10-11-2016, 01:49 PM
While the trio started heading back to the inn, the strange young man returned to them. His reappearance earned only a curt "Ingrid" from her lips after Ambrose said his piece. Was he going to keep stalking in and out like this? She was certain he meant to help them save the boy, but his shadowy demeanor was off-putting. She hoped he'd stick near if he was going to help, instead of skulking about and hiding in trees.
After the group arrived at the inn and Fred departed for some unknown task, Ingrid opened the door to the inn and led the others inside. Earlier that day, the inn had been bustling and loud as these places often are, but the place took on a new air at night. The din of the taproom had quieted down, the room itself empty save the innkeeper and a few patrons. Given how agitated Peter had become, this was ideal; the last thing they needed was someone eavesdropping on them and running off to tell him or his father.
"If you two don't mind, I've got to take care of something. There's something in my room I need to retrieve" she said as she rifled through her satchel, looking for the room's key. Gesturing towards the far wall, she continued with "My room is that one in the center. I shouldn't be long, but knock if you need me." After finding the room's key, she walked towards the door, unlocked it, and went inside.
The room was small, and by Ingrid's old standards would've been rather dingy and unpleasant. After spending months on the road, though, places like this felt almost like home, and a welcome reprieve from camping out in fields.
She stepped over to the bed, where she'd laid her bag when she first arrived. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she opened it and started rummaging around. It took her only a minute or two to find what she was looking for; a worn, leather-bound journal with a clasp holding it shut. Within it was documentation on all sorts of plants native to Etruria and Lycia, their appearance, their growing conditions, their use in medicines... and in poisons. It was a mix of the original writer's notes and her own, and she hoped it would come in handy in protecting Peter from whatever vague danger threatened him now.
Ingrid pulled the manual out and stuffed it in her satchel. She was about to shut the bag and leave when another book caught her eye. An aged, yellowed tome with a lightning bolt emblazoned on the front.
She took the old book in hand. It was one of the first tomes she'd ever used, and she never realized she still had it after all this time. She spent a few minutes with it in her lap, flipping through its delicate pages with care. It reminded her of before, when she wasn't effectively on the run and hiding what she could do. She hadn't had cause to use any of the few spellbooks she kept in ages, not for anything practical anyway. She'd kept practicing her spellcraft in secret, just in case, but she knew keeping on like that was risky. In truth, she should've just burned the things the first day she set out.
Ingrid dropped the old tome next to her journal anyway, shut the satchel, and left the room to join everyone else.
After the group arrived at the inn and Fred departed for some unknown task, Ingrid opened the door to the inn and led the others inside. Earlier that day, the inn had been bustling and loud as these places often are, but the place took on a new air at night. The din of the taproom had quieted down, the room itself empty save the innkeeper and a few patrons. Given how agitated Peter had become, this was ideal; the last thing they needed was someone eavesdropping on them and running off to tell him or his father.
"If you two don't mind, I've got to take care of something. There's something in my room I need to retrieve" she said as she rifled through her satchel, looking for the room's key. Gesturing towards the far wall, she continued with "My room is that one in the center. I shouldn't be long, but knock if you need me." After finding the room's key, she walked towards the door, unlocked it, and went inside.
The room was small, and by Ingrid's old standards would've been rather dingy and unpleasant. After spending months on the road, though, places like this felt almost like home, and a welcome reprieve from camping out in fields.
She stepped over to the bed, where she'd laid her bag when she first arrived. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she opened it and started rummaging around. It took her only a minute or two to find what she was looking for; a worn, leather-bound journal with a clasp holding it shut. Within it was documentation on all sorts of plants native to Etruria and Lycia, their appearance, their growing conditions, their use in medicines... and in poisons. It was a mix of the original writer's notes and her own, and she hoped it would come in handy in protecting Peter from whatever vague danger threatened him now.
Ingrid pulled the manual out and stuffed it in her satchel. She was about to shut the bag and leave when another book caught her eye. An aged, yellowed tome with a lightning bolt emblazoned on the front.
She took the old book in hand. It was one of the first tomes she'd ever used, and she never realized she still had it after all this time. She spent a few minutes with it in her lap, flipping through its delicate pages with care. It reminded her of before, when she wasn't effectively on the run and hiding what she could do. She hadn't had cause to use any of the few spellbooks she kept in ages, not for anything practical anyway. She'd kept practicing her spellcraft in secret, just in case, but she knew keeping on like that was risky. In truth, she should've just burned the things the first day she set out.
Ingrid dropped the old tome next to her journal anyway, shut the satchel, and left the room to join everyone else.