Post by Mary Blithe on Mar 18, 2009 10:12:58 GMT -5
The Silver Serpent is booming with business, which is not uncommon on harsh winter nights. The innkeeper, Ásgeir, has not seen travelers for a good few months. Foreigners aren't much welcome into The Skínandi Borg anymore.
When you enter, the room falls completely silent. Many suspicious glares and glances are thrown your way as you cross the room to sit down by the hearth, where a little ways away, a game of strategy is being played, and closer still a musician has been pulling a dreary requiem from the strings of his rebec. Even the buxom young serving girl is too afraid to approach you.
At last, determined not to seem ungracious, Ásgeir prods his daughter forward. After a moment's hesitation, she walks over to where you are, and quietly asks if there is anything she can serve you.
You order a drink, knowing the great effort it took on her part to approach a complete stranger, and the room goes back to its activity, choosing to ignore you completely, yet you are still aware that every being in the room has one eye on his task and the other on you, should you attempt anything they might deem ... unusual.
You sit in silence for who knows how long, the musician refuses to give way to a more lively tune, and continues to play only dreary or dull hymns. Your drink comes, but Ásgeir's daughter doesn't speak to you again. You contemplate renting a room for the night, and with a touch of amusement wonder how they might take to that.
After an hour or two past, Ásgeir walks over to check and see if there is anything further he can do for you.
"You must pardon us," he added. "Travelers rarely grace Skínandi Borg, and we figured that it was common sense as far as ömurlegur that one does not walk the paths after dark. Those who do come around after dark can't possibly be up to any good."
"In truth, I stumbled upon this town by mistake," you reply, truthfully. "I was on my way to Stolt ..."
"Ah," Ásgeir scratches his beard thoughtfully. "In that case, you made a wrong turn several leagues back. My advice would be that in the morning, you turn right back where you came from, travel about seven leagues, and then follow the river. You'll reach Stolt by afternoon day after, at a decent pace."
"Thank you," you smile gratefully. "I did get the feeling that I was lost, but there was no one around to ask."
"Aye," Ásgeir pulls up a chair next to you, and you get one or two questioning looks from various customers. "What business have you in Stolt, anyway?"
You stiffen, almost defensively. "Forgive me, but my business is my business."
Ásgeir waves his hand dismissively.
"Of course," he says. "Understandable, completely understandable. But I will warn you to be cautious. Stolt is even closer than we are to Helvíti Castle..."
"What is at Helvíti castle?" You lean forward, intrigue.
"The Black Jester," Ásgeir's voice is low, barely above a whisper. "One doesn't talk about it often, here. Who knows what is listening? But I will tell you this, ever since good King Auðun was killed, his entrails pulled out and his body thrown over the parapets, Evenspell hasn't been the same. We used to be a beautiful city, and now we are a broken people. Our only wish is to be able to survive each day as it comes."
"The Black Jester?" you lift an eyebrow inquisitively. "I've never heard of him."
"Eh." Ásgeir snorts. "You really aren't from around here, are you?"
"No, I come from Langt Burt."
"Saints, but that's a province in Sarundell, isn't it? What in the world brings you to Evenspell? I'm sorry," he remembers. "You wish to keep your business to yourself."
You nod. "Much appreciated," you sip the remainders of your ale, and lick your lips. "And thank you again for your hospitality. It's more than I suppose I expected to receive."
"My pleasure," Ásgeir muttered, standing up, the chair groaning in relief as he did so. "I suppose you're wanting a room for the night, then?"
"If you have one to spare," you nod again.
"I have nothing but room. As I said, we don't get many visitors. But," his kindly face became very grim. "For the sake of my customers, minn herra, I would ask that you leave before dawn."
"It shall be done," you promise.
Ásgeir doesn't keep the relief from his face as he turns and walks back to his counter.
After a moment or two more of contemplation, you go up to your rooms, where sleep awaits.
When you enter, the room falls completely silent. Many suspicious glares and glances are thrown your way as you cross the room to sit down by the hearth, where a little ways away, a game of strategy is being played, and closer still a musician has been pulling a dreary requiem from the strings of his rebec. Even the buxom young serving girl is too afraid to approach you.
At last, determined not to seem ungracious, Ásgeir prods his daughter forward. After a moment's hesitation, she walks over to where you are, and quietly asks if there is anything she can serve you.
You order a drink, knowing the great effort it took on her part to approach a complete stranger, and the room goes back to its activity, choosing to ignore you completely, yet you are still aware that every being in the room has one eye on his task and the other on you, should you attempt anything they might deem ... unusual.
You sit in silence for who knows how long, the musician refuses to give way to a more lively tune, and continues to play only dreary or dull hymns. Your drink comes, but Ásgeir's daughter doesn't speak to you again. You contemplate renting a room for the night, and with a touch of amusement wonder how they might take to that.
After an hour or two past, Ásgeir walks over to check and see if there is anything further he can do for you.
"You must pardon us," he added. "Travelers rarely grace Skínandi Borg, and we figured that it was common sense as far as ömurlegur that one does not walk the paths after dark. Those who do come around after dark can't possibly be up to any good."
"In truth, I stumbled upon this town by mistake," you reply, truthfully. "I was on my way to Stolt ..."
"Ah," Ásgeir scratches his beard thoughtfully. "In that case, you made a wrong turn several leagues back. My advice would be that in the morning, you turn right back where you came from, travel about seven leagues, and then follow the river. You'll reach Stolt by afternoon day after, at a decent pace."
"Thank you," you smile gratefully. "I did get the feeling that I was lost, but there was no one around to ask."
"Aye," Ásgeir pulls up a chair next to you, and you get one or two questioning looks from various customers. "What business have you in Stolt, anyway?"
You stiffen, almost defensively. "Forgive me, but my business is my business."
Ásgeir waves his hand dismissively.
"Of course," he says. "Understandable, completely understandable. But I will warn you to be cautious. Stolt is even closer than we are to Helvíti Castle..."
"What is at Helvíti castle?" You lean forward, intrigue.
"The Black Jester," Ásgeir's voice is low, barely above a whisper. "One doesn't talk about it often, here. Who knows what is listening? But I will tell you this, ever since good King Auðun was killed, his entrails pulled out and his body thrown over the parapets, Evenspell hasn't been the same. We used to be a beautiful city, and now we are a broken people. Our only wish is to be able to survive each day as it comes."
"The Black Jester?" you lift an eyebrow inquisitively. "I've never heard of him."
"Eh." Ásgeir snorts. "You really aren't from around here, are you?"
"No, I come from Langt Burt."
"Saints, but that's a province in Sarundell, isn't it? What in the world brings you to Evenspell? I'm sorry," he remembers. "You wish to keep your business to yourself."
You nod. "Much appreciated," you sip the remainders of your ale, and lick your lips. "And thank you again for your hospitality. It's more than I suppose I expected to receive."
"My pleasure," Ásgeir muttered, standing up, the chair groaning in relief as he did so. "I suppose you're wanting a room for the night, then?"
"If you have one to spare," you nod again.
"I have nothing but room. As I said, we don't get many visitors. But," his kindly face became very grim. "For the sake of my customers, minn herra, I would ask that you leave before dawn."
"It shall be done," you promise.
Ásgeir doesn't keep the relief from his face as he turns and walks back to his counter.
After a moment or two more of contemplation, you go up to your rooms, where sleep awaits.
