Cobblestone Tavern Novels & Stories

The glistening of the cobblestone beneath his heavily polished dress shoes and the intent clicking of the soles against the stone only amplified his steps as he reached the back door to the seedy place careful to avoid the gathered drunks who had stumbled out of the local tavern the night before and found themselves passed out amid the slick wet stone and the vile rubbish that was placed outside to be sifted through. The rancid stench of rubbish and the drunkards was enough to make the lad turn up his rather oddly hooked nose as he turned his attention to retrieving his elder brother as quickly as possible. This place wasn't ideal given the dangers of getting into even more trouble and the p

“Unless you plan to vanish between now and tomorrow night.” I laugh. “Fine. Cobbler duty accepted.” “Good.” She scribbles something with a pencil. “Now, drinks. There’ll be cider, warm and cold, a few crates of wine, and someone promised to make elderberry lemonade for the kids.” “And what about something stronger?” I ask mischievously. Hanna gives me a surprised look. “Marek’s got a barrel of something stashed that I’m not supposed to talk about. He’ll bring it out once the moon is high and the music gets wild.”

The other single-story storefronts were closed up for the night, the bright white from the bar's sign the only illumination aside from the orange-ish glow of streetlamps. Her tavern was pretty large in comparison to the other buildings. The gray clapboard siding had no doubt been weathered by salt-infused sunshine and wind off the sea. It resembled a large crab shack with burgundy shutters framing the large lower and small upper window. The front door had a gold plaque indicating Locals Only, along with hours of operation and that they were closed on Sundays and Mondays. Above that was an enormous fishing hook mounted to the frame that could've taken down Moby Dick.

The nobles twisted that idea, creating a class system to control and keep the weak; weak. We made our way to a little tavern called The Nasty Willows. By the time we reached it was already evening. "What a difference," said Kali walking up to the tavern doors. I glanced up at The Nasty Willows signboard. It was a Willow smoking a cigar. "Cute," I said. The tavern was lively, with people drinking and chatting about their day. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lighting up the room with candles. It was a circus of fun as the waitresses rushed back and forth bringing food on plates and drinks in wooden mugs.

I just pray to whatever diety listening, that it's not Grayson. A shabby tavern is where I enter next. The hideout of every criminal that roams the rocky roads. It's darky and encrusted with the smell of years old smokers, cackled laughter and even blood where fights over the most ludacris things have taken place. I glance around, seeking the right spot where I'm sure information is bound to turn up. There's hushed chatter in a corner, men and women gathered together, almost as if conspiring a revolt. It's the wrong crowd to be around, but I grab a chair, ordering a drink and pretend to mind my business. "Do you know where he's gone off to?"

For once, there was no rain covering the kingdom. Sticking to the shadows, they stormed through the cobblestones streets, keeping alert yet boiling with anger. Katyana made a few sharp turns down alleys until they came across a tavern sign plastered across the door. Katyana’s guilds emblem was scratched into the wood underneath it with a few strokes of a blade strewn across it, splintering the carved wood. Katyana twisted the handle and stepped inside, followed closely by Rhae. Their black suits made them hard to see in the dim tavern lights. The place was musky, dirt tracked across the floor and spilled beer staining every table.

Lily ducked into a small, stone tavern, heading down the steps, ducking her head as she went, and they all followed. The tavern was comprised of one small room, with stone floors, and long, well-worn wooden benches. It was crowded and cheery in here, brightly lit by several torches affixed to the walls. There must have been close to a hundred people crammed in, sitting and standing. The mood was jovial. Everyone seem relaxed, as if a great tension had been broken, and most already had a drink in hand.

She quickly ran out of her hiding place, not willing to listen to any more of their talks. The Kingdom of Neba. A local tavern... The loud voices of drunken men and music filled the whole building. A group of men had come into the tavern to celebrate; they bought drinks and surrounded themselves with dancers. The hired entertainers did well to perform their best, hoping to receive a hefty tip which the men didn't disappoint in providing. Pouches of coins were splayed everywhere, and people, both workers and customers alike, picked up some amount.

The place was big and a bit industrial-looking with metal structures and brick walls. It was easily able to take our group and was famous for their flank steak and peach cobbler. I already knew what I was going to order, but Gael wanted to order everything that so much as had ‘steak’ in the title. “Are you ready to order?” asked our waitress, and Missael quickly rattled off an order for everyone before his brothers could get a word in, also ordering for me, but he got the order right, so I was more amused than anything.

She pocketed the keys and then made her way back toward the seedy establishment. As she approached the front door, she realized the tavern's shabby appearance was more of a facade. The wooden surface was painted to look grainy and rotting, likely to deter unwanted visitors. A cheap LED light flickered outside, proclaiming the tavern was "OPEN." The roof and shutters were carelessly painted a streaky black. On the door, she noticed a symbol that hadn't been visible when she had driven past—a rose surrounded by sharp thorns. It was the same design as Lance's tattoo.