A Life Changing Meeting at the Inn of the Prancing Pony.
It was a fine evening when young Chaney would cautiously open the door to the Inn and step inside. As usual she would survey the room with a cautious, steely look, glancing at each and every patron, traveler, or anyone whom would be residing in there at the time.
She would make her way to her usual perch, which was that of an old slightly damaged stool sat beside the hearth at the far side of the main room behind the counter. As she carefully sat she would again throw a steely glance out across the room paying close attention to its inhabitants going about their own business.
That evening unbeknownst to her yet would prove very fruitful indeed. It all started with the entrance of the dark looking man whom she had met only the other day, and by now had come to know his name. His name was Fiontann whom was a lieutenant within the company of folk known as The Bloody Dawn.
He would, as ever, fling open the door in his usual manner and kick it shut using his heel and head over to the counter where he would toss some coin in the direction of the old fat innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur, and ask for a tankard of ale. From there he would proceed to sit alone at one of the many tables laid out in the room.
As both sat at their respective places within the Inn their eyes would eventually meet. Fiontann’s, recognizing the young woman, would widen slightly and fetch a smile across his face. Chaney’s as usual would be a steely glance at best, never offering emotion of any sort. Eventually she would slowly and steadily rise to her feet and venture over in the direction of Fiontann and sit opposite him.
They would exchange their pleasantries, Fiontann’s far friendlier than that of Chaney’s and would talk for quite some time. He would as he had done previously start to chastise her regarding her hood, and she as ever would throw a cold glare at him. That evening, however, would be different in that she would not remove her hood. She would offer little explanation of this at first. The discussion would end with both rising from the table and heading out of the Inn into the now darkening evening and head round the back to where folk would tie their mounts whilst taking rest, food and drink, or perhaps even a night’s sleep within the Inn.
Chaney would stand for a moment whilst Fiontann untied his steed Hedinn and proceed to mount him. He looked down at her and offered her a helping hand up onto the strong, thick set horse. Chaney took his hand in return, and using this as an aid would swiftly and agilely swing up on the horses back and sit behind him.
