Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20170301125240/@comment-28358106-20170301154437

Undaunted by the rain, Hex flutters alongside Marcus, keeping time with their pace. Her hood pulled down, her cloak fluttering, she looks nothing so much like a tiny spectre in the waning light of day.

They enter the inn. The inn is small, and not a local spot. It's in an out-of-the-way bend of the road, a small stopover for travelers, and it caters more to the penny-pinching wayfarer than a farmer looking to drink his keep away. Groups of travelers sit around the room, exchanging news and stories, everything that might help them on the road ahead.

One such traveler is a Harpy. Clearly a courier, she is dressed in an unusual manner for a Harpy; she wears clothing designed to shed the elements, unlike most harpies, who seek to simply sit out inclement weather. As such, she has gathered a small audience as she regales them with the news of the road and the sights she's seen.

Hex doesn't pay attention. She pulls her hood down and takes a deep breath. "Oof. Gosh.  What a night..." She flutters over to a barstool and sits down heavily, folding her arms and setting her chin on them. The barkeep, a Holstaur, turns and looks at the two of them.

"Evening, folks. If you're looking for a room, I've only got one left.  Other than that, all the food and drink you could want,"  she says in a polite but businesslike manner.