Old Mill Inn

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The sun was rising slow over the Old Mill Inn. A light puff of smoke came out of the chimneys as the last fire died, unlike last night where smoke was roaring out of all four. The horses were calm in the stables as they had plenty of feed. The mill was slowly turning and creaking. The last amount of snow was finally melting, going into the river. Three Friars wearing black with hoods passed by the road and blessed the Inn and all of the patrons..

Inside the Inn the weapons lay racked and waiting for battle.The huge fire place had red coals still wisping out smoke. The tables and chairs were out and scooted around but were clean and so was the bar.. Behind the back wall 3 huge kegs of ale lay waiting. One slowly dripping smoked whiskey with a gold color..


Borg was awake fixing breakfast which would be Eggs and big sliced ham.. While it was cooking, he walked out of the kitchen into dinning hall. He went to the fire place and mantel and threw in some logs and started a huge fire.. He went back to the kitchen and started making plates for people..

A winged white horse swooped under the clouds, narrowly missing the roof of the inn. It stepped lightly onto the ground in front of the building, and a weary traveler dismounted. "Stay near," she said in a husky voice, then entered the inn and sat at a table. The woman smelled ham and eggs. Perhaps she would have some of the former, but she had not eaten an egg since the roc incident. A pint of mead would do her some good as well.

Jazz walks through the halls of the living quarters of the Inn, checking her list for people who still need to pay for services rendered, as well as those those who requested wake up calls. Her gloved fist pounds on doors as she uses her set of keys to open doors, gently waking those who requested wake up calls. As she continues on, a sneer crosses her face as she comes to the one red name on her list. She doesn't bother to knock as she unlocks the door and walks straight in. She grabs the sleeping patron by his collar and hefts him out of bed ""You've been here three days and haven't paid a cent, you bum! The startled man barely has time to shout an appology as she throws him out the window and into a stack of hay bales. A few moments later, Jazz smacks her forehead "Well, that's coming out of my paycheck... Oh well. He had it coming. She smiles and makes a note of the room needing a turn down, as well as a new window as she smells the familiar scent of Borg's cooking. Wings fluttering, Jazz flies out the window and drops down to the first floor in time to see a new arrival on her pegasus. Making a note not to give her the marked room, Jazz follows her inside and gives her a warm welcome to the Old Mill Inn.

Alyas is doing the final run through for closing up; making sure all the plates and metal ware has been washed and stored, majority of food and kegs put away and taps sealed. She hears Jazz from across the Inn kicking out someone who hasn't paid rent; Alyas giggles "The best part of the morning... definitely worth paying half of what gets docked from her paycheck... just glad I get tipped so well." She stops, holds her hands together in front of her, looks down to see her rather large mounds spilling out more than normally, smiles, then closes her eyes as she prays to Dibella for being endowed with great beauty. Alyas finishes her prayer and goes to her room. She proceeds to undo her work uniform with a huge sigh of relief, changes into her sleep ware, crawls into bed, and passes out almost immediately.

A man in a black hooded robe walked through the snow, his feet making crunching noises in the melting snow. His face was obscured by his hood making it hard to see his face from far away. The figuare stops in his tracks and turns his hooded head toward the inn and smiled something sickly. He then continued onward toward the inn passing the friars.

Once he walked up to the entrance of the inn he was overtaken by a fit of coughing. His whole body was racked by the coughing fit. He opened the door still coughing. He then collapsed in the nearest seat. Waiting for some poor wretch to take his order. His hood still obscured view of his face.

Isabel nodded to the waitress. "Mead if you have it," she said, folding her arms, "and some slices of ham if it's for sale." She paused, then added, "unless the meat comes from a wild Tungsten boar." That pork was known to cause madness. Isabel did not understand why people continued to eat it.

A hooded man sat at a nearby table. Isabel figured he had been traveling as long as she, but he showed it more. Leaving the man to his privacy, Isabel turned back to her own table and awaited her breakfast.

While he awaited the waitress he quickly noticed a woman glance at him. He looked her way with his yellow hourglass eyes and quickly looked away seeing how time would affect her. He grimaced at the vision then cursed the goddess that cursed him making him frail and weak. He coughed some more covering his mouth with his frail looking hands that looked withered and bone like. His skin had a golden hue to it. As he was just sitting there staring at the table his mind went back to the girl.

His fist hit the table disliking his human carnal natures. which always interrupted him from thinking too clearly. He glanced at the woman again. Noticing her short cropped brown hair, and her composure which showed she needed rest. He looked away again back to his table coughing again.

Jazz's eye twitches as she clenches her fists, forcing a smile at the pair as they assume she's the waitress. Of course, ma'am. Will you be staying the night? Should I reserve you a room? She scribbles down the woman's order on her pad of rooms, circling the red room Is there a name I could put this order down under? She looks over at the hooded man waiting and shouts over to him, Would you like anything while i'm at it, sir?

Turning his hooded head to the woman who called after him he shook his head knowing very well that she is not waitress material. He already noticed her clenching her fists at some of the patrons. So he would wait for the real waitress to show herself. He coughed some more noticing blood on his hand when he covered his mouth with it. He glared at the blood. Once more the gods remind me of my mortality... he said silently in his haunting voice. He took a rag out of one of his many pouches that he keeps his spell components in and wiped his mouth and hands off.

Isabel considered the question. "I know not yet whether I shall be on my way before dusk," she replied, "but if I am not I shall desire lodging. As to my name, you may know that I am called Isabel the Invincible." She turned toward the hooded mad as he coughed, recognizing the scent of blood. "Are you injured, sir?" Isabel asked.