A lonely tavern stood in the mids of the night as a beacon for late travellers. This inn wasn't a popular place amongst the righteous people, however. It was built under the heavy oaken branches and near the serpent-like cold forest stream for a reason: dark buisnesses require a dark marketplace.
The hand of the king could not reach every single rat nest in the country and the high council was busy enough sitting in the White Mountain Halls thinking their high thoughts to give it a try even if they could. Some outpost towns didn't seem to like this very much because rats usually carry diseases.
Falcan Hayes was a general for the King. He was send to this lonely corner of the world because of his tendency to speak his justice-boggled mind without thinking of the good of the Kingdom. Needless to say he wasn't the biggest advocate for the crown and thus found it to be his business to clear these foul caverns of their habitants. He wasn't only a man of words but felt it as his responsibility to be the first to walk on the battlefield after he had given his orders. This was a feature that made his men follow him anywhere and do anything he asked. Courage is the most contagious of illnessess.
There he stood, leaning to the stable wall, outside of the tavern with two of his most trusted men -- Grandon and Jeffrey, both newly assigned officers for the King. One could say that it was a mistake to send this many intelligent men to the same lonely outpost but supposedly that's just a matter of perspective.
"Are we going in?" asked Grandon without turning his probing eyes from the tavern windows.
"Yes", replied Falcan but his tone indicated: "not yet."
"Who's our target?"
"Raviala, southern merchant. You'll recognize him from his welcoming words."
"We should've brough more men."
"This isn't a raid mission. Even though I haven't seen Raviala in many years I'm trusting him to recall our previously warm terms in Glashaven. Everything should go smoothly depending on how willing he is to give us the information we need."
Saying that Falcan cranked himself upright and headed to the front door with sturdy steps. He didn't hear Grandon muttering to himself. "That's pretty much what I meant."
The men entered the tavern in a quiet manner with vain hopes of going unnoticed by unwanted eyes. The mood inside was already quite grim perfectly reflecting the moist pre-autumn weather on the other side of the door. Nonetheless distinctive chatter with occasional laughters broke the air infecting the atmosphere with an ominous tone.
Grandon beckoned the bartender for three beers with no intentions of drinking them. He
The hand of the king could not reach every single rat nest in the country and the high council was busy enough sitting in the White Mountain Halls thinking their high thoughts to give it a try even if they could. Some outpost towns didn't seem to like this very much because rats usually carry diseases.
Falcan Hayes was a general for the King. He was send to this lonely corner of the world because of his tendency to speak his justice-boggled mind without thinking of the good of the Kingdom. Needless to say he wasn't the biggest advocate for the crown and thus found it to be his business to clear these foul caverns of their habitants. He wasn't only a man of words but felt it as his responsibility to be the first to walk on the battlefield after he had given his orders. This was a feature that made his men follow him anywhere and do anything he asked. Courage is the most contagious of illnessess.
There he stood, leaning to the stable wall, outside of the tavern with two of his most trusted men -- Grandon and Jeffrey, both newly assigned officers for the King. One could say that it was a mistake to send this many intelligent men to the same lonely outpost but supposedly that's just a matter of perspective.
"Are we going in?" asked Grandon without turning his probing eyes from the tavern windows.
"Yes", replied Falcan but his tone indicated: "not yet."
"Who's our target?"
"Raviala, southern merchant. You'll recognize him from his welcoming words."
"We should've brough more men."
"This isn't a raid mission. Even though I haven't seen Raviala in many years I'm trusting him to recall our previously warm terms in Glashaven. Everything should go smoothly depending on how willing he is to give us the information we need."
Saying that Falcan cranked himself upright and headed to the front door with sturdy steps. He didn't hear Grandon muttering to himself. "That's pretty much what I meant."
The men entered the tavern in a quiet manner with vain hopes of going unnoticed by unwanted eyes. The mood inside was already quite grim perfectly reflecting the moist pre-autumn weather on the other side of the door. Nonetheless distinctive chatter with occasional laughters broke the air infecting the atmosphere with an ominous tone.
Grandon beckoned the bartender for three beers with no intentions of drinking them. He
