The group makes their way down the dirt road of Tanhok, towards the Ivy Star. “I believe I shall have a proposal for you by the morrow,” Slavtisa nods at Falgrim, “Though I must ask, whilst dwarven craftsmanship is unmistakably superior in certain aspects of design, how much extra does it add to the cost? I can supply decent, human chiselled stone for 3 silver a pound. What is your price?” once she has her answer she leaves, keeping the neutral expression of an idly curious merchant as she departs. The would-be spirit sellers hang back, but follow the group, waiting for the right moment to make their pitch.<br/><br/>The village’s inn is a large building, standing above the others by a good half floor. The style is noticeably different as well, the wood of thicker cut, and quite possibly of better quality too, it certainly has a darker hue. Horses can be kept in the stable overnight for 5 copper each with an additional 5 for feed if it is required. Housing a wagon will cost an additional 7 copper. Inside the main building the group steps onto rotting floorboards, patches of damp earth visible here and there, but the area around the fire is kept well maintained, the rot held back, and a small flame crackles away in the hearth. The walls are decorated with simple, runic paintings, of protection, endurance and ambition, reds and yellows on coarse sack-like material stretched taunt. In other places, reeds have been woven into simple net patterns. Above, a balcony overlooks the common area, another perk of paying for your own private room. Already at midday, the aroma of cooked fowl wafts out from the kitchen area.<br/><br/>“Abigail, there you are!” Doroka declares from behind the bar, “Grab a broom, there is so much work that needs to be done, and...” the landlady’s voice trails off as she is informed of the change of plans. Her initial reception is sceptical, “Can you dance?” the strange, pale girl merely smiles, sure of herself at least, and leaves to find a secluded area to practice her routine. Doroka remains unconvinced, “If the crowd doesn’t take to her, you’ll step in?” she hands Delilah the broom. It doesn’t really sound like a request, the way she says it.<br/><br/>Slow cooked with onions and dripping with melted large, some fowl is ready to be served, and 2 bronze will buy you a leg or similarly sized chunk, along with some sour bread and an apple. 2 coppers for a mug of common ale to go with it, light in colour and flavour, or dark and bitter, alternatively for 5 a thicker, frothier brew is available from a neighboring land, where dwarven influence remains stronger in the brewing process. As Zweites sits down at a table, the two moonshiners make their move, offering her a small glass of their wares.<em>“Here m’lady, try this. I make mine wit gooseberry and pear. It’s very smooth,”</em>the woman opens.<strong>“Yeah, that stuff is swit on the tongue right, but mine’s tha proper stuff. It’ll put hairs on your chest,”</strong>the man boasts proudly, convinced that is what Zweites actually wants.