Esmeralda sits in her odd bowl shaped chair stroking her familiar Darkmoon who purs so loudly she can be hear all through the Tavern room.
It is a slow day at "The Lonely Inn" but it is after all the first day of spring and many have yet to venture far from their winter quarters. All the windows of the Inn are open allowing the fresh scented breeze to drive out the last of winter's scents.
Amora is busy as usual humming as she dances around the room, she is happy as are all her sisters who've shaken off their winter sleep.
For now the Inn is empty and Esmeralda and her girls the sole occupants but even so this eve as always there will be song and dance as if the rooms were all filled and the tables bustling

.........................................................

Far away in Helmshire the King ponders information brought to his ear by one of his spies.

In Alvedeer keep high in the Misty Mountains Lord So'Let thinks of his up coming marriage

Far out to Sea The Fox's ship Golden Comet gives chase to another Pirate of the Sea of Shattered Star.

Along a path meandering through the Greenwood prances Vic Pickles playing his pipes as he kicks up his hairy feet an dreams of Moonbeam brew.

On the King's Highway a pall of smoke rises above the trees as the last screams of a dying caravan fade away

Bosk Ironbender trudged towards the Lonely Inn puffing on a mixture of odd mosses and a few other things such as mushrooms and herbs. Drifting around him like a halo the smoke from said pipe aside from mellowing the smoker drove off any annoying insects
He'd come this way these past three years since he'd stumbled across it while evade pursuit by a particularly persistent group of mercs that resented his bashing in their leaders skull. He had honestly thought he'd lost his enemy when entered the Inn an sat down for a brew that still brought him back.
Six of the mercs had entered the Inn ready for battle knowing he was inside when the Lady of the Inn ordered them all to take it outside or suffer her wrath. The mercs chose to ignore the Lady and began attacking her as well as Bosk
What happened next still brought a smile to his lips as he remembered it. The Lady of the Inn turned out to be a frightening caster of magic and well prepared to fight off an army if she'd have needed to. In short order the mercs were dead an Bosk thought his troubles over but he'd not reckoned with the Lady's laws.
She questioned him her eyes holding no sympathy and a baleful as a Dragoness leaving him no room to attempt to lie to her. Once she was satisfied that he'd brought trouble across her threshold without his knowledge that he was doing so she'd relaxed then proved the most accommodating of hostesses.
Since that time Bosk had dropped in to sample the Lady's brews and to resupply his need for reliable potions
He turned a bend in the trail still puffing on his pipe when he found himself face to face with four Orc who seemed as surprised as he.
"Hello chaps, headed to the Inn for a drink?" Bosk asked trying to be polite
The four vile creatures gave proof that they held only malice in their hearts when the screamed an then charged Bosk.
His Warhammer was a blur as her rang the bell of the lead Orc twice just before he leapt up to the low branches of a nearby tree.
Bosk from his new perch discovered how fortunate his move had been when a war band of sixteen more Orcs appeared
"Dam your stinking hides for delaying me growled Bosk as he let his hammer fly.
A few of his new friends an playmates had bows which they fired and aimed poorly but meant that Bosk had to stay moving or be struck.
He caught his hammer as it returned like a faithful dog after dealing a blow to one of his foes.
It was now a battle of mobility and desperation for Bosk was sorely out numbered and this caused him to sing his warsong to Clagderon god of war.

Aethelred was making his way through the woods, unknowingly heading for the Lonely inn. He was looking for a place to stay for the night and have a good rest from the last quest he partook in with a band of elves and dwarfs and an army of men. They had liberated a small kingdom from the tyranny of an evil dragon and his horde of orcs and savage barbarians. Many foes were slain during that quest and many comrades died nobly. They eventually managed to defeat the dark horde and kill the dragon, bringing back glory and riches to the liberated kingdom. After the quest was done they each went their separate ways with a good piece of the treasure in their pockets. Now he was hoping to find shelter for the night. He then hears the sound of combat and hurries towards the sounds. He comes across a dwarf fighting a small band of orcs by himself, he is outnumbered and needed assistance. Aethelred although not at full strength would be more than a match for these foul creatures. He drew his sword and had his shield at the ready. Aethelred ran at the orcs with very good haste and slammed into one of them with his red and golden shield. The force of the blow knocked the orc out cold and Aethelred swung his sword, beheading a second orc. He moved to stand beside the dwarf and said, "it looks like you could use my assistance my little friend."

James, having heard from multiple sources rumor of a place called the "Lonely Inn," decided to check it out, so he was on his way there when he saw a battle going on, and grinned as he saw a large group of orcs attacking two others, so he grinned as he pulled out his guitar and started to play the magical song Inspire Courage, targeting the two that were defending themselves.

Bosk saw the others as they arrived and chuckled when asked did he need assistant
For this lot?
No need but should you believe your sword arm lax an in need of exercise feel free for I am not a greedy man laughs Bosk as he let's fly once more his hammer.
He leaps across the Orcs from one tree to the next catching Bromere as he passes over one of the archers and caves in his skull, at least he believe it a he for he never bothered learning their differences
He stops and even does a little jig to the Bard's tune before slinging his hammer once more

The King's Highway was the safest means to travel. Every day knights and armsmen from a dozen duchies and baronies patrolled the highway and kept it clear of brigands. In the event any ruffians did cause the local lords would pursue them doggedly and put them to the sword without mercy. Assallya felt even safer travelling in a caravan upon that road. Just one of nearly two dozen wagons travelling under escort.

Assallya was a beautiful woman, with alabaster rose blushed skin and long blond tresses that blazed like a dragon's hoard of gold in the sun. She had often been compared to Hanali Celanil, the goddess of elvish beauty and Sune, the goddess of human love but what she preferred was being compared to was Sharess, her own patron goddess of harlots and festhalls. Leaning back on the cushions arrayed across her vardo wagon's bench the elven courtesan lazily let her pair of horses follow the wagon in front of her. She was wearing what amounted to her adventuring attire, little more than a collection of fisherman's nets on her limbs and a brassiere. She lounged, black tipped toes gripping the footrest, chewing upon a reed she'd picked up at their last rest stop. The elven woman simply couldn't resist pretending she was just one of the farmers bringing their produce to market or whatever it was they did.

Beside her, the knight commander of the armsmen escorting the convoy rode with an eye on her nubile form. He wasn't unattractive and the gods above knew she'd lain with her fair share of older men but that mustache- It was ridiculously oversized and oiled. He had intentions, she could tell, she could always tell but he wasn't the type to provide gifts or pay for such services. He was the type that simply felt entitled.

"Good afternoon m'lady," the knight finally stated, a strange glint in his eye beneath the leather circlet that kept his long hair from his face, "Enjoying the day?"

By Sharess' tits, the bastard didn't even want to wait until nightfall. She could see it in his eyes. He was going to call over one of his men to drive her wagon so they could linger inside!

"Simply magical," she quipped, reminding herself that she had kept her being a sorceress secret, one never knew when to expect a lynching after all. "I was..."

Assallya's voice trailed off as her sharp azure eyes caught movement behind the knight captain. A dozen or more figures had suddenly erupted from the ground as if climbing from graves. It was a mix of orcs, goblins and humans near as she could tell, which was rather odd. Orcs and humans rarely worked together unless brought together by some higher power. Then again, what greater power was there than gold coin?

"Captain!" the blonde elven woman screamed shrilly, pointing towards the danger with her ebony tipped fingernail, "Brigands! By Myrkul's shrivelled black balls, Bandits!"

Succoria wandered comfortably through the dark woods. Darkness was hers. And her prey were far too busy to notice her. A distraction was drawing near.

A group of highwaymen gathered, preparing an assualt on an approaching caravan and the caravan's protectors were beggining to realize it. Unfortunately, this battle would be taking place in the light. The cover of trees would soon be gone.

And as the forces clashed, Succoria rushed out from the darkness and into the light. She slaughtered the archers in the rear who would have given support to the front.

Her blades flashed as she slashed and stabbed the flesh of humans, orcs and goblins. Bringing each down in turn out of a dozen. Some she killed painlessly, others she left collecting their own organs as they spilled out. It was bloody and it was savage. But to anyone who understood violence, it was art. Poetry punctuated by severed heads and other limbs. A pure form of expression.

The drow's attacks against the brigands spoke of a sharp singlemindedness. They spoke of drive, discipline and passion. They revealed both precision and a bold, sneering refusal to quit. And once she had worked her way through the archers, she would rush to the back of the main effort and press her attack. Those among the caravan or it's knights who hadn't realized that this dark elf was on their side, they were about to.

As the raiders attack the Caravan screams rise up as people die or are carried off to some horrid fate. All up and down the King's Highway the attack crushes through the guards as they are overwhelmed
Suddenly the attackers find their own lives in peril

Suddenly among them appears a Knight in full plate slashing left and right his flashing blade forming a glittering arc of blood and death to his foemen.
He is a Cavalier and his shield bares the mark of Hanali Goddess of Love an Beauty. He is as fearsome a fighter as may be observed on any battle field
His name is Kane of Hanali and he is known to but a few and to those that know him he is the hand of the goddess herself

Aethelred was amused by the dwarf's response, but he had no doubt that the dwarf was right. He now just focused on the battle at hand, and that was when he began to feel a strange power begin to go through, he felt more fearless and confident in the battle as he hacked away at an orc's upper torso. He wondered what the cause of it was and he looked around for the source. He saw an elf bard and Aethelred immediately understood what was happening, the elf was playing a magical tune which was granting him enhanced courage. It helped increase moral, and Aethelred kept on fighting with even more ferocity. He stabbed his sword straight into the heart of an orc and whacked another with a mighty swing of his shield, cracking the foul beast's skull from the sheer force of the impact. He hoped that the dwarf was doing as good as he was.

Bosk leapt around as if on springs and either in passing or landing could be heard the hollow crack of an Orcish skull.
Soon there were 15 Orc dead or dying an the rest fled.
Bosk walked back among the foes drawing his misericorde blade and delivering the mercy stroke to those sorely wounded.
His dark task done Bosk relights his pipe and says
"I am Bosk the Ironbender so of Gowe the Rockstriker and I greet you human." he puffs his pipe quickly setting the mixture to light an filling the air around him with it's pungent fumes.
"If it is to the Lonely Inn you are going come and follow for I am parched an know the way" he says with a chuckle as he heads down the trail.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Bosk of Gowe, my name is Aethelred and I am looking for a place to stay and rest for the night. I have never heard of the Lonely inn but if it is a place to stay and rest then I will follow you" he said to the dwarf.

He then tuned to look at James Hunter and asked, "who are you good sir?"

Out in the middle of nowhere Assallya was uncertain where the two heroes had come from but was relieved to see them. She truly beleived that the guardsman escort was ill suited to the task at hand. Even with the aid of the heroes she was not certain of the outcome particularly when the wargs emerged from the brush, that and apparently two ogres! At least there were no giants or ettin... Why were they back in the brush? A moment's thought brought her answer. Assallya envisioned trying to stick stick a warg inside a hole in the ground and ready to pop up on command. She wouldn't relish that task.

The two distant heroes were as different as could be. One was clad in mail, the other leather. One male, the other female. One seemed to be a cavalier of some sort, the other a dark elf assassin? A pang of fear grasped Assallya by the throat. Drow were noted in their unrivalled hatred of their surface cousins and, despite Assallya's general dislike of all things elven she rather imagined a drow wouldn't care.

All along the caravan line bandits were waylaying innocent farmers who were foolish enough to resist. Many cowered against their wagons and uplifted open palms in supplication to their aggressors. Most likely they would be executed later but it bought them a few extra moments of life. That was what Assallya planned to do should one brandish weapons in her direction.

Straightening her posture, the elven sorceress did her best to conceal her gesticulations from the bandits approaching from both sides as she gently sent forth whisps of magic to bind and paralyze a number of the attackers. She did not want to draw attention to herself. Let the warriors take the risks for naught but fame and glory and a pat upon the back from the local lord. She was only interested in surviving which meant helping the heroes while remaining invisible to the attackers.

With a new force entering the fray made the drow feel somewhat competitive. This knight would not hog all of the kills. Succoria made sure of it as she savagely assualted one after another. From impaling a blade through a man's throat to scissoring both weapons to behead an orc, severing a goblin's hands from it's arms and moving on to the others.

Her blades glistened red with the blood of outlaws in the sun. A demoniacal radiance as she cut through the flank of these bandits. Though it was not so long ago that she had tried her luck at such unsavory pursuits herself. However, she soon discovered that among the strange and backward nature of the surface world it paid more in riches and in honors to defend the weak than to slaughter or exploit them. As foreign as the concept was to her, Succoria Arkhenneld was not one to let an opportunity for personal gain slip by her.

After all, she had already suffered the worst of humiliations at the hands of her own kin. Nor was it very likely that she would find a means to vengeance in a world where her name had been slandered and her powerbase usurped by jealous sisters. No, the surface and it's madness had been the only refuge available. Thus had she found herself assaulting such caravans when she first arrived.

And thus did she find herself defending them now, with an insider's knowledge of how such raids worked. In fact, thanks to the time she had spent on the offensive side of such battles, the profits to be made defending against them had gone up considerably. Why, it was almost as if she had planned it that way.

But considerations like that would have to wait for less hectic moments. The only thing she was planning right now was the best path of corpses leading to the large confident creature whose superior armor and weapons marked him as the likely comander of the main force of this assault.

Once the group of Orcs was defeated, James put away his guitar and simply disappeared into the forest as he continued towards the inn. He slowly opened the door, and smiled as he stepped inside. He looked around. This place was actually really nice, despite being hidden deep in the woods. He glanced around at the ladies that worked there. He'd gotten around enough to almost instantly notice what race they were. Nymphs. His smile almost changed into a smirk, but he kept it just a normal smile. He'd had some...delightful experiences with nymphs in the past.

"Down here go!" a goblins spat, "Down! Down go!"

Assallya's blue eyes widened at the sight of a nocked short bow being pointed at her. The goblin was scared, his long triangular ears folded back almost flush with the burgundy conical cap that folded back towards the base of his skull. His spiny teeth were displayed in his slit of a mouth, a mouth that was far too large for the tiny body. Raising her hands slowly up adjacent to her tapered elven ears the courtesan swallowed. The goblin looked like he might loose at any provocation and kept peering over his tiny shoulder towards the dark elf in the distance cutting a swathe through his allies.

"Don't," Assallya replied, "I'm worth lots of coin at the slave market."

That much was true. It was how she'd started her life after all, sold into slavery at a young age and moved half way across known creation. It had also been reason why she had been taken alive in the past when all the rest of her adventuring comrades had been slain, thus allowing her chance to escape. She considered reaching down for the crossbow at her feet but immediately discounted it. She suspected any quick darting moment would prove ruinous and moving slowly and furtively would take far too long and thus be far too obvious. No, it would have to be a spell, a spell of the lower circles for speed and subtlety.

She waited and then when next the goblin turned to peer over his shoulder she cast. It was a single syllable of high power and her most basic tool. Her invisible magic darted forwards, ensnaring the moss green skinned goblin in its clutches and then began to sink in towards his skin. Then, surprisingly, the rarest of things happened. Sorcery could be a fickle ally at times and her magic was repulsed. The invisible bindings shattered and fell away into tatters. The goblin felt something amiss but could not place that he had nearly been enspelled.

The goblin's face turned back to her, drawn by her arcane word and he loosed.

Assallya wailed in agony as the goblin's arrow flew true. It slammed into her sternum, a mere two finger's width from her navel. Fire lanced through her and she fell back against the backrest of the bench, clutching at the wound. Her teeth ground against the pain and blood seeped through her fingers. Pushing with her legs against the footboard she slid into the corner of the bench furthest from her assailant. Dimly, through a haze of pain, she saw the goblin knocking another arrow...

Traben observed the scene in front of him with a keen eye, and the advantage of the height of a tree at the edge of the forest. Arrayed along the Kingsroad about a hundred feet away was a caravan of some sort, not uncommon for this area. People preferred to travel in numbers for safety,though it didn't seem to be quite working out this time. One the opposite side of the caravan, a battle rage. A group of what could only be bandits attacked the caravan, which seemed to have only a few defenders. Bow in hand, he scanned the lines of battle looking for an opportunity to make the long shot count. It was only after the arrow was knocked and the fletching brushed against his cheek that a wail caught his attention.

A woman went down with an arrow in her torso, falling into her wagon. Her goblin attacker readied another arrow, climbing to stand over the woman. Traben loosed, taking satisfaction in the look of confusion on the goblin's face as a stranger's arrow appeared in his chest. As the goblin fell away from the woman, Traben slipped from the tree, feeling his ring heat up as it absorbed the force of his fall. Three large dark wolves awaited him at the bottom, standing when he reached the ground. Readying another arrow, he ran towards the caravan and the woman he had hopefully saved, the wolves at his heels.

Caravan
______

Kane gave a short signal and soon there appeared on the battle field a grand fully barded warhorse that joined him in battle it's hoves crashing into skull an body of the enemy with a force that staggered or fell any who felt it's fury.
Kane's movements were graceful and powerful like some beautiful and deadly dance. Those near enough could hear his powerful voice singing an Elven love song as he split foe from crown to crotch.
______________

Bosk
____
Lead the way to the Inn which was a short distance away. When they arrived Bosk entered an headed fro one of the long tables calling out
Double stout!
A nymph pulled a mug from a shelf that bore the mark of dwarven art then filled it full of a pungent black brew which she set before him.
______________

The Inn
_______

Esmeralda looked up from her lounge and smiled as her Inn began to fill with those seeking custom

Aethelred followed Bosk to the Lonely Inn, and he was relieved to see to finally have found a place to rest. he followed the dwarf into the establishment and greeted those who worked there. first he needed a drink and something to eat, luckily he had lots of money to spend thanks to his previous quest. he went to sit on the other side of the table where Bosk was sitting and said to the people who worked the Inn, "I'll have a pint of meed and some salted pork."

he hoped that they had those types of food in this Inn, and while he waited he decided to strike up a conversation with the dwarf. "So what is it that you do for a living?"

El'Verette walked the dark halls of castle Modong high in the Black tooth mountains.
She'd been summoned by her Master the nameless one to attend his orders.
When she entered his scrying chamber she saw the reason for his foul mood. Before him the pit yawned open as smoke wavered at it's edges and centered within it's view was the present form of Prince Hal'Lesveni.
"Idris!" She said to herself calling on her dark goddess.
"Silence!" shouts the namless one his eyes glittering with anger
"Attend my command El'Verette, you will fetch the woman here and bring her before us unharmed or your punishment shall become legend" he says in his hissing voice as he centers the image on a captured Elven woman.
"Could she be another cyclic one?" Wonders El'Verette before bowing to the nameless one and leaving his presence.

---

BOSK

I am a man of many talents and of great appetites Bosk says answering Aethelred as a nymph places a plate before him along with a chilled tankard of Mead

"Interesting" Aethelred said to the dwarf. just then one of the maidens at the Inn came with a plate of salted pork and a pint of mead. Aethelred was glad to finally have some properly cooked food and not rations for when he was journeying to different kingdoms. he took a bite of the pork and was impressed by how tasty it was, this was probably the best salted pork he had eaten in his life. the mead was almost just as good. he was glad to have followed the dwarf to this Inn, now he could eat, drink and relax for while until his next adventure.