by Matt » Thu Aug 03, 2006 2:14 pm
Laenvan having arranged for a bath at the Tower Inn, leads the way for Igon, Ulauf, Jorst, and himself. Apparently, there is a tub there, not much used, but large enough for four. Naturally no such experience would be complete without sampling the cuisine of the establishment, so the four of them take in a roast chicken, some fine pork sausages, fresh bread, and a smooth, milky cheese to accompany. All washed down with plentiful tankards of ale.
The Tower is a sedate inn, but bustles with the quiet hum of activity. The common room is by no means empty, being frequented by many travelers. Most appear to be journeyman and master guildsmen, though at one table two finely dressed young men girt with swords enjoy a repast. Laenvan has not completely forgotten his city experience in the icy north, and gleefully points out the girls in trade working the room.
Sepian of Ashel, the innkeeper, comes over to let the group know that the bath is ready, and that one of the inn’s ‘helpers’ will assist them - she turns out to be one Laenvan noticed earlier. With a hint of mischief in his eyes, he suggests to Sepian that it would be unfair for her to examine their wares without them having the opportunity to do the same. Sepian drolly allows that something can be worked out, and goes to attend to other patrons.
The meal finished, the group follows the girl - whose name is Tyleare - up the stairs to a room at the end of the hallway. There they find one of the rooms has been prepared with a large round tub set up in the center. Towels and cloths are stacked on a bench along one side of the room, and the tub itself is filled with steaming water. A few herbs have been thrown in for show. Tyleare points out pegs where their clothing may be hung, and bolts the door behind them. As they disrobe, she blinks not at all at the daggers and deftly concealed handaxes the group could not forbear bringing along. Laenvan pouts a bit to Tyleare about her garb, and eventually she agrees to ‘loosen’ her blouse for an extra tip. She unlaces it and lets it fall about her skirts, revealing a modest but attractive bosom. She takes a jug, and as the men get into the tub, helps with pouring hot water over their shoulders. The group is beginning to enjoy the soothing properties of the bath, but then Tyleare starts and drops the jug. The earthen vessel shatters into dozens of potsherds.
In the far corner there sits another woman. Dark of feature and complexion, straight jet-black hair falling over her shoulders. Her almond-shaped eyes gleam like a cat’s and their color is an unearthly gray. Her features are strangely flat, and though she is a woman of extraordinary beauty, none of them have ever seen anyone like her. Her simple black dress is slit up the front and rear revealing tight leather garments and a tiny frame.
“Welcome to Tashal, viking warriors,” she purrs in Ivinian laced with a slight, unfamiliar accent.