“Cutter! Leave the scared ignorant peasants alone and let’s have another beer.”
hands the ale jack over for a refill
*Cutter ignores Naimar’s request, wading into the scattering crowd. He grabs a fleeing patron by the arm with one hand and by the neck with the other. Driving him against the far wall he throttles him for a few moments before the victim’s companions come to his aid, pulling the hairy mercenary back by the shoulders.
Choke comes downstairs and makes his way to the bar, ignoring the brawl taking place on the other side of the room. He gets some parchment from Naimar before heading back up and supplying it to the others in the party. The barkeep refills Hrothgar’s mug and circles the bar, checking on the man Red-beard injured. By now Cutter is straddling one of the men who’d intervened, biting at his face before surfacing moments later and spitting out a bloody chunk of the man’s nose.
The other patrons have gone back to their own business.*
“Friend of yours?” The keeper asks Hrothgar and Naimar in reference to Cutter as he helps the swaying giant to his feet. “Doesn’t seem like the sort of company you and your masters would keep.”
“More of an acquaintance than a friend.” Naimar said as he finished his beer and handed the keeper his empty mug “Can I get a refill?”
“So what’s there to do in a place like this?” Naimar asked the keeper
“Not much that’d interest you. Folk around here mostly get drunk. If you’re lucky there might be an execution while you’re still in town.”
“Not a big fan of executions. Bad memories.”
The keep helps the man into a stool which creaks loudly beneath his weight. He sets a mug in front of the wobbling giant, who begins drinking as if nothing’s happened. Cutter stumbles back to the bar, bloodied, and demands another drink. His three victims lie in a heap at the center of the room. The keeper gives each of the four at the bar a brief appraisal before shaking his head with a sigh and going to assist the other injured men.
Agreed. And I don’t think we need to worry about her traveling alone in town. I’m fairly certain she can take care of herself.
*Henry writes the letter (with any input Sohan feels like giving) and folding it in thirds, seals it.
After that is done and Sohan has left, Henry walks down to the bar while thinking:*
Here I am in a tavern and I’m just going to sit and nurse a couple of drinks. My how the mighty have fallen.
He finds an empty space at the bar and orders an ale. Seeing the results of Cutter’s carnage, another thought pops into his head:
A bar fight, and I didn’t even take part. This all just keeps getting worse.
:takes the letter:
Uh, I wouldn’t mind having one decent escort on the way and back. I’ll go the last bit on my own, but an escort would be nice.
“I’m up for a good walk.” said Naimar as he entered the room
Sohan and Naimar head out into the night. The temperature has plummeted in the last few hours and their breath hangs heavily in the air. Their boots crunch through occasional piles of frost as they wind their way through the streets and up the slope leading to Castle Hammerfall, lantern-carrying soldiers watching from the dark in the distance. At the massive steel-banded ironwood doors the pair is stopped by two soldiers who demand to know why they’re there. When told that they have a letter for Lord Ironhall the guards offer to take it up to him themselves.
If Sohan wants her and Naimar to be able to take it up themselves she’s going to have to do some convincing.
:Sohan pauses, looks at each guard individually. She smiles a them. As she prepares to talk, she takes out a comb and begins to comb through her hair slowly:
“Oh, that’s not we we’re hoping to hear. Look at me. Do I look in anyway…harmful? Certainly you could take just me up to see Lord Ironhall. Naimar here is not harmful either, but if you really think it is necessary, he can stay behind. Can’t just I go see Lord Ironhall? One of you could even escort me. I’ll explain that I insisted and you are not to blame for allowing my entrance.”
:Sohan looks at the guards pleadingly, with a gentle look in her eye:
*After sizing Sohan up the guards wave her through, but not before taking her weapons from her. Naimar is turned away at the gate and sent back to town.
Once inside Sohan is led by another guard down a series of corridors until arriving at a receiving room. The chamber is about fifty yards deep, impressive considering it has been dug into the mountain. Alcoves dot the walls, occupied alternately by armed soldiers and torch brackets. At the center of the room is a tall, thin throne carved from a huge block of solid obsidian. The seat itself is about seven feet above the floor and accessed by a steep set of steps carved into the same block. In the throne is a tall, wiry old man with pale, liver-spotted skin and long grey hair. He has a thick mustache that connects to a pair of bushy sideburns. He is frail but the bulky winter cloak he has wrapped about his body gives him presence. He is gingerly eating boiled potatoes from a plate on an armrest.*
The guard introduces Ironhall, “The Baron Lord Ironhall Ricnan Melanaeus.” He takes the letter from Sohan and walks to the throne, coming to a stop beside it and reading the letter aloud.
"Lord Ironhall,
I am Henry Faramond, youngest son of the late Godrick Faramond, Lord of Hammerfall. My older brother Baldur and I request to meet with you on an matter of utmost urgency. It involves the kidnapping of your wife, the Lady Mildred. I have some information on that business that you will find most interesting. I dare not say more until we meet, for fear of this letter falling into the wrong hands, but you will not regret hearing what I have to say. We would like to meet with you tomorrow morning.
However, there is one little problem. We travelled here with Sir Wilfred Delacroix, a noble in the service of Lady Shedlund. We don’t trust him, and neither should you. It is important that he not be allowed to leave the town until after our meeting. If you want, we will accept an armed escort to your castle tomorow morning from our current lodgings at The Pissing Witch. At the same time, you should post some guards to insure Wilfred doesn’t leave town.
The sooner we meet, the better it will be, for reasons that will become apparent. I propose an hour after sunrise. We will be downstairs in the tavern having breakfast.
Henry Faramond."
The guard folds up the letter and stands at the ready.
“Closer, come closer.” The Lord Ironhall’s voice is raspy and quiet. The guard beckons Sohan closer, until she stands at the foot of the throne, which towers over her. Ironhall rests an elbow on his knee and leans forward, eyes downcast upon the visitor. Looking up to meet his gaze Sohan realizes for the first time that the Lord Ironhall is blind.
“So… you’re with the party recently arrived in town.” He pauses as if appraising Sohan, though his unseeing eyes don’t quite find her. “I know your secret, girl. I’ve seen you in my dreams.” He puts another potato chunk into his mouth and chews softly for a few moments before swallowing and continuing. “Do you know the story of the founding of Ironhall?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Four centuries ago my family was called Tanner. We were peasants.” He smiles gently as if amused by that. “The legend goes that the then-duke of Pordeaux found himself afflicted by a demon. With each passing week his health faded. Farfolk shamans, Arcadian scholars, none could help him. It was soon discovered that his vigor seemed to return to him when in the presence of a certain guard. He kept this man by his side at all times, even allowing him to sleep on the floor of his bedchamber. Eventually, the story goes, that the demon grew tired of waiting and manifested before the duke and made to kill him, if not for the intervention of that faithful soldier. The duke was so awed by his guard that he ennobled him on the spot, giving his new house the name Melanaeus after the demon he had slain.”
Ironhall takes another bite of his meal. “I don’t know how much of that story is true, but it makes for a good tale.” He gives a mirthful chuckle. “The sword that my ancestor supposedly used to kill the demon was plated in gold.” He pats at the scabbard peeking out from his cloak. “And my family has been known locally as the House of Slayers ever since.”
There is a long, perhaps uncomfortable silence as Ironhall blindly considers Sohan.
“Explain this letter. What brings your masters to Ironhall?”
What does Sohan know of her masters intentions in Ironhall? Also, what does she know of their “cover story” if they have made one to hide their true intentions?
It’s all in your hands at this point. You have access to the same information as I do. I tried to encourage good planning back in the tavern. 
OK. Give me a bit and I’ll take care of it.
:Sohan pauses, thinking. She maintains a smile during her thinking and tries to maintain eye contact with Lord Ironhall:
:She leans in rather close to the Lord, making sure he can see her(if he has any vision left at all) and hear her clearly…she look as if she will almost reach out to touch his shoulder, though she does not(too bold):
"My Lord, your dreams interest me greatly. I must confess, I do not think I have much of secret to be known, though I would be very interested in what your dreams have shown you. I don’t often speak of my past, but I certainly would not consider it secret. Am I like that guard in your story? I wish I had been, for perhaps I could have saved my Lord’s life. Alas, that was not meant to be. I could only provide for him comfort and some alleviation of suffering. Still, as a peasant girl, I do not believe he would have ever made me noble…nor am I sure I am capable of that kind of responsibility. I am more than content to aid those I care about and those who can seek to be helpful to them.
My Lord, my masters intentions are as stated in the letter. They wish to meet with you, but are currently under close watch by this Lord Delacroix, whom they have a deep distrust in. As should you, they believe. They have information regarding Lady Mildred, along with some other disturbing events happening lately in this area. Very disturbing things, indeed. Would you agree to meet with them and to put a guarded watch on that Lord Delacroix so he can not spy on you and them?"
:Sohan whispers into his ear:
“My Lord, I really do believe you should agree to their request. You can always send them away if dislike their message.”
The close leaning and ear whispering will be impossible. His head is about seven feet above Sohan’s.
“Secrets… we all have secrets.”
“Either like the guard or the demon, my child. I haven’t yet determined which.”
Ironhall had shown no discernible reaction to hearing his wife mentioned in the letter and continues to remain unreadable when Sohan mentions her now. “Yes? Go on.”
“My Lord, I am hesitant to reveal too much. I do not wish to accidentally misrepresent my masters. Have you not heard of the mysterious killings in the countryside? Those that look like…well, some would rather not say what. And Blacksap is being sold in your very town. But most importantly, my masters wish to speak to you about the incident with your wife…and tell you the truth of the situation, which they believe you do not yet know. But, please, put guards on that Delacroix Lord. He can not be trusted.”
I meant to add somewhere in there:
“Not to mention the recent…disappearances. All these things are quite mysterious, my Lord.”