The word "quaint" is almost always used to mean "old timey shitehole", so to skip the pretence, this place was an old timey shitehole. In the defence of whoever built this place, it was as nice as it could be. The wooden houses were all well made, if quite close together, and as I progressed down the street, buildings like shops and what I guessed was a town hall started to crop up. The problem was that as nice as all of the buildings were, this little village didn't have a sewer system, a problem made abundantly clear by the smell of shite. The dirt road was just squidgy enough to make me feel uncomfortable, and I found myself prestidigitating my boots clean every 30 seconds or so, just in case.
Following the road eventually took me to a two-story wooden building, a hanging sign labelled "The Logger's Rest" confirming it as my destination. Shutters filled the gaps where windows would be, and smoke curled out of the chimney. I hovered briefly outside, before steeling myself. Reassuring myself that the chance of being stabbed here was low (but never zero, a traitorous part of my mind mentioned), I swung open the door and stepped inside.
It was dimly lit, candles supporting the light coming from a small stone hearth built into one of the walls. The smoke was noticable, but not overwhelming, giving the whole place a secluded feeling. Faces turned towards me as I stepped inside. Roughly 90% of them were female, and most of them looked fairly similar, well worn but hardy looking clothing over muscles, and not a one of them had hairstyles that hovered around the line between military and punk. Razors where obviously 'in' wherever the hell this kingdom was. The couple of men who had looked at me were significantly less bulky, and their clothes were obviously less worn. One of them was wearing a skirt of some kind, and I found myself internally praying that I hadn't ended up in fantasy Scotland. Kilts weren't too bad, but I rather be somewhere where it wasn't pissing it down every day of the year. The dude in question scowled at me as I stared for slightly too long. I quickly averted my eyes to find faces still looking at me. Fuck it, can't really back out now.
Striding into the room, I beelined for the counter and the portly woman standing behind it. A price list scratched onto a sheet of slate hung on the wall behind her, and given the complete lack of a queue, I took a moment to read it. A fairly bare-bones list greeted me, with four drinks (simply reading ale, wine, cider, and spirit, along with a complete lack of specificity on any of them), bread, stew (here the lack of any specifics ensured I would never eat it), and 'sleep', the last of which was priced at a whole two silvers.
I re-focused on the annoyed looking woman in front of me. "I'll have a cider and some sleep, please." I reached into one of the cloak pockets for coinage when she responded.
"5 gold." Her voice was surly, and filled with disdain. I blinked.
"Sorry, what." I'd not managed to get the rising lilt into my voice, my words coming out completely flat.
"Yew wanna stay the night? Five gold." I took a moment to look at her. She glared back, quite serious. Was this some kind of hazing type thing, or was she just a prick to people? I looked quite obviously at the slate behind her, and back to her again.
"Your sign says two silver." The flatness in my voice had been replaced with a mildly condescending tone, as if I was telling a 3-year-old that they couldn't set themselves on fire.
Her glare sharpened. "Bah! Yew'd be eaten alive if yew did that. Nah, a weird pretty boy like yew, it's 5 gold." She tapped the counter in front of her with one finger.
I forced myself to stay calm. I needed to pay 25 times the going rate because I was weird? When Verbose had said that this inn was rough, I hadn't thought she'd meant 'run by a dickhead'. I was tempted to just pay the money and finally get some sleep, but the practical part of me pointed out I'd run out of money pretty quickly if I let on I was an easy mark like that, and the stubborn arsehole part of me refused to let myself get obviously taken advantage of. Wait, was the 'eaten alive' thing a threat? Pay up or the large group of people behind me would mug me for my stuff? Is that what Verbose (fuck, what was her actual name? She'd even said it. Damnit, not the time) was warning me about? Is this the local organised crime place? Right, stick with polite but firm. "Ok, so, hear me out here, no." Well, I stuck with firm at least. "I'm not being fleeced over this. I'll go up to 5 silver, but any more than that and you're taking the piss."
She snorted, a noise followed by chuckles coming from behind me. Resisting the urge to look, I raised an eyebrow at her.
"Ain't no way I'll let yew sleep on me 'earth alone. Either come back with ya mother, or pay the coin."
Was...was that a 'your mum' joke? If so, it was a terrible one, but still, the fuck? "My mother?"
"No self-respectin' woman would let 'er 'usband wander 'round 'ere alone, specially not one that looked like yew. So, either yew come back with ya maw, or yew can pay for..." I cut her off at that point.
"Fine. Sod it. I'll go somewhere else." I turned on my heel and stormed off. I should have listened to Verbose, this place was a shitehole.
Stepping outside, I took a moment to calm myself. I probably shouldn't have snapped at whoever the fuck that was, but it was late, I was tired, and it'd been one hell of a day. I wasn't going to apologise, though. Bitch shouldn't have tried to dick me over. Who did she think she was, charging that much. And the accent. I still didn't know what the local accent was supposed to be, but I'm pretty sure at that thick I could peg it somewhere around 'offensively country'. And the...
I started walking forwards to break the angry loop I'd had my thoughts in. So much for calming myself down. Right, think of another topic, don't get dragged down by it. I was surprised I hadn't been able to persuade her, though, given I'd stacked my face skills, and that included Diplomacy. Sure, I didn't know how game skills would interact with real people, so for all I knew those skill points were worth bupkis, but Dragonfire Adept had given me a literal magical boost to talking to people, so why didn't...
I stopped for a moment and groaned to myself, before continuing walking. A magical boost, but it was an invocation. Specifcally one that I had to cast every 24 hours. Sure, one that was free to cast, and that I could cast whenever I liked, but I actually had to cast the damn thing in order to get any use out of it. And I'd forgotten. Ah, sod it, might as well cast it now before I forgot again. Let's see, if I remember correctly, invocations have somatic compontents, but not verbal or material ones, so I just needed some magical hand movements. Do I just make them up, or, no, there was kind of a dim memory in the back of my head. Bringing a hand up to cover my mouth, swallowing my own flame to add fire to my speech. Symbolic, and mildly pretentious, but I'd do weirder things than that to avoid sticking my foot in my mouth.
My first attempt at it didn't go successfully. I hadn't really noticed my armour so far, the studded leather being somewhat comfortable, if a little cumbersome, but the restriction on moving messed with my arm positioning. I wouldn't have thought it would've made that much of a difference, but it turns out magic is a mildly finicky business. Who knew?
Taking a second to stop and adjust my armour, I gave it another shot. Raising my hand to my mouth, I breathed out, then in, a faint orange glow illuminating my face as fire burnt its way down my throat. It felt like a shot of the greatest spirit, burning and fortifiying, and I had to strangle the roar that wanted to escape my throat. Fuckin' magic! That's one childhood wish off the list. All I have to do now is meet a dragon and 6-year-old me would be squealing with glee. Actual magic!
"Hi there, pretty boy." And of course, something has to ruin it. Can't I have anything nice? I gazed up at the heavens for a moment, before turning around to whoever had the audacity to speak up and ruin my moment.
Standing maybe ten metres away from me, back the way I'd came, were a trio of women, with the standard short hair and well muscled look that seemed to be common to this place. They looked vaguely familiar, and given the small number of people I'd encountered in this place, I could peg them as having been in the inn. Damnit, if this town does have organised crime I'll be pissed. Maybe I should have paid the fee.
"Can I help you?" Keep it short and polite, maybe they don't want to mug you and they're just, I dunno, curious as to why your boots aren't covered in shite.
The one in the middle, a brunette with a nose that looked like it had been flattened by being punched a few too many times, swaggered forwards. "Wanderin' round at night ain't safe on your own round here. Boy like you looks like you could use a few strapping lasses to get you somewhere safe, if you know what I'm saying."
"Unfortunately, I think I do know what you're saying." Damnit brain, you're supposed to activate the whole 'tact' thing before words come out of my mouth. Politeness obviously not on the agenda today. The leader (at least I figured Flat-nose was the leader, being in the middle and mouthy) flushed an ugly purple at that.
"What, too good for us, you prick?" Well, that was a change of tune. Inviting to aggressive in 10 seconds flat. Flat-nose started quite loudly and vociferously speaking about something, but I ignored her to eye them all up. They didn't look like they were armed, which I guess was a point against the whole 'organised crime' theory, but would help if it came to a fight. I didn't know if D&D logic applied to anyone other than me, so fuck knows if they had classes or whatever, but hopefully they either weren't, and therefore wouldn't like being set on fire, or they were low level commoners, and wouldn't like being set on fire. If they had a couple of levels of rogue or fighter each, I was probably fucked, but as long as I could avoid being flanked, I was pretty sure I could last long enough to make a scene. Ok, so, if fight kicks of, walk backwards while breathing fire, plan set.
Looking at the other two women (one thickset, the other more lithe, but with powerful legs), I focused back on Flat-nose in time to hear the end of her rant.
"...mouth to good use, prick!" What? The fuck was she rambling about? Still, as far as set up lines go, that was pretty good.
"A good use of my mouth? How about setting you on fire?" Ok, not the best response, but time to up the stakes. I grinned, and focused on the same sensation in my throat I'd felt while casting Beguiling Influence. An orange glow started to flicker into being at the bottom of vision, and a startled look passed over the trio's faces. My grin streched wider, and I let my jaw drop just a little. The glow brightened, and I could feel flame dance across my mouth and jaw. It didn't hurt (I knew, with a bone deep certainty, that my flame would never hurt me) but I enjoyed the slight sizzling sound as my stubble crisped up and burnt away. I knew all I needed to do was exhale heavily, and I'd light up the night. Flat-nose took a shaky step backwards.
The loud squelching sound of boots hitting mud at a sharp pace came from behind me. I swallowed the flame, letting it die out. If it was back up for them, I'd probably need to run. If it was someone else, it'd turn into 'he-said-she-said', and I was the outsider here. No need to throw the first punch. Or firebreath. Taking a large step sideways, I turned, keeping Flat-nose and friends in my peripheral vision as I looked at the newcomers slowing to a stop.
There were four of them, all armed. Two were wearing splintmail and spangenhelms, like the guards outside, although rather than the halberds, shields were in one hand, and a sword and mace respectively in the other. One was in a shirt and trousers, quarterstaff held in both hands. The last was surprisingly short, maybe a metre tall, in leathers and wielding a bow. As a group, they looked at the three women, and then at me. Sword-and-board stepped forwards first.
"We heard shouting." Huh, it was Verbose. Small world. Village. Whatever. Wasn't she going off shift? "Is everything alright?"
"Things were starting to get a little heated." My grin was back, and I nodded to Verbose as I smiled. "Your presence has cooled things back down, though, so thank you for that."
Verbose spluttered slightly for some reason, and Shortbow (were they a halfing? Was that a thing here? My kingdom for some setting knowledge) nudged Quarterstaff and muttered something too quietly for me to make out. "Aaaaah, n-not a problem. What happened?"
I looked over at Flat-nose, and gave them a couple of seconds, but they stayed quiet. To be petty or not, decisions decisions. If they were organised crime, I'd probably be better off not getting them arrested for trying to mug me, for both mine and Verbose's sake. If they weren't, hopefully they'd never be stupid enough to do this again. I looked back at Verbose and spoke up.
"They were looking to get into gambling. I was simply reminding them that they shouldn't gamble with anything they aren't willing to lose." My resulting grin was probably slightly too wide. I could almost feel Flat-nose shudder.
"So, everything is fine here?" Verbose looked back and forth between myself and the three thugs, who were doing everything in their power to avoid looking at her.
"Well, I still need to find somewhere to sleep for the night, but I think so, yes." I turned back to Flat-nose. "You can scurry along now." Ok, maybe I wasn't that magnanimous. Still, despite my parting shot, they decided to quite rapidly walk away. Verbose almost started after them, but stopped. After a second, she sheathed her blade, and the rest of her group followed suit, although I noticed Shortbow kept her bow still strung.
Verbose (fuck, her name was on the tip of my tongue. I'm sure she said it) brought her hand up to the side of helmet, and then brought it down again. "You didn't find a place at the inn?" There was an odd tone to her voice.
"It's a long story."
She looked at the three following her, and back to me. A small pause followed, and then Shortbow snorted.
"What Julie is trying to say," Verbose (Julie! That was it.) whipped her head around to look at Shortbow "in her own, special way, is that there's space for you to stay the night where we live, if you want to." Julie continued looking at Shortbow, and then slumped, and looked back to me.
Ok, pros, the guard is the friendliest person you've run into so far, and they haven't given off any serial killer vibes. Cons, I have no idea who the other three are. In the end, my tiredness made my decision for me.
"Sod it, why not."
Julie's back straightened. "Really?"
Why would she... Whatever. "No, I'm lying to you. Yes, really." I gestured down the path. "Lay on, Macduff."
"What?"
I shook my head. "Nevermind."