<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;"><strong>Location:</strong> Falcon's Hollow (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r41YBIGhbYBevatYDfiX-VPrgI8FdTe98eT5ji8QiUk/edit?usp=sharing)<br/><strong>Date:</strong> 12th<acronym title="November">Neth</acronym> 4708; <strong>Time:</strong> 7:15 pm<br/><strong>Weather:</strong> precipitation (none), temperature (<acronym title="4 ⁰C to -17 ⁰C | 40 ⁰F to 0 ⁰F">cold</acronym>), wind (<acronym title="0-10 mph">calm</acronym>)</span></span><hr/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">JAK-A'-NAPES, Common Area</div><div class="spoiler_body">The inn's common area is a relatively small place that could hold 30-odd individuals if crowded to capacity, and is presently at about 2/3 that number.  Most appear to be local lumberjacks and other woodworkers, come in to enjoy their evenings, interspersed with a few travelers who keep to themselves or their local contacts for the most part.<br/><br/>The inn not only looks old, but feels old.  Everything is made out of wood, most of it unworked in general.  Hanging glass lanterns and the fireplace provide lighting, albeit some corners are unreached and shadowy.  The timbre of the clientele is active and loud, without being raucous.<br/><br/><strong>Bar:</strong> Sells drinks and inn services, a few locals crowded here.<br/><br/><strong>Fireplace:</strong> Large 6 ft. wide fireplace with stone hearth, flanked by half-filled bookcases.  6 wooden chairs, all taken.<br/><br/><strong>Main Floor:</strong> 8 round tables; 5 filled, 3 partially taken.  Almost everyone seems to be nursing a foaming drink of some kind, though handful of people are also engaged in their meals.<br/><br/><strong>Side Door:</strong> Lead to ground floor rooms.<br/><br/><strong>Stairs:</strong> Lead upstairs to rooms.</div></div><br/><br/>Shala's attempts at integrating with the crowd come with mixed success.  On the one hand, Serenite's polite nature and inoffensive appearance, don't have people pushing him away or being rude to him, and a few people even exchange a word or two of welcome.  On the other hand, it's evident that Falcon's Hollow is a tightly-knit community that doesn't hold cosmopolitan ideals in high value, not to mention, as it doesn't appear that Shala is offering anything of interest, most quickly return to the drinks and conversations at their own tables.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/VxlASaE.jpg)</div>The sole individual who seems to take an interest in Shala's reasons for being in town appears to be a local resident, who seems to be a hunter or trapper of some kind - several bushy animal tails hang from a cord at his side, and a long heavy knife is strapped to his side.  Seated at a table just near the front door, a half-eaten plate of food lies in front of him, but is presently in the process of waxing a bow string.<br/><br/>"It's quite rare to find traveling missionaries coming into town," he comments once Shalashaska has introduced himself.  "Can't say that the people of town are particularly interested in any calling higher than seeing the next day.  Just the way the Consortium's local gavel likes it, so you're in for a bit of a hard time if you're looking to go spreading your faith around.  You can ask the local priestess of Iomedae how that turned out for them.  And they were better funded than you look to be."<br/><br/>With a sigh, he carefully rolls the string up and puts it aside, taking a moment to try and put a little order to his unkempt hair without much success.  "Xan," he offers his name with a grimace and shake of his hand.  "Don't let the name fool you; born and raised here.  Don't know where my parents got the name.  How long you thinking of staying in town?  Crimmy's a good old fool, but, honestly, the Jak-a'-Napes isn't a place to be staying at for more than a day or three, if the state of the place didn't already warn you."<br/><br/>From where he sits, Xan makes a full inspection of Shala from head to toe, looking at the young oracle's mask as though trying to see what's behind before finally seeming to give up and focus on the rest of his face.  "Sorry if I'm ignorant of your customs, but do you always talk to people with that thing on your head?  I suspect there might actually be a pretty girl behind that.  Well, maybe keep it on anyway - could keep people wondering, and keeping people's curiosity is always good for a preacher, I suppose."