The White Horse Inn, Act III - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Bêthberry · 05-04-2005, 01:54 PM

Ruthven shook her head. She had thought the door was closed, lock, stock and barrel as the old saying went. Mayhap it wasn't locked after they let in the lad Degas. Fine bunch of heroes they turn out to be. Nonetheless, she moved covertly, taking something out of her pocket and surruptitiously shaking it into one of the tankards in front of her. Then she coughed and wheezed a bit.

The old rag lady rose from her table, wobbly with her stiff bones and creaky joints. Her tankard she held high in her hand. Another tankard appeared in her other hand. She appeared to be tipsier than she really was, which made her appear harmless.

"The Innkeeper is unavailable at this moment. May I take it upon myself to welcome you to our humble Inn. I am Ruthven, the rag lady and secondhand dealer of Edoras. A tankard on the house, if you will?" Ruthven took a gulp from her tankard, leaving foam in a small dribble around her upper lip. She offerred the other tankard to the hooded man.

He stared at her. At least, it appeared he stared at her, given his face was covered by his hood.

"I'm lookin' fer a wee lassie wot's mine," he stated.

"Ye must be tired from all yer searchin. Here, have an ale."

"You silly old bag. Tink 'ye I'll be wanting an ale when the girl's right there in front o' me?" He walked over to Ruthven and knocked the tankard out of her hand, spilling the precious dark brew over his hand, his sleeve, his side.

Ruthven jumped back, out of his way and out of the way of the ale. Twas a great loss, to tamper with such delectable drink as that, but she had had no choice. Now she moved further away from him, making him think she had simply wanted him to drink. Little did the cloaked marauder know she had hoped to spill the ale on him and let Bethberry's potion take its course.

05-04-2005, 01:54 PM	#11
Bêthberry Cryptic Aura Join Date: May 2002 Posts: 6,005	Ruthven shook her head. She had thought the door was closed, lock, stock and barrel as the old saying went. Mayhap it wasn't locked after they let in the lad Degas. Fine bunch of heroes they turn out to be. Nonetheless, she moved covertly, taking something out of her pocket and surruptitiously shaking it into one of the tankards in front of her. Then she coughed and wheezed a bit. The old rag lady rose from her table, wobbly with her stiff bones and creaky joints. Her tankard she held high in her hand. Another tankard appeared in her other hand. She appeared to be tipsier than she really was, which made her appear harmless. "The Innkeeper is unavailable at this moment. May I take it upon myself to welcome you to our humble Inn. I am Ruthven, the rag lady and secondhand dealer of Edoras. A tankard on the house, if you will?" Ruthven took a gulp from her tankard, leaving foam in a small dribble around her upper lip. She offerred the other tankard to the hooded man. He stared at her. At least, it appeared he stared at her, given his face was covered by his hood. "I'm lookin' fer a wee lassie wot's mine," he stated. "Ye must be tired from all yer searchin. Here, have an ale." "You silly old bag. Tink 'ye I'll be wanting an ale when the girl's right there in front o' me?" He walked over to Ruthven and knocked the tankard out of her hand, spilling the precious dark brew over his hand, his sleeve, his side. Ruthven jumped back, out of his way and out of the way of the ale. Twas a great loss, to tamper with such delectable drink as that, but she had had no choice. Now she moved further away from him, making him think she had simply wanted him to drink. Little did the cloaked marauder know she had hoped to spill the ale on him and let Bethberry's potion take its course.