- Messages
- 50
Heartfoul Tavern - Somewhere In the Falwood
The universe had told Violetta over and over again recently that she was just a mortal. It was a curious thing to want to beat into the head of someone who did all she could to feel alive. Approaching forty, Violetta had still felt like she was nineteen with all the drinking and fighting she did. She’d also been lucky enough to retain a tremendous amount of beauty, even behind the scars.
She had no interest in squandering the rest of her life with solely chores and work. While she would always maintain a level of professionalism when she cared for her village, she was still one to take part in revelry often. And typically in seedy places hidden by magic.
The Heartfoul Tavern was a place one was invited to or already knew the location of. No one found it because it was meant to not be found. Cloaking magic hid the place and even allowed the air where it should be to be passed through by those unaware.
“Cattle never, hunt forever. Let me through, so my sword ignores you.” Were the only words the unseen doorman would accept as entry.
Cauliflower, the one-eyed saurian doorman appeared before Violetta with a shit eating grin.
“You’re always a sight for sore eyes, Violetta. Hope you’ve the coin.”
Violetta scoffed.
“I’m no slouch. Be it with a coin purse or a whiskey. It better burn tonight.”
Wry smile still plastered on Cauliflower’s face, he turned to wave his hand. The Heartfoul Tavern appeared in all its slimy glory. The exterior had several arrows pinned to the walls as well as stray daggers that had been thrown during scuffles.
The greenish brown paint was chipping to the point the place looked abandoned. Broken windows and graffiti added to the squalor. For one who’s never been here, they may see it as a place haunted.
Violetta swung the creaky door open to the tavern and a grin crept across her face. The interior was a much different story. Black and red pristine wood tables and chairs all throughout the enormous establishment. The upstairs closed off for those interested in the more scandalous of pleasures still held an air of class.
The dim light and quiet vibe was always a pleasant sight for her. Sconces with grey flame torches were all that added to the quaint atmosphere. And of course, the mercenary Gr’ias. The elven archer who she was pretty sure the Dreadlords were still looking for had already prepared her a whiskey and an ale.
She approached the bar and handed him the necessary coin before slamming the whiskey back like it was water.
“Gr’ias.”
“Violetta.”
The only words they ever said to each other. The only ones needed.
The universe had told Violetta over and over again recently that she was just a mortal. It was a curious thing to want to beat into the head of someone who did all she could to feel alive. Approaching forty, Violetta had still felt like she was nineteen with all the drinking and fighting she did. She’d also been lucky enough to retain a tremendous amount of beauty, even behind the scars.
She had no interest in squandering the rest of her life with solely chores and work. While she would always maintain a level of professionalism when she cared for her village, she was still one to take part in revelry often. And typically in seedy places hidden by magic.
The Heartfoul Tavern was a place one was invited to or already knew the location of. No one found it because it was meant to not be found. Cloaking magic hid the place and even allowed the air where it should be to be passed through by those unaware.
“Cattle never, hunt forever. Let me through, so my sword ignores you.” Were the only words the unseen doorman would accept as entry.
Cauliflower, the one-eyed saurian doorman appeared before Violetta with a shit eating grin.
“You’re always a sight for sore eyes, Violetta. Hope you’ve the coin.”
Violetta scoffed.
“I’m no slouch. Be it with a coin purse or a whiskey. It better burn tonight.”
Wry smile still plastered on Cauliflower’s face, he turned to wave his hand. The Heartfoul Tavern appeared in all its slimy glory. The exterior had several arrows pinned to the walls as well as stray daggers that had been thrown during scuffles.
The greenish brown paint was chipping to the point the place looked abandoned. Broken windows and graffiti added to the squalor. For one who’s never been here, they may see it as a place haunted.
Violetta swung the creaky door open to the tavern and a grin crept across her face. The interior was a much different story. Black and red pristine wood tables and chairs all throughout the enormous establishment. The upstairs closed off for those interested in the more scandalous of pleasures still held an air of class.
The dim light and quiet vibe was always a pleasant sight for her. Sconces with grey flame torches were all that added to the quaint atmosphere. And of course, the mercenary Gr’ias. The elven archer who she was pretty sure the Dreadlords were still looking for had already prepared her a whiskey and an ale.
She approached the bar and handed him the necessary coin before slamming the whiskey back like it was water.
“Gr’ias.”
“Violetta.”
The only words they ever said to each other. The only ones needed.