As soon as the corner of the dilapidated sign smacked her shoulder, Krisynore dropped like a sack of potatoes. A smarting pain blossomed on that area, and she desperately grasped at it, covering her shoulder with her hand. The sign clattered beside her, now gently roasted by the flames that knocked it off course. The butler stared at the sign, then craned her neck to stare at her shoulder, then back at the sign, and promptly burst into tears. In all her years of employment to Lady Bilthine, she had never experienced such physical pain and trauma (save for that time when she'd purchased a new book and the freshly printed pages sliced her forefinger).
"You need to pay attention! Ja?"
Krisynore looked up at Gudren, the fire genasi and most likely the source of the flame. She started to speak, but Saria, the pirate interrupted her.
"Aye, I would say so, lass."
The steady stream of tears continued falling down the butler's face as her mistress's employees chastised her. Her cheeks heated up and she glowered at them whilst sobbing loudly. Technically, yes, the two adventurers were correct--Krisynore should have paid more attention to this garbage heap of a town--but it's not like she asked to be here! She wasn't built for this kind of work! She was a butler, meant to serve her lady in a fancy mansion with walls, and no broken signs, and no rotting bodies! She begged, BEGGED Lady Bilthine to send anyone else in her stead. Johnphen the stable boy! Even Sir Doggard, Lady Bilthine's hound would have been a more suitable choice! But nooo, Krisynore was the only one her mistress could trust to oversee this group of...rag-tag...Meatheads!
Her inner monologue was interrupted when the silent one--Solomon, approached and healed her. The smarting pain on her shoulder--which she hoped didn't leave a mark--faded away. Krisynore suddenly felt silly for crying so much after her pain was erased so quickly.
"Th-thank you," she mumbled. She held out a hand for the man to take to help her up, but he left her as quickly as he'd approached. Vanvyre, the warlock came to her aid and helped her up. The butler shot her a grateful smile. It seemed that chivalry wasn't dead after all!
Krisynore stood up shakily and brushed the splinters of roasted wood off of her clothes. She let out a surprised bark of a giggle at the half-elf's question.
"Are you sure this Inn isn't one of those buildings to be torn down as well?"
"Unfortunately, this inn is on the list of buildings that Lady Bilthine wants to remain intact. If it were up to me though, I would have it torn down and replaced with a cafe."
She turned to Ishte, the tiefling as she approached them.
"Tear this building down too? Seems a big place to start before we've even peeked inside. It doesn't look like this place has much left to offer without the Stovehull Inn to house travelers. Are you okay, though? That was a close one. Suppose it's a sign of things to come."
Another giggle erupted from Krisynore at the Ishte's play on words. A moment ago, she might have stared death into her eyes, but now that she wasn't injured or crying, it was kind of funny! Krisynore enjoyed puns immensely.
"A sign of things to come? How clever! But yes, I'm fine now, thank you. I suppose we should venture into this...Inn. Lady Bilthine arranged for this inn to be your home for the coming months. It is to my knowledge that the inn is run by one Tobias Po--"
"Tobia, not Tobias! Tobia Pook, at'cha service!" The shutters of a window on the second floor slammed open, and a burly human woman sporting a well-maintained afro with a streak of gray running through the middle stared down at the three women. "I was just tidyin' up the rooms for y'all! Come on in! But watch ya steps! Bits of the floor are weak, so ya gotta tiptoe, a little. Oh and sorry, bout the sign. I figured y'all would fix it before it fell, but at least now ya know, huh? Haha! I'll meet y'all in the dining room in a minute!"
Inside the inn, the dining area was in shambles just like the rest of the town. A thick layer of dust blanketed every piece of furniture save for one wobbly round table in the center of the room. Eight chairs of varying sizes and styles were arranged around it. A few foot-sized holes littered the wooden floor, and a chandelier which used to be affixed to the ceiling was lying on top of the table which was broken in half. The walls were splattered with dried dark brown stains, and the wallpaper was out of fashion, season, and mostly ripped to shreds. There's a bar with about three stools in front of it. There's a wooden door behind the bar, most likely leading to the kitchen. A staircase leads up to a second floor, and descending the staircase is Tobia Pook, dressed in a white blouse, brown tunics, and a sleeveless faded red vest.
Tobia thundered down the stairs. When she saw one of her guests with her foot stuck in the floorboards, she let out a hearty laugh. "Sorry 'bout that gal! The floorboards haven't been changed in--well before I even came to own this place! Ya just gotta jimmy ya leg a little bit, then you'll get loose."
She ambled over to a window by the door and poked her head out to address the other guests. "Come on, in! The rooms are clean, but there are only two of em with two beds each. The other rooms ain't very suitable for sleeping, or livin'. I figure y'all can bunk up."