Ettin and drinkin' – 20 Uktar onwards

The second tenday of the Rotting (or, as official calendars and documents call it, the month of Uktar) is coming to an end as the daylight dims outside.  Heret is not a habitual patron of the rough-and-tumble inn called the Three-Headed Ettin.  It was made to be, and largely remains, a pub for adventurers.  The customers and residents of the Gilded Mirror and the Four Fair Winds are more Heret's kind of people.  But as he rode back along the Stone Road toward Daring Heights, one of his companions – was it Rama? he can't recall – had suggested a drink in the Ettin before each went his own way, and Heret had thought, 'why not?'

So here he is, sipping (but by no means enjoying) a pint of Moth's Memorial Ale and trying to think of something to say that will interest his present company.  The price of silk in Athkatla?  Not something anyone here would have a clue about.  The Olem-Murnelvar Trading Company's plans to reopen the Stoneleaf Quarry?  Perhaps not the most thrilling topic for these warriors and mages, and anyway it wouldn't do to let slip too many details at this stage.  The legends of Gladstone, local adventurer of days gone by?  That's might go down better, but the conversation would be short, for his researches so far have yielded little information.  Ah!  He has a better idea.

'So,' he says cheerfully, turning to his neighbour, 'How goes the war in K'ul Goran?'