The Flounder's Finn -- Tavern and Inn

[Trinity]

Close to the more expensive residential area of Narim, and patron home to more of the well off population of the coastal city sat the esteemed Flounder's Finn. Its outside was made of the city's typical cold stone, dwarven architecture, but once entering the large wooden doors into the Finn, any thought of icy, and unfeeling surroundings was soon lost. -- The characteristic trees that were planted outside, standing agains the buildings around it in a very foreign fashion gave reminder that this was indeed the season of Autumn. Their leaves were turning, some falling, but generally they continued to provide a good lively atmosphere, even before anyone entered the tavern and inn itself.

The room was lit during the brightenings, by large windows on two of the four walls of the main common room, letting the shinning warmth of Narim’s light into the area… but by darkening the room was lit by the soft, warm, glow of a large a dancing hearth, and the shine of candles that adorned many flat spaces of the room. It gave the area a feeling of warmth and safety, that Altysa had hoped to bring to birth after the drastic and terrible events of the past… it had certainly worked.

The floor itself was a deep, rustic wood, that matched the chairs and tables that littered the common room, though with space enough for people to move around and stand comfortably in groups, and a large area by the fire to allow for those that wished to danced to the soft lilting music, played on harp or flute by a dark haired elven bard. The stone walls of the room were covered with ornate and expensive looking tapestries, and a small but brilliant brass chandelier hung from the tavern roof, giving the Finn an almost palace like feeling that was almost immediately swept away at the notice of a more rafter-like ceiling, on closer inspection. Wooden beams criss crossed this way and that below the raised roof that angled upwards and came to a point outside, just like any other building meant for this sort of activity was built.

Off towards the center of the back wall sits a good number of shelves behind a bar lined with seats and patrons alike. It was made of a rich cedar wood, polished and smoothed out to serve as a place for drinks to be served. The barstools that lined it were made of a deeper wood, sometimes supported here and there by metal that ended up weaving a design in the chair's back. Through a swinging door on the end that led behind this counter of sorts were shelves lined to the brim with different ales and wines, all for the sake of serving customers. There was even a wash station in the middle of it for the bartender to clean his hands on.

The head bartender was a stocky, middle aged dwarf with a red beard and red hair to match. He had bright hazel colored eyes that were full of warmth - just like any good bartender's should be. This man was the esteemed Duerias O'Mally, the best bartender this side of the Sea of Diana. Such a jovial, happy fellow - and always up to talk to his customers if they needed him to spare the time.

A staircase resides to one side that obviously leads to another level, and the area where the Inn’s rooms are spread; away from the bustle and noise of the main tavern, and if the rooms were anything like the detail of the common room, a visitors stay would certainly be a comfortable one. While any new coming patron befalls the entrancing structural design and decor in the Tavern's common room, a young Elven waitress speaks jovially to the left of the door as customary greeting to anyone who enters.

“Serale, and welcome to The Flounder's Finn! Are you just here for a drink, or perhaps a bit more?"


Prices, for reference and convience:

Regular Room -- Five crowns/brightening
Three generic meals from the tavern -- Four extra crowns/brightening

Tavern menu:

Ales:
The Deanne Brew - 8 crowns/glass, 48 crowns/bottle
Narimite Whiskey - 3 crowns/glass, 18 crowns/bottle
King's Ale - 3 crowns/tankard, 18 crowns/pitcher
Claymore Ale - 3 crowns/tankard, 18 crowns/pitcher
Barrow's Haunt Ale - 5 crowns/tankard, 30 crowns/pitcher

Non-Alcholic Drinks
Coffee - 1 crown/glass
Milk - 1 crown/glass
Hot Chocolate - 5 crowns/tankard
Sheradine Tea - 1 crown/glass
Apple Juice - 2 crowns/glass
Orange Juice - 3 crowns/glass

Side Dishes
Breadsticks - 2 crowns/bowl
Fish and Chips - 2 crowns/bowl

Regular Meals: -- 2 crowns (unless staying in inn, then should already be paid for.)
Ask waiter/waitress for choices.

Dinner Specials
Seafood Feast - 5 crowns
Lobster cooked in butter; accompanied by fried prawns, squids and clams.

Barbecued Chicken - 8 crowns
A chicken barbecued in charcoal; accompanied by mashed potatoes.

Grilled Salmon - 6 crowns
Fresh salmon grilled over charcoal; accompanied by clam soup.

Main NPCs:

Bartender Duerias O'Mally:

Physical Desc.:

Dwarven bartender, thirty-six patterns of age. Red beard and hair with hazel eyes. About four foot two inches tall. Thick dwarven accent (check other posts here for examples.) Always a friendly face.

Mental Desc.:

Hard working and always a great chap to talk to, this thick-accented Dwarf is a kind and giving soul who strives to please everyone, even when its taxing on himself.

Waitresses and Waiters / Receptionist:

You have free reign. Just don't like, go crazy. No Orcs.

Originally written by GM Rain; edited by GM Trinity. Menu by xAGM Outcast, heavy edit by GM Trinity

[Celethor Tyran]

Hour 20 of Solaria, Brightening 1 of the First Cycle of Junctior
Autumn of Era I of the Celestine Mandate
Era X Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening, the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad
Paradigm: Mystique Threatens Rebellious Frigid River

Celethor stepped into the Flounder's Finn, the tavern of which he was a frequent patron. He pulled back the hood of his cloak and shook off raindrops from the storm outside. The dracon looked around for someone he knew before he sat down. That was usually his custom. After all, one didn't come to a bar just for a drink. No. It was the social aspect of the tavern that kept its veterans coming.

And the person Celethor found, was none other than S'Lon, the ranger he had grown to have some respect towards over the past cycles. The dracon's first impression of the man was that he was a cocky, self-confident prude who didn't know the difference between a seasoned fighter and the town drunk. But that of course, was evidence of Celethor's quick judgement, which proved to be wrong. S'Lon had helped out with the plague of rats and frogs that had fallen in the city. And for that, Celethor was grateful. The dracon didn't know if he would be able to stand another curse like that one.

So Celethor strode over to the table S'Lon was sitting at and said a quick Serale before taking off his greatsword, leaning it against the wall, and sitting down in the chair opposite the human. He called down a waitress and asked her for the usual. The waitress nodded and started going towards the bar when she turned around and came back quickly. She bent down and whispered into Celethor's ear, "What's the usual?"

Celethor chuckled. This must be a new waitress. Obviously. He hadn't ever seen this girl before. "Claymore ale, thank you." The dracon tossed three crowns at the waitress as she started to leave, not wanting to go throught the trouble of paying for it later. That done, Celethor focused his attention once again on S'Lon.

"So, S'Lon, how goes it?"

[S'Lon]

[S'Lon]

S'Lon leaned back in his seat and considered Celethors words. He smiled before continuing. ”Well, now that’s something indeed that strikes a chord in my heart too you know. Sorry about not letting you buy me that ale, its an old habit of mine, but I think we are going to need more than whats in front of us before we are done.”

“So you don’t think the military pays well then? Did you know that the Rangers don’t get paid at all? It sounds like I’m in much the same position as you but I’ve been thinking about this for some time and now I have the two of us to support. So far I’ve been surviving on the money I came here with and an odd job or two, but I don’t want to work for someone else and let them scoop up the profits for my work.”

“Robyn and I plan to open a hotel soon, which we have great plans for, but it will be mainly Robyns work as she has plans for it. I’ve got several other plans on the go too, but somehow I’ve just not got anything off the ground yet. One of the problems is that all these businesses take money to get off the ground and thats something that I’ve just not a great deal of access to.”

[Celethor Tyran]

<Celethor looked a bit surprised when S'Lon mentioned that Rangers were not paid at all> Really? That's quite discouraging, I'm sure. And when you're spending that much time training and working for the Rangers, I understand how that must be downheartening. <Then S'Lon said something about a hotel. Celethor knew that he had money, and maybe together, they could do something> Well, you're trying to open a hotel are you?_ And even more plans? I see you HAVE put a lot of thought into this. Have you thought of maybe partnering with somebody, to share the weight of risk? I know I'd be more than willing to pitch in if I can be of any help.

You would? <S'Lon smiled at his friend> Yes, working away at something that doesn't pay anything while you are training and seeing your money slowly dwindle away does concentrate the mind somewhat. Its not too bad you know, once trained I can earn money using the skills of a ranger and the Hall provides all the basics of life, but if you want more such as your own weapons or drinking in an Inn like this one then you need some supply of money. A partner would be a welcome thing indeed. I have certain skills but a partner would bring their own skills and hopefully a bit of extra money into the deal, and as you say that will help minimise the risk. If nothing else at least having someone else to talk to and to say when they think things are going wrong would be good. Have you had any thoughts of your own so far?

<Celethor smiled as his offer was accepted. Finally he would be on his way to DOING something> Thoughts of my own? Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking of starting a blacksmith shoppe. I don't take training for the fun of it. But I don't expect to get that under way until I get a little more training first. Otherwise no one would buy my goods. But if you need any ideas... <Celethor took a sip of his drink once more, grinned, then took a big gulp. Then he looked at the mug. A certain expression of enlightenment shot across his face.> Have you ever wondered where O'Mally gets this stuff? The ale, I mean. He obviously doesn't grow it himself. He must buy it from somewhere. But I haven't seen any ale or wine shoppes anywhere. He must get it from outside. Perhaps... perhaps we could start a business that would sell wine to taverns and such for cheaper than the outside sources! I'm almost certain it could work!

[S'Lon]

S'Lon matched Celethors smile with a grin of his own. ”Well, its interesting that you suggest that because one of the things that I intend to try and do is to set up a shop. I realised early on that one of the things about being a Ranger is that I will travel a lot and that will mean that I will be able to get out and meet people and find interesting things that are not easy or are expensive to buy here in Narim. One of the things that I have been considering was wine and I’ve put a lot of thought into that.”

He nodded for a moment while the thoughts that Celethor had started circulated in his mind. ”Of course, one of the things we are going to need for the hotel will be a supply of ales and wine, so it would make sense to secure the whole supply chain and not to buy from others. Yes, indeed, I’m sure that you are right and it would work wouldn’t it?”

[Destiny]

DESTINY RETURNS

After several years, Destiny has returned, older and hopefully wiser. Road weary and hungry, she approaches the bartender and asks for a room and a meal.

[Guardian]

OoC: Crud... Wrong account... Well, you know who I am.

IC: Celethor smiled even wider than before, if that was possible, and just as Destiny opened the door, Celethor walked through it and met what he decided would be a new pathway in life (OoC: Sorry, couldn't help making a metaphor to you Destiny.). "But where do you think we could get it cheaper?" Celethor sat and thought for a moment. The idea had seemed so simple, and yet already it was seeming to become a problem. Obviously this would be tough to figure out, or else someone else would have thought of it before. But nothing was rewarding that didn't have a good brainstumper to it.

Celethor had been to Vers and there seemed to be lots of vegetation there. "I've been to Vers and they seem to have lots of supplies for ale and wine... But then, the journey from there to Narim would probably be too expensive and too dangerous. Orcs would terrorize the trade routes. Perhaps a more local source? Do you know of anywhere close to Narim that might grow grapes or anything? Something that is small, out of the way, and perhaps unknown to the major dealers? You're a Ranger, and must spend lots of time in the wilderness. Did you ever find something like that?"

[S'Lon]

S'Lon considered what Celethor had just said and his brow creased in thought. ”Well I haven’t really had chance to explore a great deal but there are one or two places that might be able to supply some of what we need.” he rubbed his finger along the side of his nose. ”It really would make sense wouldn’t it to try and identify our own sources of supply. If we try and buy off the existing suppliers then we are adding in another profit margin without the ability to negotiate a discount.” He shook his head at the thought. ”And without that we are never going to break into the existing trade. If we can get into the current supply chain then the money is almost guaranteed with the extra value that we can offer. But we can’t even begin to achieve that until we can find an edge.”

He looked across the table at Celethor and grinned. ”You know, I think we really are onto something here. Until now it’s been something that I have spent my time wondering about but somehow it never seemed real before.”

[Estefer d' Stone]

He walked into the inn wandering toward the bar, toward the Dwarf and responding with a stout nod to his "Serale...".
"A regular Meal Good Sir, and coffee until I say ney no more."

he sat down at one of the unoccupied tables a few paces from the bar and close to the hearth he reached inside his robe and pulled out a small wooden carved symbol and nodded his head down waiting for his meal. <mumbling words so faint that no other could decipher for his voice was so low.>

His height had caused several glances but his youth and niave nature seemed to ignore it, or so it seemed to those who watched him. What most stared at was the scar that ran along his face from his left ear to the center of his cheek.

He waited for his meal hoping that someone would let him know where and why he'd wandered into this city.

He'd closely studied himself. why had he no idea of who he was, where he was, he only had a wooden symbol on a leather thread around his neck, a few coins in his pouch and a strong headache with a moist patch of blood still on his robe he tried to rub it cry with his hand.

He'd woke in his small quarters and when leaving, a lady had said "Good Day Estefer d' Stone;" so with this he had figured this must then be his name and the quarters he was in were then his as well, or were they someone elses? Estefer had so many questions and the pain in his head just didn't want to stop, he hoped it had been just a long night of drinking when he awoke but when he opened his eyes he'd washed blood from his eyes that had become incrusted into the very corners of his face as well, the tissue from the scar was still fresh, and it pained to be touched what in all creation had happen.

Estefer sat and waited glaring into the holes of time and space waiting for his meal.

[Celethor Tyran]

Celethor listened carefully to S'Lon, trying to follow his train of thought. He had some very valid points, and figured he could leave the complicated economics to the able human. But still, he would like to know what was going on in the young man's devious mind. "An edge, huh? What kind of edge did you have in mind? We could always increase the alcohol percentages in the wine, that might draw in some of the more hardcore drinkers, but at the same time it might shy the more noble families that might buy in bulk. They certainly won't want to get drunk while plotting their enemies' demise. Perhaps we offer greater variety than everyone else? Claim higher quality? I don't think even drunks could be coaxed that easily..."

Celethor sat pondering these things, and grew excited. The plan was under way. Something off of a whim in his head, and it was about to start off. Where this would lead to, Celethor had no idea, but he could hope that it would lead to somewhere prosperous. After all, he wasn't in this for charity. He wanted cold hard cash out of this. And he was willing to risk anything necissary to get it.

[Vehemence]

Reason had set in as the high waned into omnipotent despair; hopes sunk low. And food was needed, something to mend physical lacking for he was drained of sustenance. But, here it came and with deft paces, he moved inward and through a vague crowd, the armed elf allowed syllables to spill forth as words stained like blood, "Does this job interest you so? Wasting your life away in activities meager and dreary, no substance gained at all. Heh." The waitress appeared taken back by the sudden analyzation of her existence. It was the nervous cringe, distorting facing figures into an attractive pout that the more primal men were much amused by; she blushed. "Heh." That nihilism was always directed at someone or something, a figure or concept and that which he knew he could control through psychological manipulation or through the will of the sword. She set the tea down, Sheradine, and stumbled off into the pack, tossed about by various men as if she was a fresh kill and necessary to life. But, hah, this was not far from the truth at all. This whole ordeal seemed to arouse some self-righteous rants from those of a 'favorable' alignment, the favor found in the law which was apparently upheld in this part of town. He had not seen enough to make any accurate judgments. Already his thumb had caressed that cup, tracing its contour and the heat to warm his gray skin to a possible fleshy hue. "Ah." Taken aback, the liquid had spilled forth onto his digit and brought a blush of pain. "So, this is what drives us onward." As if a child, everything was thought of as new and yet, to become what he was quickly growing into, all notions must wane and dissipate, becoming something different and rising soon in torrents as several consecutive epiphanies bring the intellectual's smirk. It had begun.

Dinner was a forgotten comfort, a vagrant memory and blurred into the background. Yet, not it arose, distinct and penetrating as a lost past is regarded with nostalgic humor though lacking the fondness of those days past. Then came the crack, the shell of this sea creature to shatter in a commanding fist. Squeezed between that vice grip, the aristocrat left and the warrior arrived, these two personas juggled endlessly. From the carnal to the enlightened, the change was often seamless. "Hm." The elf was a critic, a satirist and yet with humor being dark and without the intent of benefiting. No, he was discriminating in his beliefs; only his own mattered. His feast was set to the backdrop of civil unrest as the mild conflict raged on with squeals from the woman and perverse laughter from the men. Indifference was always the best policy.

What was left when he departed was the meager remains of his meal, ten crowns and a knife dug into the battered wood, a note written in eloquent cursive below and as an aphorism.

You know what to do.

By this time, the men had gotten enough feels to satisfy their deprivation and the waitress was left in tears to clean up another mess and yet, her eyes caught what was left, a choice, and an idea fondled in her mind was reinforced by this simple message.

Perhaps he would later hear of a murder and grin, but then again, should she choose to fore go the violent opportunity, his deviant plot would still have succeeded.

The wind called and sang in woe, nature's requiem for the philosopher as he moved onward through the melancholy desolation.

[Kalynne Danyth]

Timestamp: Hour 20 of Brightening 17 Of Early Apertius in the Summer of Era II


Having made her way down the road, and backtracking after getting lost a couple times, then asking for directions, Kalynne saw the Flounder's Inn looming in front of her not to far ahead. A feeling of relief surged through her tired body.
"A few more steps and I'm there."
It was now late evening. All of her stops seeming never to end. But Kalynne was now at the inn.

It was a busy establishment of laughing and carousing. The sounds of clinking glasses and untensils against dinnerware greeted her as she walked into the the reception area. It was cozy she thought to herself.

“Serale, and welcome to The Flounder's Finn! Are you just here for a drink, or perhaps a bit more?"

Kalynne turned to the pleasant, welcoming voice and walked over. "Actually, I could use a room for two or three nights and a good meal after I get cleaned up." she said.

"I think that can be managed...and your name is for the registry?" Asked the elven receptionist.

"Kalynne Danyth." Kalynne replied.

"We still have some rooms left. A Regular Room is five crowns/brightening
Three generic meals from the tavern -- Four extra crowns/brightening."

"Sounds wonderful, I'll take it. I'll pay in advance for the three Brightenings." The pouch felt lighter now as Kalynne took out the 27 crowns and handed it to elf.

"I'll make sure the owner gets this...if you could sign here to reserve your room for three brightenings." Said the elven woman as she turned a piece of parchment around to face Kalynne.

"Good, your room is number five." The receptionist motioning to the stairway. "At the top make a left and two rights. If you need anything just ask one of us."

Once at her room, Kalynne took off her cloak, hanging it on a coat stand. Her pack having been tossed onto the bed. A good cleaning up was in order and taking the water pitcher the basin was filled. A few drops of scented oil which sat next to the basin helped wonders.

Feeling much refreshed after her spongebath, Kalynne removed her chestnut hair from the braid and let it fall naturally down her back after a good fluffing.
As much as she wanted to just go to sleep, a good meal was needed after many days of trail rations and dried beef.
Putting on her new clothes of leather jerkin, white blouse, and boots, Kalynne adjusted her new sheathed dagger on her belt which the jerkin covered inconspicuously. Her trousers weren't too bad off and after a good harsh brushing would suffice until new ones were bought.

Once back in the common area and feeling like a human being again, Kalynne decided to eat at the bar in hopes of getting some information on the goingson in the city.
Showing the bartender that she was registered for the inn 'special', Kalynne ordered up the barbequed chicken meal with a side of breadsticks and tall glass of chilled milk. Already tired, the ale would be another day as she was afraid she'd find herself sound asleep in her mashed potatoes.

"I'll give this to the waitress." The bartender said with a wink, at the same time sliding a tankard of ale to another patron. A second later he brought her the milk.

Kalynne waited for her meal and comenced to wonder what the next day would bring. When the meal did come, she savored every bite.

[Ambal Ren]

Timestamp:
Dusk, Orodisia, 8th of Imperos .
Summer of Era II, Era IX Post-Fractum.

A fierce gust of wind flew through the common room with a deafening howl, flinging tiny droplets of watter in through the widening gap between the two sturdy wooden doors, surprising the few visiting patrons who'd chosen a table by the entrance. Standing casualy within the barren archway, a thoroughly drenched figure, thin, but destinctly femenine, glanced sidelong over her shoulder as she spoke softly with an unseen figure bolding the wicked tempest out in the dark. Striding casualy into the relatively dry common room, the dark skinned half elf left the unsecured door to the partner of her conversation, far too eager to simply take in the surrounding decor rather than help preserve it...

Indeed, it was the smell that caught Ambal Ren by surprise, an intoxicating aroma, intense yet subtle in it's flavour, struck her immediately as she came through the door. There was... fish, to be sure, but other, subtle things... the air tickled one's tongue with every breath, proof beyond proof of the tallented chef's gift with spices... By now, Ren had begun to wander, glancing from table to table at the various dishes visitors had selected for themselves, all of which seeming equaly appetizing... "It all seems so terrific, doesn't it?" she exclaimed with sheer delight masked ever so fainty in the guise of mature observation, "It's been quite a while since I had a good meal."

[Hestat Baldoss]

It would be noted that the figure behind her was, at the time, apparently having difficulties finding a way in, his head shifting from side to side as he strafed around the doorframe, but to his misfortune and further-drenched self it was being occupied by his companion. Instead of saying anything, he simply waited (feeling it was the right and mannerly thing to do) until she had left a space open wide enough for him to enter, and then at last he stepped in, cautious not to drip too much on the floor, and closed the door gently behind him. "Teriffic, yes," Hestat looked at the door, and then back into the common room, which had been a little shook up from the opening of the door, its floor around the entranceway marked with water that had been blown in from the rain. "But leaving the door open certainly isn't about to improve anything." He stepped a ways into the room, turning to make sure she was following him, and sat down at a vacant table.

"It can be a little expensive here sometimes, but I'm sure it's well worth it. Narim has some problems with crime and some... poorer areas of the city, but it seems that the Finn seems to kind of sort all of that out. It's nice," He observed dully, and beckoned a passing waitress for a tankard of Claymore ale at the three-crown price, and turned to Ren before saying anything further.