(OOC: This is pretty much a place to chill out, meet new people, and find about different "missions" and things of that nature that I will probably be posting alittle later on. So come on in, and enjoy yourself.)

The chill winter afternoon was crisp and clear, the sun low in the sky overhead, the clouds nothing but puffy masses that raced with the wind. The inhabitants of Amarit moved with fast paced gaits, pulling their coats and cloaks closer about themselves so as to avoid the cool air as much as possible. Smoke poured from the chimneys of the many houses lining Tiller's Lane and at the end of the street, there stood a building larger than the rest, "The Gilded Carriage" it was called. "The Carriage" is a large alehouse where the locals gather to spend their hard earned coin on food and drink. Many tales are told by the passing adventurers that settle in for a night or two and everyone enjoys the news from the other provinces across the wide expanse of Brizzan. The doors have just been re-opened after a fire tore through the inside because of a spark from the hearth that caused a rug to light. Now things are pretty much back to normal and adventurers and locals are again allowed to pull up a pint, sit by the fire, and hear a good yarn.
Mac the bartender smiled as he passed the large foaming mug across the bar, the glass sliding across the waxed surface like a smooth stone across ice. Perfect. The man, a local by the name of Carl, caught the mug deftly and flicked a silver piece Mac's way. "Keep the change. I'll be wantin anothern soon."
Mac caught the coin and slid it into the cash box below the bar. "You just be lettin me know when the next drink's a'comin Carl." He said with his usual smile. Glancing around, he smiled at his wonderful tavern. Smoky air from the many pipes was in the air, the fragrance of the many different types of tobacco and other wild herbs making the scent rich. Torches lined the walls, eight on each of the longest walls and a great light came from the hearth at the end of the room. The lanterns overhead held small candles magically enchanted to light with a single word from Mac and puff out with another. He looked down at the furniture. The chairs were brand new, he and a few volunteers having made them themselves, along with the tables, and the walls were covered with tapestries made by the local women, modeling after the ones in the castle ruins to the east. A pair of minotaur horns were gleaming over the bar and Mac smiled even wider, remembering the day it had rampaged through the village and how he had slaughtered it himself with his warhammer, Skull Smasher, which was hanging just below the horns. "Ah, to be young again." He sighed. Reaching up, he scratched his chin through his rather bushy red beard and took the cleaning rag from his apron. He took to cleaning the used glasses when, over the commotion of the crowded room, he heard the bell overhead ring. Another customer had just entered the building. Looking towards the door, he saw a young man in a long, brown leather coat. He was cradeling a lute in his hands and he approached the bar. Mac smiled again. "Hullo there stranger! Haven't seen you in these parts afore. Name's Micheal Brownstone but you can call me Mac. What brings ya to our cozy little corner of the world?"
The man sat his lute down gently, almost as if it where a child, and looked up at Mac. He had long, curly brown hair and his eyes shone with a kind of sadness mixed with amusement, a strange emotional combination indeed. His beard was slight so Mac could tell he was young, barely into his twenties no doubt, and he smiled widely, his teeth shining brightly in the torchlight. "Hello there sir. I am Seth Creed, a traveling bard, at your service. I have asked around this lovely town and found that "The Gilded Carriage" is the most celebrated alehouse in the region. So, myself being a man of curiousity, I came running. That is to say literally sir, for it is frightfully cold outside. What is it that you might have on tap at the moment? I have coin and am willing to spend it." He said in a deep, clear voice, dropping a wink as he finished. He reached down into the folds of his coat and produced a gold piece, placing it upon the counter with a small clink.
Mac made to reach for the coin but stopped himself short, realizing he hadn't taken Seth's order. Blushing slightly, he turned and suveyed his inventory. "Well, we have a wonderful port that is brewed locally and an ale brought in from the northern mountains that will settle you for a warm night of comfort." He turned back to Seth. "So Mr. Creed, what is it I can getcha?"
"I'll take the ale and whatever the house special is." He slid the coin to Mac. "Keep whatever is left." He chuckled. Mac grinned back and began to pour the ale from a bottle he had on the shelf behind him. "Coming right up sir!"
Minutes later, Seth was sitting in the back of the tavern, surveying the many people eating and drinking around him. He sipped his ale quietly and ate the fresh bread, goat's cheese, and mutton before him. It was quite a meal, he had to admit to himself. Better than any road rations. Eyes glancing around the tavern, he began to listen in to the talk around him. Mainly just bits and pieces about the local farms, how the weather was, whether or not a woman named Julie was having a baby boy or girl in the spring. Nothing that interested him much. Until he heard a small group of men to his far left talking about a local ruin. Always one for seeing the history of a land on his treks across Brizzan, Seth casually leaned back in his chair, finished with his meal, and began to listen in.

(OOC: Had a multipost accident, my computer is lagging and I clicked repeatedly. Do not mind this post please.)

(OOC: Like I said above, multipost accident. Do not mind.)

(OOC: I feel like such a spazz right now...........again, I apologize for the multipost. Blame my stupid comp -.-)

(OOC: Last one, thank God. You know the drill, I apologize yet again)

The winds had picked up since leaving her home, although the butcher shop was in town Sindell and her father lived just on the outskirts of Amarit. The winter weather seemed a bit more harsh this time of year, and one had to bundle in heavy furred clothing in order to stay warm enough for travel. Trying to make her trip short to The Gilded Carriage Sin took a shortcut that brought her from around the back of the building. The inviting lights within flickered on the windowpanes of the Alehouse were a welcomed sight as she lifted a gloved hand and pressing it to the door shoved it open. Entering the wind outside and the pressure of air inside caused a suction affect and sent Sin sliding into the Alehouse, hanging on tightly to the knob in the process as she fought to shut the door. Snow bellowed in a gust through the opening until she managed to slam it shut and lean against it as if her life depended on it. "Sorry,Sorry." Sin turned to face the occupants shyly and slipped the hood from her face. Her hair was in the usual braid but lay over her left shoulder as the two strands lay limply framing her face. With a slight smile she moved away from the door and give a quick wave she moved over to the bar. "My apologies Mac, It's turning into a storm out there, one can barely walk without fear of freezing to the spot it's so cold." Sin smiled at the others sitting drinking their ale and dwelling in their own world. "Mac, I'm here for papa's usual pint of Ale, you know if he doesn't get it he'll never let me live it down"[i] she chuckled and slipped out of the heavily furred jacket she was wearing and set it upon the chair.[i] "He is unusually grouchy today, I believe it to be this weather that has him in ill spirits. Although who could blame him right?" she rambled on and then suddenly quieted with a meek "Sorry Mac". She sat down in the chair before the bar and placed her chin in her hands awaiting Mac's next move.