<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b4/28/1c/b4281c36e030e67850adf2d59c604f9f.jpg)</div><br/>Merrick's typically gruff demeanour had taken a turn for the surly this evening. Between the bumbling drunk, the paladin who wasn't paying, and the dwarf who was "too good" for a common man's coppers, the innkeeper had just about had his fill of quirky characters for the night. At least the drunk managed to make it outside, rather than make a mess of the floors. Still...<br/><br/>"Oi, you're cut off boy," the barkeep called. "And you're lucky I leave it at that. Your father's ham slicer can only buy so much goodwill around these parts!" That wasn't entirely true. The ham-slicing device had revolutionized Merrick's business, saving him hours of work. In idle moments he wondered, if it could slice other meats like roast beef or lamb, but worried that such experimentation might damage the intricate machinery.<br/><br/>Warning issued, he turned his attention to the other three "notable" patrons gathered around the table. He would never speak ill of Lady Thorn—her earnest nature warmed the cockles of even Merrick's stony heart—he just hoped she wasn't falling in with the wrong crowd.<br/><br/>The barkeep's reverie was interrupted, however, when the door swung open with a heavy crash. A man stumbled in, his hair a matted, windswept mess, his fine clothes slicked with rain and sweat. "Goblins!" he gasped, staggering forward a few paces, before collapsing at Cinthia's feet. "On the road! Ambushed my wagon... Took my daughter, Aria! Please... You must help!"  The man seemed almost delirious with terror and exhaustion, his wide eyes darting frantically from one face to the next.