A Letter to Seadin

A letter is left at the Royal Oak, unsealed and unrolled, sitting on the bar until the bartender decides to take it to its destination or otherwise.

Any who chance a glance at the page would read:

Captain Seadin Aleros of the Griffin's Mane,

It has recently come to my attention that with the change of ownership at the Oak, a new change in policy was ushered, allowing drow to once again stay and drink within its walls.

It was my hope that such was only a rumor, but it appears my hopes have been shattered today, as I've heard one say that he had heard of this policy first hand from your own person.

If this is untrue, I would suggest you make certain it is known that the drow are still not welcome guests at the Oak.
However, if it is true, I implore you to reconsider, for there were reasons behind the old owner's decision to deny their entrance that I would hope you have not forgotten.
These drow, the very same ones who are sitting in your inn and sipping your drinks, have used their former welcome to raid, murder and drag customers to the depths below not once and not twice, and will no doubt continue to do so while laughing at our failure to learn.
These are the same drow who have, not half a year ago, threatened the life of Sascha's child, the same drow who have have tried to set fire to the inn, and the same ones who had forced the workers to hide behind locked doors and pray for their lives, time and again.
These are not bedtime stories, but real monsters, flesh and blood.

I implore you to change your decision - for the safety of those who come to the inn if not for your own.
Their last welcome saw dozens dead and the Oak nearly empty for a year, do not make it return to that state.

Kasia Diran,
Order of the Red Falcon

*a small note is attached to this one*

Stop this madness. Don't force me to start mine.

Taeron

*Always interested to read the latest gossip, Jennifer reads the note, to immediately drop a few notes on top of the letter*

"The Drow not half a year ago, are nau the Drow sitting in the Inn right now. Nor are their intensions evil until proven so. Surely, the boucner here will make quick work of any troublemaker from any race.

We Drow bring the best music, the best dances, and the best puppet performances to bring all visitors to the Oak in sheer extacy. It is a place where we shall show what else is to Drow culture than Spell and Blade.

Dearest regards,
The real Shadow Puppet player, Jennifer "ShadowKyss".

*Takes down the last note, muttering something about the bouncer soiling himself on several occasions when the drow came in - as well as a few notes on how he had to "clear out the place" when the said bouncer asked with trembling voice*

*Dargoth finds the mess of apendations and other opinions scrawled onto the note and decides to add his own, drawing an arrow from the main text to his own*

"Libel. Slanderous lies. And I didn't actually threaten her child. It was a joke. Funny, no? Perhaps in bad taste? The child lives, one assumes, utterly undamaged by dark elven hands. Also the inn was empty because we dark elves were coming up to wreck things. We're only going to follow your rules if you let us in, otherwise a "no drow allowed" policy will remove all of our incentive to remain civilized. Why would we attack our prosperous business partners? If we promise to behave ourselves (while on the premises) you little kivvilin will have nothing to fear. After all, while the staff has little use in the way of, say, protecting the inn, they could certainly witness any unruliness carried out by any dark elves, no? Then the culprit can be kicked out. It is all so logical."

As the news of drow roaming freely inside the Oak reaches Domastir, and he witnesses it with is own eyes, he now takes it upon himself to, if the Inn is mentioned in conversation, warn each and every individual he comes across, whether inside Shadowdale, the roads or in Myth Drannor, to refrain from setting foot inside the place, declaring it to be a drow-infested danger to all.

Whether he'll take any further action beyond that or not is unknown, as of yet.

Abigail Obrynsar adds her own input, scribbled ferociously below Taeron's note.

"Kasia and Taeron are honorable folk. Can you say the same for most Drow? Why not shelter Liches as well, for one might be a Baelnorn?"

"Stop this madness - You risk us all."

"Hatchet."

*Shyntra rolls over in her grave*

*Annoyed at taeron's unlawfull act of tearing her honest note away, Jennifer Writes it down again, and this time seals it to be read by Seadin only. Jennifer makes sure it can be read as a responce to the first letter*


*Sitting calmly in meditation she remains to guard her note until Seadin retrieves it*

*If Alonya actually had a grave she would be rolling in it too. Especially at the fact some drow follow Lolth, yet other times they share tea with "good" peoples of the surface*

*As gul left the inn he commented to Seadin the new owner watching the man cave to the demands of the what gul considered a rabble of orc vithing drunks and other assorted filth*

"You must have lost your spine somewhere adventuring around the dales Seadin."

*Walking west n the woods he comments further*

"Griffons mane, should be called the rothe's collar because they are slaves to the whims of peasants with torches and a spear shaft where it does not belong."

Seadin comes out, points at the new posting to anyone watching and heads back inside.

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"Crying about the color of the chicken before the egg hatches..."

*Fohgar hears about this and grumble. He pays his debt to the in owner, spits on the floor and continues his ranting about how Seadin presents nothing but a disgrace to the longlegged souls for a few days. . . Orcs included. . .He kicks at the door and prays that yet another Ironhouse monument will not fall into hands of dirtyfaced deceptive spiderhumpers or fiendsblooded mindtwisters*

Rumours says the Fohgar leaves this nasty rumour to be disbelieve sooonest possible if Seadin informs him soon. Should the Seadin not soon deliver message to Fohgar about it falseness, Fohgar will start gathering the warcounsil and decide wether the Oak should be burned to the ground.

*grumbles on*

Ciardha hates Seadin from the dead...would haunt if possible

*An elven wizard walks up to the mess of notes, reading them for a moment and then gasping at the absurdity.*

"Mental note: Burn down this inn."

*With that she walks off"

*After having a talk with Seadin who luckily have changed his mind Fohgar cancels his warmeeting and just grumbles as usual*

*A weathered note is found pinned to the threshold outside by a rusted crossbow bolt*

"A little more elf in you than I thought, seadin. You'd think these buffoons would want to have their enemies where they could see them. Everyone knows we dark elves do our best work out of sight. What harm could we have done within the inn? Now they're all making things up to feel self-righteous, to justify their whining. I grow tired of their sob stories. I like to see the surface elves use brute force and violence to get what they want. It's all they understand. They're like animals Seadin.

Logically if we were in there drinking and trading we would not be outside destroying things. It could have been an interesting business arrangement: a sort of peace to protect the truce. Not that kivvil would have ever honored the peace. There were already attempts to murder dark elves on the premises. Kivvil tried to murder me in the inn back when Cub ran it, too.

I'm disappointed in you. Enjoy your haunt for goody goodies. I can't promise the odd Dabel'kith, or whoever, won't wander up to wreck the place... Or take another witless woman who's wandered into the inn when no one's around.

Consider our agreement, to protect this place, void, until you get your nerve back.

Love
Dargoth"

*Hastily scrawled copies of the original note can be found bolted to random fixtures along the stage right wall of the inn*

*Karovir as he reads the note shakes his head and grumbles* Royal Oak Inn: Added to my patrol route.

*Bizarre hieroglyphs vaguely resembling the alphabet of the common tongue, hurried copies of the original letter scrawled by goblins, are loaded into a cart and then air-dropped via balor onto the inn, the creature shaking the rickety, flaming cart as it soars high above the inn; equal parts ash and surviving paper streaming downward through the air, most missing the inn entirely and being strewn about the path leading to it. The creature is shot down by skymages as it swings by shadowdale to make another pass*

*Taeron looks up at the sky - arching a brow at the bizzare sight*

Not even I crap -that- much.

*he then looks at the paper, quite amazed*

Well... Challenge accepted.

*the barbarian grins and starts collecting the pamphlets*