[color=fff200]”Well I be cursed!”[/color] roars the generous gentleman with a magnificent beard after the hobbit had given him a hug. [color=fff200]”A bloody halfling up here in Angfort! And an good one, too! This has got to be a sign! Val, hey Val! I'm in the  good mood, so why don't you give this little one a piece of that cake Lurwen made this morning. That chocolate one! She deserves it. A little kindness will take ya long way, ya bastards,”[/color] he says and gives everyone in the room a tipsy look that could have meant anything, [color=fff200]”Little, but full of spirit!”[/color]

[color=f26522]”That's what your wife said about you, Farathorn,”[/color] says a grey-bearded old man from the back of the room and laughter follows.

[color=fff200]”Had your wife teeth she'd have sung more pleasantries than our elven friend here last night,[/color] retaliates Farathorn immediately, spilling the last bits of his drink onto his trousers and even his banter partner laughs with the others. 

[color=f26522]”I like him when he's drunk! Give 'im another round, or he'll become boring again, the savage.”[/color]

The innkeeper, glad to have such a company, gets to work: takes the cake from under the bell jar, fills the fresh tankards and mugs, adds the numbers to the price list and serves the guests with the routine ease of movement between the table as the banter continues once more.  

[center]***[/center]

The floor above shared nothing with the merry floor below. The austerest of hallways with blandest of wooden doors on each side, oppressively    suffocating, with a single lantern on the right hand side wall whose flame is desperately battling the miasma of grey smoke creeping around the ankles and nostrils, leading to and at the same time coming from the door at the end of the hall. The door at first sight just as dull as the others; but an eye close by or an eye keen will see an inscription carved upon it by a skilled hand: 
[hider=My Hider]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/fCVSDF3.png[/img][/center]
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