Arrival at Nurok

Walking around a bit, asking the servers as well as a couple of clientele, you manage to find the fellow known as Jacobius walking about and interacting with customers. He is tall, surpassing six and a half feet tall, and it is obvious that in his youth he would be what some folks call a mountain of a man. Thick arms now sag slightly, while his frame has begun to settle about his waist. While he sports a thick, but well-groomed beard, his hair has long ago begun to forsake his head, and all that remains are sideburns and a small tail.

His voice is deep, but not as strong as it once was, and from the looks of all of his scars he has seen his fair share of hardship.
His eyes are a deep green and as you approach he gazes down with a wide smile. "Be welcomed, traveler! I hope you find my place to your liking. How may I help?"

Bram, Caedwyn, Ilwyn, Hraefn, Etna
You easily find a table in the taproom, though soon after you hear a loud whistle blowing from somewhere high above. A rumbling begins, causing the floor to vibrate slightly and dust comes falling from the rafters above. A grinding and grating noise can be heard as well, as apparently the gear above the inn is not just for show. A few minutes pass, and a group of men emerge from a door at the far side of the room. They are human and dwarf, looking dirty and disheveled as if they have just come from the mines.

As promised by your server, within minutes the taproom is packed, the noise level rising to a dull roar all around you. The food is served as ordered, and it is well cooked, and if not five-star, it is as good as you have enjoyed in a while. The ale, likewise, is thick and heady, with a bit of honey and spices added to give it a unique flavor. All in all, it seems like money well spent.

Merriweather
"Aye, Jacobius is who I am. Welcome and well-met, sir." he replies, extending his hand and clasping yours firmly.

"I find that there is nothing better to accompany a good drink than a good story, eh?"

Merriweather
Jacobius smiles widely, gesturing to a table where you can both sit. Drinks are brought, and he says "So then, tell me friend Merriweather. What would be your favorite tale?"

Merriweather
"Gads! Troll ya say? Look at the size 'o that tooth! Must've been a huge beast, no doubt! And you say you quashed the bugger? Almost killed you b'fore ya took it down in some heroic final act?" he smiles, taking a deep drink from his flagon.

Merriweather
Jacobius pulls his flagon down, his face a bit more serious now that he sees you might not be joking about killing a troll. Looking around at your party, he nods in acknowledgement before saying "The gods favor heroes that do heroic things. I am impressed you have lived to tell the tale. Your friends must be a formidable group."

Taking another drink, he continues. "For many years I, too, traveled with such a group as you. Brigadiers of Doom we called ourselves. Traveled lots. Adventured more. Saw more'n I care to, I can tell ya, but wouldn't change the lot of it. Came close to dying a few times m'self, I don't mind saying. Though the last time made me think p'raps it's time to retire. So here I sit, drinking and talking with the likes of you, just startin' out in your life of excitement. I wish you well." he finishes, drinking the last from his flagon and calling for two more, offering you the second when it arrives.

Merriweather
"Ach. Never had much use for magic shit. Mind you, it has its purpose, just always preferred to meet my challenges head on, you know?" Jacobius answers.

"Course, one of them strange light throwers would have been kinds nice. Saw me one once. Fella said he found it up in the hills, but I 'spect he stole it of of some wizard somewhere. Thing shot flaming light that could burn a hole through your armor before you know what hit ya."

Merriweather
"Each his own, I s'pose. Just never saw the need in it." Jacobius responds. Looking back to the rest of your group gathered, he asks "You and your friends headed into th' peaks? Or you have some other quest that just happens t' take you through Tycha?"

Merriweather
Jacobius smiles slightly, placing his drink down and squinting at you. "Folks don't just group up and wander aimless into Tycha unless they got a direction to be heading and a goal to be reached. And them guards you come with aren't just reg'lar mercs, friend. I know duke's men when I see. And if th' duke has took note of the goings on up there, things must be worse than we been told. Here's to hoping your cloak is all you say and more." he says, raising his ale to you.