The tavern is alive, with patrons enjoying various drinks and meals, some are citizens of the Vale, others are travelers just passing through. No matter where one came from, the tavern was a good enough place as any to stop in and pass a rainy night. An inn attached in the back provided just enough lodging for a few weary souls on their way through. On stormy nights such as this it was quite popular, being the only inn around in Sweetwater Plain.
One of the tavern’s great doors swung open into the night, and in wandered a cloaked goblin. The barkeep looked over and motioned for the traveler to take a seat. Walking over to the bar and pulling a stool, the goblin made himself comfortable.
“I’ll have one of your finest ales, it’s been a long journey and that storm certainly hasn’t helped” he told the barkeep, putting some copper coins on the bar.
“Aye, it’s a bad one out there” he replied, pulling the tap. “Name’s Bjorn, I run this and the inn. You’re welcome to spend the night here.”
“Ulfric”, the goblin replied with a nod, taking the tankard. “I’ll take you up on that offer. This should cover it.” A silver and more copper coins were dropped down from Ulfric’s hand onto the bar. “Good ale, it’s certainly hitting the spot.”
“So what brings you to the Vale?” Bjorn asked inquisitively. “There’s been a heap of new folks coming ’round these parts. Some visitors named Kira and Bee showed up a little while before you did. A fellow by the name of Anachron was here earlier too, though I think he’s in the inn now.” the barkeep explained with a gesture towards a pair by the fireplace.
“Perhaps we’re all here for the same reason. Best not to be empty handed before heading over, I’ll take another ale and one for each of the new faces.” Ulfric answered, causing a bit of confusion for Bjorn. With a shrug, Bjorn poured three more ales, passing the tankards to Ulfric.
Taking the ales, Ulfric made his way over to the fire where Kira and Bee were sitting.
“Friends of Snorf?” Ulfric asked, offering each a tankard. Both nodded and took an ale, clanking the steins together in a friendly exchange. Kira waved to an open seat adjacent to them and Ulfric sat.
“So I suppose we wait at this point?” Ulfric asked. “No sense in being cold while we do though.” With a snap of the goblin’s fingers, the fire flared up, drawing surprised looks from those who were close enough to notice. “Pyromancy.” Ulfric offered as an explanation, moving his hand. “Studied it out in the Obsidian Coast, it has its uses.”
“OY!” shouted Bjorn, “You best be careful with that, we don’t need you burning this place with your parlor tricks.”
“Humans, always afraid of what they don’t understand” muttered Ulfric, before taking a long sip from his ale.
Into the night, the storm raged on, the party by the fire not minding it. Even the barkeep warmed up to the idea of not having to throw logs on to keep the fireplace lit.
“Scuse me, you’re the party, yes?” a wizardry looking character asked. Bee nodded, unsure if this was a an alchemist, healer, or both before them. “Excellent! I’m right on time then – Anachron’s the name” Anachron exclaimed, taking a seat by the fire.
Once again, the door of the tavern opened, a traveler walked through the threshold and removed his hood. Sir Snorfkin had arrived!
“Greetings, adventurers!”, Sir Snorfkin exclaimed with delight, “a pleasure to see new faces in the Vale. I know you all have your reasons for being here tonight, but I think we can all agree that a nice story might help us pass the time, don’t you?” While the group nodded in agreement, Ulfric burped loudly and ordered another round of ale.
“Since you are all quite new to the vale, I think it’s best to start by telling some history of the land in which you find yourselves.” Sir Snorfkin stood up and began to draw a map “We are in the Vale of Snorf, a mystical land in which mages and other creatures such as myself have begun to harness the power of blockchain technology alongside our magic capabilities.”
“The Vale holds many regions, all of them hold stories that would take too long to tell in one night. Currently, we find ourselves in Sweetwater Plain, a peaceful respite from the dangers and mysteries one may find elsewhere in the Vale. Bjorn runs this wonderful tavern and serves the numerous travelers and citizens of the vale who pass through. This Plain is full of the most beautiful nature that one can find in the Vale of Snorf.”
Sir Snorfkin began to pace the room, looking over the newest citizens of the vale, and suddenly stops behind Ulfric. Ulfric, now slightly too deep into his ale, doesn’t seem to notice.
“You there, I sense a hint of magic about you, could it be pyromancy?” Snorfkin asked. “Ayyee Sir” Ulfric grunts, hiccupping loudly afterward. “Tell us about the place where you learned this powerful Magic.”
“Of course, I’d be happy to share a tale of my journey to the Obsidian Coast” responded Ulfric. Ulfric moved closer to the fire, warming his hands, and took a look at the group. “So, have any of you ever heard of Arwen the Red, leader of the Obsidian clan? If not, sit tight, for it will be a long tale. Let me start with where my journey began…”