Pay a visit to the inn

"I think we should have a brew at the inn," says Furgus. "We've been walking all day!"

"Quiet," you warn him, but without thinking your hand rests on the soft shaft of his handle.

"Oooh," Furgus says and you feel him shiver and begin to stiffen. You pull your hand away quickly.

"Alright," you say. "We'll have a drink, but you be on your best behavior."

"If I'm good will you give me a treat?"

"Fine, fine," you say.

You stride through the time-worn wooden door and into the firelit main hall of the inn. A roaring hearth casts moving orange light and warmth over several tables and a crooked bartop. Some bedrolls and traveling packs have been laid beside the hearth. This would be the common area where travelers with few coins would lay their heads.

There are stairs climbing to the second floor and what must be the private beds. There is a door to a back room, probably a kitchen, and another door that you would guess leads to a cellar of some sort.

Everyone gathered in the room casts their gaze at you and you at them. You stride up to the bar and gaze at the doughy innskeep. He is balding and bearded with a barrel chest and big, fat midsection. He looks up from polishing the inside of a mug and looks at you with obvious lust.

"Welcome to the Wayward Lass, my dear," he slams a mug on the bartop and pours you a full cup of ale. "Not often such a comely traveler stops in our walls. The first one is on the house. If you need a room I'd be happy to discuss a discount."

You say nothing and sip the bitter ale, taking in the other folk gathered at the inn. There is a middle-aged blonde woman dressed in the peasant costume of a tavern wench, her thick bust a canyon beckoning from beneath her plain face. Her wide hips and plump ass are well-served by the way she walks to and fro with trays of ale and steaming platters of food.

There are a number of patrons. There is a great, muscular mountain of a man, dark-skinned and smiling. He is sitting alone, a huge axe leaned against the wall beside him. He stares at you without disguising his intention.

There are three travelers, grimy, dangerous, playing a game of cards.

There is a mysterious man alone in the corner, draped in heavy velvet robes, his face hidden from view.

Lastly you see that there is a fine young lass, the miraculous offspring of a pairing between the innskeep and the stout barmaid. She is ravishingly beautiful with pale red hair and flushed cheeks. She wears a cook's apron stained with grease that nevertheless accentuates her slim, but womanly body. She only appears rarely, rushing out to deliver drinks to her father or with a forgotten order of food for her mother.

You consider your options for the evening's entertainment. Will it be the patrons or the workers at the Wayward Lass who garner your attention? Or will you simply pay for a room and retire for some fun with Furgus?