On contrast to the overcast skies and chilly stares outside its doors, the unnamed alehouse's interior was warm, if a bit threadbare, with a fire burning in the back, filling the establishment with the smell of lentil stew. Several townsfolk were here, putting one on before heading home, along with a trio of brightly-garbed men and one woman, who seemed to be engaged in a game of dominoes. A fifth, similarly dressed, sat by the fireplace, strumming on a mandolin. The locals seemed to give them suspicious stares now and then, so at least your group isn't the only one.  The barkeep, a spindly man with his hair parted down the center and a curled mustache, leans over hte bar a little. "Halloo! Mead? Och, naw, sorry ain't really the season fer it yet miss. I got cider though if you're wantin' something a bit sweet!" With the energetic air of am an who honestly enjoys doing it, he draws four mugs of ale and a cider - or rather, ladles them since it's not an actual tap setup...<br/><br/>"What brings the bunch of you to Gainsby? Seems to be a week fer strangers it does," he chirps, tilting his head over to the domino players. "We're a mite off the trade road ya know."