Sociable Tavern Novels & Stories

Bari didn’t ask any further questions and led the group towards the tavern that was written on the scroll ‘Green Serpent Tavern’. Unlike the taverns in the other parts of the kingdom, this one reflected the true lifestyle of the gipsy where drinking was only one of the activities. There were performers, gamblers and even sporting events like blind-folded archery with live targets. “Do we have a name for the one you want to meet?” Bari asked in a low voice as they neared the tavern.

When I felt confident my horse would be well taken care of, I led Sage to the tavern entrance. It smelled like spilled beer and a hot meal, with a little livestock undertone. The tavern was far less bright than the sunny day outside, but it was hardly dim. There were tons of bodies moving like blood through veins inside the tavern, and I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the interior. "Well, you rat bastard, how dare you show your face here?"

Asher The tavern smelled like old Rogues and fresh blood. It was the kind of place that never saw daylight, being wedged between crumbling stone deep in the less wealthy edge of the capital. No banners here. No royal colors. Just soot-stained wood, a haze of smoke from cheap cigars, and a bartender who asked no questions so long as the coin was good. It was perfect. I sat in a corner booth shrouded in shadow, one boot braced against the edge of the table, the other foot planted firmly on the sticky floorboards.

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.

Aakifahlynn ordered a drink and looked around. The place was at its usual pace. A few businessmen were here and there, and a few couples were having dinner. A band playing music to the left. The waiter returned with her scotch on the rocks. Aakifahlynn thanked him and continued her assessment of the Tavern. The decor was one of class and an ambiance of romance. An establishment like this is frequented by those considered high society citizens. Aakifahlynn soon realized the waiter was still staring at her, "Is something the matter?"

The Corner Booth Reckoning The neon sign of The Rusty Anchor flickered fitfully, casting an oily green glow over the scarred wooden booth where Avery and Garrison had sat nearly every Thursday for the last six years. It was a loud, unpretentious dive bar tucked away in the lower grid of Manhattan—the exact opposite of Vivian’s sterile penthouse. Avery sat with her hands wrapped tightly around a cold mug of draft beer, her knuckles white. She hadn’t touched a drop.

For the bartender, who had been shooting uneasy looks his way, he could not wait to be done drinking so the ominous ambiance inside his tavern would be gone. This was originally a joyful tavern, until a man as big as a giant came in one day, and never left. It had been a week and he would not stop drinking. The tavern slowly lost its joyful noise at night and the customers slowly dissolved, all because of the man at the corner.

In fact, it makes Cass look a little vanilla. I glance at Abby in the rearview mirror, wondering if she’ll be a little freaked out by the vibe. But there’s no backing out now. “Ready to go see Aunt Cass, sweetie?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light. Abby nods enthusiastically. “Ready!” We step inside, and immediately, one of the servers—a guy with a full sleeve of tattoos and piercings in his lips, ears, and brows—greets us with a wide smile. “Hey there! Welcome to Punk Brew. What can I get you two lovely ladies today?”

Holding his head higher and puffing on his chest. “It’s none of your business how I got here. Now, if you aren’t going to order a drink, I have others to attend to.” He muttered. “Very well, I’ll take an ale. Actually, make it a double I have time to kill.” With a nod, he turned and grabbed two steins. Filling them before placing them before me. I handed him two gold coins. He grabbed them, stuffing them in his apron before moving on to the next person at the bar. I shifted from the bar and headed to a table at the far end of the tavern. Far away from prying eyes as I watched people come and go. The tavern was dark, the flames of the fire were burning hot, and the lights above dimmed. The wo

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.