Play@YSDC

Let us assume that, rather than spending the night in a ditch at the side of the road, you at least approach the inn.

It appears to be a modest place, but, as far as you can tell in the dark, large enough to accommodate you. A sign, dripping with rain, proclaims it to be the Knight's Head (although in the dark, you cannot make out the picture above the name).

Having proceeded a little up the road, you can now make out the lights of the village, somewhat further up. It appears equally modest judging by the number of illuminated windows.

As you debate your course of action, it occurs to you that, under your outdoor coats, you are still in your evening wear - most peculiar!

"Let's get inside and out of the rain," says Cynthia. "The innkeeper should have plenty of local knowledge."

Henry Joseph Lewis III gazed upon the inn with disdain. The indignity he was now subject to was nearly more than the young dilettante could bear. A man of his station would hardly ever foot within such a place, let alone spend the night. This was unacceptable. He was now all but certain that his uncle was having a good laugh back home at his present predicament.

"You must be joking. I can't stay in a place like this...", he said with obvious trepidation.

Perhaps Mr. Lewis is right to show dismay, for the Knight's Head inn is a rather, shall we say, no frills affair.

Walking into the main bar reveals a low ceilinged room with dim lights struggling to make their presence felt through a smokey fug (tobacco smoke acting in alliance with an open fire under a poorly maintained chinmey).

The arrival of such fine personages as yourselves elicits a noticeable lull in the conversation; the few patrons that can be discerned in shadowy corners either sullenly sizing you up or pointedly staring into their ales.

Behind the bar, the landlord at least seems prepared to openly acknowledge your presence with a curt nod as he wipes a greasy rag around a pint glass.

"Gentlemen, lady - misrable night out there eh?

OOC:   Perhaps, being strangers in a strange place, a spot hidden check might be advisable? Let's say a listen roll too, just to be on the safe side.

Over the hubbub, Cynthia barely hears something.

OOC,Spot Hidden roll (55% skill) in the inn: [dice]0[/dice] Listen roll (55% skill) in the inn: [dice]1[/dice]

Listen 20% [dice]0[/dice]

Spot Hidden 45% [dice]1[/dice]

I've heard something all right but can't see a blasted thing in all this smoke.

Grigori shakes himself out of his weary stupor and attempts to take stock of this inn he finds himself entering...

Spot Hidden 55%,[dice]0[/dice]

Listen 20%%,[dice]1[/dice]

Tom hangs back taking in the surroundings before following the others in.

Grigori leans over and speaks into Pritchard's ear...

"Be careful Tom... That scoundrel who assaulted the cabbie has just slipped into the back bar..."

Henry Joseph Lewis III continued to remain noncommittal about this particular establishment by lingering just inside the entrance way. He peered around the room and its patrons with a scornful expression upon his face while he paid little mind of what was being said among his traveling companions.

Spot Hidden (25%),[dice]0[/dice]

Listen (20%),[dice]1[/dice]

"It certainly is," says Cynthia, unused to being thought of as a lady. "We'd like some rooms for the night, please."

The landlord (a sign above the bar declares him to be George Kipps) glances into the back room for a second, before nodding.

"Aye, I reckon the missus could make some rooms ready, if you gents don't mind doubling up."

He disappears through a small door behind the bar into what you assume is a kitchen and returns a moment later.

"Aye, give my Lizzie a minute or two and her'll take you up. D'you wanna drink or summat while her sorts 'em out?"

"Some tea would be lovely, thank you," says Cynthia. "Why is this place called Wergynstone? I gather it's named for St. Wergyn, of course, but are there particular stones here that are associated with him?"

Grigori goes to the end of the room nearest to the back bar the cabbie's assailant has moved to. Is the door open? Is it glazed? He listens carefully, and tries to observe the folk in there - without making it too obvious that he is doing so...

Listen 20%,[dice]0[/dice]

Spot HIdden 55%,[dice]1[/dice]

jp1885 wrote:
"Aye, give my Lizzie a minute or two and her'll take you up. D'you wanna drink or summat while her sorts 'em out?"

"A pint of your finest ale please, stout yeoman of the bar."

Turning to the rest of the group. "And what will you all have?"

A pot of tea, a pint of ale (accompanied by a somewhat withering look from mine host) and whatever else you order is soon served up. Judging by the sniggers of some of the regulars, you suspect you may have been overcharged a little, but the price of the drinks and the accomodation is still very cheap compared to what you're used to paying nearer the capital.

Mr. Kipps considers Miss Knight's question for a moment before answering.

"Aye, ol' St. Wergyn. The old church wuz named after 'im, but it's all ruins now. St. Peter's is the new church; jus' down the road opposite the village green. As for stones, well the fields 'round 'ere are full of 'em, but if it's big 'uns yer after, you'll 'ave to go down to Stony Wood next to the ol' church. Not that the new Squire'll let you anywhere near 'em - very partic'lar about who crosses 'is land he is."

He glances nervously towards the rear bar once again.

Mr. Tereshchenko,Craning your neck to see through the open doorway to the equally smoky rear bar, you see the two men (one of whom is undoubtably the mysterious assailant), sloping hurriedly through a back door and out into the night. The few patrons in said room relax visibly upon their exit.

"Oh?" says Cynthia between sips of tea. "Has anyone tried to go there lately?"