In every town in the world there's a place like The Broken Drum. Sometimes it's nothing more than a friendly farmer's barn with a plank resting on a few beer barrels, while other places are country mansions fully equipped with everything an adventurer could need for rest, relaxation and rearmament. The Broken Drum was neither of these, but somewhere in between, a weathered old building set back from the road, its door open day and night with the warm glow of its fires lighting the courtyard and the stables always stocked with fresh straw.

It had been a quiet night so far and as [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2666257]Geoff[/url], the half-troll barkeep, looked over his domain the only person he saw was his half-halfling barmaid [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2666298]Hilda[/url] as she scurry between the table, polishing the battered wooden surfaces, trying to hide the worst of the bloodstains and worse signs of wear and tear. He smiled to himself, admiring her graceful dance, Hilda was a talented little wench who could handle a trayful of drinks and slap down any unwanted advances with equal ease. Geoff was sure their was pixie blood in her somewhere, although he'd never say that to her face.

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Settling back Geoff savoured the quiet moment. Something in the air told him it'd be a busy night tonight, but for now he had some peace to enjoy just for himself. Hopefully things wouldn't get too rambunctious, unlike the night before. As he thought back to what had happened Geoff's gaze rose to the ceiling, where the double-headed axe was still buried deeply in the wooden beam.