Grye Greytree - The Beginning

Gyre
"Aye, sir. Welcome." says the flame-haired woman. Her hair, while attempting to keep bound, has fallen in several spots, a testament to her continued movement and lack of care regarding appearances. Her clothing is simple, a blue top and loose pants wrapped in an apron. Smiling, she asks "Food? Drink? Both? Hot enough and fillin' enough. Ale gets the job done, too."

Gyre
Other than the ranger-looking types that left as you were arriving, the patrons in the taproom all appear to be of the normal sort. The food is hot and plentiful, if not plain, and you have had better ale but it hits the spot regardless. When you are done, the girl approaches one again. "More for you, sire? If not, that'll be 1 silver for the food, 2 coppers for the ale."

Gyre
The girl smiles widely, her off-color teeth putting a bit of a shadow across her otherwise comely looks. Pocketing the extra coin, she says quickly. "Yes sire, rooms run for a silver per private room, 5 coppers for th' common. Shall I make a room ready for you?"

Godsday, 4 Planting CY591
A search of the room finds nothing out of the ordinary, as the spartan furnishings provide no place to hide anyway. The bed is large and mattress soft, the wool blanket providing warmth if required. There is a single, curtained window that allows light to filter in at sunup and a small chest of drawers allows you a place to put your clothing should you elect to stay longer than the night.

With Luna nearly full, your room remains lit with a ghostly white light, and you can hear the sounds of revelry in the city well into the night. Eventually a quiet sleep comes, and you remain undisturbed until the light of a new day awakens you. From below you can hear the sounds of people rousing for the day, and outside the uncommon quiet reminds you that today is a day of rest for most people, a day to attend their various services or to pay homage to their deity of choice.

The day promises to be cool, given the chill in your room, though not overly so. The clouds are gathering, perhaps calling for a rain later in the day, but for now things look good for the next leg of your journey.

Gyre
"Aye, we've enough to see you on yer way, sir." the barkeep responds, fetching your requested items. Two coppers lighter, you are on your way out of the inn and back onto the road, which leads into the Dreadwood to the southwest.

Waterday, 5 Planting, 591CY
Back on the road, you begin the next leg of your journey south, knowing that at the end there will be an elven village called Oaken Heart. The day is clear and bright, with a scattering of clouds and a light breeze, and your journey remains uninterrupted for almost the entire way. The occasional merchant passes you by, most just a couple of small wagons hauling goods back and forth between the scattered forest villages.

You manage to forage a bit of fruit and nuts along the way, your spirits rising as the day progresses, knowing that you will soon be in exciting, uncharted areas (uncharted for you, at least). You arrive in Oaken Heart by late afternoon, the sun just beginning to set beyond the western treetops. An impressive community stretches around the base of large trees and rope bridges give access to the high boughs where homes and businesses sit among the treetops.

Though there is no wall surrounding the village, there is no shortage of elven warriors on patrol both aground and aloft, their sharp eyes and bows ready to meet any would-be challenger or beast. You can see a few places that might offer refuge or a night's stay, including the Griffon Crier, Bazeal's and The Tree Frog, though those are just a few you see upon arrival.

Gyre
Looking carefully, you cannot really tell what place may be more your style, or who might cater to humans more, but the Tree Frog is up in the trees, and Bazeal's has an elf flair to it, so you head for the Griffon Crier. Inside, you see the taproom is fairly full, and finding a spot is difficult, though at the end of the bar provides a bit of room.

The clientele is a mix of races, including human and elf, with the barkeep being a halfling. It walks along a shelf behind the bar, putting him on the same level as other, taller folk, and as Gyre enters he yells out loudly "Welcome traveler! Seat yerself, be round shortly t' get yer preference."

Gyre
After a few moments, the halfling ambles to your side of the bar. "What'll it be then, traveler? Just arrived , then did ya? Lookin' ta stay put are ya? Or moving through are ya? I'ms Elavon The Meister, makes me own drinks here for ya, I does. What'll it be, then? Drink? Food? Both? Or somethin' else for ya?"

Gyre
"Right it is!" says Elavon. A few moments later a tankard of a thick mead drops in front of you. "Right, then, traveler. 2 coppers for the mead, ya, an a gold for th' room, ya. As for ya food, what liking do ya have, ya? Meats? Tatoes? Fruits? We've aplenty of all, though pork be scarce for ya."

Gyre
The crowd is a decent mix of people, but no one seems to pay you any mind, intent rather on the group gathering on a small, raised platform across the room. With a small clatter, a plate of your ordered food appears before you, a slab of meat piled thick with vegetables and potatoes. soon after, your tankard is filled and the crowd begins to clap as a bard appears on the stage.

An elf, thin and old even for one of his race, begins to strum a finely crafted lyre. The lights suddenly dim, as if a veil were tossed over anything giving off light, and the sounds in the room deaden as if you are underwater. A moment later, a beautiful male voices breaks through, regaling you to a tale of long lost kingdoms and the godly battles that shaped the Flaneass. You are not sure how long the song lasts, but when it does the veil parts and you almost feel blinded as the taproom goes crazy with applause and cheers.