Cobblestone Tavern Novels & Stories

“And dinner is 75 silvers.” “I’ll stay for a night but I need to find a house here by tomorrow,” she said informing the woman. The woman gave her a quick sweeping look and spoke. “You can talk to Golier, the owner of this tavern tomorrow. He comes in for breakfast at seven am.” “Thank you, ma’am” said Adrienne graciously. She opened her purse from her satchel and pulled out three gold coins and gave them to the woman. The fat woman handed her two silver coins and ten bronze coins for change and gave her the key.

The cobblestoned streets were slippery with ice underfoot, and the chimneys in all the houses streamed smoke. I heard the dragon roar and lifted my face to the sky to watch Aurien wing in towards the inner courtyard. Getting a last flight in, I thought, before he became snow-bound by the storm. The tavern was easily found, the light and revelry from within spilling out as a man left. He looked at my company with alarm, glanced over his shoulder at the occupants of the tavern, and then strode away in a hurry, leaving them to their fates. “Stay here,” I told the skeletons. “I don’t think you’ll be welcome within.”

Thorne wasn't just tracking them; he was sweeping the entire grid with an iron broom. Twenty minutes later, the dense pine forest abruptly gave way to an industrial scar in the snow—an abandoned lumber-hub town consisting of corrugated sheet-metal warehouses, rusted sorting machinery half-buried in drifts, and a single, flickering neon sign buzzing above a weathered tavern door. The sign read THE SLICE, its amber letters sputtering against the grey dusk. Noah pushed Leo behind a towering stack of rotting cedar logs just fifty yards from the tavern entrance.

It needed safety. The tavern was small, and full. It sat on lage timber beams, nestled under a withered Elder tree. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and beside the tavern, swinging from rusty old chains, there was a green sign that read—The Tipsy Troll. The scent of spiced meat and stale ale hit my senses as soon as I stepped inside. It was a dimly lit space, with a fire in the hearth that kept the place warm, while murmurs of conversation floated about the room.

By the lack of lighthouses and coastal themed buildings, I could tell we weren’t in Maine anymore. There was a very old looking medieval Tavern sitting directly in front of us. I was in awe because it looked like something straight out of a fantasy novel. The weathered timber and cobblestone that makes up the main structure seemed a bit worn. Chipped stone and peeling paint off the wood gave it quite a charming, quaint feel. The roof, while more modern, still had a thatched appearance and I could see moss making its way across the south corner and down the exterior. Long, leaf covered vines strung the expanse of at least two thirds of the entire building.

"Hmmm... I bet the owner of the store put more effort into writing it rather than thinking the title itself." The tavern was like an 'eat-all-you-can' place. They have to pay 100 gold coins per head if they would like to eat. An additional 50 gold coins if they would like to stay for the night. Audrey pays a total of 250 gold coins. Just enough for food for two and one room in one night. All expenses paid, thanks to Nero and Lee clan's treasury. ~~~ [Well it was such a pity to just let you guys piling up there useless. Come with me and I will put you to good use.]

“Denino’s Pizzeria and Tavern, please.” A broad smile spread across the cab diver’s ebony face. “You got it! Denino’s coming up!” Logan wrapped his arm around me, and I slid against his side as we watched the scenery pass by. But Logan grew strangely quiet. I thought it was probably because of the memories of his childhood, but I had a feeling it was something more than that. A few minutes later, we pulled in front of a rustic, stone building. Logan paid the driver, and then turned to me as we took in the building. “Well, you said ‘no frills’.”

The village seemed to be a harmonious blend of tradition and innovation, with cobalt metal structures rising gracefully from the ocean floor. As they continue, they arrive at their destination, the Serpent's Blood Inn. The inn's architecture is an impressive feat of craftsmanship, crafted entirely from cobalt metal. Its rounded shape resembles a coiled serpent, with the eve designed as the serpent's head and upper jaw. The serpent's eyes, made of glass, gaze enigmatically at all who approach.

Mother popped open her black silk umbrella, holding it over both of us as she guided me toward the neon-lit entrance of the tavern. The sign above the doorway flickered in buzzing blue and crimson neon, spelling out The Cracked Tusk. Two massive bouncers who looked like they had been dishonorably discharged from the pack guard years ago stood under the dripping awning. They narrowed their eyes at us as we approached. Our designer coats, silk dresses, and the unmistakable scent of high-ranking noble blood stood out in this gutter like a splash of blood on white snow. One of them shifted his weight, preparing to step into our path.

They say that these stones are sacred to sun dragons, but since there are no longer any sun dragons in the world, they are more like pretty ornaments than anything else. The tavern is packed when I arrive. Customers are milling around the bar, some already deep in their cups although the breakfast gruel is only now being served. Many of them may have never sobered up from the night before, not an unusual occurrence for Emerald Cove where the drinks flow freely and a party can be found at any point in the day. Swirling around a brawling group of men, I stride gracefully to the bar, approaching the owner, a large half-ogre named Gusto who makes the best potato hash this side of the Ruby River