oocDear God this got crowded. Closing the thread to keep it from getting more confusing than it already is.
12th of Summer, 513 AV
Breathing a sigh of relief as he finally arrived at the Shooting Star Inn, Gawain - painfully - slid off his Leopardbred, raising a puff of dust as he landed in the packed dirt of the inn's courtyard. A host of aches and pains plagued him, particularly in his legs and hips. Twenty leagues of hard riding had certainly taken their toll on his body, and he was tired. Tired, sore, and hungry.
Affectionately rubbing his hand over the Leopardbred's muzzle, Gawain spared a glance and an appreciative sniff in the inn's direction. The air smelled of a hearty stew, and Gawain could already begin to feel his mouth salivating. Adding to the sensations whirling around Gawain, his stomach also gave an appreciative rumble.
"You hungry too, Cressie? I'll be sure to get you some hay, and a nice, warm stall..." He muttered, patting his horse's very hot flank. The mare was still breathing heavily from the climb up to the Amaranthine Gates, and Gawain had no doubt that she was even more tired than he was after the day's exertions. "Almost done now." He added, untying his sword and shield from the horse's saddle, and pulling his pack and coin purse out of the Leopardbred's saddlebags.
Turning to a stablehand who was milling nearby - clearly waiting for Gawain to quarter his horse - Gawain pressed a few copper kinas into the boy's outstretched palm. "Take good care of her, and you'll get a silver when I leave." He muttered, leaning close to the boy's ear. Then, smiling, Gawain released the stable worker's hand and rested his hand on the pommel of his bastard sword, before assuming a non-threatening posture and walking through the door of the inn.
It was noisier than he'd expected, and full of patrons. Like many inns, it seemed to double as a tavern, as evidenced by the tankards of ale that could be seen strewn liberally across tables. Although the smell of hops enticed Gawain, he didn't plan on muddying his senses that night, in a new and strange town.
Picking his way through the people, Gawain eventually made it to where the innkeeper was holding court, and sat down on one of the stools that was arrayed before the man's counter. Glancing at the man, Gawain placed a few coins on the bar. "I'll need a room to stay, food for my horse, and a meal for me. No alcohol, please." He said quietly, before turning around in his stool and leaning into where two walls met. Now, it was time to people-watch, and to glean what information he could from the denizens of the inn.
12th of Summer, 513 AV
Breathing a sigh of relief as he finally arrived at the Shooting Star Inn, Gawain - painfully - slid off his Leopardbred, raising a puff of dust as he landed in the packed dirt of the inn's courtyard. A host of aches and pains plagued him, particularly in his legs and hips. Twenty leagues of hard riding had certainly taken their toll on his body, and he was tired. Tired, sore, and hungry.
Affectionately rubbing his hand over the Leopardbred's muzzle, Gawain spared a glance and an appreciative sniff in the inn's direction. The air smelled of a hearty stew, and Gawain could already begin to feel his mouth salivating. Adding to the sensations whirling around Gawain, his stomach also gave an appreciative rumble.
"You hungry too, Cressie? I'll be sure to get you some hay, and a nice, warm stall..." He muttered, patting his horse's very hot flank. The mare was still breathing heavily from the climb up to the Amaranthine Gates, and Gawain had no doubt that she was even more tired than he was after the day's exertions. "Almost done now." He added, untying his sword and shield from the horse's saddle, and pulling his pack and coin purse out of the Leopardbred's saddlebags.
Turning to a stablehand who was milling nearby - clearly waiting for Gawain to quarter his horse - Gawain pressed a few copper kinas into the boy's outstretched palm. "Take good care of her, and you'll get a silver when I leave." He muttered, leaning close to the boy's ear. Then, smiling, Gawain released the stable worker's hand and rested his hand on the pommel of his bastard sword, before assuming a non-threatening posture and walking through the door of the inn.
It was noisier than he'd expected, and full of patrons. Like many inns, it seemed to double as a tavern, as evidenced by the tankards of ale that could be seen strewn liberally across tables. Although the smell of hops enticed Gawain, he didn't plan on muddying his senses that night, in a new and strange town.
Picking his way through the people, Gawain eventually made it to where the innkeeper was holding court, and sat down on one of the stools that was arrayed before the man's counter. Glancing at the man, Gawain placed a few coins on the bar. "I'll need a room to stay, food for my horse, and a meal for me. No alcohol, please." He said quietly, before turning around in his stool and leaning into where two walls met. Now, it was time to people-watch, and to glean what information he could from the denizens of the inn.