The Weary Donkey is a staple in these parts. A common place for travelers to stay the night and for locals to get together and drink the worries of the day away.
Frederick Flynn bar tends and runs the place. His bar is on the right as you enter. Most men need to look up to Frederick as he appears to be rather tall. Truth be told, behind the bar is a raised platform. He is barely 5 feet with a rotund belly, dirty smock, greasy and thinning hair is pulled back in the most manly bun possible. Easily in his mid to late 40s, his eyes show a youth inside.
His wife, Elsie, runs the kitchen and serves some of the tables. While smaller then her husband, you can tell she is quite muscular and has been known to throw out some of the more rowdy patrons. Her hair looks as though it is starting to grey, yet folks that have been here for years say she has not changed at all.
A young lad, about 14, dashes back and forth from the stables to the inn where he helps out. Wart, as he is affectionately called, enjoys listening to the conversations and gossip of the folks who frequent the place. Stories from abroad also seems to fascinate him. A quick flip of a coin his direction and he will be at your beck and call.
The inn itself is 2 stories with the main bar room, kitchen, small storage place and a decent living quarters fills up the lower level. A common room, one deluxe room, and a few normal rooms are on the second level.
A small stairway on the back of the main floor heads down into a cellar. This is where all the meat is hung to dry and most of the storage is kept. A small private room is kept locked and, it is said that it contains a small stash of gems and adventuring armour from Elsie's adventuring long, long ago.
Tucked away behind the bar itself, is a secret panel under the raised platform, Frederick can use in a emergency to vanish. It leads to a special area under the inn that is walled off from the basement.