Sir Ser the Fearless nodded towards a sweet’s shop crammed with eager eyed urchins, “I choose this one.”
“What’s a matter with you, ‘eh… you hungry for a lollipop?” The dwarf reached up and flicked two fingers against Ser’s helmet with a resounding dong. “We should be finding an audience who has what we really need! Follow me.”
Ronnie Bowfingers struck out across the cobbled lane towards the Soggy Bottoms Pub of Yarnolth, muttering something about the last time he had a decent sized pint. He got precisely three steps away when a slim hand tugged him backwards by his waist length red beard. He sputtered and glared up at Skeap, the hooded woman who held a fist full of his hair in one hand and the jowl of Sir Ser’s helmet in the other.
“What we need is a place to sleep and not to spend the night in another barn” Skeap tilted her head towards the heavily armed curfew guards ambling through the narrow lanes. Sleeping in the streets was actively discouraged. “So it’ll be the inn for us. Agreed?” She turned away, not giving them time to respond. They both nodded anyway, a force of habit more than anything else.
As a group, they turned to consider the Buttons and Bows Inn. It was a rather small establishment, perhaps only a dozen rooms in all. Skeap and Sir Ser arranged their weapons while Ronnie scratched at his lower legs with a painful cringe.
“I told you there was Burning Leaf behind those trees.” Skeap said with a roll of her eyes. “That’s what you get for not watching your step in the shrubs.”
“When a man’s got to go… he does nah’ bother a ‘watch his step’ ” Ronnie said in a high pitched voice.
“So, what’s it to be?” Ser interrupted, “Sandworms, skeletons, orcs?” He listed their options extending one finger at a time.
“Goblins,” Skeap said. “Those other stories aren’t ready yet. You think you can manage your part this time?”
“My lady,” he scoffed, “a true knight-”
“A ‘true knight’ doesn’t fumble his sword and cut down half the awning over the fish market.” Skeap pinned him with a stare until he blushed.
“Goblins… stick to the script.” She said and led them across the street. The sounds of laughter, clinking cups and general revelry could be heard from behind the inn’s entry door. It sounded like a large party gathered inside.
“Come on fellas,” Skeap reasoned with a smirk and a laugh, “unless there’s someone in there who’s a field expert on goblins we don’t have anything to worry about…”