Lightholder Tavern <Palace District>
- It is said - primarily by the proprietor, a jovial merchant-classer named Solas Creek - that all roads in Fastheld lead to the Lightholder Tavern. On any given night, it's not hard to see why he might justify such a claim.
- The pub, which started centuries ago as a small refreshment wagon for laborers building Fastheld Keep atop Caryas Hill, sees boisterous crowds filling its rafters with laughter and pipe smoke at all hours of the day and night as travelers make their way through the realm.
- About three dozen tables are arranged among the polished wooden columns on which hang the wrought-iron lanterns that help give the tavern its name. Solas or one of his assistants can usually be found working behind a wide C-shaped counter, serving mugs of keg-tapped ale to thirsty patrons who stand at the bar.
- The floor is strewn with amber rushes, except in a circle of about twenty feet in diameter, where the stone fireplace and chimney rise toward the ceiling.
Chaori Balsam arrives, looking weary. She is accompanied by a guard in black and silver and a Bladesman.
Roland follows Chaori in, and glances around the room.
Roran Zahir is still laying on the table bench near the bar. Of course he has gotten up since then but all the same its his favorite spot at the moment. His hands are behind his head with his eyes closed.
"Dese tings git 'eavier and 'eavier all the blastin' time," mutters a somewhat muffled female voice from somewhere behind the bar counter. "I swear it Creek. Yer ass better be up soon or I bloody well quit. This ain't my job."
Roran Zahir opens one eye, sitting up to a look at where the voice comes from. He takes a look at her for a second and then loses interest, laying his head back down.
Chaori Balsam ducks into the kitchen and returns with a pitcher and a tray of mugs. As usual, she pours the pitcher's contents into the mugs and coaxes the sick to drink the stuff. Eventually, she reaches Roran. "Good afternoon, Your Lordship. How are you today?"
- Thump* the sound of something heavy and solid can be heard hitting the wooden floor and up pops a young women with a shock of red hair. Straggly bits that have escaped the prison of her braids fly off in all direction. "Alright all yah sick like folks and such" she barks to no one in particular, "I gots a new keg 'ere and since I can't be bloody bothered to serve yah all cause I'm jus' plum tuckered and cranky as an ole momma bear, yah can jus' serve yer self." She looks directly at a older, bearded man that is sitting near the counter, "Yah got that Highgrove? Yer better. I ain't yer maid servant no more. Quit buggin."
Roran Zahir waves a hand while sitting up, "Come to poison me some more?" He runs a spotted hand through his thick red hair. "Lets get on with it."
Chaori Balsam hands Roran the mug. "It only tastes like poison. I lived through it."
Roran Zahir turns to her, taking the mug in hand, a scowl forming on his features, "A little more silence would be preferable." He tosses it back cringing as he does so, "No leave me to my rest."
Chaori Balsam smiles and says, "Either you're getting better, or you're getting worse."
"Aw come on Red..honey," the bearded man whines at Redana, "Yah know I ain't feeling so well yet." The young women wrinkle her nose. "Ain't gonna work this time. I saw yas jus' some time ago. You ain't all sickly no more. Time to help instead of whelp like a baby." She starts walking away towards the kitchen and waves her hand behind her, "Mugs is back dere. Yah knows where. I gots to rustle up some soup for all dese folks. Full bellies and all..."
Roran Zahir waves a hand as he moves to lay back down on the bench, "Leave me wench, and when you come tomarow do try to keep your blabbering to a minimum."
Chaori Balsam shakes her head and finishes up dosing everyone.
Redana Moss disappears into the kitchen. Seconds pass until..."No *you* clean the piss pots. It ain't my turn, firg on yah..." can be heard from inside. The other's reply is muffled.
Chaori Balsam sticks her head into the kitchen long enough to return the empty pitcher and the used mugs. "Thanks for the dishes, as always. Mistress, are you feeling the least bit ill?"
Redana Moss is now carrying a wooden bucket and grey colored cloth in her hand. A scowl of distaste plastered on her face as she glances over at the healer. "No. I's fine. Ain't caught wind of it yet. Appreciate if yah can git these friggin people well and outta 'ere. Not sure how much more ah can take if yah git my drift. I'm goin' right buggy in da 'ead."
Chaori Balsam smiles. "Try not to wear yourself out, Mistress. Believe me, I wish they'd all get well and out of here too."
Roland crosses his arm, and waits by the door.
"Well how much longer do yah tink it'll be?" Redana asks as she swings the bucket back and forth. The faint smell of offal wafts from it's interior as she does so.
Chaori Balsam sighs. "With the dark pox, there's no telling. Master Lark's continued survival is a miracle. I'd dose him too, if I could wake him."
Redana Moss echoes the sigh, "Well mabe yah should jus' shove it down his throat."
Chaori Balsam shakes her head. "Not when he's this solidly unconscious. His lungs are too full as it is."
"Bah," Redana snorts with a shake of her head. "Who cares anyways. Should jus' shove him out the back and let 'im rot." She starts to walk out of the kitchen prepared to shove her way past the healer if necessary, "Excuse anyways. I gotta deal wit' some noble piss and crap. No difference 'tween us when it comes to that stuff I've discovered. Dough I'd swear on my life it smells worse den ours."
Roland looks over to Chaori.
Chaori Balsam snickers as she lets Redana pass. "If you mean the Zahir over there, he's fond of your wares," she says to her in a low voice. Chaori does notice the look from the long-suffering Blade. "Yes, we're done here. I just wish I was done for today."
Roland shrugs, "Where to next?"
Chaori Balsam replies to Roland, "Lost Hope Inn, I think."
Roland nods once.
The bearded man starts chuckling when he sees hears Redana's exit from the kitchen. Catching sight and sound of his reaction, Redana stomps over to him, cheeks red with annoyance. "Shut it Hightower. I ain't gonna take no lip from yah," and with that she reaches out and lightly slaps him across the face.
Roland blinks a bit in surprise, and glances over to Redana.
Chaori Balsam pauses on her way out the door.
"Ow...hey hun. No need to rough now," the man says feigning a hurt expression and holding his cheek. "Pish," Redana snorts back with a smirk as she walks away towards the stairs, "I knows yah can take more then dat. I've been talkin' with Cally yah know." He chuckles again and watches as she makes her escape up the stairs, bucket still swinging at her side.