Personal Improvement at the Inn of the Tankards

The morning broke hot and humid over the lands of the southern Dolmenwood, and the plains below. The party, laden to a ridiculous extent, labored along the edge of the wood until they came to the Capring Road, and struck south.

The sun was setting by the time they gained the Inn of the Tankards, sitting comfortably at the crossroads of the Tankard, Capring, and Bove's Roads, as well as the disused Ditchway path that meandered off to the east. Under the humid sunset skies, Sir Glad threw open the door to the inn.

My early preliminary sketch of
The Inn of the Tankards,
and it's grounds

Inside, the commons rooms were packed. Jovial mirth and laughter spilled from the open door. A fire crackled in the hearth, where a Bard was singing a long ballad of St. Clewyd and Sallowbryg, the evil atacorn. Crump was rushing back and forth between tables, serving ales and dinners to the motley
patrons, while Nelga ran back and forth from the bar to the kitchens, a crimped, disapproving stare on her face. Just as they opened the door, a row of steins were knocked over, catapulting spilled beer into the room.

With valuables and fineries in their pockets (and bags, and draped over bags, and shoulders, stuffed

The Inn of the Tankards,
from above

really in everyplace they could find to hold it all), the party booked three private rooms (Meowianne, in Chester form, planned to sleep on the pile of furs with Sherbert) and adjourned to them for a much needed meal.

The menu this night was as follows:

Main Dishes: Mutton Roast or Onion Sandwich

Side Dishes: Ruddy Chad (a hunk of a matured, red-veined cheese)

Special: Elder Tea (1gp per demitasse)

They all dined on onion sandwiches and ruddy chad, and seemed none the worse off for it.

After the dinner, a hasty planning session ensued on how to break down their loot, once they got it back to High Hankle.

And now, for a break in the story! 

This was the group's first advancement session. As per our house rules, we allowed advancing multiple levels, which was good since everyone made it to level three tonight! Squire Glad is now, semi-officialy, Sir Glad (although he'll need to travel back to House Harrowmoor to be knighted), Meowianne is just that much better at everything and a little more healthy, Ddane is much more healthy and gained the Last Stand combat ability. Sherbert rolled max health, on both d8s, and is now 16hp healthier! She gained the Leader combat ability.

The XP Math was very roughly as follows:

30 each to Meowianne and DDane for defeating the animated objects and the wormtongues

2000 - Furs

150 - Dinner silverware

2000 - Gowns

500 - Prayer book with gold pressed plates

200 - Silver plate with Chapes

2000 - Copper Bracelets with Amethysts

1000 - Sir Chyde's full plate armor

6000 - Fairy ice jewels

1800 - Fairy silver necklaces

1000 - Spiky hoarfrost brooch with sapphire

5000 - Amulet of Ruvanaith, jewelry only, wish expended

21,650XP total

This averaged out to 5412XP for Sir Glad and Sherbert, and 5442 for Meowianne and Ddane, which adjusted after prime requisites and human XP bonuses to:

Sir Glad: 5412 - into 3rd level

Sherbert: 6224 - into 3rd level

Meowianne: 5442 - into 3rd level

Ddane: 5987 - into 3rd level

Saving throws, attack bonuses, HP, and some abilities and skills have improved all around.

And now, back to the story!

Ddane decided to go back downstairs and order some of the elder tea. Meowianne sashayed around below the tables, listening for rumors, and Sherbert listened to the bard.

The Elder Tea smelled like honeysuckle, and had a face-puckering piquant tartness that quickly subsided into a cozy, fuzzy, honey-reminiscent warmth on the tongue. She loved it.

Meowianne listened to a group of young adventurers who were after the Hag's Eye... Rumored to the the eye of the Hag in Hag's Addle, that had been removed by a gallant young knight and thrown---lance and all---into the bog. He was summarily killed, of course, but the Hag would give good money to anyone who could find it.

She also heard tell, again, of the shrine to King Pusskin, on the roads around Lankshorn.

Sherbert listened as the bard sang the song of St. Clewyd. He was just getting to the part where the saint struck down the atacorn, but also was dealt a dying blow, when the bard locked eyes with her, and began to walk towards the door. Sherbert, as though enchanted, got up and followed...

Meowianne, seeing this, rushed over and scratched at Sherbert's ankles, and eventually climbed her like a tree and farted in her general direction... That snapped Sherbert out of it, and as she stood, somewhat disoriented, the suspicious bard disappeared out the door.

That night, Sir Glad was awoken multiple times by opening and closing windows and rattling doorknobs. Whenever he looked, though, nobody was there. In the morning, however, the outer knob to his room was scratched, as though someone had tried to pick it.

Meowianne saw the ghostly elf face through the window again.

The next morning, brooding thunderstorms hung over the hot, humid plains.

Using a 2-mule cart they'd bought for a fairy necklace off of an old farmer at the inn the night before, they loaded up and made High Hankle in record time, hurrying past the distant tower apparently inhabited by a great circling creature, with a crow-like head, bird's body, and lion's haunches.

At High Hankle, they reserved rooms at the Chantry, and then drove their cart through the city proper to Hankle Heirlooms, a quaint old building with a sign of a serpent coiling around a lamb.

A discarded sketch of The Chantry, and current doodle I've been describing based on.

Inside, Sherbert and Sir Glad perused the odd array of collectibles and curios. Solemn guards stood watch as they wandered the lonely place. They had just stopped to peer into a glass case holding books, manuscripts, odd baubles, and the taxidermied genitalia of some strange creature, when a antiquarian breggle popped up between then, wearing natty tweeds and smoking jacket, and said---

And there we leave the adventurers for today.

They plan, next session, to hawk their wares, put some gold in their pockets, visit the Silent Tower and Joan Abelwright of the Order of St. Signis to heal Meowianne's leg as well as see if they can ingratiate themselves with the church for their services at Sir Chyde's Tomb, and then potentially make the long journey to House Harrowmoor for Squire Glad's vigil and accolade, to officially turn him into a knight errant.