As winter dances with spring, it finally gives way entirely during what the Northmanes call "Breakup Season", when the ice finally breaks apart and gives way entirely to rivers and waterways swollen with melt-off. The Gilded Goose-The Best Inn Everywhere!-has thrown wide the shutters and is breathing in the fresh air of the frontier wilderness. As a wagon loaded with supplies and passengers lurches to a standstill in front of the veranda, a giant of a bearded man stands looking thoughtfully out the large, open air windows. This is, of course, none other than Igle Icraophoe, the storied owner and operator of the establishment. His apron is well worn, as are all the towels. The cutlery and serving ware are immaculate. In fact, he is polishing a ceramic mug as he turns to a much shorter person, a youth, really, who is standing next to him. Sadly, yet affectionately, they nod to each other. Their sad, ultimately accepting smiles widen slightly, if somewhat sardonically, as an orange Tabaxi and a slim halfling clad in a tricorn hat disembark somewhat clumsily.
  "Well, son. Here we go. Are you ready?" The large man's smile is truly warm and filled with love. "Well, old man, are you?" The red head grins at the much larger man with such impudence it is immediately obvious how comfortable and close their relationship is. They draw in a breath, allowing their faces to fall into solemn serenity for a moment.
  As the door cracks open, and the familiar magical goose-call honks loudly throughout the tavern, a halfling, a wood elf, and a warforged warrior walk into the bar. Igle looks up at them and bellows laughingly, "Hey! What is this, some kind of joke?" The entire bar cracks up laughing. Igle glances at the fire with a half-a-grin, seemingly addressing it directly. "You're on, brother law."
  Lighting a cigar, the devil sits back and smiles.