Bloody Bard Inn

Herman wanders through the doorway, accompanied by two stone golems, each slightly bigger than a human. "Hello, who do I talk to about renting a room for a few days?" he asks.

"Very well." said Herman. He gave an order to the golems, who left the building to wait outside. Herman than reached into his pocket and pulled out three silvers, handing them to the bartender.

"Thanks." said Herman, before heading upstairs to look for a vacant room.

The bartender - and the Varan within - all looked at Leah J. Vilian when she came through the door. She was a striking woman, which caught the eye of any man's attention, but this one had armor and a warrior's heart no doubt. She was a shieldmaiden, or at least that's what the Varan warriors within the tavern would see her as.

"Aye," a great, big Varan with a big, bushy, blonde beard stood up from his chair. "Let me buy ye a ale, m'lady!"

Another Varan, this one younger, with dashing blonde hair reaching down past his shoulders, stood up. He had striking blue eyes, a clear face, and looked more like a southern lord than a northern barbarian. "Sit down, ya oaf," he said to the big man, putting his strong hand on his shoulder and shoving him back down into his chair. He then walked over to Leah and spoke:

"Good day, m'lady," he began. He seemed quite friendly. "My name is Olaf. This lot," he waved behind him, at the cast of warriors who eyeballed the young girl, "hasn't seen a lady of your stature for some time. You must forgive them." Olaf then motioned over at the bar. "Would you like some drink? Perhaps a cloth to dry off? Bartender! Fetch a towel and some water! The lady needs it!"

Olaf offered Leah J. Vilian a seat at a nearby table. He sat in the opposite seat himself, across from her. The old table was made of wood, and one could not deduce whether the red stains were of blood or spilled wine. "Oi," Olaf called out in his near-perfect voice of bravado, "barkeep, fetch me the freshest meat and ale you have and bring it here!" The barkeep was a good man and went about doing what was asked.

"So, dear Leah," Olaf spoke to the woman, "tell me why you have come to the Bloody Bard. If you continue on north, you'll come to Asgeir. Is that your destination? Or perhaps you're running from someone... or just seeking rest." Olaf seemed... curiously interested in the woman. "If you must travel, allow me to come along to see you off; for protection." Olaf then took Leah's hand in his own and kissed her knuckles. "A lady like yourself should not travel alone."

The barkeep and the young girl came over and put some fresh meat and ale on the table. Olaf went to cutting the meat and eating it, while drinking the ale as well. Everything he did was precise and strangely perfect. He was... unnatural.

Olaf laughed as well, but one could tell it was a forced laugh - like he was trying to keep the moment going. "Why don't you tell me about this little quest of yours, Leah," he said, "and who it is that may be chasing you." His brows curved in such a way that one might think he was planning something, and his lips smirked as if he anticipated something... grand.

Casteylan didn't usually mind being lost, but after three days of rain he was grateful to see the welcoming lights of a building standing on a crossroad. The smell of roasting meat, stale beer, the sound of breaking tables... he glanced up at the sign. "The Bloody Bard?" he said to Ember, his large hunting-cat, with a chuckle. "This should be entertaining." Ember did not reply except to give a quiet "mrow". She didn't like the rain much either.

After leaving his horse in the care of a stable-boy, he stepped inside and glanced around the room. Most of the men here were big northerners; almost as tall as Casteylan was, and twice as broad. Some of them seemed to be in the process of breaking furniture. He gestured to Ember to stay close and approached the bar, keeping an eye on the activity at the other end of the room.

Laying some coins down on the bar-top he called for the bar-keeper and ordered a meal; roast meat and bread and a mug of ale for himself, something raw for his cat.

When Casteylan Redhawk entered the old inn a good number of the Varan warriors took an interest in his cat. "Look at that one, he's a big one," one of the men said.

The bartender made his way to the counter as soon as Casteylan entered the tavern. He received his order of meat, bread, and ale. He grinned at the large cat for a few moments before pushing a plate of raw meat in its direction. "What's this then?" he asked curiously. The inn got quiet as the Varan listened, wanting to know just what this creature was. "Some wild animal, or a tame companion?"

Not all Varan train pets; those who do consider 'pets' to be hunting hounds, or anything that is loyal and kills when commanded.

The barkeep had moved his hands away from the cat's food just as quickly as he slid it over. He was impressed by the creature. He was barely paying attention to the Casteylan Redhawk but answered him after a few moments. "Could go on north," his eyes finally left the cat, "to Asgeir. The Valgards of Valland are hospitable people. The wilds there are teeming with life. Deer, elk, bear, buunvar, foxes, rabbits, beaver, you name it; plenty of streams to fish too, if you're an angler. I hear if you take the pelts and meats back to Wulfenheim they'll pay a good price for it. It's cold up north, back in the homeland, so make sure you got sufficient clothes, friend."