buhbuhcuh

The Eating Crow Inn

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At the end of a long road at the end of a long day, there is an Inn where you can always find good food and good friends.

 

A fire blazes in the hearth and Anamaht Godsbrew lives up to his name with bottles behind the bar rescued from a hundred dying worlds. He scrubbs ineffectively at the stained wood of the bar, looking up with every bang and creak of an Inn settling on a cold, windy day. 

 

He sighs, shuffles behind the bar and retrieves a dusty bottle.

 

"These spirits were aged on a world that the hunger took before I was born. May Valkyn and The Twelve look on this sacrifice with favor!"

 

He hesitates for a moment, then flings the bottle into the hearth. The bottle smashes and the flames flare for a moment. 

 

"Ok, you bastards, if that doesn't get me any customers, then I'm gonna have to go back to killing your worshipers..."

 

The sound of footsteps penetrate the heavy oak door. 

 

 

((Eating Crow Inn is a Slack instance set up to provide real-time RP until such time the game exists. Highly customizable, it has plenty of room for private and public conversations. It is invite only, so DM me with an email address* if you would like to join us!))

 

(((*I will not save, or share these, ever, ever, ever)))

Edited by buhbuhcuh

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The day is long since started when the heavy oak door opens and a blurry eyed innkeeper peers out at the open road.  Shaking his head, he sighs and returns to the common room to lay a fire in the hearth. Chalked on a board above the bar are the words "Today's Special: Roasted Hellcat."

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The old inn hasn't been this lively in years. A Crow enjoys breakfast in the common room as the innkeep tidies up. Today's special makes it obvious what is in stock: Mincecat Pies.

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Meanwhile, some miles away from the Eating Crow, a befuddled Guinecean makes his way through rain and mud; he spots a light in the distance. With renewed determination at the promise of a warm hearth and the company of peers, he trudges along the muddy road towards his destination while shielding his eyes from the falling droplets.

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The common room starts to fill with the sounds of brave tales and sad songs, as Crows from near and far find their way. The innkeeper watches over it, pulling drinks and keeping the hearth lit. 

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The last flames on the hearth flicker as the door slams open. The Innkeep limps in, blood and rainwater dripping onto the floor. He looks around the empty common room.

 

"Bah, I should really hire some help for when I'm away." Laying his greataxe on the bar, he grabs the first bottle in reach, an unmarked earthen jug. 

 

Gesturing at the empty room, he uncorks it. "First round's on me!"

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It was a rough journey, taking longer than it should have. The conscious decision to take roads less traveled and avoid the roaming bands of skirmish hungry common folk was a wise one.

 

Daworf stepped wearily across the threshold of the infamous inn owned by Anamaht Godsbrew.

 

The familiar musty-sweet smell of brews mixed in with the comforting odor of burned wood from an open fire had an immediate and welcome effect of comfort on the short, stout traveller. However, what was usually a warm and welcoming atmosphere was missing...

 

"Bloody hell, this place is quiet", grumbled Daworf.

 

The solitary figure of Anamaht sitting at the bar in the common room, with a familiar, open jug in hand made the stoneborn chuckle.

 

"Anamaht you old sod...! I see you've kept a bottle of my special sauce for when it's most needed!" Daworf teased.

"Good job I've made this trip to stock up your bar, and just in time by the looks of it!".

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