The wooden walls of the town are coated in a thin sheet of ice that glistens when light from a lantern or torch passes by it. The sentries on the wall huddle close to their brazier trying to stay warm against the persistent cold. Though still dark it is close to eight in the morning. Travelers are making their way through the gates of Targos with what little trade they have in this frozen land. Fishers can be seen draging their boats across the frozen harbor past the walls to find open water to begin the days task of catching the knucklehead trout that dwell in the lake. The inn, The Luskan Arms, still has a few folk in the common room. The tavern Three Flags Sailing has a few more people still finishing their morning meal.

You travelers have just made it into town, though one of you are more familiar with the town than the others. What would you like to do?

Thess Ghostblade

---

Thess griped, not for the first thousandth time, about the coldness of the Frozen north. Grimacing at the frost on the walls. The Gith wondered, again, far from the first time, how these moronic northerners survived up in this frozen hell. Once the gate was reached, Thess decided she had enough of the snow. Picking up her miserable pace,Thess decided, first of anything, to find a God's be damned tavern or inn and get the hell out of the snow!

It's been a long walk through the weather. After getting enough money to buy new gear, Munch finally arrived to Targos as part of his journey. He was used to cold winds but even he didn't want to stay out here for any longer than he had to. To get inside, have a warm meal, and a delicious drink, he could really go for something like that right now. Slapping his face to keep it warm Munch asks around for directions. They pointed him towards the Three Flags Sailing for drinks, and the Luskan Arms for a room. Munch was a bit light in the pocket right now but with any luck he'll find work at the tavern. If nothing else he could always ply his services as a cleric and chef. People always needed healing and food.

As Munch glances around he recognizes a familiar face. One that he didn't exactly want to see again. Quickly Munch pulls up his hood and turns his head away. Best if they don't talk to each other, or show that they know one another. People may start asking questions. Munch heads straight towards the Three Flags Sailing as fast as his little feet could take him.

Although the half-orc had kept himself tightly bundled against the harsh and unpleasant chill, once he was in the city proper, he relaxed himself with a small sigh. He shook himself, brushing off some snow in the process. Finally - civilization. He'd been traveling for so long he'd started to wonder if he'd ever see anyone again. A cheeky grin crossed his face as he cocked his head to one shoulder. "Looks like we're 'ere," Gorm said to himself. "Time to get a couple of drinks and take a load off 'fore figuring out what our next move is. What do you say?"

Expecting no answer - no verbal answer, anyways - Gorm simply continued down the street. Despite wanting to sit down and enjoy a nice mug of mead after having trekked for so long through the snowy lands, he also felt like taking a casual stroll through the town to familiarize himself with it. As he gathered directions to the nearest tavern and took in the sights of people going about their daily business, Gorm began to relax, his heart easing from the strain of travel through these unfamiliar lands. Once he had proper directions to his destination, he switched from wandering aimlessly to wandering towards the tavern.

After how unpleasant the journey had been through the harsh and unfamiliar cold, he was more than ready to take a nice, warm seat, throw down his coinpurse, and treat himself to as many mugs of mead as he could handle and then some. Just put it all behind him.

In the shadows, Foxfire sat bandaging her hands in preparation for whatever was to come her way. Bandages were always helpful to monks like her, but it wasn't just that. She needed to make sure that any sign of her identity was hidden.

She was tempted to let everyone in Targos see her face, just to see the horror and shock on their faces. It would be hilarious. But she decided against it in favor of her survival instincts: If she revealed herself, then they may try it again.

Thankfully, the tail and ears would be helpful in hiding her identity, but she saw her face in the mirror this morning...

It was only slightly different than her's. Targos would probably recognize her if they saw her face.

So, when she finished bandaging her arms and hands, put her gloves back on, and pulled up the long scarf and hood of her parka to further hide her face, she stepped out of the shadows. She walked in the streets silently, careful not to bring attention to herself, while keeping an eye and ear on her surroundings.

While her heart is consumed by the fire of anger...she realizes that she is also quite hungry. So, it was off to the Three Flags Sailing.

Cloven hooves marched through the snowy terrain. Step by step, down and forward. Closer and towards. Over and yonder. So much to see, so much to do. Veska squinted her eyes and dusted any collecting snow from off her cloaked shoulders. Maybe her other self would refer to the place as a banquet, since she was a cow in town, for dark humor.

Observing the area she thought maybe she caught it on a good day, a smooth sailing morning, workers hustling or others waking up. At least it wasn’t crowded beyond belief. Veska probably caught some attention from those around the streets, though maybe she’d be mistaken at first glance for an overgrown tiefling if she turned her head. Her horns weren’t cooperating with her hood, but oh well. She had made it this far, and was sure if she acted as proper as she could, maybe just maybe she wouldn’t get the boot or have to deal with a mob or guards. It seemed quiet enough, though sticking out like an odd fellow wasn’t always a good thing. Veska could only snort and decide what would be the next stop, away from the cold. A break was needed.

The bovine glanced down at the snow covered ground that revealed different tracks that seemed to scatter around different areas and not in uniform from walking townsfolk and wandering souls. Speaking of people, no face seemed familiar thus far, ah a clear slate.

The Minotaur decided to follow her nose to a cozy tavern. Maybe a nice fire would be just what she needed. If the doors were big enough.

The inside is warmer than outside but the atmosphere seems subdued. Most in here are fairly quiet save the owner,  who periodically checks on everyone. The tavern owner, a plump older woman, is busy tending to the few fishers that are in the building. As more people enter the building she nods to each person. "What can I get for you deary?" she asks each person as they enter.

Foxfire easily finds a seat that is in the corner, so it would be harder for anyone to ambush her. She sits quietly, with her hood and scarf still up to hide her face. When the plump older woman approached her table, the monk's eyes softened towards her.

She was one of the few kinder folk who lived here.

She placed a gold piece on the table and slid it to the older woman, and spoke lowly and almost quietly, "....Anything hot's fine. Keep the change,"

Her tail swayed as she studied the older woman. Foxfire was somewhat hoping that she wouldn't be recognized.

Munch goes to find a chair that is both short enough for him to reach, but also tall enough for him to comfortably sit up to the table or counter. Once seated he takes his heavy pack off and puts it on the floor next to him. When the old matron stopped by, he smiled and nodded."A warm meal and mug of mead would be nice." He slides a single gold coin out to the lady. "And any local news, if you know any. I'm new in town and want to know what's going on around town, see if there's anything I can do to help. I'm a cleric you see, so if there's anything I can do to help, I'd like to do whatever I can."

Gorm entered the inn with a content grin on his face, as he felt the heat immediately hit him. Not quite as warm as he would have liked, but beggars can't be choosers, and he certainly wasn't about to be picky about warmth. When he quickly scanned over the place and its patrons, however, his smile quickly fell. With a stony frown, Gorm crossed his arms as his eyes settled on the back of the halfling's head. "By Hoar..." He groaned to himself. What were the odds of him running into him again? He started to turn around to leave before anyone had noticed him, but before he could do so, the elderly tavern keep had greeted him.

A long sigh escaped Gorm's lips, and he shut his eyes. A small bite, a quick sip, and then he'd go about his way once again. "Somethin' quick to eat and somethin' warm to drink," Gorm grumbled. "Please 'n thank you." With that, he quickly put down two gold coins for the meal. Taking a seat closer to the entrance, he quietly drummed his fingers on the table while he waited.

Veska moved on after seeing another had entered the tavern and paced herself over to the building. Just her luck, she felt better already. A place to sit down and rest. The subdued atmosphere was perfect for a bit of reflection. Her hooves would cry no more.

Lower, tuck it in, and turn..
With a little huff she made it past the doors. Looking for any available seats by the door, she had found one person already seated. Probably another traveler. She immediately moved along and wandered through the seating and tables. Fisherman, and some other fellow strangers.

Moving further into the tavern, Veska finally settled at a spot that seemed to offer some good distance away from the main folk around. Her back faced the wall but the door was still in view if she glanced over. Perfect. No one would trip over her tail or if she happened to test her elbow room, none should be falling over. There wasn’t a bull in a pottery shop, and if the seating could hold up her weight she was more than fine.

When the owner came around Veska briefly nodded in greeting.
“I’ll have a bowl of fish stew please, with a small porridge.”After placing a gold coin in the woman's hand Veska laced her fingers together and looked around from her seat. Her ears flicked occasionally.

The proprietor of the Three Flags Sailing fetches the requested food and drink for each of her newer patrons. When Foxfire set the gold coin down and told her to keep the change, the older woman looked at her quizzically. "Are you sure? The meal and drink is only three silver."

Once she serves the rest of the meals, also informing Gorm that the meal and drink are only three silver, she turns back to Munch. "Recent news is that Easthaven has caught an evil wizard and plans to burn him at the stake. Apparently he had killed some adventurers. Oh and the captain of the guard is looking for some adventurers to help with something. Might have to do with that wizard"

Foxfire answers the woman in a murmur audible only to the woman, her green eyes almost glowing in the dim light, "You were kind to a girl before she was left to die. Kindnesses must be repaid..."

After the woman leaves, Foxfire leans back as the corner walls and she finishes her thought to herself quietly as she takes in the scenery around her, "Along with evils and apathy,"

She listens as she speaks of the recent news in Targos.

Munch dines on his meal as he listens to the matron. "Guard captain needs outside help huh? Sounds like a job for me then." Munch continues eating, silently critiquing the meal. It was a roasted lingcod, stuffed with some herbs for scent and flavor. Lightly salted, and otherwise not very well seasoned. Very dry, overcooked most likely. At least the meat was somewhat tender, indicating it's a fresh catch and they're not eating old fish. Overall a mediocre meal. Sufficient given the resources available, but Munch could do much better. "Ma'am, I'm interested in helping the guard captain. Do you know where I can find him?"

Gorm quietly nodded as the older woman told him that food and drink were only three silver. Two gold was perhaps a bit much for a meal for a place like this, he realized, and thus he pocketed the extra gold. Traveling on the dull roads for so long must have left him prone to the occasional bit of daydreaming and absent-mindedness, it seemed. Not a moment too soon after it arrived, he grabbed the mug of mead and took a hefty swig. The warm drink was something he had been yearning for quite some time now. It was a small sense of familiarity, a reminder of the taverns back home, to be juxtaposed with the new circumstances he had found himself in. Gorm found it strangely calming, in a way, and began to relax himself. As the woman spoke, he set the tankard down on the table and began to pick at the plate of knucklehead trout he'd been served.

When she brought the captain of the guard, Gorm looked up from his food, his interest evident. He furrowed his brow in concentration, spearing a small chunk of fish with his fork. He took another bite, chewing slowly while he considered the job offer. Wouldn't be a bad idea to take it up, he thought. Could be a good way to get a lay of the land, probably pay out well enough... After a moment, he quietly took another hefty swig of mead. He planned to speak to the guard captain once he'd finished his meal, he decided. For now, though, he'd just continue to keep an ear open while he ate, just in case anything else of interest came up.

Foxfire's ears twitched underneath the hood as the Halfling spoke up and said that he wanted to help the Guard Captain.

"Ah! That poor sod. He must be new here. Better warn him, as well as nip this nonsense about helping that jerk in the bud," She couldn't help but think to herself.

She decides to move from her seat in the corner, and just casually sits next to the Halfling, speaking to him, not bothering to lower the scarf or parka hood, "I know where you can find him. However, knowing that guy, he's probably only asking for help because he's too busy brown-nosing the Speaker of Targos,"

She then asks him, "You're clearly not from around here. Where you from?"

@Lucius Cypher

"Oh I should have been more specific, the captainof guard in Easthaven is the one looking for help. I'm not sure if Captain Skath has work for anyone. But he stays at..." She stops when Foxfire explains her disposition about Captain Skath. The older woman looks around the small tavern quickly before turning back to the pair. "Well now he isn't necessarily the nicest of people but he still is the captain of guard here in Targos." the proprietor takes a long look at Foxfire. "You seem vaguely familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"

Thess Ghostblade

---

Thess scolded herself for getting distracted. The gith had taken the wrong turn, walking aimlessly around this winter hell. After some time, she had finally found the tavern. Dusting herself off of the snow, Thess entered the establishment, thanking the Immortal Lich Queen for some gods be damned warmth! Thess looked around for a bit, looking for a spot to sit. When her eyes happened across a large minotaur, the first thought that came to mind was 'warmth!' Thess would catch a waitress, making a quick order of some heated mead and then walked over to where the cow-woman sat, "Spot taken? Been wandering for days with no companions and a good conversation would be nice".

While enjoying her food Veska munched quietly as she tried to eavesdrop on some of the conversations going on, particularly more curious in the mention of a captain of the guard. Another reason to venture out and explore after being at the tavern was definitely all the more reason to keep her ears peeled. She hadn’t noticed someone making their way over while her thoughts were occupied with news and food.

Veska’s ears moved forward as she looked away from her meal and lightly shook her head in answer when asked a question. This woman looked as interesting as she was surprising.
“Seat not taken, go ahead, I won’t mind.” She paused silently and took a small bite from her porridge. This fellow did not seem to be wary of her, which the women would take this as a positive sign. Much better than others who tried to pick a fight. Veska silently huffed from her nose. At least the other seemed the opposite of that and alright.

But topics for conversation, soldier things probably weren’t their cup of spice. Maybe the other wasn’t a resident here. She didn’t smell like salt water and finned creatures. Though her eyes seemed to tell a different tale. The bovine included a bit of humor in her words.
“This weather isn't exactly the sunniest.” She chortled. “How have your travels thus far been?”

As Munch spoke to the proprietress, a stranger came up to him. Some sort of fox person, he's never seen someone like her before. She warned him of the guard captain of Targos, though the proprietress clarified that it's the guard captain of Easthaven that needs the help. Munch had a hunch that this stranger was no friend of the law here, which could be risky to associate with... But at the same time, perhaps they could make for a solid ally if Munch's luck goes south. Turning to her, he gives the fox girl a smile. "Name's Munch the butcher. I'm from Waterdeep, came up here looking for work. Nice to meet a fellow travelers on these roads." Munch says out loud, wanting to deflect suspicion off the girl."

He looked to the proprietress and intends to take over the conversation a bit and steer it in a different direction. "It sounds like I'll be heading to Easthaven soon. Would you mind telling me where I could gather some supplies, maybe get some directions? These roads are harsh so it'll do me some good to prepare for the travel ahead." Putting on his winning smile, Munch also turns fully to the proprietress and clasps his hands. "And if possible, could I perhaps have a room here? I'm a bit light on coin, but I know how to work in the kitchen. I can prepare a fine meal for you and your customers for today, if I can stay the night in exchange."