This Time we Heal the Wounded...

Wind blows across blades of grass in an open field.  Leaves fall from trees with the color of Autumn.  Red, yellow, and orange.  The Sun is setting in the West as darkness approaches.  You finally spot your destination below the cliffs.  Raven Rock.

"Time for a drink..." you say after an arduous journey.

You push the heavy wooden doors of the tavern.  Lamp light flickers in the room filled with the smell of smoke, wine, and ale.  You approach the bar and sit on an old-worn stool.  It creaks beneath the weight of your sword and armor.  The owner of the Tavern seems to size you up with his glance.

"A cup of wine, sir."

The man fills the cup without saying a word and pushes it towards you.

You reach into your coin purse and put some silver on the counter.  A look of worry comes over the keepers face as he says,

"That won't be necessary..."

"What do you mean?  Take it" you insist

The heavy wooden doors behind you swing open carrying the chill of the night with it.  Three men approach the counter, pushing other  patrons out of the way as they sit down.

"Alright! Bring me wine, old man!" his loud boisterous voice breaks the calm of the tavern.  You spot a dagger tucked into his belt.

"Ri...Right away, Sir."  The Tavern owner pulls out three cups and begins to pour.  His hands are shaking as the wine spills onto the counter.

"Give me that!" The man snatches the bottle from his grasp, finishing it in seconds.

His attention shifts to you.

"Hey, you.  You a warrior or something?" Stumbling over his words.  This isn't the first drink he's had tonight.

"The names, Dorian.  You are going to pay for that, right?" You say.

"What? This?!" He breaks the bottle on the table. "No this is mine for the taking.  You didn't answer  my question, boy!!"

His two companions crowd around you, each carrying a short sword in hand.  You can feel their hot, stinky breath upon your neck.