The Inn
Night came slowly over the town of Marten, dusk covering the thatched roofs, dotted by a finch's nest or a stray boot of dubious origins. Then it took over the windows and their ledges, on which pots of flowers rested. Lastly, the door frames were covered as well, from the dusty tops to the well trodden dirt right below their frames. Thus the dusk swallowed the town, but not it's denizens, for the hardworking people of Marten latched onto every opportunity to spend their well earned tins on the amber ale brewed by Oggy at the Halfmark Inn. The structure was relatively new, but stood on an ancient stone foundation cracked by time and covered by moss, structure which at some point marked the halfway point between two forgotten locations.
It was windy outside, so the stocky oak door at the entrance swung closed just a little harder than it usually does, in the wake of the stranger unfamiliar with this particular door, which slammed it just a little too hard. This caught the attention of the Inn's patrons, especially as the new arrival didn't look the par of Marten folk. Instead of the proud and stocky build grown out of generation of honest work, the stranger was lithe and tall, with limbs that looked to be swaying in the wind, even after the door closed. His clothes were of deep green, detailed with subtle yet bright coloring of golden and auburn, clothes to flashy and impractical for a day's work in the sun or in the mines.
"Go sit 'im down in the corner" came the raspy voice of Oggy, and accompanied by a gesture of his bald and uneven head, one the wenches serving rushed towards the stranger, nimbly and aptly sitting him down at the corner table, the one which townsfolk knew is just a little more uneven than the rest, with the chairs just the little bit more squeaky and uncomfortable than the rest were.
To his surprise, the stranger was not seated at an empty table. Across from him stood two strangers, as much the outsiders in Marten as he was himself.
"Welcome, and well met! Allow me to introduce myself, for there is no reason whe shouldn't make ourselves acquaintances. I am Barkezar of Burgen, aspiring knight of the Temple of Jade." The guttural yet cheery voice belonged to a hulk of a man, clad in a thickened leather cuirass, undearneath of which dirty travel clothes showed themselves. He had a thick mane of curly, dark hair he tried to keep tied unsuccessfully. His features were strong and handsome be it not for the square jaw, beady eyes, and pointy teeth, which showed his orcish blood to those who knew to look. To anyone else, he was just a big lad, a bit pale and ugly, one which possibly took a few beatings during childhood.
"Your mouth' only competition is your wit, Barkezar, or the lack of it. We were sitted here to not attract the attention of the villagers where the atmosphere will get rowdy, yet you speak at volumes fit for grand halls. I suggest you stop speaking for good, seeing how it would be even harder for you to just lower your voice."
"Let them come! Rowdy is my-"
"Tactless and humorless. To top it all of, you stink like a wet horse. Which is horrifying, seeing how we made the treck here on foot."
The man teasing Barkezar stood lower than both his tablemates, had short, light brown hair. He sported thick robes of a dark blue shade, clean by the standards of most travelers. His soft features and carefully trimmed sideburns gave him an elegant demeanor that did not lend itself well to the dark, smoke-filled room that smelled of alcohol and sweat.
"It seems you two are already familiar with one another."