Homecoming

[GM-Taki]

The Tipsy Traveler sits wrapped in the ebon blanket of night when it can first be heard. Muffled by the distance but drawing ever closer, the creaking of wagons and the stamping of hooves makes a quiet clamor along the road. Soon, torches can be seen along the path as the murmur of men in conversation rises from a long column approaching the land of Haven.

A cry echoes from the column, bringing man and beast to a stop a short distance from the Inn. Silence descends for the space of a few heartbeats before the even rhythm of impossibly heavy footsteps can be heard approaching the front door. Twin beacons of cold light float through the shadows until the steps of the featureless behemoth bring it into the light of the Tipsy’s lanterns. Taller than any two men and made of living stone, the golem makes a circuit around the Inn before standing at attention next to the front door.

Without sign or signal the column begins moving forward. Men in black tabards walk into the lamplight and enter the Inn while nearly two dozen wagons form a line outside. Teamsters begin unloading all manner of barrels and crates from the wagons and carrying them into the Tipsy Traveler. Road weary guardsmen in chain mail take up positions surrounding the Inn as the end of the column comes into view.

A black carriage, unadorned but solidly built, comes to a halt next to the Inn. The door opens and two finely dressed dwarves emerge. They immediately begin giving orders to the men hauling crates and scurrying around the wagons while making marks on a parchment manifest. The silhouette of another, much larger figure moves inside the carriage and a tall man steps out into the night. Like the carriage he is unadorned, thickly built, and covered in deepest black. Only two strips of blue tartan pinned to his hat add color to his visage, and as he straps on two swords and a massive axe a third dwarf steps out of the Inn and approaches him.

“Welcome Patrone!” the new dwarf calls, extending his arms in greeting. “I trust that the journey was a pleasant one?” he inquires in the voice and meter of one skilled making pointless conversation. The tall man looks at the dwarf and shakes his head.

“Son of a bitch, Lorenzo. I told you to drop that blasted Patrone shit. You’ve already got all these assholes calling me that. I’m an innkeeper, nothing more. What the hell is it supposed to mean, anyway?” the large man asks.

“It means “innkeeper”, Patrone,” Lorenzo replies with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. The tall man does a double take and begins to sputter.

“Innkeeper… wha… you stubby little shit. I suppose you think you’re funny, don’t you? Innkeeper? I thought you were dumping some sort of fancy crap on me,” the man huffs.

“No, Patrone,” Lorenzo says, now barely able to keep his amusement concealed. “I was merely addressing you as you had requested. Besides, the Rialto is open now. You’re more than just an Innkeeper, Korrigan.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” the innkeeper answers as he slowly walks over to the front door of the Inn. He runs his fingers across the wood where the words The Tipsy Traveler are carved and sighs. Turning towards the other side of the door he looks up at the massive golem as it turns to look back at him. “No fancy names for you, buddy,” Korrigan says. “You’ll always just be Stumpy.”

The golem begins another circuit around the building and Korrigan stands for a moment watching the frantic activity around the wagons. Snatching a bottle from one of the crates being carried into the building, Korrigan uses his hat to brush away the dirt and leaves covering the seat of his chair outside the front door. Dropping into the chair with a satisfied grunt, the innkeeper opens the bottle and takes a long drink.

“You know,” Korrigan says to no one in particular as he pulls his hat down over his eyes, “It’s good to be home.”