Well after dusk the party approached the dim light of moderately sized inn just off the Kingsroad. As they moved closer they could hear the clamor of a small crowd and smell the smoke of meat over a cooking fire that told them the inn was at the peak the local rush for evening. The inn’s hanging sign displayed a fist holding a well flowing tankard of ale, and the words “Dag’s Inn” scribed across it.
The group circled towards the stables and a small boy of about 12 with a large cow lick in his string brown hair suddenly darted out of the open doors. His eyes grew wide as he took in the well armed and armored party, and he quickly began about gathering up reigns eager to assist the weary looking travelers. The boy said his name was Colin Moleskin and meekly bid the party enter to enjoy the hospitality of the renown Dag’s Inn. Oswain, who was eager to win hearts and renown on his journey into King’s Landing tipped the boy extremely lavishly with an entire Silver Stag. Ser Merik was quick to point out to Oswain that that was the largest tip for stable handling that the boy was like to receive in his entire lifetime, but was glad that the horses would be very well tended during their stay.
As the party entered the doorway to the main taproom they were bathed in the light and warmth of the hearth. The inn appeared to be packed with mostly travelers also along the Kingsroad for the tourney, and several local farmhands and villagers enjoying an ale at the end of the word day. Some of the crowd took noticed as soon as the group entered, and suddenly the loud jovial clamor of the taproom dwindled to near silence as the crowd stared intently and the newest entrants.
A plump middle-aged woman rapidly approached the party at the door. Her slightly gray tightly wound hair was put up and out of the way, but begging to fray with flyaways around the edges from the evening’s harried labor. With a stern look and piercing gaze she tersely introduced herself as Meg Moleskin and announced to the party that food and rooms were available, but at the price of 10 Silver Stags for the lot of them. Also, that they had best be quick about their business, and if they even seemed to be causing any sort of trouble her husband, Dag, would throw them out. The party noticed a fat and ruddy man appear at the entrance to the back kitchen. His physique however, belied that he must have been a fighter earlier in his life, and his sweat soaked clothes matched his equally greasy apron. His grimace and crossed arms showed that he was upset by more than just the dwindling patience of a cook in a dinner rush.
Oswain set about haggling over the price Meg had demanded, which was in excess of about a 10-fold increase in what would be a reasonable price. After charming the wizened innkeep, and citing his generosity with their stableboy who he later discovered was Meg and Dag’s grandson, Meg relented and offered a reasonable price. Before she left to gather up some plates of food and ale for the party she mentioned in passing that she had a hard time believing such a kind appearing group could be capable of what they had been accused of. When Oswain pressed for details Meg revealed that Ser Wyntyr Wendwater had been by the inn earlier in the day and was telling tales to anyone he passed of the slaughter of an entire unarmed farmstead on Wendwater land. Ser Wynter claimed that he had irrefutable proof that the callous action was perpetrated by House Murrayn, and that he was taking his grievance directly to the King.
Meanwhile Lord Cynric scanned the crowded inn and spotted a stout but burly man with one eye ravenously tearing into a turkey leg by himself at a nearby table. Cynric sat at the man’s table and the two quickly swapped japes over both having the unfortunate injury of losing an eye. Cynric regaled the man, who called himself Garth the Barrel, with the tale of the murdered bodies they had found earlier along the side of the road to the south. Garth told Cynric of a knight bearing a fox sigil who had recruited a number of fighting men from the taproom of Dag’s Inn a few days earlier. Garth didn’t recall much about the knight other than the fact that Garth didn’t accept an invitation to join the Fox Knight because he didn’t like the impression he got from the knight. After Cynric purchased Garth a few mugs of ales Garth let loose that his impression of the Fox Knight was that he wasn’t the sort of man that you would find in a taproom. “You know, a religious type or something.”
Shortly after that, a small mousy barmaid of about 14 who had been sweeping intently around Garth and Cynric’s table conspicuously listening in, asked Cynric about the stag headed sword he was carrying. When Cynric questioned the girl, named Giana Rivers, she seemed enthusiastic that someone had taken an interest in her observations. After a lengthy session of opinions and theories, Cynric learned from Giana that the sword belonged to a man named “Terrance something-or-other” who had been recruited by the Fox Knight from Dag’s Head. The man had attempted to impress Gianna with the story of how he was gifted the sword from Lord Stannis Baratheon himself in reward for service. When Terrance started to opine over how the wrong Baratheon was crowned, the Fox Knight rudely shooed Giana away suddenly eager to engage Terrance in conversation. Giana also mentioned in passing that she recalled that Garth hadn’t spurned a recruiting effort by the Fox Knight, but rather the Fox Knight had spurred Garth mentioning that he wasn’t interested in working with “locals”. Garth gave Giana a sullen glare before finishing his last tankard and retiring from the inn for the evening.
The party, exhausted but pleasantly full rested in their rooms for the night. When they awoke the next morning Meg greeted them and informed if they kept a steady pace they would be able to reach an inn called the Great Stag before evenfall, and that it would be only another day beyond that to reach King’s Landing proper.