An extended cut of "A Night at The Cloven Hoof"

Perhaps something like the following happens one night...

"The four happily sip at their mugs as the belly-dancer's hip shake to the hypnotic rhythms of the south played by her dark skinned companion.

They turn their attention to a sulking brute of a viking sitting at the bar pondering the bottom of his tankard of brew as the burly man explodes

"Cursed Mummies!"

and slams his meaty fist onto the bar, making all the tankards jump and slop a portion of their contents onto the bar, all save for his own.

As many of those at the bar move to safer seating the door slowly creaks open and a tall slender man in purple swirling colored robes worn over a set of sinister looking black plate mail moves cautiously into the taverns hoppy, meat smoked filled depths. The man's glassy eyes roll over those inside and fix upon the sullen northman and moves steadily towards him. With a firm slap to the back he pipes

"Hail Viking!"

as a cloud of Lotus smoke bellows forth.

"How is it we came to be within the same dream? Hmm, friend Wolfheir? Perhpas we are spirit brothers or we have shared Lotus born of the same seed?"

Wolfheir snarls

"Fool Cleric! We're both awake. At the Cloven Hoof!"

The Holy man of Morpheus looks about awkwardly for a moment.

"Aye. You speak truth brother Wolfheir. Let me fill your tankard friend. I know you are still upset with me over the Mummy Rot. While it can be fatal sometimes the best thing is just to forget it ever happened and it just clears up on its own, I shouldn't have reminded you."

The Viking glared at him

"Aye! You think! Those Mithra bandits took me for 800 gold! You owe me!"

he accused with a finger to the face.

"Hmm perhaps..."

Televon said stroking his chin mechanically.

"I shall make good of it, brave Wolfheir."

Televon spun around to face the bar keep, then to Jesse the barmaid, then back to the bar keep and abruptly raised a finger

"BARKEEP! A keg of your most best yet cheapest ale! For LORD MORPHEUS! Requires a baccanal this night!"

and with that the cleric turns to the patrons of the Cloven Hoof

"Hear me Oh dreamers of Caladan! I, Televon humble servant of Lord Morpheus call you! This night I shall share with all, a secret of my cloister. An intoxicant of Lord Morpheus' own devising! Only sent to his most faithful! This night shall we sup upon it and revel in his gossamer embrace! Lord Morpheus' Moon Milk! Chasen thee to the Dreamer's Den at the Moon Tower!!!"

and with that he turns abruptly once more to the viking.

"Brave Wolfheir, please accept my invitation to this most fine of keggers out at the Moon Tower. The druid and I would like to unveil our latest endeavor: Lotus laced Honey Mead! Tis sure to be popular."

and with that he slaps Wolf on the back and spins and strides off kilter out into the night. The viking sighed heavily and looked back to his tankard.

"Fool cleric. Damn Mummies."

from outside he can hear Televon

"Come young Jack. That Keg isn't going to haul itself back to the Moon Tower! Lift with your legs Boy, with your legs!"

and the Viking's scowl held for a moment then broke and a great laugh echoed through the taverns hall.

Keeping Wolf's ears open...

I sit at my usual stool at the bar.

Drowning my sorrow of paying 800gp to heal that ferocious mummy rot.

I will burn every mummy like thing I see..

Lot's of talk I hear in the Cloven Hoof.

We might be in for some trouble if the town thinks we are causing problems.

I think the barge would have been a better idea. I like the water.

One Night At The Cloven Hoof

The dancing girl made her way around the tables picking up a few silver coins from various onlookers and barflies.

In one corner of the tavern were gathered together some of the dock workers chatting over their ale.

"So's I hear that ol' Zenopus' tower 'as a new residents." Says one.
"Aye, 'des call 'demselves Arvin's Avengers." Says the other finishing up his flagon.
"Arvin's Avengers? 'ho's Arvin?" a third says.
"Dunno," says the first. "Musta been a friend o'theirs an' 'des avengin' 'im. 'Dems dat group o' mercenaries wots been sneakin' around that blasted tower."
"Dats dem?" says the second.
"Aye", replies the first.
"Down on the docks we's 'eard that they's been in-n-out o'the basements o'dat tower. Pulling up gold and things they are, so's I 'ear." adds a fourth waving down Jesse the barmaid.
"Gold ya say?" questions the first. "An we's 'ere workin' our fingers ta th' bones on th' docks fer a bunch o'greedy merchants! Wot's th' (merchant) Guild says 'bout dem?"
"Not a word." replies the fourth.
"Wot! Dems not paying no taxes?" the first says.
"Mayhaps 'des workin' fer da' guild?" the second chimes in.
"Dunno." says the fourth as Jesse steps up with their ale. "Hey, las, wot knows you on dem folks up at the tower?"
"They's regulars 'ere. Matter o'fact, they just hired three o'me customers just the other day. Hired them as Men-at-arms they did. The coin was good too from wot I 'eard." Taking the few coins handed to her, Jesse walks away. "Theys callin' it the Moon Tower."
"Th' Moon Tower?" says the third. "Wots a Moon-tower".
"I heard des' got wit 'dem some wizard, you know, dat skinny guy wot walks wit a limp".
"Well, no good can come of it, I says" says the second.
"But des' bringin' up gold." says the fourth slightly distracted as the dancing girl approaches.
"Aye...'dat...they are..."says the first as he tosses a copper at the scantily clad performer.

The four happily sip at their mugs as the belly-dancer's hip shake to the hypnotic rhythms of the south played by her dark skinned companion.