The By-the-road Inn
Rain...
Endless
Pouring
Rain
The late season brought lots of it. Cascades even. It came down as heavy as can be, the thunderous sound of thousands upon thousands of droplets hitting the ground at once again ... and again ... and again once more. The trees surrounding the road hunched under heaven's pressure, each bough and leaf being pulled down by the pouring, drenching rain.
Pris's boots were full to the brim, each step feeling like she was dredging along underwater. Her woolen socks, new and straight-off-the-pin out of Bitterbrook, were soaked and her cloak was heavy as iron. Pris was not happy at the moment, not in the least because of her aching legs.
The sun had set perhaps three hours past and the wood was dark and the rain had followed not one minute later, as if it had been waiting precisely for that moment. A tiny globule of ethereal light, glowing dimly in the downpour, drifted calmly beside her, being her only source of light. Pris had never had trouble seeing in the dark, but the rain made it incessantly annoying to keep track of the road.
A begrudged meowing resounded beside her.
"Just a bit more, Nuggy." Pris muttered, partly to herself.
Her familiar merely snuffed at that and padded on, keeping pace with her.
"Just a bit more, indeed."
The pair rounded a corner and there, just up the road, was the shimmer of lights. Many of them, partly obscured by the trees lining both sides of the Highway.
Pris felt as hapy as the tiny purr besides her as she sped up, eager to get to the edge of the town as soon as possible.
A town's guard greeted her halfheartedly as she passed the border, barely looking. He was huddled in his cloak underneath a small roof, an oil lamp to stave off the cold autumn air.
Passing quickly by the closed shops and the occasional villager, Pris finally saw her destination; a large three-story building of stone and white wood, the many windows glittering with warmth and light, as if it was yelling "come in, come in" at her.
She almost forgot herself in nostalgia, but quickly carried on, throwing open the door under the large, swinging sign:
Howler's Tavern
By-the-road
The warmth of the room hit her simultaneously with the wafting smell of beer and roasted meat, not to mention the clangor of voices, cups and music. Stepping through the door was like entering another world. A world free of rain and cold and mud and soaked boots.
She drew a deep breath as she stood in the entryway before quickly dodging out of the way as a group of drunk patrons passed her by, out into the rain.
Happy she wasn't part of that entourage, Pris looked down; Nugget seemed just as happy to be rid of the rain, but soaked as he was, he only meowed slightly less miserably, shooting her an impatient look.
"Okay, okay." She said, raising her hand. Tapping into the energy within her, she waved her hand slightly over him and, by Pris's will, he was dry in a wiff, a wet puddle at his feet that quickly diminished. "There. Happy?" She said and snapped her fingers; The light beside her poofed out.
"Meow." Said Nugget and stroked up against her leg.
"Finally." Pris muttered and pulled on the magical energy inside herself again and with only a wave, she was dry as well. Sure, she could have done so earlier, but it wouldn't have done her much good out in the rain. Two seconds and she would be just as drenched. "Let's get a room and some food! I'm starving." She tucked a lock of her blonde hair behind a short, pointy ear.
Nugget seemed to agree, for he, deft as a cat could be, jumped gracefully up onto her shoulder and perched like a hawk. It probably was a peculiar sight, but anyone who hung by a magic caster long enough, or any adventurer for that matter, would find the sight common enough.
The massive common room was alive with nighttime visitors, and not only of the common folk of the area: In a corner, two half-orcs sat playing cards with a dwarf and two men, while three halflings were smoking on pipes and squabbling over tankards large as their heads over at the raised area, green smoke billowing over their heads. A heated argument had erupted between an armored knight and heavily muscled dwarf (standing on a stool) while their companions and the poor elven server was desperately trying to calm them down.
Pris smiled as she waded through the crowds, dodging chairs, legs and wandering hands until she could finally take a breath at the bar.
"'Ey!! Lombardi!! Get yer hands off the damn wolf's head!! You know that's for decoration, not acrobatics, ya daft monkey!!" Shouted the halfling on the other side of the bar. His short, brown hair was combed slickly back, drawn taught by his furrowed brow and revealing a nasty scar above his left eyebrow; a token of his adventuring days. His voice carried far over the cacophony around them, but no one seemed to bother, save Lombardi's friends who were thankfully escorting him back to his table.
"Lively as ever, I see." Pris quipped.
"That's one way of putting i-" The halfling replied, turning his attention to her before erupting in a cheerful smile. "Hey! Pris! How ya doin', lil' castah gal?!" He said, stretching as far as his tiny frame could over the bar to offer his hand to Nugget, who sniffed at it before letting himself be pet.
"Hello to you too, Mr. Howler. Better than last time. Hope the window wasn't too bad to replace." She dreaded the answer. Last time she had been here, she had been accomplice in an event that had cost him several gold worth of inventory.
"Naaaah, ain't no issue." Howler replied, waving his hands casually. "Got a pal up in Pirick with a herd of flail-snails. Got that boogah replaced in half a beat."
Pris gave him a smile before quickly scoping the room.
"Speaking of pals, have you seen-" She started quickly, partly dreading a long story about Howler's friend's business of farming flail-snail glass. The man had a penchant for rambling.
"Yer house wreckers? They arrived about three hours ago, just as the sun decided to piss off." He said, nodding towards an archway leading into one of the smaller secluded rooms. "Need somethin' for the trip?" He held up a tankard and nodded to a massive barrel situated on the wall behind him.
"One, and a room."
Howler chuckled in his own inhaling-kind of way.
"I believe yer friend took care of that for ya. Double bed, 's what she said." He filled the cup to the brink and then some before setting it atop the counter with a hearty
comp!!
as he winked knowingly at her.
"Thanks." Pris suppressed the blush that tried to creep to her cheek.
"Ain't no issue, lass. Happy dr - Hey, Lombardi!! I swear to The Dragon Lord Himself I will have yer
balls
on a plaque if ya don't get the fuck down!!"
Leaving Howler to send the bouncer on poor Lombardi, Pris drank heartily from her cup before heading off into the inner room. The taste of the ale could well have been heaven itself in a cup. Oh how much she had
missed
it!!
Oh, cold, foamy, delicious
beer
!!
Scouting as she went by, dodging past yet another wave of legs and shuffling bodies and narrowly escaping being decked in the jaw by an orc's elbow, she entered the smaller inner chamber and was immediately greeted with the best sight she could have received.
The room was much smaller than the common room. Each of these kind of rooms were for rent to groups who wished for more private company than the ruckus outside. One single table standing in the center by a crackling fireplace was occupied by a number of individuals. A handsome young man was standing with one foot atop his chair, the other on the table, waving his daggers around with deft precision while a pair of girls were swooning as if the prince himself had courted them.
An elven girl with silver hair sat strumming a silver inlaid lute while half-listening to the rogue's tale. She wore a white high-collared shirt with embroidered scrollwork and simple dark pants. Her boots, firmly planted on the table, were engraved leather laced all the way up to the knee. A massive bulk of a man was laughing loudly while the last pair, a blonde man in red plate armor and bald man with tattoos on his temples and clad in gray and silver robes were discussing something with a short and squat dwarf.
"Home sweet home." Pris allowed herself a laugh as she stepped in, the noise from the common room disappeared as she entered. Nugget squirmed on her shoulder and, with a jump, quickly darted off and headed straight for the table.
"And believe me, girls. You haven't seen a Pitchcloak angry before you've nicked his cash, eaten his supper and tripped him over his own knickers. And that's only half of it."
"What happened then? Did you kill him?!" One of the girls, a powder-faced thing of around nineteen, said. Her face showed shock, but her smile betrayed her.
"Well first," The man said. He straightened his black leather tunic as he sat down, sheathing his daggers with a twirl. "He was pretty pissed. Till he figured out we had nowhere to run."
Both girls feigned gasps.
"Did ... did you die?" One said, the rest of the table shooting her glances of clear bewilderment.
"Luckily, for you," The rogue added, flicking his long, black hair and ignoring the ridiculousness of the question. "No. I did in fact not."
"Barely, though." Pris shot in, coming up behind him and throwing her arms around his neck. The rogue's hands flew to his daggers in a heartbeat, but the sight of the cat standing on the table before him seemed to stop him. She could feel him smile.
"Oh ho ho, Kaiser. Are you gonna stab me?" Pris quipped into his ear as she hugged him with her cup-held arm.
"I might, if you don't get your hand off my coin purse." He said calmly, realizing who was trying to nick
