<span style="font-size: 18px"><b>White Winged Griffon - Common Room</b></span><br/><br/><i>Hmm. Pesthole is right.</i><br/><br/>At first Ixana hadn’t even placed the White Winged Griffon as she moved down the street (at this particular juncture she was not whistling). No doubt, she had seen the pile of rotting timber and rusted nails – it was as smooth on the eyes as sandpaper in a dust storm – but mentally she had assigned it more to the ‘abandoned warehouse’ category than ‘provider of comestibles’. Could they really have a kitchen in such a place without it burning down? Perhaps the mold acted as a flame-retardant.<br/><br/>Well, no help for it now. Besides, distressed and down-on-their-luck was what she was here for. She just hadn’t expected it to be quite so … yeah.<br/><br/><i>Be nice. Surely the proprietor is just going through some tough economic months. Or, you know, decades.</i><br/><br/>Sweeping through the entry threshold, her blue eyes survey the common room, surveying the various persons unfortunate enough to be taking their meal at the establishment. Politely removing her jaunty hat with one hand, she turns a little - almost hanging it on the non-existent rack by the door. An act that would have been totally successful if, in fact, there was such a rack. Oh, they must have a coat check counter, then. A human and elf woman were taking the stairs as she entered, Ixana gives a polite nod of her head in their direction, blond ponytail swishing slightly at the motion.<br/><br/>The best place to look for rumors was - of course - at the bar, and her gaze turns in that direction, taking in the puddles of spilled fluid, rusty fasteners and a largish stain of indeterminate, and yet still questionable, nature. And that didn’t cover the characters present.<br/><br/>Right.<br/><br/>The best place to look for rumors was - of course - that table over there in the middle of the room. Away from anything that may be growing on the walls, though Ixana had some doubt the support beams would prove substantially more hygenic.<br/><br/>Of course, first she must greet the proprietor or his representative. It was basic courtesy, of course. That sour looking fellow behind the bar was the most likely candidate, and she discretely dips into her coin purse to extract a few coins in advance. Evidence of payment rarely hurt with innkeepers, after all. Risking health, perhaps sanity and almost certainly sanitation, Ixana makes a brief approach to the bar, sliding smoothly across the floor with a tapping of thick-soled boots, before fixing the man with her azure eyes.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">“Fair eve to you, sir, and pleasant greetings. Might I inquire as to the availability of yon …” </span>torso turning just slightly, her left hand unfolds in the direction of the central table,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">“… table? I find myself fresh in town and needing of a place to sit a moment. Perhaps an ale. Two if it wouldn’t pose a burden.”</span>Her right hand also discretely opens, holding a reasonable price.<br/><br/>However, her vast experience with the world leads Ixana to believe a reasonable price for a table and a few mugs at a low-end inn to be about … 1 gold and 2 silvers. Little wonder the other members of the<i>Steelshank Company</i>had handled the negotiating when it came to price. But they weren’t here now, and Ixana was. It’s unclear if the proprietor of the White Winged Griffon has a favorite sort of customer, but naïve noblewoman wouldn’t be an unusual place to start the listing.<br/><br/>Assuming the gentleman consents, Ixana favors him with a smile and nod, depositing the coins on the bar before taking one step back and turning to stride for the rented table to await the delivery of the beverages.<br/><br/>Oh, hmm … she didn’t see the coat check counter. Well that’s sort of awkward. She sets her hat down on the least scummy looking bit of the table and slips into the seat. Right about that time …<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">“Oh! Hello there, Nock!”</span>She was wearing one of the gnome’s favorite outfits, though given Ixana’s predilection for keyhole necklines and their relative heights, that probably included a most of her limited travelling wardrobe. Entirely apart from the substantial cleavage, the crimson cloth at the base of the outfit was silky and vivid, the corset curvaceous, and the booths thigh-high. And while it wouldn’t be exactly accurate to say her armor was for show and not protection, it certainly made sacrifices for the former. If there was one thing Ixana knew, it was that presentation always made a difference. Causing a split second of hesitation in one’s opponent was worth the effort, as was the disposition improvement among various others met on the road. Besides, Ixana mostly dodges and blocks in combat anyhow. Armor was just a small piece of her total defense.<br/><br/>Her big blue eyes get even bigger,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">“You discovered all that? And so quickly?” </span>Any twinge of guilt at failure on her part dissolves almost immediately in relief that they’ll be able to save poor Lo’anta. Who knew what these strangers wanted with her? If they were commissioning shackles by the cartload here in Yartar it seemed unlikely their intentions were benign defense of territory.<br/><br/>She squashes her instinct to help Nock with the pint. She knew what it was like to always have everyone looking down on you – literally, of course.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)"> “That’s good! So you’ve managed to slither your way into their confidence, hmm? Oh, I know …”</span>she snaps her fingers and points one at the gnome,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">“We hire …”</span>her voice lowers conspiratorially,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">“… somebody and get them recruited into the group. They suss out the secret location where the prisoners are being kept, and validate their identities. We call upon their friends and loved ones, put together a ...” </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(204, 204, 204)">'posse' was so prejudicial a word, </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">"... some sort of vigilante group and administer justice most roughly about these villains' head and shoulders."</span>