Legend of the Murlud Forest

The Inn on the Hill

Hedenall, Desmere

Second Age

The people of the small village of Hedenall called it the Over Roof Inn, because it sat on the Sandy Hill high over their small buildings, but there was no sign out front or anywhere for that matter. The stone entryway was large and smooth stone and the carvings on the rock indicated it was quite old, likely built in the first age, under the Anrillian rule. The Over Roof was a haven for villagers and travelers alike and it saw many strange folk and heard many strange tales. But, there was no stranger a fellow than Croy Fairfax.

It was drawing near two in the morning and the village lanterns were all out. The full moon was shining brightly and the cats meowed and crashed throughout the alleys. The streets were empty but up the path, a single rider.

Porter Wood was slouched over his horse barely able to keep his eyes open when he saw the light shining above. The rider caught a new wind and went on up the hill. He gave the horse a light kick and they picked up speed.

The path led him behind the building with the torch. There were a handful of small stables with a troth of water and another filled with apples. Porter tied off his horse and staggered into the inn. The candles were almost all melted and those that were still lit gave off only a dim light. Behind the counter a kind man with a very skinny face greeted him.

Porter leaned lazily against the counter and his steel gauntlets clanked against the wood counter. "Have you any ale, sir?" He mumbled

"Ale? No, no, no, sir," the skinny faced man squeaked "you must've come far from the west asking for ale, yes. I surely can pour you a cup of fine wine, I can."

Porter was content with wine, he laid a silver coin on the counter and said "Keep it." He turned to see the dark room. It was empty except for one old bearded man shrouded by shadow in the corner whispering to himself and rocking to and fro. Porter eyed the man and found a seat on the opposite corner of the room. A small fireplace was tucked in the middle wall. It had been lit tonight but now was nothing but a few hot embers buried under ash.

The skinny faced man was rustling through cabinets and seemed to be having a hard time. Porter turned to see him disappear behind a curtain behind the counter. He turned back and watched the orange embers slowly fade and was lost in his own thoughts.

The River King has set sail. But, why? Whispers. Forest.

Andös, we'll find him.

He was delighted to hear the footsteps behind him. A nice wine will do. To his distaste, the man didn't have his wine, in fact it wasn't the skinny faced man at all. Before he could open his mouth the old hooded man took his seat opposite Porter. Through his thin white beard a crooked smile was on his face. He held a small goblet in his hands. Porter saw a pale green goop inside and thought it smelled like sage. "May I help you?" Groaned Porter as he rolled his eyes.

"I am undoubtedly sure you can help me, ser." His voice was cool and calm. Porter shrugged his shoulders and raised his brow. The old man drank from the goblet and wiped some green goop from his beard and spoke again.

"You have traveled long, I see it in your eyes," he shook his head. "What brings you to the Over Roof?" He sat hunched in his chair, and seemed quite interested in Porter's answer.

"Can't seem to hide it, can I? I traveled east from Anrillia, if you must know. But, I would surely enjoy some quiet. I'm wary from the road and I have much to think upon." Porter managed to say politely.