Friday Night Stew

Jonas Kane has decided to make good the loss the kitchen suffered through theft last winter. As a result the Kitchen of the Dragon's Claw Inn will be serving a hot meal Friday evening. The menu will be simple, beef stew with a dinner roll or hunk of bread. The stew will start being served at 7PM. From between 7-9PM the cost will be 2 baronial notes. After 9PM the cost will be 2 gold.

Good People of Travance,
All those who wish a hot meal or hearty soup on Friday nights of the Baronial Feast please seek out the true clergy of Travance. The Monastery always has a hot cup of soup for those who could not afford. We only take donations. If you have not then we shall provide. Come and commune with us and let the light nourish your soul and your bodies.
Forever Faithful and With the light from within

Hey dere Skorpor, You said something before somebody ripped your note down. I believe the Arch-Bishop dere was talking about the people who tried to murder Father Haroldson. Him being the Parish Priest O' Valos and what not, guess lotsa folks are jealous. Hes a good man, Skorpor, thank goodness you were there to save'em from the Church- Murderer.

Hey there Father Haroldson, I haven't had any good stew since crossing the rift, you can count me in for a bowl or three, an I'll probably be needin another one of your confessions on saturday night. Hey, take care everybody, I'll be seeing all'a ya in a couple'O weeks.

---

Edgar O. Edmundson

(Not Ilservian) !!!

Thank you Edgar, it seemed to me like the Arch-Bishop were trying to say the Goodfather was not a good and true man of Valos, without saying it, the way these southerners like to do. I am glad I was mistaken.

oog: (NOT COLIN)

Oh my goodness! I've just come back from a long trip and this her posting board has reminded me of a chance encounter I had with a young man from Fenrick by the name of Vincent Drivah. He came to me one night while drinking in port and told me stories of his childhood. He told of a man of great stature, of great character, and quite a character, a man by the name of Sir Edwin Haroldson. Now mind you well folks, I was a bit taken aback by the lofty title and the description and I said to me self, that can't be the same jolly old generous son-of-a-bitch I know from back home, no way, no how.

So I kept listening to the man's tale as he spun it like sheep's wool on a wheel. He told me of a man who would brave battlefields most dire and take upon himself quests of impossible magnitude. For no coin or glory, only for king and country, and the holy geas given to him by the divine influence of Valos himself. Accolade upon accolade was laid upon this man, his name was spoken of in every den and in every town square. He told me his own sister's heart was still just at the thought of the great Sir Haroldson. As I write this I wonder how time could be so harsh on a mans beauty.....but never mind that...

Still, I wasn't convinced that this lofty soul was my friend Father Haroldson of Travance. No way no how. But the young man then told me his final story. One of heart ache and whoa. I asked the man, "How is it that you came to be a deck hand on Captain Argoni's ship? Your a stout lad with a quick eye. You could go much further, much faster."
"Hard work," the young boy said. "Hard work is what the great knight taught me. When mother and father had passed in the fire. My sister and I were left stranded upon the road. For days and days we fled from our home trying to escape the image of our parents bodies, their memories... After what seemed like a week of running we collapsed inside of an old barn house. It protected us from the elements but did nothing to give us nourishment." You see by then they had run out of food. I'll skip the parts he told me about scavenging and begging along the way.
He continued, "That night my sister fell ill with a cough, the same kind that had taken my dear brother from me when he was only a few months old. I tried to warm her, I gave her what scraps of food we had left, but I was only a boy and one of only basic letters, no true learning."

The young man fell into a fit of sorrow at this point in the story, perhaps the drinks we were sharing had loosened his heart strings, but still he continued. " I thought she would die that night, her breath was so short, I thought for sure I would lose the only person to whom I could still claim family. She fell into a coughing fit and I knew her time had come. And that someone was coming!" He made a clapping sound with his hand and smiled from ear to ear through tears as he continued his tale, " Horse hooves, I could hear them coming towards the barn, and the clang of metal like barding. The ramshackle door creaked open and I clutched to a piece of debris, as if to wield it as a club but my choler was subdued by the glorious sight I saw before me. The image of Sir Haroldson himself, gilded in the armor of a true knight, a protector of the people." I imagine this Sir Haroldson fellow was some impressive figure, but again, the story didn't connect with our own father, not until he told me the next part.

"The knight swept in and I told him our plight, he tied off his horse and fetched a satchel of healing herbs and salves and immediately set upon my sister to save her life. She pleaded with her savior 'Please don't let me die.' She told him, between fits of blood filled coughing, of her admiration for him and for all that he does and the great Sir Hardoldson began to weep. He wept as he worked his knowledge and skills upon her, staying her bodies wracking pain with potions and salves alike, and he wept as he laid her body, still barely clinging to life among st his own blankets, far warmer than the rotten straw and tatters we were used to. But her coughing had ceased and color was returning to he skin. To this day, I know not whether it was his knowledge and alchemy that saved my sisters life, or if it were the tears of a holy man falling upon her brow, the tears of one destined to follow in the cleansing light of Valos as one of his chosen. Regardless, my sister had been saved and I would not be left alone."

"For the first time in days, we slept a complete night in peace. Sir Haroldson we suspected stayed awake the entire night to ensure our safety. The next morning we were roused by the most hearty and delightful of smells. A warm pot of cooking stew prepared by Sir Haroldson. He sat us by the warm fire and wrapped us in two blankets and told us both a message. ' I cannot stay with you, as the duties of a knight are many and I cannot be lax in them. But know this. The light of Valos saw me to you young children and I know it is not without reason.' He then served us two heaping bowls of the most delicious stew I have ever eaten, a taste that has not be topped still to this day. He continued, ' Your sickness has been stemmed young lady, and now you are eating of the same stew my soldiers eat before a battle, the hardiest of meals. I want the two of you to remember this night, I want you to remember the kindness I have shown you here. I want you to carry this kindness to others in all of your days. But do not forget your duty. Young man, young lady, I want you to remember this, hard work. Hard work will instill in you the values of humanity and of the light better than any teacher ever could.' And with that he left us, he left us with fresh blankets, a coin purse with more money than the two of us had ever seen and a pot of stew, of a quality we've never again matched. A few weeks later we made our way to Fandar and my sister found work as a seamstress and I found work with Captain Argoni. Shes married to a fine young lad since named Michael and I'm training to be a ships smith. Life is good and I truly owe it all to Sir Haroldson and our chance encounter with him."

Quite a story eh lads and lasses? Now I can't verify how true it is, I can verify that the words written here are completely accurate in as far as what was told to me. But I can tell you this! In honor of this story and for all that our Father Haroldson has done for this town I will purchase for every poor soul possible a single bowl of his fine vigor restoring stew. If you are hungry this coming feast weekend, but have not the two gold required to pay him for his expenses and services, fear not, for I will take on the burden of your poverty. Father Haroldson, please keep a tally of all sold but unpaid for, I have faith in it accuracy as you are above reproach and a man of the holiest of cloths.

Sincerely,

Captain Dundee of the She-Devil