The Inn isn't the classiest, suitable for the ‘working class’ rather than the wealthy. Most of the furniture is sturdy but worn over time with scratches and bumps. Some stained with blood from fights held every night for entertainment. In the corner occupies a collection of people gambling and playing cards.
Although this brings back vivid memories of late nights with its masters, this isn't what truly interests the Elmforge. Far more interesting are all the different races and people.
The Inn has dwarfs, as it expected, but it also has humans, elves, halflings and other half breeds, including beastly races. If it could, Krankos would be gleaming. It has never seen such diverse races in one place.
Before the guards return to their stations, the leading guard enters and informs them, "Just head to the bar, they will find you somewhere to sleep until morning."
On their way to the bar, Krankos bumps into tables and chairs, so distracted and fascinated by all the people and activities going on. With the noise, Nibbles once again reveals itself and is equally as amazed by all the different races.
Borkin pushes Krankos after it nearly stumbles over him, "Focus will ya, don't want ya causing any trouble 'ere or breakin' anything. Especially me!"
Keetuk doesn't wait for them to catch up and arrives at the bar first, focused on finding somewhere private to rest. "How much for a room?" she asks.
The barmaid, a dwarven lady that looks as tough and worn as the inn itself replies in a rusky voice, "Five shraps."
"Nice," Keetuk replies as she gets five silver coins from her coin purse. "One single room please," she says, slamming the coins on the counter.
"What about us?" Borkin asks, bog-eyed and surprised she didn’t even offer to get them a room.
"What about you?"
"Well the big guy 'ere might be o'ight without a room but where am I to sleep? Ya know I don't 'av any coin, can't ya help a dwarf out, after all, mi stuff got taken!"
"Should have looked after your things better then," she replies, walking towards the stairs with a smile on her face.
"Bitch!" Borkin shouts.
Keetuk’s smile widens as she continues to her room.
"It's okay, you've got me," Krankos assures with its hand on Borkin's shoulder for comfort.
Borkin shrugs Krankos's hand off him, "Aye, it's fine, I know how to get a good deal for a room. Watch and learn."
Krankos and Nibbles both watch in anticipation, intrigued to see what Borkin will do.
Borkin quickly grooms his hair and beard before approaching the bar, "Ya know, if I knew a girl half as ugly as you, I would be one 'appy dwarf."
The barmaid chuckles with a slight smirk, "And if I fell for half the dwarfs with as stupid a line as that, I would have over double my children."
Krankos, confused by the whole display asks, "How many children do you have?"
The barmaid's smile fades as she looks at Krankos dead-eyed, "None, the fecking cretins," scowling at the thought of children.
Borkin fights to keep their banter going, "Oh, cummon love, surely ya won't leave us without anywhere to sleep, eh?"
"Ohhhhh, of course not sprinkles," the barmaid chuckles as she grabs a bedroll from behind the bar. "We have a lovely space on the ground floor for those without coin," nodding her head towards two thick wooden doors leading to a public sleeping area.
Borkin looks at the doors and back to the barmaid, long-faced. The barmaid smiles and waves to Borkin who concedes, grabbing his bedroll and marching over to set up his bed.
Krankos stays at the bar, awaiting its own bedroll.
"What you want?" the barmaid asks with grimace.
"Don't I have a bedroll?"
She scoffs, "Right, an Elmforge needs a bed. Piss off!" The barmaid waves the Elmforge away and turns to serve another customer.
Krankos hovers for a few moments before leaving the bar, following Borkin into the large sleeping area.
The public sleeping area is a vast space and the thick doors aim to reduce noise from the bar though quite a lot still sneaks through. Along the walls are three-storey bunks to occupy more travellers. This is especially important with The Silver Flagon being close to a gate, thereby meaning it is the first place guards will take travellers at night should they need a bed. Inside this room lay dozens of bedrolls set up by travellers at the inn, although very few are occupied with most enjoying the bar while it's open. It isn't the most pleasant of places, but it is far better than anywhere Borkin has slept since they left Dalford.
Borkin walks to the back of the room with Krankos following behind.
"Why are ya following mi?" Borkin asks, eyes facing forwards.
"Well, I thought we could both rest.”
Borkin stops by a spare bunk in the far corner and lays his bedroll down, straightening it out, "Ya don't have anything to sleep in… Besides, you're an Elmforge, you don't need to rest remember?"
Krankos’s gaze is fixated on Borkin’s bedroll, full of wanting, "I asked for one but she wouldn't give me one."
"Of course not, that's ma point." Borkin gets into bed, "Now if ya don't mind, I might as well get some shut eye."
"Okay," Krankos replies, standing awkwardly next to Borkin whilst glancing around the room looking for something to do or of interest. There are a few people by their beds talking with a number glancing in their direction.
"Krankos… It's pretty hard to sleep with ya glowin' ‘n’ hoverin' over mi."
"Oh sorry. Perhaps I should go back to the bar..." Krankos suggests hesitatingly, not used to leaving Borkin on his own.
"Yeah, probably a good idea. Don't worry, I'll be fine. No need for a lookout ‘ere."
It concurs, "Indeed... See you in the morning sprinkles," before leaving through the wooden doors and back to the bar.
Quiet sniggers can be heard across the room at Krankos's comment; Borkin doesn't respond, instead turning to face the wall and pulling his bedroll over to hide his face.
With Keetuk and Borkin in their beds, Krankos and Nibbles are left to fend for themselves. Krankos doesn't mind this though with so many fascinating individuals to talk to. It is strange, it doesn't seem long ago Krankos was on its own, waiting for its masters to return home. Yet, now, it is surrounded by many dwarfs, drinking and singing like days of old, but with a much more diverse roster.
Many groups stare at Krankos wandering around the bar on its own. Nobody is surprised to see an Elmforge, but it is usual for one to be walking around without a master, especially in these parts of dwarven territory.
Krankos however is filled with curiosity and, with the guards so friendly, it has no reason to hold back.
Before Krankos can do anything, a small dwarf approaches, about three and a half feet, and clutching a near-empty bag of coins. "Fancy doing some sparring?" He asks.
Assumably, the bag was filled with coins but this dwarf has since gambled them away. "No, I'm sorry, I don't think that's a good idea. Especially with my friend sleeping in the other room. Wouldn't want to disturb him again."
"Oh come on! Please, I've lost every bet so far. I bet you would be able to beat 'em all! Get my money back!" the dwarf pleads.
Although Krankos does love fighting, most of the other fighters are already beaten and intoxicated. It might be a war machine, but believes there is honour in fighting. Krankos remains firm, "It wouldn't be right to support your habit. I suggest you call it quits now. Besides, if you think I can win and you're on a losing streak, I will surely fail."
"No way! I gotta find a win soon, odds are in my favour by now. If you won't fight, the least you can do is tell me who you think will win the next round?!? Please?!"
If Krankos could sigh, it would have, but makes its best guess, pointing to a smaller dwarf, "Him. He might not look much, but he isn't hurt and will likely pack a surprising punch." Krankos isn't wrong in it's deductions, but doesn't recognise the dwarf is drunk or realise that he has been drugged before the fight.
The dwarf, oblivious and desperate to get his money back, replies, "Thank you!" while overly nodding as he returns to the betting table.
With the dwarf dealt with, Krankos looks around the room. A large group of feline creatures, all grey and white, are crowded around a large table. It approaches, curious as to what they are. They stare at Krankos with a hint of disgust.
Their stares do not deter Krankos as it greets them with glee; joyful and proud, "Hello, my name is Krankos, I am a golden retriever. What are you?"
Its greeting is met with looks of confusion, anger and disgust alongside a few quiet sniggers. A larger feline pushes aside the others to get from the back of the group to the front. This one appears to be a veteran in combat with scars across her face, fur worn and patchy. She replies, in a rugged tone, "That's a rude thing to say to the Kiarie," protracting her claws.
Krankos looks around itself and realises it is surrounded by the pack. Some holding raw meat in their hands with plenty more on the large table; Nibbles squeaks worryingly and lowering its head. The Elmforge tries to calm the situation. "I apologise, What did I say to offend you?"
Nibbles hides away, tucking itself around the back of Krankos's neck and under the cape. Perhaps it should have stayed with Borkin, but it too is very curious, wanting to see and hear everything Krankos does.
The large Kiarie gets angrier, "Are you some fucking idiot?! You're messing with the wrong cats here."
This confuses the machine, ‘What have I said wrong? I was genuinely curious…’ are some of the things Krankos wanted to say but instead simply replies, "I don't think I am an idiot..."
Before Krankos can say any more, a halfling intervenes, "Pardon me, could I interest anyone with some Yark? Maybe cut the tension a bit; we're all just trying to have a good time after all, right?"
The Kiarie leader lets out a scowl but takes the offer, grabbing a handful of Yark. With a final warning glare she retreats back into her clan who then crowd around her.
Yark is an herb that Krankos recalls seeing the dwarfs from long ago smoke, eat and sometimes sniff during the war. From memory it helped keep everyone calm, though Krankos couldn't understand what it did and those who used it too regularly tended to disappear.
The halfling guides Krankos away from the Kiarie group, now all huddled around their leader. He was about three feet tall, pale skin with wavy, brown hair. "Seriously, don't piss off the Kiarie. They may look fluffy but the Mountain Tribe don't play nice. Well. Maybe a few do, but most don't."
"I didn't mean to... I genuinely wanted to know... This is all very new to me." Krankos replies, following the halfling to a more secluded area.
Around the corner from the bar is a narrow black door leading to a large isolated room. The room is smoky and mainly filled with dwarves and halflings. There are dozens of seats with a small window open at the back. Everybody appears completely relaxed to the point they are almost immobilised, "Is everyone okay?" Krankos asks with concern.
The halfling is distracted, "Eh? Oh yeah, don't worry about them. You seriously never seen a Mountain Kiarie? Must not be from around here."
"No. I've spent most of my time among dwarfs… You must be a halfling, you seem far too small to be a dwarf."
He chuckles, "Aye, I'm a halfling, proud and true, though heights got little to do with it, I'm just too innocent for that life. Why don't you stay here a while and mingle anyhow," he says, walking away, swaying side to side.
Krankos spends hours in the smoky room, though struggles to keep anybody's attention to have a meaningful or noteworthy conversation. Some try giving Krankos Yark, curious if it could smoke or if it had any impact but it just burnt against the arcane energy flowing in its mouth. What is far more peculiar, however is that Nibbles isn't impacted by the smoke, instead falling asleep in the machine's nook.
By the time Krankos leaves the room, the Kiarie have departed and the gambling dwarf is crying in a corner. In order to avoid any further unpleasantries, Krankos finds a quiet spot next to an elf sitting on a bench, eyes closed and meditating.
"You better not come smoking that poison near me." he says, smelling the Yark permeating from Krankos after being in the room for so long.
"I don't smoke poison," Krankos replies, unsure what the elf meant by this.
"You've just come out of that smoke-box of disappointment have you not?" the elf asks.
"Yark? Well, I'm not sure if that is poison but it doesn't affect me. I was brought in there because of the cats."
The elf smiles, "I see," whilst opening one of his eyes for a moment to see the Elmforge and closing them once again, "Very well, just try not to disturb my meditation."
"Will my glow disturb you?"
The elf's brows twitch at such a strange question, "No. Just do as you would, but please don't talk to me directly. Being a traveller that meditates means I have good concentration which filters out most of the crap but I don't want to seem rude."
Krankos accepts and sits down. It checks that Nibbles is still safe on its shoulder before relaxing. With little else to do, think about or focus on, the machine meditates alongside the elf until morning.
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