A Small Stockade

All towns need a place to keep the bad guys, right? I present to you a small stockade.

Opening the double doors into the stockade you are presented with a room on your right where the guards keep watch. Cards and other odds and ends are on the table.  A small rack hang from the wall containing shackles and other restraining devices.  A double door is straight ahead and a small door is off to the side near the table.  This smaller door leads into a watch room where two bolt holes allow the guards to view the other side of the security door and part of the cell rooms.

The second set of double doors, the security doors, when opened has a small set of stairs that leads into the large room inside.  Off to the right is some sort of interrogation table.  The left side has chains hanging from the wall and and iron maiden.  Ahead are 4 small cells and 2 larger cells.  Inside the larger cells, towards the back are more iron chains hanging from the walls.  Various bits of straw litter the floor in the cells.

The deputy, one Barnabas Fiffle, is of average height but rather slender.  His hair is thin and slicked back.  His clothing seems to big for him and his belt is pulled as tight as possible.  Unsure of himself, he continues to seek the guidance of the Sheriff.

Sheriff Aengus "Andy" Taggert. Short and rotund, Andy keeps his dark hair puffy and his uniform unbuttoned.  He has been the sheriff in these parts for a long, long time. He runs the stockade with wisdom, trust and fear.  His Guards, Odell and Bevyn are loyal and keep and watchful eye on the inmates.

Weary Donkey Tavern and Inn

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. 

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