The Sun and Moon Inn
You stand in a small but comfortably furnished private room of the Inn. The bed
is made neatly with a plain but pleasant quilt, and several blankets can be
found in a small trunk at the foot of the bed, should the room grow cold. There
is a lit fireplace in one wall. A window looks out westward, revealing a
pleasant portrait of the road out in front of the inn. A nightstand sits beside
the bed, and a washstand beneath the window. There is a vase of dried flowers
beside the pitcher and bowl on the wash stand. A woven rug by the door
completes the cozy effect of the room.
Megren knocks lightly on the door. “It’s Meg,” she says, trying not to be too loud in case he’s asleep.
Lanisen doesn’t answer for a minute, and when he does there is a slurred sort of quality to his voice that suggests he was half-asleep. “You c’n come in.”
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The road wends gently along the edge of the open and scattered woodlands that
can be seen encroaching upon the eastern part of this region. To the west,
the more open country of the plains can be seen rolling gently in low hills,
and you can make out the telltale rooftops of the town of Lancelyn Green.
The road here turns toward it.
The Sun and Moon Inn can be seen to the east here, neatly nestled into the
trees. The structure looks to be quite old, but it has the proud gleam of a
structure reclaimed and refitted, and it appears to be a pleasant place to
pass the night. You can smell the pleasant aroma of something cooking in the
pub. The road continues north to the Northern Path here.
Darrin keeps Dragondawn at a steady clip through the woods, but not quite a trot, to spare Lanisen from too much jostling. He reins her in outside the Sun and Moon and dismounts swiftly, handing the reins over to a groom who appears immediately.
Lanisen is reeling in the saddle, fighting to stay awake.
Megren rides as easily as possible behind him. Swiftly is a smooth, if slightly distractable, ride, and because of the slowness of the ride she sometimes has to refocus him away from wanting to stop and nibble at the brush, which probably adds a bit of extra jostling. She keeps her left arm looped around Lanisen in order to keep him steady. When they finally get to the inn, she hesitates, not sure how best to help him down.
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There is a gray, dusty smell to this space. It is not large: five steps long and four steps wide with a low ceiling. The walls are built of irregular stone blocks, and there are empty shelves fixed to them at intervals. Sounds seem muffled, and there is a smothering, velvet quality to the darkness.
Lanisen is lying motionless on the floor with his face to the door. The bowl of water is empty, but he seems to have not been able to eat the bread.
Darius’s footsteps are quick as he enters the cottage. Moments later the trapdoor swings open and Darius makes his way down the ladder. Upon reaching the floor, he turns and sees his captive lying on the floor. “Thirsty one… aren’t you,” he mutters, eyes falling on the empty water bowl.
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