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. Perhaps this was one reason
that the inn was so busy this winter night - either that or the
masses of gray, lowering clouds gathering in the eastern sky
like a ghostly, silent army.
The Wayward Inn was located on the outskirts - if the
magical trees deemed it so - of the Forest of Wayreth. If the
magical trees chose otherwise, as they frequently did, the
inn was located on the outskirts of a barren field where
nothing anyone planted grew. Not that any farmer cared to
try his luck. Who would want anything from land
controlled, so it was believed, by the archmages of the
Tower of High Sorcery, by the strange, uncanny forest?
Some thought it peculiar that the Wayward Inn was built
so close to the Forest of Wayreth (when the forest was in
appearance), but then the owner - Slegart Havenswood -
was a peculiar man. His only care in the world, seemingly,
was profit - as he would say to anyone who asked. And
there was always profit to be made from those who found
themselves on the fringes of wizards' lands when night was
closing in.
There were many this evening who found themselves in
those straits apparently, for almost every room in the inn
was taken. For the most part, the travelers were human,
since this was in the days before the War of the Lance when
elves and dwarves kept to themselves and rarely walked this
world
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