<RP> Role-Playing Event: "The Tavern Respite", w/Elgarion De'Kahli

The tavern door opens before you, and the scent of pipe and stew waft outwards with a wall of warmth from the hearth. Laughter and murmurs are uninterrupted as you step inside. Few take notice of your arrival, most of them merrymaking to the uplifting song of harp and flute. As barkeepand barmaids scurry about, pleasing all to their best in hopes of fair payment, the proprietor catches notice of your hesitation and approaches, sweat upon his busy brow. "Evenin' to ya, good sir! Take a seat, any placeyou like!" The aproned man shuffles away, sparing no idle hand, snatching empty mugs and plates as he disappears through a swinging kitchen door. Open seats lay before you... Each with it's own promise of what your eveningmight unfold.

A loud guffaw erupts from your left. You turn to see a suitable vacant chair at an ale covered table. Mugs clash mid-air splashingthe nectar wildly about as they sing merrily in strained tune to the music. The least "drowned" member of this boisterous band kicks the chair towards you with a smile, but quickly turns away in surprise to a table-mate's clever quip, nearly choking on ale, his laugh forces itself through an alefilled mouth, adding to the table's layer of flavored froth.

To your right, obviously gentry, dressed down for traveling abroad, are deep in debate over seemingly political affairs. Their table adorned in finer waresand cloth. Each sips wine save a few choosing to sample commoner's brew. One smiles as your eyes meet, offering you a place amongst them. A few spoken words catch your attention, "...not safe to travel these days. The roads... perilous! ...DONE about this!"

Elsewhere in the tavern, smaller groups... out-of-town merchants, tired from a day's travel or showing theirwares. Loners, intent upon a fine book. Loners intent upon their inebriation. A ranger or two, uncomfortable in such a crowd, each casting an expression of suspicion your direction. Robed ones, adorned in loose cloth trimmed by runic, engaged in hushed whispers as they hunch towards each otherin conspiracy. Also, a solitary figure. A man hides in the shadows of a far corner. He lights a pipe just as you glance his direction, and the flame provides a brief reveal to his appearance. He seems old of age and garbedfrom another age. His expression one of worry, and his posture that of the weary.

((Would you like your town's tavern to be the next location for"The Tavern Respite" storyline? Let Elgarion know, and we'll all zone to you!))