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Viewing Single Post From: Frostbitten
Fyra
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Eleforian Elite Guard
Eyebrows rising at the high-bred way that she pronounced her words, Francesca blinked and smiled kindly. "Open you're mouth again, dearie." More mulled cider, a greater amount this time, and the woman continued speaking. "I'm Francesca. Francesca Deekens. My husband is the fiddler you hear playing downstairs. And Rhyn is your rescuer. Don't expect much in way of acknowledgement, she don't. You might get a grunt for your thanks. She's a quiet one. She's downstairs. And you can thank her as soon as I'm sure you're warm through, not a second before!" She continued to smile, pausing to look at her fingers and lay a hand over her face. "Well, you warmed up might quick. I'll say. Looks like Rhyn got you here just in time. Your fingers and toes are a might frostbit, dearie. They'll be stiff and sore and feel like you burned them."

----

The blond man grinned at the squire, though there was a wary glance at the two longswords. 'I'm no sir, sonny. Just Brandon. Of course we've a blacksmith. But his forge is already cooled for the night, and Zach's a bit stubborn about lighting it up again. He's already in the Inn at this point." He put a hand on the youth's shoulder and turned him. "C'mon. This way. If your knight wants his sword hammered straight again, he'll have to wait until the morrow, and I'll explain that to him, so you need not get in trouble for it." Brandon didn't really give the youngster much choice. "Before you freeze, lad."

----

Caleb grinned and shoved the door wide for the man. "C'mon in, sir. We've plenty of space. There's space for the boys in here as well, but Brad will insist on them sleeping in the Inn. If he doesn't give a room, he'll let em sleep on furs in the common room. It gets plenty cold out here, and he's confident about animals, but us folks won't risk somebody getting a frostbit finger if we can help it." He set about automatically, helping the man with the horses. "The cart can be backed right into that first stall there, sir." The cheery half-elf was already tying one of the horses up into a stall, its manger full of hay. "I can take care of your horses for ya, if you want to go on inside. It's no trouble.'

----

Melody nodded at the men's requests. "I'll have them out to you in a moment, and some chairs so you can all be at the same table." She left the ciders in front of the men, her eyes having subtly scanned over them all and found nothing particularly suspicious. She left them, and paused by the innkeeper. "They've a total of eight, Brad. Say three rooms, eight stews, eight ciders, and two bottles of wine.

"Alright. I'll tally it up in a moment." He set down the rag in his hand as she moved into the kitchen and moments later came back out with bowls of stew balanced on a tray.

Over at the table with the younger men came a loud guffaw and a squeak as the girl passed them "You keep your hands to yourself, Stedif! I got work to do!" Her voice was a whip before she finished her journey, setting the bowls of stew, a thick slice of bread tucked into them next to a spoon. "I'll bring the rest out as soon as your friends come in, sirs. That way they'll get it all hot. And we'll have chairs over here in a moment."

As she turned away once again, Bradley was already moving through the room, bringing over chairs two at a time. He was a quiet presence that came and went three times. His dark eyes scanned over them with caution, his eyes catching the manacles at Brown's wrists for a moment and causing a raised eyebrow. But the man said nothing of that. He only asked a single question. "Have you a preference of red or white wine, sirs? We have some selections of both. Most out here prefer stout or ale, but I always believe it smart to have wine on hand."

----

Rhyn stared into the flames, listening to Brad's voice from across the room, waiting for the reply. What business have they out here in my wilderness? A man in chains will not survive long, no matter how many are keeping him that way... Horses don't do the best out this far either. There is too much snow. She reached out, drinking the last of the cider in her tankard and rising up to large paws. Standing, it could be seen that there was a thick leather belt around her hips. She picked up the bowl that was on the floor as well, and with out hesitation, walked herself behind the bar, handing them off to the young woman that was standing, waiting for the rest of the strangers to come in, so she could dish up food and cider.

Her movements were easy, as though she was comfortable in the inn. Her tail, swaying behind her, looked to be nearly as long as she was tall, thick and fluffed. Rosettes stood in stark contrast her her light base fun. Though nobody spoke to her, it was easy to see fond smiles when they looked upon the hiskr.

Settling back into her spot in front of the fire, Rhyn'aur stretched out on the fur rug, twisting so that her legs were on their side, but her arms came up to support her on her chest, chin resting in her hands. One furred hand reached to tug upon the fiddler's pantleg, and the large man looked down. "Play the one about the avalanche, Luis." Because it was quieter than usual, her voice carried, a hoarse, quiet sound. Luis, smiling down at the hiskr, obliged, playing the song she requested, and she turned her ears once again towards the corner that strangers had claimed as their own.
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Frostbitten · Hiskarin Mountains


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