The room is cozy yet large with four massive tables that can easily accompany ten people are spread out through the room. The walls are made of thick stone - this may be one of the oldest buildings in Framimgham - with wood on the inside to give it the cozy feeling. That and the low beams that stretch the width of the room. Two windows give a view to the outside world. A spiral staircase rests comfortably in the North East most corner. Someone build a large chamber pot room onto the ground floor itself. In a few corners the walls curve inward.
Haas, meaning friend in every known language and the unofficial name of every single Happy Swallow bartender keeps the food and meade moving. The bar wenches are comely enough to make you smile.
Somehow the Fat Man has gained the centermost table in the room. Slurping away noisily at his food, already managing to get himself the choicest cuts before everyone else. Pig cheek, venison haunch, salted cod all adorn the plate before him.
The large warrior that looks like a tribesman (and is tan is summer) finds a seat that will keep his back to a wall. He unclasps his sword, sliding it from his back to prop it by his left leg, and slings his backpack down by his left foot. Hunched over his venison and flagon of mead, he looks like a prisoner protecting his meal.
He does not smile, he does not stare, he simply casts his gaze across the room, silently assessing.
The Tiefling, The human warrior who stands just over six feet tall and is a cross between a nordic ranger and an armored knight, and the man with the slight part in his hair all join each other at a table in the North West most corner of the room closest to the door leading outside.
Three men - you see now that they are actually brothers - sit down together in the table at the North East corner between a window and a double-door leading to a kitchen. All three have a weather worn look of men who have been on the road too long and seen too much. They wear identical coats of plate male. Long bows and long swords rest easily within their reach. They have an easy confidence among them though their eyes continually dart about.
The beautiful woman you noticed earlier from the funeral... Hard not to notice her... very fine mourning robes, spectacularly beautiful... no signs of any weapons at all. Though trailing her at a not too distant location is a very violent looking dwarf who seems to be making up for her apparent lack of weapons. Who knows why he HAS so many weapons... and she is a human, yet wearing a dwarven royal seal, and very obviously being guarded by a dwarf. Odd, to say the least. She positions herself near the spiral staicase. casually observing.
The Tiefling, clad in leather armor and with a certain princely bearing, moves to the bar. Although not possessing the large build of many of the warriors in the room, there's a magnetism about him that draws many eyes -- particularly of the women in the tavern -- as he whispers something to Haas and then hops up onto the bar.
"Friends and compatriots of our illustrious departed mentor Donal, I would like to welcome you to this fine establishment, the Happy Swallow. It does not surprise me that Donal counted amongst his close friends so many professions and races; for he truly held love for all peoples and things, great and small. Although we come here in sadness, let us not mourn the passing of our great friend, but celebrate the joy that was his life and share all the warm memories and wise words that he imparted unto us."
"My name is Qwyn'lan and I will share my favorite memory first: Although Donal called many great cities his home, he often visited the great port of Boston and it was on one of these trips that he found himself in Copley square searching for siege crab chitin. While shopping, he grasped the wrist of a young thief who had his hand firmly planted in his coin purse when he was discovered. As many of you surely know, Donal possessed an uncanny physical strength that belied his appearance and he had the urchin caught dead to rights. Rather than turn the thief into the city guard positioned a few feet away, he turned to him and said: 'You know, you're far too clumsy to ever make a living as a cutpurse. You'll be without both your hands in the span of a week and judging by how skinny you are, I'd say you haven't been able to steal anything in several days. But you may be in luck today, I need a clumsy lad to sweep the floors of my shop once a week. Stop by and there's a few copper and a hot meal for you waiting'."
"As I'm sure many of you have guessed, that young thief was me. And true to his word, Donal kept me from losing both my hands on the streets of Boston and started me on the path that I still follow today. For that, I shall forever be in his debt. Now everyone, raise a flask with me -- to Donal!"
The beautiful woman continues listening to those around the bar tell tales, yet you see her constantly scanning: the others, yourself, the fat man, and interestingly, the bathroom.
While Qwyn was speaking to the crowd, the serving maids had circulated amongst the crowd and placed a flagon of ale next to each patron. Qwyn downs his flask, jumps from the bar, shakes hands with the bartender and in one motion sweeps a barmaid into his arms and plants a kiss on her lips.
When the flagon of ale is set down beside him, purchased by Qwyn, the man with the black cloak does not take his eyes off the crowd, but as Qwyn looks about the room during his speech, when their eyes meet, the man nods his thanks. He does not, however, make any sort of move to pick up the flagon.
His eyes continue to scan the crowd, as if he is searching for something. His body seems relaxed, but those eyes just will not rest for more than a fleeting moment on any object or any person.
Qwyn rejoins his table, playfully dragging a bar wench with him.
The human warrior who stands just over six feet tall and is a cross between a nordic ranger and an armored knight, in armor plates shaped like leaves with a long sword at his hip along with an ornate quiver with over 100 arrows with dark green feathers, licks the last bit of grease from his fingers, grabs his tankard of ice cold ale, rises from the bench he sits on and uses it as a step to the table top beside the Tiefling and the other human beside him.
"I am Voss, from the Valley of the mighty River Hudson to the west. While I do not know you all, other than my old friend Alion," Voss looks to the man in the long brown cloak beside him, "and a new friend, Qwyn" he smiles at the Tiefling, "If you all have come here today, from far and wide, by land or sea, to honor my oldest friend, Donal, then you must have loved him as much as I. And for that, I am proud to call you friend as well. And honor you all. Donal would be proud to see such a gathering. Cheers. To Donal!"
Voss raises his tankard and drains it. "Any here who wish to share with me how they knew Donal, or learn how he changed my life for the better, you are welcome at my table." Voss steps to the bench, then the floor, signaling for another beer as he sits again beside Alion in the brown robe, and Qwyn the Tiefling.
Alion raises his own glass toward the ceiling in the form of a toast. Then drains the contents. "I am Alion." That is it. All he says.
The halfling seems to appear from nowhere from a spot against the wall where he had been devouring his meal while standing up. He heads over to Voss's table. As he arrives, he lifts his mug to Qwyn and nods a thank you.
"Hello, my name is Elbeneth. Thank you for the beer. I too was a friend of Donal's. He and I spent a lot of time together traveling these lands. I'd like to sit with you and reminisce about our friend."
Elbeneth pulls up a chair and begins talking to Voss, Qwyn, & Alion. Not loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, but not hiding his comments either.
One of the three brothers stands up, raising his flagon to the ceiling. "I am Droz of the Triplets three. We too wish fond memories of Donal. We called him brother in our quest to cleanse the world of evil. Where we were brash, he was wise; where we were loud, he was quiet; and most of all, we were good and he was better. May we stand next to him in the beyond!"
The two other brothers stand, all three flagons making a thunk noise as wood meets wood.
The beautiful woman continues to watch. She, the Tribesman and the man who looks like an elf seem to be assessing every situation.
"Name's Benjamin," states the fat man, licking pork fat from his fingers. His words are not aimed at anyone in particular, this man most likely would converse with a wall if it suited him.
The tribesman's gaze rests upon the fat man. Now he stares, unflinching, while he slowly chews his food. He pauses occasionally to swig his mead, only momentarily lifting the burden of his attention from the man. A sneer alights his visage for a moment, as if he has tasted something foul. He is not a bad looking man, but he seems almost void of courtesy and civility, making him appear brutish and mean.
He stares well past the point of rudeness, not lifting his gaze for anything other than his mead, and seeming to care for no one else in the room.
"I will miss Dear Donal." He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, forgetting there is fat on his finger and ends up wincing. He ends up wiping the fat and tear away with the cuff of his robe.
"Where was I? Right, Dear Donal. He used to say--"
As the Fat Man drones on the beautiful woman and the dwarf make their way over to the tribesman. He tenses up as she sits down. She speaking softly so no one else heres. She stands back up after adjusting a sandal and turns to her apparent body guard.
"--and that is when the elf princess told me to choose between myself and Donal to marry her," the Fat Man laughs as he tells his story.
The man with the black cloak and looks like an elf moves over towards the woman and the dwarf. As he approaches, he extends his clenched fist, knuckle side pointed towards the floor - a very deliberate gesture.
"I am Radegast. Have we met before?" he asks.
"It was a short marriage to say the least!" The Fat man adds.
Before the woman can react the Radegast's question the door to the Happy Swallow opens, bringing in a blast of the cold air from outside.
T'alon strides in, the easy air of authority and confidence in his step. Joining him are two sturdy looking dwarves with bastard swords and plate male. T'alon's omnipresent cloak is the only item of note.
Benjamin does not move, though his piggly eyes dart about.
T'alon's eyes scan the room. They land on the large man who looks like a tribesman.
"Of all the people attending the funeral only two--" he raises two fingers for emphasis, "--did not approach the body. Why come all this way if not pay respects face-to-face?"
He walks toward the Tribesman's table. The two dwarf guards stop in the middle of the room in front of the Fat Man's table.
The Tribesman has ignored all the posturing and grandiose toasts choosing to observe the room as a whole, while also focusing on the fat man. However, when T'alon approaches him, he seems annoyed, and shifts his gaze from the fat man to T'alon.
"I came for reasons of my own, and explaining myself to you wasn't one of them. In fact, I'm the one looking for answers, not more questions."
He reaches into the coin purse on his belt and pulls out the coin that appeared in the dream. He holds it up for a moment, turning it front to back and back to front, allowing him to see Donal's crest. Placing the coin on the table directly in front of him, he leans back, seeming to relax for the first time.
"Now, I've left Vineyard Haven in the middle of winter to travel here, which is not an easy crossing. So you can grab a pint, pull up a chair, and tell me why Donal invades my dreams and tell me whether it is actually him or you and your cronies that has pulled us here and
for what purpose...or, you can fuck off."
With this, he picks up the coin from the table. Flipping it to T'alon he says, "this is for the favor or obliging me one way or the other..."
T'along snatches the coin from the air, then holds it up to the light as he laughs. "Well met, Sir. An honest answer by an honest man.
T'alon then walks toward the Fat Man. "What about you. What is your reasoning?"
The Fat Man replies calmly, "Better men than you have tried to kill me." He then bites into a piece of chicken.
Everyone tenses. Any glee is gone from the room, the air thickens with tension.
T'alon shrugs, he flicks the copper piece through the air at the Fat Man. It lands in his plate. The Fat Man continues to eat.
"This man and his...wards are wanted for crimes against the town of Framingham. Anyone who attempts to help him will be executed. And let you all by warned. Besides the dwarves three people in this room are under my employ. Donal is not the only person who can plan. Now children come out of the damn shit house."
The door to the chamber pot room open. You see two young boys - only eight years old - though it is the eyes of the second boy that catch your attention. Watery-blue. Donal's eyes.
"No!" The Fat Man screams, suddenly rising to his feet.
It is the dwarf's bastard sword that nearly cleaves the Fat Man in two. A wonderful geyser of blood shoots skyward.
The following map shows where you are when the blood shoots skyward
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