Jan 8, 2025 8:51 am
The creaking door of The Hearth swings open, and you’re swallowed by the dense warmth inside. The tavern is crowded, every table packed with townsfolk and villagers alike – all Traladarans by their looks. The space is tight, and the heat from the dozens of bodies pressed close together is stifling.
The rough-hewn tables are filled with bowls of steaming stew made from hunks of slow-braised beef or pork, root vegetables, and aromatic herbs. The broth is rich and heavy, laden with onions, garlic, and fiery red paprika that stings the back of your throat with its spice. Each bowl is heaped with a dense, crusty slice of dark rye bread, perfect for soaking up the broth. The spirits here are a potent concoction, something strong enough to knock the legs out from under a dwarf. They call it ‘Spirytus’, distilled beverage that burns like fire and leaves a dull thrum in your head after merely a few sips.
At one of the tables, near the far corner, among the gathering of Traladarans, sits a man with long black hair falling in unkempt waves over a thick beard. His fingers strum lazily over the strings of a lute. You recognize him from the townhall as one of the Scruffers, a group of adventurers known for their wild and questionable tales.
Next to him, perched casually with one leg thrown over the side of the bench, is a woman whose beauty turns heads. Maja's black hair is loose, just like the top buttons of her blouse. She curiously glances over at you as you enter, a light smile on her lips.
The rest of the Scruffers (including a massive bald man who reeks of alcohol), are scattered around the table.
They’re a tough bunch, but right now, their attention seems focused on the music, the food, and the ‘Spirytus’.
What do you do?
The rough-hewn tables are filled with bowls of steaming stew made from hunks of slow-braised beef or pork, root vegetables, and aromatic herbs. The broth is rich and heavy, laden with onions, garlic, and fiery red paprika that stings the back of your throat with its spice. Each bowl is heaped with a dense, crusty slice of dark rye bread, perfect for soaking up the broth. The spirits here are a potent concoction, something strong enough to knock the legs out from under a dwarf. They call it ‘Spirytus’, distilled beverage that burns like fire and leaves a dull thrum in your head after merely a few sips.
At one of the tables, near the far corner, among the gathering of Traladarans, sits a man with long black hair falling in unkempt waves over a thick beard. His fingers strum lazily over the strings of a lute. You recognize him from the townhall as one of the Scruffers, a group of adventurers known for their wild and questionable tales.
Next to him, perched casually with one leg thrown over the side of the bench, is a woman whose beauty turns heads. Maja's black hair is loose, just like the top buttons of her blouse. She curiously glances over at you as you enter, a light smile on her lips.
The rest of the Scruffers (including a massive bald man who reeks of alcohol), are scattered around the table.
They’re a tough bunch, but right now, their attention seems focused on the music, the food, and the ‘Spirytus’.
What do you do?
