The bar is made of sturdy oak, well worn with use, and behind it an impressive array of bottles and jars stock the shelves. The wood seems to have a faint glow, as if it were imbued with a subtle enchantment. Four taps are lined up in a row, each labeled with a different type of ale, some still dripping with the rich aroma of hops and barley. At the end of the bar is a pile of gifts stacked three feet high. A massive half-orc is sitting at the bar, his broad shoulders hunched forward as he leans over a tankard of beer on the counter, his dark eyes constantly scanning his surroundings, taking everything in.
The taps seem to be crafted with great care and attention to detail, the work of master artisans. They gleam with a metallic sheen, catching the light in a way that seems almost magical. There are four taps in total, each with a different handle indicating a different type of ale or beer. The first tap is labeled “Bugbear Ale,” a strong ale that some gullible fools believe is actually made from real bugbears, instead of by them. The second tap is labeled “Elven Mead,” a sweet mead imported from the elven forests. The third tap is labeled “Dwarven Stout,” a dark and rich breakfast stout favored by dwarves. The fourth tap is missing its handle…
A pile of gifts has been stacked on the end of the bar, a testament to the adoration of Auberon and to the popularity of his birthday. As you gaze upon them, you sense a peculiar magical energy emanating from the stack, as if one or more might hold some great secret. Some of the gifts say who they’re from but others lack any such identification. One such gift catches your eye. It’s a small box made of driftwood with no name and no discernable way to open it.
You slowly approach the half-orc at the bar. His bulging muscles and thick, coarse hair do little to settle your nerves, not to mention the great axe he has fastened to his back, a weapon that looks like it’s seen its fair share of battles. The green-skinned warrior turns towards you, baring his sharpened teeth, but instead of a snarl or a growl you’re greeted with the hearty laughter of a now grinning half-orc!
“Oh! Magic fighter! Sit with Thogg. Thogg like magic! Magic funny!”
Despite his imposing appearance, Thogg’s demeanor is surprisingly jovial, and he speaks in a deep, rumbling voice that carries a sense of relaxation.
“Come. You want drink with Thogg? Thogg drink two if you not want. Thogg always drink when sad. Thogg always drink when happy too, but… now Thogg sad. Thogg not understand. Auberon very strong. Not strong like Thogg, but strong. How Auberon could die from mead?
Long time ago, Thogg bad guy. Thogg try kill Auberon, Auberon try kill Thogg. Jhogg, Thogg brother, also try kill Auberon, but Auberon kill Jhogg. Was great fight, legendary fight! Jhogg happy to die like warrior. After big times fighting, Thogg see Auberon in tavern. We have drink and be friends. Auberon great warrior, maybe not happy to die from mead.
Why someone kill Auberon? Thogg think gold. Always battle about gold in this land. Not like home. Thogg no care for gold! Singing elf love gold. Singing elf not a warrior, no honor, just sing. Sing dumb song and play dumb stick. Thogg no like. Maybe Thogg kill singing elf? Hmm, maybe more drink first.”
