Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

Promising Mage

A route to the Broken Goblet lead for an encounter with a familiar face. "Finger Wigglers",..that's what most of us more mundane sorts like to call spell casters. Aye the jealousy is there, it be nice to have an array of spells and wards at the tip of one's fingers. There's been many renown mages with powerful spells that make them some of the more formidable foes. But not..in the Broken Goblet...

All spells are rendered useless in the Broken Goblet., wards dissipate upon entry, spells poof like the smoke from pipeweed when attempt to cast. The sword on the hip, the axe slung on the back, the knife hidden in the boot are more supreme here. Magical creatures tend to feel a bit...uncomfortable, some cant even seem to speak properly. But tonight there was a mage willing to enter, willing to share conversations, willing to have... a goblet.



The magic practitioner who was wondering about, probably no more than the level of an apprentice, was eagerly looking for more spells to memorize in her book. But there she was, sitting in the tavern surrounded by drunken sailors, pirates, thieves and smugglers. Stripped of her magic, not even the smallest of warding or a cantrip. Oblivious? Ignorant? ..Maybe dangerous and far more than what she seemed? Or was she merely welcomed and accompanied by employees to share a drink? What ever the reason or the cause, tis was their own. After all, what is said in the Goblet stays in the Goblet. The bartender couldn't help but feel, this mage will be alot of fun in the near future. She's witty enough and wise for a lost mage that's soul searching for her purpose in the Coast. She surely has better conversation then most the filth sitting about drunk. The bartender thought,.. "That's a finger wiggler I can enjoy serving a goblet too. Perhaps someday she might save his own arse." He locked gaze with his Bruiser, the big mean mugging orc blood for hired muscle. Without saying a word to each other it seems it was understood. Help the little finger wiggler out for perhaps someday the favor would be returned...

"The Bartender, The Pretty, and the What in the Nine Hells"!

*Tis been nearly two ten day's pass and just when the bartender of the Broken Goblet thought it be a normal day..a oddly little patron came by. "What was it?" He thought. A halfling? A gnome? Blimey just what god did he piss off to get such the visitor he groaned to himself.*

"Oi! Wot a dump!
"Aye tis the dump but someone need to serve drinks for the scoundrels, what's yer poison?"
"Oi, wot? Yer serve actual poison? Noice."
"Let me offer you a proper goblet, first one free too."



In such the place as the Broken Goblet, the bartender still wonders if other tavern's get such the odd folks. Do they get a bunch of brawny chivalrous knights and pretty woman in lavish fashion, echoing flirts and giggles, or do they get the scrummy stuff that looked like it crawled out of some sewer grate like he gets most times. As the thought lingered in his mind, the little thing slapped a barmaid on the rump ..tsk tsk..will he get stabbed now he wondered. Soon confronted by a pair of pirates' and the Captain himself, the little fellow relaxed and went back to his drink. Able to hold his drink barely, the little hin and the bartender exchanged some talks.



There comes a time when you often pass by a face, often enough it becomes somewhat familiar. Commonly to a man, the pretty faces always gets remembered. But not always does a pretty face carries the personality of something sweet and soft. Some pretty faces are made of more sterner stuff. Within the Broken Goblet, a pretty face is usually just that. On this particular day a stern pretty patron came in, and as soon as she got near the bar she hooks a toe around a stool and yanks it away from the bar, plopping down onto it. "Interesting" the bartender thought.

"Ale"
"Girl knows her drink" *He grins then reaches under the bar pulling a bottle of dark ale and pours the delectable content in a clean goblet then slides it over*
"Yeh givin' 'er th' one wot nearly made me go blind?"
"She look like she can stomach it better than yer little arse."
"Lot of call for fancy flagons in a pirate den, is there."


Indeed she did, she drank the throat soother like it was merely water. He glanced at the little fellow with a grin mocking gesturing how the pretty face handled the drink far better than he did. The night went on with few small talk that a bar full of strangers could fathom. But much later after the little gnome of a halfling stupidly fell into the Gate, it was just the pretty face at the bar...with a goblet. The bartender semi hoped the little man could swim. He knew at least it would need serious bath if it lived.

The woman wasn't like the others that recently visited. She was more the type that could sit in a dark corner losing herself in her drink, and taking in the quietness as a comforting cowl. Filled with sarcasm and a focus mind of her drink, she was still intriguing. She stood at the end of the bar wondering what conclusion or fate did the little man faced down the end of the grate, but soon dismiss the thought as if it wasn't of any importance. "Like mind" He thought.
The stern woman continued to stand there at the bar, the candle flames brought out the brown of her leathers, and hair and eye's.



What was she or where was she from? He didn't ask. He wasn't the sort to pry. But a name he did, to him she was interesting enough for him to ask. The night continued, with words exchange as best as two strangers could spin it. "Sterner stuff" ..yes indeed he liked what he's seen since working here. He watched her take her leave after wisely keeping short of two drinks. Back to work it was for him, back to doing what he was there for, serving goblets and making goblet coins.

"Ain't having no bloody dancing pole's!"

*There comes a time, when a person can meet their wit's end. Some thing might be blocking progress, in the way, or too stubborn you feel like your trying to push an dead dire bear across a room. Other times, it can merely be from a person who you just can't seem to grasp any sort of comprehension. The bartender wondered if the gods truly hated him. First that damn halfling and now this...A woman known to him, known to many others. Most try to avoid her in subtle fashion, others damn right flee like their running for their very lives. Oh well , work is work, and goblets needed to be filled....but for him to think it would be that easy...he's never been so very wrong..*



"Yep this fella I met at a tavern once taught me how to straddle up and down a vertical metallic pole mounted to the floor and ceiling"
"Woman, aint no poles in here ...dont."
"I can train them! Yes I can!"
*He hastily points at her seat* "S-s-sit ,...S-s-sit!...Oi! this ain't no brothel nor some lewd tavern, this be the Goblet. Ain't gonna be having girls straddle some pole or the furniture, yer hear me?! *He glances at the carved wooded bears about seven feet tall on the pillars* "I got a bunch of drunk sailors, thieves, smugglers and every other filthy thing the weather brings in!"
"You can have them dance in a cage. You know to keep ol' Winstons back there from trying to sneak a grab at them."

People...it was often people that were more scary then the foulest of beasts. People can be the nicest and sweetest things the unforgiving world could offer, but other times..quite the opposite. This one in particular...what was it, a curse? Bewitched even? Could someone really be born in such the way ? Oblivious to the common norm? Blindy infatuated and claims a man whos never seen by her side. What ill horrid plague engulfed the land in the past, that could cause a women to be such a way?...Was she truly that way? He wondered. He decided to talk further, after all,.. he couldn't flee he had to fill goblets. Later after more conversations, the bartenders outlook seems to have changed. His eyes looked upon the woman suspiciously, eyeing a particular item. Was that the reason? Was it perhaps the cause? Watching her leave, no longer did he feel like he was met with any ill intent by the Gods. Nay tis was not. She was simply another patron with her own bit of problems and stories much like everyone else. In his mind, he no longer saw the woman as she was when she entered. It was another version now. Once she left, he grabbed the goblet she left behind unemptied, spilling the fluid to clean in once again, his eye's stared at it emptied curiously wondering if his new found vision of her was the real one..

Dark conversations

The Broken Goblet,... A tavern located in the lawless land of Roaringshore. "Any and all is welcomed in the Goblet."
Spoken from the Boss's own wrinkled lips it... He knew the instructions, he knew the rules of the Goblet. He's seen many strange folks come and go, some stay long, some don't. But regardless, they remain strange. Some can even shake his nerves others can making him grip the counter but the bartender never forgets to recite what the "Miss" said.."Any and all is welcomed so long as they aint break my furniture." Tonight however was much different. A strange one indeed came in, with a good amount of intelligence. Oddly the patron had trouble speaking, so he wrote out his conversations on a parchment. Couldn't even see his face for he wore a full mask with a hood. Eerie could be a description of the man, but he was intelligent.



Had this tavern be the Helm and Cloaks, folks would have a heart attack if such the patron ever walked in. But not the Broken Goblet. Its funny how simply looking at a person and making your own assumptions of them can often times be far off to what that person truly is. Intelligence reek from this dark masked patron. But still, a patron is a patron and goblets need to be filled. Conversations of beliefs and discipline and other things continued on. A slow conversation it was for the patron had to write out his words. But this bartender was patient. After all knowledge is power so it was said. He realized, had he not been working in the Goblet, he more or less would simply pass this man on the roads only offering the feintest of nods. But here he was obtaining knowledge, very useful..knowledge. The masked man was getting ready to make his leave, as well as the bartender ready to hand over the bar to Captain Pike. But before either men could make their leave..a familar voice was heard..

"Hey Sel!"
"Can I get a Dark Ale?"



Just as the masked man was making his leave, another patron arrived, one familar. Her orange hair flowed about her face and shoulders nearly as if trying to hide within it. Overly friendly this one was to him, perhaps thankful for assistance given some days ago? Friendly she was, but the amount of knives strapped to her thigh didn't go ignored. He could see in her eyes as well as notice how she drank from her goblet, that something was bothering her. He didn't pry, he only served. Tis the patrons own will if they wish to spill forth words of ventures or mishaps. However between the two, one was offered an opportunity. Of what? None but them knew. After all, what's said in the Goblet remains in the Goblet. She drank till her cheeks became red, yet smart enough to save further indulgence for the weeks end. The tales and songs of minstrels from previous were impactful to her enough that the amber haired woman was anxious to return...



It wasn't long until another figure approached. Another familiar face, yet not as overly friendly as the orange haired woman, in fact hardly friendly at all. But this is the Broken Goblet, it wasn't anything surprising.
There she was, dark of hair casually sliding down the bannister, alighting on the floor below lightly. Expression neutral, always neutral. She taps her right eyebrow with two fingers at the bartender as she approaches. Her stare was nothing short of emotionless.

"Ale.."



The bartender has met many women in his humanly lifespan, friendly ones, funny ones, dominating and submissive ones, smart and ignorant, dumb and witty, some that even seems that their woman cycles were persistent each day. But since he began working as a barkeeper, it seems he's met a new breed of woman from the likes of which hes never met before. What brings these woman to such a place as the Broken Goblet? And frequently visit at that. Perhaps to spot a mark? A drunk man or another woman they could take to the Inn across the road and strip them of their coin purse? Or maybe it was the service or atmosphere within the Goblet? Or was it all a mere ruse all together, and their arrival was merely to snoop in plain sight? It doesn't matter he thought. The Goblets had to be filled. If anything else or someone else presence themselves, let it be and indulge with intrigue. He could live with that. The bartender kept about his work while engaging in conversations until slowly patrons had enough for a drink and started to make their leave. Soon tis was time for him to hand over the bar to the Captain. However just when he thought his night would soon come to an end..another patron arrived...Looks like another goblet needed to be filled, or so he thought..

"Evening... morning? Something."



What was it about this night that one patron after another comes to stop by the Broken Goblet? The masked man was one thing, but pretty faces one after the other in such the place was becoming a curious factor. But such the question was dismissed. It was time for work once again...so he thought. This patron, elegant in attire, intelligent in appearance, white of hair like snow, the innocent look of one who would dwell in a library. He recognize this one, she's come before but didn't stay long, a spell of sending cut her stay short. But finally here she was again about to order a goblet...



That was until another Sending spell had obviously arrived and she made her apology for not buying a drink. Was it a sending? Tis not like he himself heard it. Perhaps she meant to follow the previous woman that left?..who knows..nor did he care for it wasnt his business. If one thing he's learned since his boots first touched the cobble stones in the Docks of the Harbor district within the walls of Baldurs, it was, the more one gets nosey, the more likely a blade awaits your throat. An the drinking carousing pirates, thieves and smugglers and runaway adventure's was already a reminder of just..how close a knife could be to ones neck. However still it was pity this patron couldn't linger for a goblet. But nevertheless she came again, and oddly for some strange reason, he knew it wouldn't be her last attempt.

Many conversations he shared this night. Only one didn't take fruit. But what were these conversations about? What was the purpose of these visiting patrons? Everyone has a reason, everyone has a cause. Oh how he would love to pry, but he resisted. But then again this was the Broken Goblet, most conversations were casual, others a gibberish confusion since often times people where drunk. However tonight was a bit different, for they were dark in more aspects than one.

"The night was somber, until the pass returns..."



During the midweek, the Broken Goblet was commonly less busy. Minstrels were working on songs and compiling their tales into an entertaining form. The drunken lots within the tavern were more or less lost in memories while savoring their drinks. What were each of their history and past he wondered. He took off his apron that he used when stationed behind the bar. The roads and port didn't seem too active, so he figured he'd mingle with he current patrons with casual conversations of talks of their best treasure finds, adventures and unforgotten women.

...Unforgotten women..hmmm when memories would go back in time to see the many faces of women he knew, he wondered just which one, was the most unforgettable one. Each one had shared something special, something unique, there was something different with everyone. Some were closer then others, others where more closer in other ways. One finally was coming into view, a face from long ago..the vision was becoming clearer, why was it hard to focus?..Had it been the drink ? He remembered this particular moment..words from the heart, secrets being revealed..



"Come and Sit!"

"As you wish."

His eye's opened, blurred his vision was, he rolled them around before glancing around to locate where the two voices came from. He looked over to the bar and a grin formed upon his face. He smirked for himself, he was dreaming. He started to rise, trying to shake the effects from the liquid that once filled his goblet. He walks over using one of the pillars to lean on for support.



He nods to his partner, giving a relieving smile. She arrived early, so he was able to turn the bar over to her care. And in that moment he realized, there was already a patron she was serving. Perfect, he needed the fresh air to help clear his head of old memories, and needed a bed to sleep in. The chairs within the Goblet were not meant to sleep in nor will they ever. Nay not the Goblet, it was a tavern to serve drinks to the lawless ones, outlaws, runaways and stowaways, pirates and thieves, smugglers and dealers even murderers and other form of cutthroats. Such the crowd the Goblet attracted. Oh well at the least even though he was stepping out now, goblets are still being filled. He smiled for of course, he arranged it to be so. After all, what's a tavern without its bartender.

"A woman's touch"

Bartending...what did he really know of such? Hardly anything. There were many town's and cities, and other lands, where he frequent taverns of all types. He never cared if the taverns were busy with patrons or empty as corpse without a soul. Because what he came for was always there. A good drink.

He's seen barkeepers keep their counters and cups clean. If patron wished to talked to them, he always offered them a bit of chat, keeping them lost in conversation while keeping the mugs filled only to take more coins. Not the greatest of ways to make profits, but it worked. Sometimes patrons came for other reasons than a drink. Asking questions while tossing small gold pouches in exchange for an answer. Bartenders often smirked. Some take the pouch, some didn't. Some got the answer they were seeking, others didn't. Some taverns boom with activity, others, dwindle like a flickering candlelight soon to be extinguished. What was he going to do, to keep the activity going. To keep patrons returning? He remembers one patron say they like their drinks served by a woman. Hmm that's an ideal. Why not, he's seen some woman do just that. A good drink and an enticing smile with slender hands filling a mans mug. Or in this case..a goblet. A mere woman's presence can by itself be the reason to attracted men, specially gawking filthy ones that's been out on long sea voyages with no women in sight, or dirty street knaves who would never receive the luck of Tymora. Other times some men with more mannerism about them . Well then, lets give something for the boys to look upon.




His assistant never disappointed, she attracted enough with her subtle flirts and often voiced out her opinions boldly. Who would have thought the scholar types and witty finger wigglers would even come to such a tavern as the Broken Goblet.



The bartender smiles upon hearing of the days visitors. It only let him know one thing, even tho he had no clue of how to be a bartender, what ever he was doing was working.

Pushing further in his ideals, he had sought out the perfect minstrels. He didn't just pick up any minstrels. He had to find the right ones for such a place as the Broken Goblets and its type of patrons. A pretty face, alluring, a soothing voice that would give the boys dreams. Attitude and rawness with a touch of sultry to have the patrons feel like they would even have a chance to have one sit on their dirty laps. And most importantly, they wouldn't hesitate to cut a patrons finger off if their hands got out of control.
He even has a bruiser if needed the extra muscle to take throw out patrons who goes against the Goblets house rules. But still, there was one thing still missing , he needed one more minstrel. One to keep the harden woman wanting. Aye, a man with a charming face, who can give a good song like Rose and have no limits like Elektra, one who wouldn't be such a prissy soft lot, a charming scoundrel perhaps...

"THE WRATH OF AN ANGRY GOD"



It seemed like a normal day. The bartender finished his bath and was half way putting on his clothes when he heard the sudden rumble and felt the world shake! He quickly ran out the backdoor standing at the top of the step and panicky looked up to the sky seeing what he thought the hells falling from the clouds!



"W-what ..in.. the nine...hells..!" He muttered before turning to rush back inside to see drunkards' scampering to their feet's and rushing out side. He goes to warn the other employees and yells out to Captain Pike. "Quickly get to the cave!" If any of the minstrels were around he would hastily muster them up to seek safety along with his bruiser and assistant. He quickly rushed out the front door and pushed anyone in front of him out of the way, he would stab any drunk or any creature from the chaos if they were in his path.



The caves were the only focus in mind, there were a few near, he knew the best one, but he still needed a boat...



He looked far off into the distances in horror and confusion, creatures once slumbered now disturb while the sounds of an angry sky boomed and rumbled like a thundering storm. The bartender only looked back to see the chaos and calamity thinking.. "What the the bloody hells...."

The bartender would later return to Roaringshore in pursuit to see the state of the Broken Goblet. Word spread of the High Captain Rensby's insane departure, but he could only wonder what changes to Roaringshore would that have.





He looked around noticing the chaos left of Roaringshore. The blustering of pirates, the wake of confusion, perhaps some bodies and... the strange mass of slugs on the ground of bluish and green colors. He stepped on one smashing it under his boot, but then notice movement where the squished slimed thing had remained. It reformed. A brow raised, and he new better to attempt to kill another and instead quickly made leave for the Goblet kicking away slugs in his path, all the while wondering will he find the Boss...

A High Captain gone, how many more remains? What's happened to the "Miss"? What sort of slugs are these infesting the area? Questions filled his mind. Priests of Umberlee grumbling about the The Bitch queen no longer answering. "Was it true? " He wondered, has she forsaken the people who hold her dear? Did some ill fate happened to her?



He glanced up to the sky remembering how it looked like hell fell from above, the large fiery balls of flame. He knew not the answers but there was one clear thing that was the obvious. Something has changed and not just here in Roaringshore. Pirates from Ulgoths told of the same fate that fell upon there. Strange creatures spawns , men at arms cutting them down, rubble scattered from the falling fires. He wanted to venture out to see what else has happened but felt inclined to at least await word from the "Boss". For now he would grab his rake push any slugs down the grate that manage to enter the tavern.

Late into the night business continued within the Broken Goblet. However the atmosphere was not the same. Puzzling expressions, the talks of curse and mysteries were the topics amongst the patrons. A new face however, one the barkeeper never seen before. A fair face with armor as black as night with red tint that could mask the blood splatter from cutting down her foes. The look of anger and disappointment was well seen across her face.



"Something strong."

"Its bloody crazy, priests going about hollering about their gods aint answering them, magic going crazier then a kobold with a spear up its arse. Not to mention them nasty little annoying slugs all over the damn place in Roaringshore."

"To be honest, if the Gods themselves have been hurt not being able to grant the Power to their priests properly, we're in a bucket of dung. Me and my allies are working on something, to try to figure it out, but... it's important to understand if the Weave has been damaged for everyone or if just for priests."

"I can feel the disruption... It is not as bad as the time before as there is still magic to use, yet it is raw, unfocused... More like molten metal than forged steel."



After much of the discussions of the the raining meteors and emptied goblets, the patrons took their leave to investigate other lands and towns to see what befell them. With spells being uncertain or uncontrollable, and divine powers weaken left one the sure conclusion, ...the gods no longer hear their worshipers and magic has gone wild.

Talks of bad omens hanged on the tips of tongues. From obnoxious yells to whispering lips, people spoke of the shrilling cry that came from the skies and sent chills down spines. What was going on? No one that the Bartender met yet knew, except perhaps one person. The message has yet to be passed. The bartender traveled from South to North seeking Helmites. Thus far his efforts were not a success. However during his travels he seen only destruction and confusion. Priests on bended knees wondering if their gods had abandon them...



The temple known as the Halls of Inner light a smothering ruin..



What was happening the bartender wondered as he continued to travel until he came upon a tavern called The Lucky Coin. Famished from his travels he decided to pay it a visit, giving him a chance to get out from the pouring rain. A professional welcome, a rabbit stew, and a Ale that did the job was more than enough to warm him from within. The tavernkeeper was familiar , he's met her before. A patron that once came to the Goblet and asking for a meal.



However the Goblet didn't serve meals. Only drinks, but patrons were more than welcome to bring their own food. Often times they did and often more they forgot to eat, only to leave their food behind for others who may be hungry. The bartender always told patrons to eat at their own risk. The Lucky Coin was of a different atmosphere, warm and fresh to the nose, aromas of hearty meals, with plenty of space. Would be nice if the Goblet was renovated in such a way but nay, it would be a waste. Carousing pirates would stain the tables with their filth, the smugglers would taint the chairs with their grime, and thieves would walk away with anything that looked of value. Every tavern in their location was built upon the very ideal of its designated locals. The Blushing Mermaid, the Elfsong, the Helm and Cloaks, the Bearded Mermaid, The Lucky Coin the Friendly Arms and many more. Each serving the sort of patrons that most frequent, each catering to patrons fitting of their establish location, each doing the same thing..



...serving drinks for people who needed to be rid of some bad burden that weighed heavily. However for once every patron north or south in every tavern spoke of the same thing this day. The terrible shriek that could be heard from across the Realms..

"Snowfall of Blood, Lightening in Neshkel, Hemites with powers "
Just when he was doubtful of seeing any more patrons than the normal, a man was sitting at the bar awaiting to be served. A face unknown to him, his attire shows he was a sailor and surely he spoke like one. Strange when things were looking gloom, something always manages to present it self. Regardless of troubled times, goblets need to be filled.



"Bless'd the' High Capt'an's and Umberlee!"



Interesting, even during such troubling times, the Coast still gets new faces, sometimes old ones as well. The barkeeper served, anxious to hear a tale or two all the while wondering if an old resident of Roaringshore has returned. If so, he thought tis was a very bad time, for even Umberlee has gone silent from what he's heard. Conversations where progressing, old boots getting oiled, the patron was getting his bearings of the many changes.

But it wasn't long till he seen a familiar face walking down the steps. One he's been waiting for.

"Rum, I suppose that's why anyone truly comes to a port."

He didn't know much tieflings, but this one was quite intriguing or was it him that intrigued her? He chuckled to himself, she got the hint of mischief about her, daringly playful she was. However it didn't surprise him that every body has their own bit of a story. A deed foul or horrid? A sin they do not want known? Or a past they wish to run from. This one seemed to have a very interest one, but doubtful he will hear of it. After all, it wasn't his business to pry into the lives of patrons. It was only to simply fill goblets.



As the night continued more patrons came, some left. But even though the Goblet seen new faces and other's of familiarity ones, the subject of the night was all the same as was in other places in the realms.



But was the talks true? Did a God really die? And why out of all the Gods was it the one of the weave? How did she die? Self Inflicted? Killed? Mishaps? All questions from the tongues of the curious minds within the Broken Goblet. He listen to the patrons, each one having a bit more knowledge of something or another. Things where coming together. Yet still, something tugged at his mind.."Snowfall of blood, Mystra dead,... Lightings erupted in Neshkel, Helmites still retain some power."...It wasn't long until something made sense. "It had to be." He thought to himself before looking up at the ceiling following with another thought in his mind. "So even the Gods are no better than us mortals".

"What makes a good tavern?"

What makes a good Tavern? The favorite adult recreation of the locals was undoubtedly drinking. Both men and women gathered in a "tavern," usually meaning the house of a neighbor who had recently brewed a batch of ale, cheap at the established price. Accidents, quarrels, and acts of violence sometimes followed a session of drinking. Taverns seldom offered lodgings or very elaborate feasting, such as would be expected at inns. Pastimes like gambling, singing, and seeking prostitutes were a more common part of the tavern scene.

But what makes for a good Tavern? Some say a friendly bartender, some say a visible and present owner. Others say a good themed night and drink specials, or reasonable prices or quality of the drinks. Even a pleasing decor and a good ambiance with good music.

Today seemed like any other day during the recent troubles the realm seems to be experienceing. Few patrons here and there. But then things got rather interesting. An unfamilar face, the man was towering with orc blood in his veins. A strong drink was of his interest. But why the Goblet? Why here?

"Something Strong, not like that piss water in the city....Hmm..I'm liking here.."



From the bartenders recent experience in the Broken Goblet, it does look like the atmosphere is what grasps his frequent and new customers. Every patron has their own taste in things. Every tavern has their regular patrons. Some drop by once in awhile, some drop by regularly. Was it a strong drink? Was it a hearty greeting or a friendly one?

"I came all this way for entertainment!"



Every tavern seems to have their own little thing that makes it different then the rest. The goals are the same however. Coins. The more folks come for drinks, the more profits accumulate regardless of their liking. A tavern is a place to find quick entertainment, that's sure enough.

"Let's go the the pit. I want to see how ya fight."



A tavern brawl is nothing uncommon. When the delectable liquid reaches to the ones head, a person can tend to act out in their ideals or emotions. Some patrons like a good brawl, or even seek a fight. They can at times consider the fun in it. Half drunk, spitting blood, massaging swollen knuckles. Entertainment surely for those likes. Some even like to simply watch a good fight.

"Hey Sel.."



Curiosity does get the best in people. It makes a person tread on dangerous grounds, a mage learn a unique spell. A scholar obtain new knowledge. A thief entering a window. Sometimes curiosity can get someone killed. But even with the risk that's know, why does a person continue to trespass or continue to risk their own neck? Some find the risk thrilling. And some find amusement in other peoples doings. Even business one form or another can bring a person into a tavern.

"Have you placed this order by chance?"



It's always quite interesting to see so many different sorts come by all ordering a drink much like the next patron. The universal language the bartender often calls it. Friends, lovers, even enemies can at times gather and share a drink. Ah yes drinking is always good. Many forms, many flavors, many different brews. Everyone has their own acquired taste to the throat soother, the rot gut, the comforting liquid and so many other names given from years pasts and even more years to come. Its always the first thing to ask for and many people have their own ways of asking.

"Wine. Just not your cheapest."



Conversations of the recent events that has gone on in the Coast gets told all within a tavern. The tales of old days long and pass, the hopes and wishes for the future, the stuff of present days, the business of merchants, the moot of Candlekeep, and mage hunters, the raining blood, the crackling lighting, the screams of a dying Goddess, big fleshy monstrosities and brain like things with four legs like a dog.

But what makes a good tavern?..The bartender smirked more so to himself for he knew the answer to his own question. The Patrons... Everyone comes for their own reasons, everyone comes to have a drink. But when the drink starts to get to their heads they become interesting themselves to the next person over. A good tale, a pretty face a hearty laugh or a good rumor. Without the patrons there is no rumor's, there is no good tale to speak of. There wouldn't be various faces of all genders and race. There wouldn't even be a good drink to serve. Aye in the bartenders own opinion the answer was patrons. The more patrons, the better. It is those that makes a good tavern.