Fabled Tavern Novels & Stories

"Though I doubt you called me out in the freezing cold just to eat." "There is a small tavern just past the stone bridge," Charles said, gesturing toward a timber building with a glowing rune sign. "The FSB Lodge. They serve marrow-broth buns stuffed with mountain crab. I suspect you haven't had a proper meal since the audit began." We entered the warm, dimly lit tavern. The innkeeper recognized Charles instantly, bowing low before leading us into a private, rune-shielded alcove overlooking the frosted riverbank. Within minutes, a steaming bamboo basket and two clay bowls were set on the low oak table.

Countless gazes were fixed on them as the crowd whispered among themselves. James and Yemima paid no heed to the whispers and simply entered the city. Then, they headed toward a tavern. There was a unique tavern in the center of Doom City—Chaos Tavern. It was a tavern that belonged to the Dooms and was only open to powerful figures. Chaos Tavern was divided into nine floors. To reach a certain floor, one must have reached the equivalent stage. One must have crossed into the Quasi Acme Rank to reach the ninth floor. Rumors said that there was a unique passage on the ninth floor, in which a small world was hidden. The small world was created by the Doom Race.

The bell at the entrance rang as they entered, the coldness of the Assyria district's unique reinforced concrete was concealed by the dim lights and the secular atmosphere of the tavern. Frank felt like he had entered a different world. He had never been to a place like this before. Oriel swiftly found the reserved seat at the bar and patted the empty space beside her. It was then that Frank noticed a faint dimple on her cheek. "This place specializes in Cuban cuisine, Mr. Wilson. How about letting me order for you? You shouldn't miss the Cuban delicacy, deep-fried starfish." Oriel didn't even need to look at the menu. She directly ordered a few dishes by name from the bartender, clearly a r

I ran my hands over my now visible baby bump and smiled as I thought of all he had done in our six weeks travel through the kingdom. My home kingdom had been the last one we visited, and after all the work we had done to gain acceptance from my people and establish local councils made up of fae from all the kingdoms had paid off. We now stood outside of the place called Exordia on the ancient maps my birth parents had given Aro. It looked extraordinarily well maintained for a place that had existed since the time before the kingdoms had split. I could feel the magic that pulsed through the place and knew, as long as the interior were as well preserved, this would be the place we would call o

People speak of legends and myths like they were just stories worthy to pass off to others that some ended up looking for proof on the make-believe the world had conjured up to invoke the right of humanity to carve the very first story and not some god or goddess of far away imagination. “You must have a screw lose in that head of yers,” he chuckled at the other with a shake of his head as he placed another bottle of alcohol in front of him. “Have another one. Your wits are not yet still with you.” The other let out a snort-not insulted at what was said. “No thank you. It would seem that I wouldn’t need another as my wits are slowly returning to me.” He then turned his head to look at the ot

Rhae bit her lip and slid off the bed, "sure, that sounds like fun, just let me get changed." Ambrose smiled and stood, "I'll send in your helper with clothes." Ambrose turned and strode out of the room. After she had gotten dressed, Ambrose led her out of the palace and through the city streets. The city lamps had been lit, reflecting off the golden surface of the palace, lighting up the city beautifully. The nightlife was just as bustling as the city during the day, with Fae moving through the streets. Ambrose led her by the hand to a brightly lit tavern, with the inside filled with laughter and music. Many of the round tables were filled with Fae playing some type of games with tiles and

CHAPTER 93 ONYX'S POV; I rarely visited the tavern. People from the royal family never really did and it was an unspoken rule. The tavern was strictly for peasants and royals. Going into the tavern was like stooping low to mingle with common people. But this evening, it didn't matter to me. I was tired of drinking alone and not getting drunk and the tavern was famous for selling drinks that could make the strongest of Lycans drunk to stupor. Though I hadn't believed the whole rumor, I believed that they could make a mixture of alcohol that could make any man beyond drunk.

"I hope you don't mind my intrusion Mister Tsao, but Since I've been asked to act as a witness of this deal made in good faith I need to make sure you're not being extorted or blackmailed into this deal. Why would you agree on such terms?" "What do you mean Mister Ironwoods?" "Don't get me wrong, but I don't see what everyone sees about the tavern. It's in a nice spot, but even if you invest on it you won't make much out of it. Most people eat on their houses, there are no travelers during winter and even when we have people around they prefer to stay at the brothel" "If i win the bet, I'll get a tavern for free" The mayor says awkwardly. I'm not liking the direction in which this conversati

She found a message from Moses. Duck and cover. There was a link to something on YouTube. Frowning, she loaded the video. As soon as it filled her screen, her fingers tightened on the phone. "Oh shit." * * * To Athena's mind, some disasters unequivocally merited getting shit-faced. As it happened, there were only two places to get drunk in Eden's Ridge. Elvira's Tavern catered to the respectable crowd, the nice folks who rarely indulged enough to start a bar fight. As it was also where Kennedy worked as a bartender, and as Athena had absolutely no intention of talking this shit out with her sisters, it was automatically off the table.

She stopped abruptly, her gaze fixed on a weathered wooden sign hanging above a dimly lit tavern. “The Rusty Nail,” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. The Rusty Nail. A notorious gambling den, a place where fortunes were won and lost in the blink of an eye. Dread coiled around my heart. This wasn’t the Annalisa I knew, the one who wouldn’t touch a deck of cards with a ten-foot pole.