Fabled Tavern Novels & Stories

I knew a single strike wouldn't kill a wolf that size, but tearing his flesh would ease the burning rage in my gut. I dropped a piece of bloody meat into my mouth and chewed slowly, letting the copper taste fill my tongue while I watched the Ranger drink his brew. Ignorance is bliss for a doomed wolf. These bastards thought they owned the mountain, but their world was about to burn to the ground, and they couldn't even smell the smoke. After the strained dinner, Corwin guided me down the muddy track toward the Silver Fang Tavern, which the old-timers still called the Night Captain. Before Zuberi took the territory, this old tavern belonged to one of the ancient founding lines of the valley.

he asked me back. I shook my head as I continued to look into his eyes. “The local people here call it “Unmei no akai ito”. According to legend, the gods tie an invisible red thread to the pinky finger of two people who are bound to find each other in life. They will love each other no matter what and only death can do them part.” He looked at my hand and held my pinky finger. His eyes then back to mine. “I didn't believe in fate and love at first sight, but now I believe because I've been in love with you from the first time I saw you,” he said in a soft voice.

She breathed out as she glimpsed the glow on the map. Their ears- the other occupants in the room- perked up as soon as she said it. “Juleswitch,” Maya muttered circling the location that was now glowing yellow. “Jensen!" Ellen growled. “You know there?” Sparkles implored. Ellen nodded and grimaced. “It's a large infirmary owned by the devil himself, and it's inside the woods of East Vale. It's more like a slaughterhouse and that is where he often creates his armies.”

Ignatia called, and the four phoenixes, with a great sweep of their wings, took off to the sky. Aelanor watched their forms fade, then tucked the feather in the scrip she was carrying. Her companions had already turned towards the door of the tavern, which made the bell tinkle as they move inside. The tavern was in half shadow, rows of seaters almost filled. A delicious blend of aroma wafted towards them, meat and stews and ale. Too exhausted from their flight, the group felt sleepy and hungry, and hastened to find a table for themselves.

The lady laughed at his foolish conclusions, and swayed the black fringes of hair that the wind blew to her face. "As if you'd cost that much. It's still me, tch. You've seen Anne alter her hair colour, it's no different." Her voice remain the same, and finally Tristan breathed a sigh of relief. "No different she says. You magic users are scary." Serina toon another steps towards the well-lighted gate where lies beyond a huge mansion that was long since converted into a lavish gambling establishment. She spoke once again, "It's a Clandestine Tavern, if you happen to bump into a familiar place, do not present yourself. Just ignore them and so will they."

I nod in agreement even though it's a lie knowing there is no way of winning this argument. Lira smiles at me, patting my shoulder before she stops in front of a small wooden building. The tavern looks entirely out of place, surrounded by all the stone buildings and the castle walls. "It may not look like much, but the ale is good, and the people are friendly. It used to be owned by Draco Fullard, a nasty son of a bitch. But he got what was coming to him. The nephew he used to beat, before someone made a deal for the kid, came back a few years ago and challenged him for the place and his life. Draco had no chance. The kid had doubled in size since he last saw him, and Draco, the cocky asshol

I asked, “to be a great king?” # NOLAN The tavern they stopped at on the last night of their trip was a local haunt. The place was poorly lit and smelled like wood rot and mildew. But that only made it feel familiar, like one of the centuries-old taverns tucked away in the forest towns of the werewolf kingdom. Nolan hoped this might be the one night of their honeymoon that they could get away with not being photographed. The place was supposed to be secluded. A hidden gem. As luck would have it, the tavern had an unfortunate gimmick.

"Come." One tavern came to mind. The Rapier Pub. A giant mural of a rapier sword graffitied onto the side of the building. Not far from the port or Elijah's tailor shop. I frequented it when we came into the dock. Whenever I decided to come ashore, which was rare.

Black and scaly with a beak full of jagged sharp teeth. In the distance a child cried, the sound cutting through the bleak night, as the moon shone down on quiet streets. I made my way across town to Sapiens, an old tavern that still operated on the outskirts of Briarshire. An establishment that had been passed down through generations and had even withstood the great Lycan wars from two and a half centuries ago. With my enhanced hearing I could make out the lowly chatter of patrons and the giggles coming from the women who worked there. It was a bar, but it also doubled as a bordello house.

I would see Kael, the boy who used to share his bread with me, staring at the sky with eyes that would never see the Southern Foothills again. I walked until the grey rock turned to scrub brush, and the scrub brush turned to pine. I walked until my boots were no longer treading on history, but on common dirt. The Ghost of the Road Three days later, I found a tavern on the edge of the neutral territories. It was a low-slung, miserable building called The Hearth's End. It smelled of stale ale and woodsmoke, a scent so mundane it made my eyes sting. I sat in the darkest corner, my hood pulled low. My gloves were back on, hiding the scars, hiding the blood that no amount of scrubbing could truly