Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20200419223358/@comment-28358106-20200420013313

The man's easy expression doesn't change, and he stands, looking at Marcus for a moment, unmoving. He then turns and leads the animal to the stable.

"Come on, lad. Plenty of clover and meal for ye, away from th' draft."

The Tenpenny Arms is a modest establishment. Solid, but definitely old, and very lived in. The wood furniture is smooth and dark from decades of use, and the lantern glass, amber with age, throws a golden pall on the walls. A small fireplace keeps the place warm, and off in one corner, stairs lead up to a balcony that looks over the room.

Marcus is given hardly a glance as he enters. The few patrons seem either absorbed in conversation or their evening meal. One man sits at a table with a woman, a Satyros, and they seem to be engaged in a conversation about the small bottles that are on the table. Next to the man sits a little girl, who looks infinitely bored by the proceedings as she yawns and slumps into her chair.

An older, well dressed man leans against one wall by the bar, which has only three seats. Behind the bar a young woman stirs a kettle over a fire, the obvious source of the welcoming aroma.