The Satyr’s Hoof Tavern
You stand inside the Satyr’s Hoof Tavern, a lively and warm social gathering place that is always patonized by many of Sted Cair’s good citizens. The room is brightly lit with dwarven-wrought lanterns, and the walls are adorned with maps, ropes and other adventurer’s gear. Tables are scattered around in no particular fashion, and serving wenches casually stroll among them, taking orders. A large menu on the wall behind the bar lists the current fare.
There is also a long bar along the southwest wall, with crude wooden stools set in front of it. Behind, a tall, handsome-looking Satyr is serving beverages to the patrons seated there. The northeast door leads out onto the square.
A cat with long, grey tabby fur (Trim) is sat on the bar. Not on a stool, on the bar. Any and all cups have been moved far away from him and he is currently engrossed in a small, cat-sized plate of roast chicken.
Haft and Lanisen enter, pausing for a moment to let their eyes adjust to the light before settling on a table a bit to the side of the main area.
Trim looks up from the chicken and towards the humans, “Hullo there, you lot with the duke or the lady?”
Haft looks up. “News travels fast. We’re with the lady.”
Trim says, “Met another chap that was with her not so long ago!” He peers at Haft. “I say, have we met?”