kids – Talgen and Sharwyn – into signing up to head out to the old ravine where the goblins were thought to live.

They haven’t been heard from since. And Cudberct has a sinking feeling about that.

EMPLOYEES AT THE INN
Stablehand: Hasor Turrell
Baker: Certh
Chambermaids: Merewyn, Ysmeina
Errand Boy: Eadric
Night Manager: Johannes

FAMILY
Wife: Ermengilda (pregnant in the early third trimester)
Daughter: Cyrinthia (4 years old)
Son: Alec (6 years old)

GILEUS (Character Sheet)

Gileus was a student at the University of Fawnhallow when he first learned of the legendary Living Library of Garth. He spent years dedicated to studying its lore, eventually concluding – on the basis of the strange marginalia found in the Ptaoth Manuscripts – that the Library must still exist. Leaving his studies in Fawnhallow, Garth traveled into the icy wastes of the north which are said to have once been home to a civilization of golden summer.

And there, as he had predicted, he found the Library: A solitary edifice of granite thrust up through a shelf of ice and heated by vast flows of lava deep beneath the glacier. He was somewhat surprised, however, to discover that the Library was still active, tended by librarians maintaining traditions millennia old. Drawn to the vast stores of knowledge they curated, Gileus apprenticed himself to their ranks.

The Librarians of Garth used a magical technique to scribe vast volumes of lore onto their bodies as living tattoos that swirled across the skin. Gileus was looking forward to the day of his inking, but everything changed about a year ago when a beautiful woman named Jastian arrived at the Library. She sought knowledge of ancient draconic rites and lore, particularly as they pertained to prophecy. Following his oaths to the Library, Gileus sought to help her in any way that he could. But over time it became about more than just his oaths: He felt drawn to some deep and immense pain he sensed within the Lady; a pain which seemed inexorably linked to the bodies of lore they were exploring together.

Lady Jastian eventually confessed to Gileus her true purposes: The Curse which haunted her uncertain future and her desperate need to see it broken. He eventually broke his oaths to the Library and swore new oaths of fealty to Lady Jastian, pledging to join her in her journeys until her Curse had been lifted.

Unfortunately, there was nothing within the annals of the Library that Gileus could find that would help Lady Jastian. However, he was able to compile a list of sites which were said to have once been (or continue to be) locus points of draconic activity. Since leaving the Library, they have journeyed to several of these locations, often being met with disappointment. Now they have come to Oakhurst in the hope that the references to a “citadel” will bear some fruit.

HADDON BANIA (Character Sheet)

Haddon has a very particular set of skills and he’s made a life for himself exercising those skills in the only sorts of jobs that seem appropriate for them: Performing small mercenary jobs. Protecting caravans passing through long stretches of wilderness. Hunting down rogue wildlife of the monstrous sort.

He’s never really gotten along well with the idea of adhering closely to a chain of command. Or even a link of command. If he did, he might have gotten himself tied up in one of the skirmishing wars between the Feald Duchies. Instead, he’s found himself pushed further and further to edges of civilization.

On the other hand, if he was the sort of fellow to take orders without question he wouldn’t have gone off-contract three years ago. And if he hadn’t gone off contract, that young elven maid would probably be dead. And if that hadn’t happened, then his long-time wolf-companion Mala might not have met that marvelous hound that belonged to the maid’s father. Mala and that elvish hound became enamored with each other and together they bore a litter of pups, seemingly wolves but for their great size and strength, and the forest green of their eyes.

One of those pups – the eldest and the boldest – was Ashur. And Ashur’s the best companion anyone could ask for. So it’s probably all worked out for the best.

Haddon stayed among the elves for some months – a time of strange ceremonies of starlight-brought-to-forest-glade and dances that would last from midnight to noon – but eventually he felt compelled to move on. In a parting ceremony of passing sweetness, the girl’s father gifted him with an enchanted silver amulet that gilds the wearer’s tongue to even the most willful of beasts.

More recently, Haddon’s been working guard contracts for Hucrele caravans. That’s been good-paying work. When he saw the last caravan into a squabble of a town named Southcourt, though, the Hucrele representatives gave him new orders: Someone named Kerowyn Hucrele in the town of Oakhurst had sent a plea for help. Her kids had gone missing and she needed someone to help.

HASOR TURRELL (Character Sheet)

As a young boy, Hasor became fascinated by the tales told by Winthrop Porter. Despite the best efforts of his parents, he would frequently sneak off to Porter’s hut to hear his tales of far-off lands and enigmatic knowledge. Hasor became particularly enamored of tales concerning the god of travel, Fharlanghn, and the ancient Pearlescent Knights who honored their god by carving out the vast pilgrim tracts across the civilized and uncivilized world.

Hasor eventually came to think of himself as a follower of Fharlanghn and dreams of traveling the world some day, witnessing for himself the great natural beauties and helping the common man. A few years back he became the Cudberct’s stablehand at the Ol’ Boar’s Inn in order to earn some extra coin to fund his future travels.

Two years ago, one of Cudberct's horses became extremely sick. Dern Nacre did what she could, but didn't expect the beast to last the winter. The newly hired Hasor refused to let one of his charges die, and spent nearly every waking hour nursing the horse back to health. Cudberct was touched by his efforts, and told Hasor that the horse's life was in his hands: If it lived, it would be Hasor's forever. When the southern wind heralded a new spring, he named the newly healed horse Notos, and yearns to ride him into the great unknown.

His success in the face of Dern Nacre's grim expectations, combined with his budding religious ideas and general disinterest in the Old Ways, has caused a rift between the older healer and Hasor. He now spends a great deal more time talking with Winthrop than he does learning from Dern.

Hasor also longs to bring his childhood love with him on his future travels, but Keria has spurned all his advances on account of his extreme cowardice and puny physique. Hoping to win her heart through bold adventure, Hasor has joined with the Lady Jastian, a newcomer to town, and waits anxiously to prove his mettle.


LADY JASTIAN (Character Sheet)

When she who is last of the Wyverntongue
Shall stand alone, of heirs your only heir,
Her fellows all of breath-spent empty lung,
Their forlorn hope from forth her fingers tear
And leave her barren, clenched with endless doubt.
For she shall know her doom, to wed a mate
As foul within as he seems fair without;
A living nightmare laced with sweetest bait,
‘Gainst which all mortal sense should give its care.
Yet from their cursed, conjoined loins shall spring
A thing of shadow’s depth and queen’s despair,
A blight in lands of blood to rule as king.
This is the curse from which your fame is born;
Let all your deeds forevermore be torn.

- The Curse of the Wyverntongues

In the distant lands which were their home, the Wyverntongues were a prestigious and honored family: Its mighty founders were famed in legend and heroic chansons. Its heirs rules prosperous and happy lands. But through the long centuries of their glory, the Curse of the Wyverntongues – a tradition passed down from the earliest days of the house – remained a persistent and never-forgotten blight.

When her elder brother lay upon his deathbed, Lady Jastian foresaw the dark clutches of the curse settling upon her soul: As Lady of the Wyverntongues, she was now the line’s sole heir.

Rather than waiting for her fate to find her, the veteran warrior gathered whatitems she could and rode into the night, hoping to find clues about the curse’s origins or how it could manifest. She kept her purpose secret to all but her most trusted associates, instead claiming to quest after long-forgotten treasures of her ancestors, items that might reverse the family’s declining fortunes.

Only a scant handful of gold coins remain from the wealth Lady Jastian carried with her upon her departure. She must secure more soon, lest she be forced to humiliate herself by accepting employment as a mere sellsword or caravan guard.

SGT. LLEWELLYN (Character Sheet)

There have been Llewellyns in Oakhurst for as long as anyone can remember or the stacks of tombstones in the church basement can attest. And more than a few of them have been charged with the protection of the little village and the surrounding farms. But now there’s only one: Sgt. Llewellyn.

(It’s said that there are a few Llewellyns working as weavers in Southcourt, of course. But Sgt. Llewellyn has never paid much heed to the city and it’s paid little heed to him.)

Over the years, Sgt. Llwellyn has faced a fair share of troubles: The winterfire skeletons that rose from the old cemetery (which is why the tombstones are stacked in the church basement now and the town doesn’t keep a cemetery any more). The dark Entmoot that chanted its way through Witch’s Hallow. A nip of lycanthropy out on the east farms. But he’s always found a way to rally the people around to make a stand against that sort of thing when a standings been necessary.

He’s a comfortable sight for the folk of Oakhurst: He makes his thrice daily walk-abouts ‘round the village and rides out through the farms at least twice a week. He carries carrots and lets the kids feed his warhorse Justice. Everyone knows his mithril shield and shirt of chain (both signs of the sergeant’s office; the title “sergeant” in these parts being used by any chief lawman for reasons of history that no one gives much thought to). The sword he keeps strapped to his side is his, though: A family heirloom that everyone knows will never lose its edge and remains spotless after several generations. Just like the spotless Sgt. Llewellyn never loses his edge.

Cudberct, the local innkeep, works as a frequent deputy for Sgt. Llewellyn. Llewellyn’s learned to trust his expertise, although there’s a number of other young lads who work deputy duty as the need arises.

Llewellyn’s also got a good working relationship with Mayor Vurnor. They both take great pride in making Oakhurst the best little village it can be. Llewellyn is also friends with Dern Nacre, the local healer who follows the Old Ways. He respects the beliefs of the hillfolk, but doesn’t put much credence in it himself.

WINTHROP PORTER (Character Sheet)

Winthrop owns a small hut in the hills several miles outside of town, where he stores a collection of books he believes to be the finest this side of Ashardalon’s Teeth.

He's a familiar face around the town, as he comes in from now and then to restock, replace a lost axe, and tell tall tales in Cudberct's tavern. The rest of the time he spends in his home in the hills, hunting, drinking tea, and reading. It's well known that he knows the area around Oakhurst as well as any, and he's willing to lead exploratory expeditions, so long as his charges don't mind the danger, and the occasional lively literary discourse. Like many of the hill-folk, he speaks draconic, and has an off-handed interest in dragon lore. Whenever in town, he takes the opportunity to look up Dern, and see if he can lend her a hand. He also frequent's Rurik's weapon shoppe exclusively, and when there makes sure to brush up on his dwarven.

He is fascinated with old lore, books, and exploration. His prized possession, besides his warhorse Barnaby and his boomerang axe, is his Folding Boat, gifted to him by his father, cabin boy on the first ship to cross the Krakenwake. He carries it with him wherever he goes, in hopes that he may have the opportunity to follow in his father's footsteps, and himself be the first to cross an unknown body of water. Unfortunately, he has chosen to live in the middle of a barren plain, seemingly leagues from any sizeable pond. He has also never sailed before, and the grand total of his sailing skills come out of a somewhat fanciful book on pirates he owns. And he's deathly afraid of swimming.

Archiving the IC stuff from the original thread.

Quote from: Sir Wulf;597987Jady Jastian sat in the common room of the Old Boar Inn, a melancholy spirit flickering in her eyes.  Somewhat in her cups, the foreign aristocrat regaled onlookers with tales of distant lands and the warlike poems of ancient heroes.  Between tales, she sipped delicately from a goblet of the inn's cheapest wine, her teeth gritted against the inferior drink's silty dregs.

"Oh, for a few stout companions, such as were seen in the days of yore!  Alas, folk of true mettle are not to be met with in this benighted age.  The mighty champions and learned wizards of the sagas are naught but dreams, legends of a better time."  She paused for another sip of the inn's vinegary vintage.  "A band of such puissance would surely rout the innumerable evils that plague this land!"

Quote from: Josh;598023As Lady Jastian's complaints die out, a man stands up from where he had been sitting at the bar, nursing a mug of the inn's cheapest ale.  He is verging on middle aged, rugged and plain-faced.  He leaves his bulging haversack and belt full of axes by his stool and crosses the inn to the lady's table.

"Not so, milady.  This is a rough and dangerous land, to be sure, but there are heroes aplenty.  Buy me a glass of that delightful wine and I will tell you the tale of the time I lead a band of heroes to battle the dragoncult kobolds of the Ashen Plain."

Quote from: Opaopajr;598071/whisper "Ermengilda, if the noble-looking lady buys that guy approaching her table there a glass of our cheap house wine, accept the order but break out a glass of fine wine for them both." *sigh* "Perhaps they've both seen better days than this."

Quote from: greyknight;598085Okay, Certh is gainfully employed at the Old Boar Inn!

A burly, ruddy-faced fellow in a white apron and puffy baker's hat emerges from the kitchen carrying a small plate, which he sets before Lady Jastian. "Here's your dessert, madam: I hope it meets your expectations." On the plate is a scrumptious cream-filled pastry with a spot of jam and a fresh strawberry. Certh produces a little fork and places it on the table before addressing Winthrop. "Anything for yourself, sir?"

Quote from: Sir Wulf;598104"I thank thee for thy pains, my good baker.  My mouth waters!  Might I then trouble thee for a pot of mulled wine and two fair cups?"  Lady Jastian thoughtfully eyed the muscular serving man:  He seemed as though he had the might to wield an axe or greatsword, if he could be persuaded to venture forth from the village's safe confines.  She wondered whether the baker could be swayed to her cause:  Even if he proved to lack the stomach for battle, at least his companions would eat well.  

Ending her reverie, Jastian turned to examine the newly-arrived woodsman.  He seemed a friendly sort, comfortable among the rough-hewn peasant farmers and laborers crowding the common room.  "So, 'twas your band that slew the head priest of those wicked reptiles!  I heard your tale ere I arrived in this place!  Please, sit and warm yourself with some mulled wine, for I have long sought such a man for a venture I'd propose.  Tell me, know you aught of a cursed ruin some name the Sunless Citadel?"

Quote from: Opaopajr;598111/whisper to chambermaid 1 "Our lady is getting more talkative with her cups. Have you seen that she has eaten beforehand, I hope? Go make sure her chamber is ready -- and supply an extra night jar within the night stand for her comfort."

/whisper to Ermengilda "Suggest to the new gents our drink special today: a gallon pitcher of ale gets you a complimentary side order of fried boar chips & potato chips. I want them to eat so as to keep the place clean. I'm going to check with the stablehand before locking it up for tonight."

Quote from: Josh;598143Turning to the portly baker, Winthrop smiles broadly.  "Ah, Certh, good to see you again.  How's the training coming along?  Slain any bandits yet?"  He pauses, surreptitiously jingling the coin pouch at his belt. "I think I'll pass on the desert today, thank you."

Bowing to Lady Jastian, Winthrop takes a seat opposite her.  "I am pleased that you've heard of my exploits, although truth be told, I merely lead the brave adventurers through the plains, they did most of the work.  I am interested in this venture you mention, however.  I have of course heard of the Citadel, to the south, near the ravine.  I've travelled that way before, although never ventured too close.  There's an eerie feeling about the whole area, not to mention the goblins."

"Say, if you're looking for men for your venture, you could do worse than our good barkeep over there.  He's a sturdy warrior and a fighting man of some skill, no doubt from all the bickering with his wife."

"Don't tell her I said that.  She scares me."

/bringing the evening meal to my stablehand "Here you go. I'll put it by your tool bench. Certh has outdone himself again, as usual. Heh, if I'm not careful his cooking will spoil me into early retirement from the militia."

"Are the horses good? I'll give you a spot of company while you eat before leaving you to finishing up the evening's work. Be sure to get out of the cold soon and get some rest, the guests might hanker for an early start next morning."

"Our guests are talking about that damned ravine again. And just when their company was growing on me. What new rumors of that place have you been hearing from the guests?"

Certh puffs and puts his hands on his hips. "Hmph! We've scared off a few, but usually by the time word gets back to us from the farms they're half gone already. Sergeant Llewellyn is trying to organise some sort of patrol system, though when we all have our day jobs... it is difficult. What I say is, we must strike them down at their lairs, teach them a lesson. We may not know where the human bandits lurk, but it's well-known the goblins are holed up..."

/Ermengilda, overhearing the lady's request to Certh, takes her cue to prepare two glasses of fine wine.

When Certh returns, she'll wave him back to the kitchen (or wherever) to instead proffer the wine herself.

"Señora, my husband thought you might like a change of pace." /lean in and whisper in her ear "Don't worry, we'll count this as a single house wine." /straighten and speak normally "I'll return to see if you still want a warm mulled wine before bed." /while returning to the bar "It does good for one's rest, no?"

Taking a sip of the fine wine, Winthrop grimaces slightly. Leaning across the table, he whispers to Jastian "Cudberct's wine is usually delicious.  This must just be a poor year." While noble Winthrop is a connoisseur of many things, wine is not one of them.

To Certh he replies, with a slight chuckle "Right you are, good man. Well, you can tell your Sargent that any time he's ready to deal with that menace, I'm happy to lead him there." He turns back to Jastian "now, about that venture?"

Cudberct:
/ambling in thought from Inn's stable

Hmm, the stablehand speaks of some newcomers seemingly flush with victory. Perhaps they can do something to help end at least the goblin threat. But I'm going to need veterans who understand the risks, not a band who may have gotten lucky and let it go to their head.

Hopefully the Sergeant will come around for a nip & bit of storytelling listening after his evening constitutional. He'll likely give a good second opinion about our guests' ability.

I'm going to talk to Dern Nacre next door and see if she is willing to join our evening meal. A complimentary famed dessert from Certh should sway her. At the very least she can talk about the horrors seen repairing the casualties of would-be-victors against the ravine. Better the cost of a cake to scare away the foolhardy than bury more humans before their time.

/heads more purposefully towards neighboring healer house

Lady Jastian pondered Winthrop's words. "I desire to plumb the depths of this 'Sunless Citadel', for I have heard some rumor that some dark relic of mine own House's history lies hidden within its grim depths.  Despite this, mayhap t'would be a wiser course to first strike at the goblin warren nearby.  While such creatures hold little threat for a determined band, if we suffered ill-fortune in the depths of the citadel, the pestiferous creatures might feel bold enow to harry us on our road home.  

"Besides, I should prefer to ride my good destrier Paladin on the journey to the citadel.  I would be most wroth to discover upon my emergence that he had been rendered into chops and stew for a hungry band of goblinid miscreants!  Best to clear the area of such nuisances before we venture into the citadel's darkened halls."

Winthrop nods.  "Well that settles it.  The goblins need to be dealt with, sooner or later, and it's been too long since my travels lead me that way.  I'd be happy to lead you and whatever companions you choose to the ravine, and lend an axe if it is needed."

"Perhaps we should see if we can seek out the Sergeant.  I've never met him myself, but another strong arm would not go amiss.  That is, if you're done your meal..."

He looks wistfully at the half-eaten desert on the table.

Lady Jastian didn't miss the hungry woodsman's glance toward her half-eaten repast.  "Please share this delicacy with me.  T'would be most wrong for the baker's labors to go wasted!  Mayhap afterward, you could introduce me to that sergeant fellow.  A few more stalwart souls would make success certain."

Certh has been eagerly listening to the conversation, although not wanting to seem rude in front of the noble lady.  "Begging your pardon my lady, I expect Sergeant Llewellyn will in fact be by presently; he usually is at around this time." he blurts out.  "Furthermore I should like to put myself at your service if I may thereby help cleanse the evil out of that ravine."

"Then I suppose we needn't go anywhere" says Winthrop, absentmindedly picking up the pastry and shoving it into his mouth.  The pastry is delicious.  Although Winthrop knows the basics of roasting a deer over a campfire, the art of baking has always eluded him, and it had been several hours since his rabbit lunch on the way in to town.  Through a mouthful of crumbs, he says "You seem a lover of tales.  Shall I tell you the story of the day good innkeep Cudberct wrestled a bugbear?"

Cudberct
/returning to the inn, speaking to Ermengilda
"I've invited our neighbor Dern Nacre to join us for dinner. Set aside another place setting, just in case. Get Certh to prepare another cake for dessert, too. Also, we (our family and workers) will eat in the front of the house tonight, excepting the children who already ate early, of course."

/leans in and speaks in confidence
"And afterwards have one of the Chambermaids entertain them this evening in the back of the house and tuck them in early, please. I think our new guests have aspirations against the ravine. I called on the healer to visit and speak honestly -- if we're in luck Sgt Llewellyn will be here as is his wont -- and perhaps both can scare some sense into them. I don't want to bury anymore ambitious, but inexperienced fighters. And I really don't want the kids hearing those stories."

/straightens and speaks normally
"I'll cover the front now and start moving the tables into place for our dinner."

Cudberct
/to Winthrop with a wry smile, as I rearrange tables into a large family style one
"Isn't it a bit early in the evening to be pulling people's ears to listen to long tales? Next will be the story of our 10-point buck that got away."