The courier was late.
Esme sat at a table with a good view of the door, nursing a mug of terrible ale and hearing far too much of the tavenkeeper’s irate mutterings. It wasn’t as if she was taking up room needed by other customers in this place. You could count the customers on one hand and the tables on two. She wanted nothing more than to be back on the road and out of this grease trap.
Why couldn’t anything go to plan for once?
Outside, there was some sort of commotion in the street. She was halfway to her feet when a disheveled, dark haired man burst through the door. He … Kind of matched the courier’s description. At least, that hat did. How many people in this tiny village could possibly wear tricorns day to day? Thus, it had to be him.
He appeared to be trying to hide behind the bar.
“Ser? I’m the Salamander that’s been waiting for you for hours now – what the fuck held you up? We might need to reexamine our–” The commotion was here now apparently, a beefy mailed fist wrenching open the door. Esme took one look at the crowded door frame and ushered the courier through to the kitchen. The sour smell of old cooking oil assaulted her senses. She made for the back door, drawing and loading her crossbow with one of her special bolts.
“Now, what’d you do to piss off all those gentlemen?” Esme aimed at the taproom door that they’d just come through and fired. A patch of expanding sticky goo blocked the way, promising to slow down the courier’s assailants for a few seconds.
@Horus
Esme sat at a table with a good view of the door, nursing a mug of terrible ale and hearing far too much of the tavenkeeper’s irate mutterings. It wasn’t as if she was taking up room needed by other customers in this place. You could count the customers on one hand and the tables on two. She wanted nothing more than to be back on the road and out of this grease trap.
Why couldn’t anything go to plan for once?
Outside, there was some sort of commotion in the street. She was halfway to her feet when a disheveled, dark haired man burst through the door. He … Kind of matched the courier’s description. At least, that hat did. How many people in this tiny village could possibly wear tricorns day to day? Thus, it had to be him.
He appeared to be trying to hide behind the bar.
“Ser? I’m the Salamander that’s been waiting for you for hours now – what the fuck held you up? We might need to reexamine our–” The commotion was here now apparently, a beefy mailed fist wrenching open the door. Esme took one look at the crowded door frame and ushered the courier through to the kitchen. The sour smell of old cooking oil assaulted her senses. She made for the back door, drawing and loading her crossbow with one of her special bolts.
“Now, what’d you do to piss off all those gentlemen?” Esme aimed at the taproom door that they’d just come through and fired. A patch of expanding sticky goo blocked the way, promising to slow down the courier’s assailants for a few seconds.
@Horus
06-19-2024, 09:12 PM
