Return of the Eight

Act One: Scene One

The heavy autumn rain beat relentlessly against the grass and wooden roof, creating several fountains within the tavern, although the fire still burned hot in the central fire-pit. Most of the inn's patrons had gathered around the burning embers in an attempt to stay warm and dry, but a few still sat at the tables that weren't under any direct leaks. A boar adorned the spit, and the ale flowed freely as the dozen or so customers chatted amongst themselves.

The general mood was somber, if for no other reason than the cold rain which had fallen for two days straight. Many of the locals had not ventured out of the tavern, much less the village, and it was becoming obvious that some people were getting on each-other's nerves. The three tavern wenches did their best to keep their customers happy, be it by keeping their goblets filled or playing the lute; although the youngest barmaid seemed to be the most popular due to her second job in the oldest profession. Regardless, nearly everyone was cold, wet and miserable.

Of the few patrons that sat away from the fire, two were travelers wearing hooded green cloaks with ivory trim, a possible indication of nobility. Although they had kept themselves covered it was obvious that the pair were women, but the tavern's mostly male clientele had given the pair a wide berth due to the weapons that they carried: a four foot long claymore and a golden bow. They sat in a corner, and the taller woman with the sword drank ale while the smaller of the pair, an elf, sipped elderberry wine.

The oldest of the three barmaids, one who did not offer secondary services, approached the female duo. "Evening, loves. 'Kin I getch'ya anything else?"

"Per'aps a room... a dry room," the larger woman answered with a thick, highland accent.

"Sorry love, but the locals have taken up all'ov 'me rooms; what with their houses leaking and such. Yer welcome to sleep here at the table, though. Ever'one should be 'bout ta pass-out soon. Should be nice 'an quiet 'for too long."

"It seems as if we don't have a choice," the elven woman answered. "Just... please do what you can to keep these drunken men away from us. Just because we're women doesn't mean we seek company."

"I hear 'ya, love. The menfolk 'round here are mostly farmers and cattle-herders... harmless; the lot of them. But I'll make it known that 'ye seek no companionship this night."

"Ach, thank 'ye," the larger woman answered while placing a gold coin on the table. "Bring uus another round, 'an keep the change for yer'self."

The forty-something barkeep's face brightened, as the ale and wine would have only cost a few pieces of silver. "Thank 'ya, love!" She stuffed the gold piece in her cleavage and hurried back to the bar.

"I don't wish to travel to Kar'eth in the rain, but it's a day's ride from here, and the harvest moon is only two nights away," the elf stated to her companion.

"Ach, if'in we can even see the bloody moon through all'uv this muck and gloom. But I doan wanna miss our first trip back since..."

The elven woman touched her companion's hands lightly. "Erika, we won't... I promise. We told the Earl that we'd be back in five years to raise a goblet to Selahi, and that is what we shall do; rain be damned. After these drunkards fall asleep, we can lay our heads on this table and rest for a while. Then, we'll head to Kar'eth first thing in the morning."

"I'd prefer a warm bed, but I s'pose a hard table will do. In'na meantime, I'm gonna wander out back and find a pot 'ta piss in." Erika stood to her full six-foot plus height and threw her cloak back over her shoulders, revealing only a sash and kilt underneath. She towered not just over her companion, but everyone in the tavern as she disappeared out of the back door.