Bells, chimes, as if heavenly instruments, dripping in amid the gentle voice of the band’s singer.
Eventually, the drums picked up, percussion beats between strings, breathing music in a tavern.
In the town of Exeter, outside and east from the city of Vel Anir, north of Falwood, life was social.
Didn’t matter if you were human, elf, or orc just as well. Nothing else mattered but the inhabitant.
Whether a resident or a visitor, you could come into this town in a shroud or dressed plain as day.
A cloak, robes, armor or something else altogether, you just had to be willing to keep the peace.
Most folk aren’t here for trouble. If they were, well, townsfolk as well as authorities would greet.
One of them was a guest, no resident, having just arrived in this settlement, to the tavern in turn.
It was night, outside was cool, inside boasted about five fools beyond the bar, dancing and drinking.
They were merry, actually, happily swaying. Intoxication without violence. I’ll take it. Thought the lady.
A wood elf, sitting at the bar, turning to the bartender, tapping finger on the counter. “Another stout, sir.”
Garbed in a grey cloak, though it did not necessarily hide her armor, and the hood was down.
Beneath cloth of shroud, she wore a blend of green grey plate, some of it revealed in inches.
Setting empty tankard on the counter, the elf could drink for certainty, but isn’t here to drown.
The woman was here to relax, sit back and listen to music, having entered the tavern to visit.
Mingle with the crowd or sit down and enjoy the show alone. “And a plate of bangers ‘n’ mash.”
She gestured to the bartender to finalize her order. Behind her, a warm fire roared at her back.
The Limping Elk was as cozy as a tavern ought to be, with curtained windows, tobacco smoke.
A mishmash of laughs and quiet conversation, candles dancing by wood beams and stone walls.
Brushing strands of her scarlet hair behind a pointed ear, Mave gave her gaze to the bartop, thinking.
Quaint place. Stay the night in the inn? Leave in the morning? She bit her lip, wondering, planning.
The town of Exeter had all the amenities besides this establishment, from stables to blacksmith.
A dark dry beer came her way, a bit of a bitter taste, yet she liked it. We’ll see. She licked her lips.