As they pass through a small town on their way home, they stop for the night at a tavern called The Archer's Mug. The street outside appears crowded with drunken brawlers, but everything appeared to be just in fun. Ignoring them, Tarquin and Lexi make their way inside. Tarquin mentions that he had stayed here one other time many years ago.
The Archer's Mug tavern stood proudly amidst the bustling streets of the village, its timeworn exterior bearing the weight of centuries past. The single-story timber-framed building exuded an air of rustic charm, its weathered walls adorned with creeping vines that wound their way upward, embracing the structure in a verdant embrace.
As the afternoon sun cast its golden rays upon the tavern, the hues of the timbers seemed to glow with a warm, inviting light, beckoning weary travelers and locals alike to seek refuge within its welcoming embrace. A worn wooden sign, weathered by time and the elements, hung above the entrance, depicting a bow-wielding archer taking aim at a frothy mug of ale - a fitting emblem for the establishment within.
The aroma of hearty stew and freshly baked bread wafted from the tavern's open windows, mingling with the sounds of laughter and lively conversation that spilled out into the street. From the outside, the Archer's Mug appeared as a bastion of camaraderie and warmth, a sanctuary where all were welcome to raise a toast to friendship and good cheer.
Inside the tavern the accommodations consist of several large rooms with beds and straw mattresses and a mezzanine with several wooden cots. The inn is locally known for its darts and throwing contests.
Walking inside, they meet the Innkeeper, a talk man named Fricio. He is a retired soldier and keeps a well-used mace on his belt.
Looking at the menu, they see a number of traditional meals, boiled oxen and barley biscuits, roasted port and sharp cheese, and boiled port and dried onion, among those recommended by Fricio as Tarquin and Lexi decided what to get.
Taking a seat at a table near the fire they each had a mug of ale as they waited for their food.
As Tarquin and Lexi settled into their seats at the round table, they couldn't help but notice the lively atmosphere of the tavern. The fire crackled and spat, casting a warm glow over the room as patrons laughed and chatted with one another. The aroma of roasting meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making their stomachs growl with anticipation.
To their left, the two elves, Cassa and Findiser, sat engaged in conversation, their eyes locked in a way that spoke of a deep understanding and camaraderie. Cassa, with his matted white hair and gray eyes, wore chain mail armor adorned with small, intricate trinkets that seemed to hold sentimental value. Findiser, with her fair complexion and soft blue eyes, wore splint mail armor that glistened in the firelight. Her longsword and bow hung at her back, a testament to her skills as a warrior.
Tarquin detected another sorcerer sitting near them. Nearby, Edward, the male halfling sorcerer, sat hunched over a mug of ale, his eyes fixed intently on his drink. His narrow face was framed by matted white hair, and his soft brown eyes seemed to hold a deep wisdom. He wore tailored clothing that seemed out of place in the rustic tavern and carried a quarterstaff that seemed to be more for show than for actual use. Listening to him address the staff, it was clear tact was not one of his strengths.
As they waited for their food to arrive, Tarquin and Lexi noticed three more patrons sitting at tables nearby. There was a burly man with a thick beard, dressed in leather armor and sipping on a mug of ale. He was accompanied by a young woman with a mischievous grin and a wild look in her eye, who was devouring a plate of roasted meat with gusto. Across from them sat an older man with a wispy beard and spectacles perched on the end of his nose, who was nibbling on a plate of steaming vegetables.
As they watched the patrons go about their evening, the bartender, a jovial man named Ingeg, made his way over to their table. "Ah, welcome back to the Archer's Mug!" he boomed, his voice like thunder. "I see you're enjoying the atmosphere. You've got the special tonight - roasted oxen and barley biscuits, how is it, it's likely your favorite meal now."
Tarquin's eyes lit up at the mention of the meal. "Ah, yes! It is very tasty, I remembered the dish from my last visit here, many years ago. It's fantastic."
Ingeg chuckled. "I'm glad you like it! And speaking of which... I've got a story to tell you about the origins of this tavern. You see, it was founded by an old archer named Eryndor Thorne. He was known for his unmatched marksmanship and his love of good ale. When he retired from adventuring, he opened up this tavern as a way to share his stories with others."
As Ingeg began to spin his tale, Tarquin and Lexi settled in to listen, their eyes wide with wonder as they imagined the tales of Eryndor Thorne's adventures. Meanwhile, Cassa and Findiser continued their conversation, laughing and joking as they passed around a mug of ale. Edward sat quietly to one side, sipping his own drink as he listened to Ingeg's story with rapt attention.
As the night wore on, Tarquin and Lexi finished their meal and pushed their plates away, feeling full and content. They raised their mugs in toast to Ingeg's storytelling skills, then turned back to watch the patrons as they went about their evening. The fire crackled on, casting a warm glow over the room as laughter and music filled the air.
As the evening drew on, they both settled into their wooden cots they had rented in the mezzanine and drifted off to sleep to the smells of the kitchen below them.
As dawn broke over the sleepy village, Tarquin and Lexi rose from their beds in the quaint little tavern where they had spent the night, their bodies still weary from their recent adventure. After a hearty breakfast of porridge and freshly baked bread, they gathered their belongings and set out on the familiar path that would lead them home.
The morning air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the earthy scent of dew-kissed grass and the sweet fragrance of wildflowers that dotted the countryside. Birds sang joyously in the trees overhead, their melodic tunes echoing through the tranquil landscape as Tarquin and Lexi walked side by side, their footsteps falling in rhythm with the gentle cadence of the morning.
As they ventured further along the winding path, they passed fields of golden wheat swaying in the breeze, their stalks whispering secrets to the wind as it rustled through their midst. The distant sound of a babbling brook reached their ears, its crystal-clear waters shimmering in the early morning light as it wound its way through the lush meadows that stretched out before them.
Occasionally, they encountered fellow travelers on the road, their greetings warm and friendly as they exchanged stories and well wishes for the journey ahead. The occasional carriage rumbled past, its wheels creaking in protest as it made its way along the dusty road, its occupants peering out from behind curtained windows with curious eyes.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape, Tarquin and Lexi quickened their pace, eager to reach the familiar comforts of home. And as they finally arrived at the outskirts of Willowbrook, the sight of their manor, nestled among the trees, filled them with a sense of peace and contentment.
With a weary but satisfied smile, they crossed the threshold of their home.