Riel recomnded an inn, saying it could provide a better resting environnt for Lynch and these outsiders, at least the innkeeper there was a bit friendlier than those in other places.
God knows if that’s true or not.
However, Lynch, who had just arrived, didn’t have much of a choice. While studying at the Magic Association, he had read so information about the city, but it only touched on the population, history, and notable buildings, certainly not on accommodation and dining services. Since they had no idea, any choice was pretty much the sa. Hence, they ca to this inn vigorously recomnded by the Underworld Halfling.
The inn was located not far from the underground market, and the place was indeed quiet—no Dark Elf would easily co to this noisy, chaotic, and filthy area, making it seem quite serene—but Lynch and his two companions were holding the reins of five remaining lizards, looking at the sign dumbfounded.
"Tavern..." Deluo read laboriously, his proficiency in the Underground Common Language was only good for smooth conversations, not much for reading, "Hey Lynch, did we co to the wrong place? This is clearly a tavern, not an inn!"
Lynch took a closer look at this old building; surprisingly, it was made of wood, which was a miracle in the Underdark. There were tethering posts for the lizards at the entrance and a large courtyard at the back of the house with several drowsing pack rothes stationed there (Note: Rothes are creatures that have replaced cattle in the Underdark. Their fur, bone, flesh, and milk are all usable, making them the most important livestock).
"This should be an inn. It just happens to be nad a tavern. Really an interesting place." Lynch flicked the reins, and his mount obediently sat down, not moving at all. Truly a steed that the Gray Dwarf had specially chosen to appease Mages, both obedient and resilient.
Nevertheless, the person rushing into the inn was Deluo. He didn’t care whether this was a tavern or sothing else; his mind was currently filled with "wine."
He wasn’t soone addicted to drink, unlike the Dwarf Morgan. If it weren’t for the Gnos’ fondness for thinking rather than drinking or brewing wine; and besides, they had been busy fulfilling tasks with the Gray Dwarfs, leaving no ti to sit down and enjoy a drink, Deluo would have started enjoying this beverage long ago.
Thinking of wine, Lynch couldn’t help but rember his Dwarf companion and Wislin, wondering if they survived that catastrophe in Moon Port. But with their skills, as long as they didn’t foolishly risk their lives, they certainly could escape from there. However, if they were still alive and saw the exploding castle, they might think I was already dead. Would they hire a renowned Priest to conduct a grand funeral for ?
As for the elf Anna, the Mage wasn’t too worried. The elf group’s defense system was nearly impossible to breach, and they had many skilled Magic users helping. Plus, since the Giants remained inside Moon Harbor City without spreading out, she should be fine.
But little finger Felps was missing. According to the last information revealed by Great Mage Kuziman, he should have been transported to so location within the Underdark. No idea if he’s still alive. Currently, the only way is to use the Prophetic God Staff at Black Crystal Tower to find his whereabouts.
The Mage pushed open the half-closed wooden door and stepped into the inn. Although the outside was stacked with wood, the inside remained a hard stone structure typical of the Underworld. The floor and walls were crafted from the inexhaustible stones of the Underdark.
The hotel’s front hall wasn’t big, just six tables and chairs placed in the corners of the room. Several resting guests were busy devouring the sumptuous food in front of them, and only the "tap" sound of cutlery hitting ceramic plates echoed.
The human innkeeper, resting his chin on his hand, was smiling at Deluo who was struggling to ask for a drink in the Underground Common Language. He was completely round, and long absence of sunlight had given his skin a sickly white; thick layers of fat hid the traces of blood vessels, leaving no color in his face; he seed like a balloon filled with air, even the creases of wrinkles had been smoothed out. The only part of him not fat was his right leg, supported by a stone-crafted fra—a prosthetic limb.
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