The guildhall isn't the warmest place you've been. With no heating, save for the stove in one small portion of the large building, it is mostly just an escape from the chill wind that seems to find its way onto every inch of skin, no matter how much clothing is in the way. Stepping back into the cold outdoors makes the guildhall seem that much warmer, however, as your boots crunch through a layer of snow and mud. The sky is dark with the sun so low that it is hidden by the surrounding buildings. Each of you that travels to the Frozen Hearth passes by a few buildings on the way. Ellywick's Supply and Tailory, noted by a sign dug into the snow out front, is a small shop with an oddly shaped, ovular doorway; almost as wide as it is tall. Two more buildings pass by. These are several stories of rickety, slanted wood poorly put together into a building that looks ready to topple over. Wooden supports have been built on the sides to which they lean, but even those look ready to snap any day now.
The Frozen Hearth is beyond these buildings, and appears to be of a much finer quality. Like the guildhall, the first floor is made of cut stone, with another wooden floor built atop it. The exception is that this building's front is wooden and it has a porch a few steps off of the ground, with the cut stone forming a small, waist-high wall in front of it. A sign out front is a picture of a mug overflowing with drink with the tavern's name in a stylized script beneath it.
A simple, wooden door leads inside, and once it's opened you're introduced you to all manner of voices, laughter, and song. The interior within is dominated by a large, central fire, ringed in protective stones. Its smoke exits out the ceiling through a raised portion with narrow vents. Long tables and benches fill the tavern in rows, with a few, more private areas with circular tables that could seat six. A set of stairs in the back lead to a second floor that seems to possess some patrons and many additional rooms. On the left-hand side is a small, foot-high stage, and though there is no backstage, two red curtains hand on either side of it for decoration. Performing is a pretty, dark-haired half-elf who manages a mixture of folksy instrumentation on her viol and sweet, soprano vocals that sing haunting lyrics:
"The day be made, the deed be done,
Sevarra'll see my kingdom come
By vengeance due. By this horde I've bought,
Make Blackheart rue the Creature he'd wrought."
On the right side of the room is a lack of tables, and in their stead is a large open area. Dents in the wooden supports, dark stains, and a few loose coins could imply this to be some sort of fighting ring. On the far side of the tavern is a bar, entirely separated from the tavern proper by a chest-high counter. Tall stools line it, and a gathering of people have massed around to get their order. The rest of the tavern's population are most notably
not dark elves, except for one or two that you can spot. Humans, Dwarves, Halflings and Summer Elves fill the seats, with even a couple of Cenerine's cursed half-orcs in their own isolated table.
"I'll have what I seek, I'll topple his throne,
Split his tongue a'fore he bemoan
My cruelty to him. This horde I've bought,
Make Blackheart rue the Creature he'd wrought."
Despite the chilling contrast between the sweet voice paired with the disturbing lyrics, the occupants of the tavern let out a cheer in the performer's honor as she strings out a powerful triplet of final, scratchy notes. It is suddenly very easy to remember that even if you are on the border, you are still just as much within the Valkarian Empire as you are the Winter Court. To the people here, Sevarra is a far and distant place, full of highwaymen and thugs; rebel lords and traitors.
Shortly after Baric and Pyrrah enter, Ameera and Erran are coming in behind them.
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OOC:
Another late post. Please excuse any typos!