The tender song of the nightingale whispered through the forest surrounding the tavern. The crickets were chirping, the breeze softly rustling the leaves. The mule was quiet other than its labored breathing as it struggle dthe last few hundred yards up the steep path to the hidden tavern.
Michealus parked the rig out front of the tavern, unhitched the mule and tethered it to the hitching post. He stripped to his tunic and breeches, the dangers of the forest gone. He started unloading the cart. Wood, nails, tools, some supplies for the larder, paint, some metal bits for making the small things needed around the building. The time had come to repair the tavern.
After unloading the cart he went back outside and brushed down the mule, fed it some oats, and a few carrots he'd found in the vegetable garden out back. Then he went back in to assess the condition of the Keeper's tavern. Kulu's been here recently, he's left his mark on the dust by the bookshelves. Diametria too, thats her gait in the footprints, and the little notch near the little toe on the right foot, all thats left of the time she got her feet squished by that wurm. Madax repaired her boots well to leave such a small mark.
Once more out in the back he visited the small cemetary where some of the former keeper's were buried, Micheala, his distant cousin from Erudin lies there, sleeping the long sleep. He stopped at the newest grave, that of the mighty orc Gerontik, introduced to and adopted by the Keepers when he and Timberglen were battling. Poor Gerontik, dead from poison powerful to orcs alone, harmless to everyone else. Even Gerontik didn't know what killed him. Kiya found it in a book of ancient recipes in the library in Shadowhaven. Apparently a large percentage of orcs are fatally allergic to crimson wildberries from Luclin. Tasty little fruit, but deadly to many orcs. Michealus planted the seeds he'd brought for the purpose, to mark forever the grave of his friend with what would one day be a beautiful specimen of Gerontik's favorite plant, the terror spine bush.
Over here, in the sunlight. That will be a good place to lay Calais for his eternal slumber. His body, dedicated to Tunare and having fought battles in her service for these hundreds of years was finally failing. He knew his time was near. Best to prepare this place for him, and make the inn hospitable for his last days, should he choose to spend them here. Michealus had brought acorns he had found beneath the tree city of Kelethin. Such a tree should mark Calais' grave.
It will require much work, the inn being in such disrepair. Michelaus set up camp outside the inn, cleared the brush away from the west wall, and set about replacing rotted boards with fresh ones, treated to resist the fungus of the forest. Night fell. When it became too dark to work, Michealus surrendered to the night started a small campfire, planned it well to be protected from the breeze and burn lowly through the night. Finally, assured it was all in order, Michealus went to sleep. Tomorrow is another day, and the inn must be rebuilt, cleaned and restocked. The Keepers need to have a home again, we've spent to much time wandering the world, and not enough time being the band of adventurers we were and will be again.
This was orginally Posted by Michaelus from the old message board. I thought some of theses posts where worth keeping.
The sky is barely visible through the trees surrounding the inn. What little of it that can be seen is cloudy, white cottonpuffs only, and moving slowly to the west. The inn itself is freshly painted, the walls now sound and wind proof. The roof completely patched and ll leaks repaired, at least for this year. The kitchen now sports the finest in ovens, and with recent visits to the JaggedPine forest, there is now a nonstick frying pan and a casserole dish in the cupboards. We will have to try some of the noodles everyone is talking about in Qeynos.
With so many people rallying around and joining the Keepers of the Glade there is now reason to keep the inn stocked, the bar in good liquor, the pantry full, the sheets and pillows and carpets all freshly cleaned and placed in their most useful places. Michealus had even taken the time to sand down Numbuk's chair, to refinish it with the finest of Ogre resistant varnishes. Sestuss, Bimbolou, Meboom, and the other ogres and trolls in the guild will all need their places to sit. Perhaps I should craft some more chairs in the large sizes. Even the Vah Shir tend to run larger than the barbarians, who barely fit into the human sized chairs as it is.
The gardens out back were in full growth of the season, fruits, vegetables, flowers, and even Tiink's abandoned garden of poisonous plants are all doing well. The magical entrance to the depths of Solusek's Eye has been runed and sealed, and ten feet the other side of the sealed door there is a 4 yard thick course of all the loose stone and rubble Michealus could find within 2 miles of the inn. Perhaps that will help keep the inn safe from the infestation of goblins it once suffered.
We are growing, doing well, perhaps we can once again sit in front of the fireplace and spin the tales of our adventures. We will need more staff, more meat, and perhaps installing the rest of the equipment to practice our trades would be good. The kiln will go out back by the forge, the pottery wheel can be on the other side of the porch from there. The brew barrel is safely stationed the other side of our graveyard. I'd have liked it closer, but Iane is right, some of the stuff I brew has a scent a little too strong for close company.
I wonder where we can set up a loom, maybe I'll get the big folks to lug up some stone from the creek. Hmm, there are a lot of fish in the creek right now, think I'll go down and catch dinner.
Bolor walks to the inn dragging a large wagon behind him. As he comes to the in he looks at the inn with a small amount of disgust. It was built for every race, except Vah Shir! So he takes mutliple, large, cushions that he brought from his beloved city, Shar val, and places them around the inn. He then grabs a large scratching post and places it a few feet away from the fireplace. "Thats much better" he thinks to himself.On the side of the inn he puts a small hut, filled with straw padding and full buckets of food and water, hoping that the druid and beastlord pets will like it.
Bolor walks away as quitly as he had come towards the creek, thinking of all the pranks he can pull on Michealus
