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Welcome to The Maiden and Moonshine

We've got maiden and moonshine to fill your needs

Come play a game, maybe two or three

Stay all night and have a glass

We're sure to keep you company, let's have a blast.

(I made that up in 15 seconds, obviously)

Welcome to my Tavern, start a brawl, hit up some elven ladies, do as you please here in my humble abode. 

I am your host, pre - Vaelune Queen Zara. 


  • Come one, come all, let's play a boogie, or have a brawl!
  • Aedaric, a human of no known repute, walks into a seemingly quiet and uninteresting tavern for the night. The days travel has been hard, but just another in the travelers history. Coming from the port city of Verona, finally having the opportunity for a warm bed and cold ale has made the decision for him.

    A few moments after entering the tavern, he notices a few of the patrons, one in particular appears to be someone of import, with his flamboyant robe and table full of several different meats. Aedaric tilts his head to the side to hide his features from the light and walks over to the bar, saying in his gruff tired voice, "Innkeeper, have a room and cold ale?". 

  • I've heard the Valune were filthy but nothing could prepare me for this. Sure I might be the Queen Mother to the Empyreans but I know a hole in the wall when I see one. 
    To my left a drunken dwarf trying to look up my dress, I'll just stick my valet on him. 
    The barkeep looks frightful, not many elves must pass through here. 

    I am not here for the people, I have heard the wine hits you in the soul. I need a large order and I have coin to spend. 
  • Hey!! Zara! I came to your tavern! Love the hospitality! Needs more people though. Also, can you hit me up with some juice? I'm still a minor so I can't get those big boy drinks! Man... being a vampire sucks... Can't drink wine or whiskey until you 'look' old enough.
  • Hi all!
  • A Dünir woman with a pulsating staff sits in the corner left of the door, with a flagon of ale in front of her. She is hunched over a scroll, chewing on the end of her pen. Occasionally she drinks from the flagon, and mutters to herself.
  • Walking as far away from the noisy rabble, Merea is nearing the limits of her patience, she came here to have a drink after a long day of killing beasts in the wild, and what does she get ? a bunch of noisy drunks, thankfully the alcohol soothes her anger, no magic explosions are going to happen tonight in here.
  • A knightly man in full plate armor, stands lonely by the door, putting away another brew under his visor. He doesnt speak to any one, he slowly sways to the gentle bards tale. Magic shimmers from under his gauntlet as he catches a barmaid from falling, even though he is across the room. No one notices, the barmaid merely shakes it off and continues her rounds. All is peaceful for now.
  • ArchivedUserArchivedUser Guest
    edited July 2018
    Late that night, the door of the tavern opens once more, revealing a man in a cloak. His face is shrouded in darkness, if it were not for the dark eyes and steely gaze. His clothes are traveler's clothes, plain, common, and unwashed. 
    He wears no armor, but has the form and gait of a warrior.

    He eyes the patrons in the taverns first, and notices that it is relatively full. After seeing that all is peaceful, he makes his way to the bar and slips a gold piece onto the counter. The barkeep takes the gold and asks,

    "What'll it be, stranger?"

    "Spirits. And make it double."

    The barkeep then nods his affirmation, but as he turns away his curiosity or paranoia got the better of him. He eyes beneath the man's cloak with trepidation and asks, "Say, what ye got under that cloak of yours, someone's head or somethin?"

    The stranger glares at the barkeep for a long moment, then throws back his cloak and old ornamental sword, it's hilt the shape of a demon marilith, a gem uncrusted pommel, and a black leather scabbard with platinum runes running along it's length. The barkeep's eyes widen and he lets out a low whistle...."that is one magnificent piece you got there..."
  • ArchivedUserArchivedUser Guest
    edited July 2018
  • ArchivedUserArchivedUser Guest
    edited December 2018
    The doors open soundless as a tall, thin Vek orc walks in. His grey eyes take in the tavern quickly, missing nothing and no one. After a brief moment of hesitation, he slowly makes his way over to the bar and sits on the closest stool, leaning his staff against his leg. Silently he holds up a single finger to the barkeep, and then offers up a small prayer to the universe as his drink arrives. After a long, slow drink he sets down his half empty pint, a small smile on his face as he signs a small, modest blessing on the establishment.
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