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FYI: Tarin's background which precedes this post can be found here. The following posts will chronicle Tarin's travels from his birthplace to Sundren.
Tarin walked into Elversult and the first spot he hit was the shrine to Tymora. Thank the Lady Luck that he made it here alive! The numerous bandits on the road between here and his home were bordering upon ridiculous but he managed to slip past them all. He said a prayer or three and then headed off to explore his new surroundings, short lived as it ended up being. Elversult was a town of trade with very little in the form of permanent settlements. A good bit tired he took the few coin in his pocket and began looking for a place to lay his head for the evening. Spotting a place that looked promising in the distance he moved off towards it. The Splitskull Inn is what the sign said above the door. He laughed, why the hells not? He waltzed in not realizing the next leg of his journey was already about to begin.
Weary but thirsty he thought a drink would do him some good so he passed by the innkeeper and headed straight for the bar. Pushing the door open he was greeted with the smell of smoke and ale. There was a small crowd present and they didn't appear to be too drunk, yet. As ever, he quietly made his way to a table out of the way and signaled one of the barmaids over to place his order. The ale she brought back was dark and thick, he knew he wouldn't need a meal after a few of these. Paying no mind to the others he nearly jumped out of his shoes when a small being walked out of the shadows next to him and almost shouted, "'ey you!" This had to be a Hin. Tarin had never seen one before but he'd learned enough through his reading to recognize the race when he saw it. The Hin didn't wait for a response simply chuckled at Tarin's response and said, "Oi, m'nam be Ren, 'ats Ren da Hin ta ye!" He smiled broadly obviously thinking the statement to be rather clever. "Oi saw ye wolk 'n aw quiet like oer 'er, mos wou'a miss'd ye, but not Ren!" He said with another smile. "Oi'm wif 'em fellars oer 'er." He pointed to a group of mercenaries sitting a few tables down. "We'r wif da 'ighmoon Trad'n Cos'er!" Which Tarin later found out was the Highmoon Trading Coster, a well known trade group in the realms operating mostly along the Sword Coast. He went on to explain that they were escorting a caravan from Westgate to Scornubel, where the Coster had a large warehouse. The Hin invited Tarin to join them and bought him another drink.
The others mostly ignored Tarin at first seeing that they were caught up in some tale of adventure. Tarin listened on while taking sips from his stein(or gulps but who pays attention to these things anyway). After the story was done the biggest of the group turned to Tarin and looked him up and down clearly sizing him up. He gave Ren the Hin a sideways glance, shrugged and went on to explain that they recently lost a man to some bandits and had need of another scout. He explained that the danger was minimal and the coin was high. Tarin didn't quite catch the wink he gave to his companions though. By this time he'd had a few more drinks than he was used to and didn't think twice to offer his services.
Adventure!
If discomfort and danger be always at hand, why then adventure? There is something in mankind that leads some always to such foolishness, and the rest of us benefit by the riches and knowledge and dreams they bring us. Why else tolerate such dangerous idiots? -Helsuntiir of Athkatla, Musings
ps - no Hin's were harmed in the writing of this post though my abilities to type in accents clearly needs work. I apologize for the butchering to those that do it well.
Tarin walked into Elversult and the first spot he hit was the shrine to Tymora. Thank the Lady Luck that he made it here alive! The numerous bandits on the road between here and his home were bordering upon ridiculous but he managed to slip past them all. He said a prayer or three and then headed off to explore his new surroundings, short lived as it ended up being. Elversult was a town of trade with very little in the form of permanent settlements. A good bit tired he took the few coin in his pocket and began looking for a place to lay his head for the evening. Spotting a place that looked promising in the distance he moved off towards it. The Splitskull Inn is what the sign said above the door. He laughed, why the hells not? He waltzed in not realizing the next leg of his journey was already about to begin.
Weary but thirsty he thought a drink would do him some good so he passed by the innkeeper and headed straight for the bar. Pushing the door open he was greeted with the smell of smoke and ale. There was a small crowd present and they didn't appear to be too drunk, yet. As ever, he quietly made his way to a table out of the way and signaled one of the barmaids over to place his order. The ale she brought back was dark and thick, he knew he wouldn't need a meal after a few of these. Paying no mind to the others he nearly jumped out of his shoes when a small being walked out of the shadows next to him and almost shouted, "'ey you!" This had to be a Hin. Tarin had never seen one before but he'd learned enough through his reading to recognize the race when he saw it. The Hin didn't wait for a response simply chuckled at Tarin's response and said, "Oi, m'nam be Ren, 'ats Ren da Hin ta ye!" He smiled broadly obviously thinking the statement to be rather clever. "Oi saw ye wolk 'n aw quiet like oer 'er, mos wou'a miss'd ye, but not Ren!" He said with another smile. "Oi'm wif 'em fellars oer 'er." He pointed to a group of mercenaries sitting a few tables down. "We'r wif da 'ighmoon Trad'n Cos'er!" Which Tarin later found out was the Highmoon Trading Coster, a well known trade group in the realms operating mostly along the Sword Coast. He went on to explain that they were escorting a caravan from Westgate to Scornubel, where the Coster had a large warehouse. The Hin invited Tarin to join them and bought him another drink.
The others mostly ignored Tarin at first seeing that they were caught up in some tale of adventure. Tarin listened on while taking sips from his stein(or gulps but who pays attention to these things anyway). After the story was done the biggest of the group turned to Tarin and looked him up and down clearly sizing him up. He gave Ren the Hin a sideways glance, shrugged and went on to explain that they recently lost a man to some bandits and had need of another scout. He explained that the danger was minimal and the coin was high. Tarin didn't quite catch the wink he gave to his companions though. By this time he'd had a few more drinks than he was used to and didn't think twice to offer his services.
Adventure!
If discomfort and danger be always at hand, why then adventure? There is something in mankind that leads some always to such foolishness, and the rest of us benefit by the riches and knowledge and dreams they bring us. Why else tolerate such dangerous idiots? -Helsuntiir of Athkatla, Musings
ps - no Hin's were harmed in the writing of this post though my abilities to type in accents clearly needs work. I apologize for the butchering to those that do it well.