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Description
Becoming the Proprietor

If anyone from my former life saw me now their first question would be, how? How is it the daughter of one of the most powerful human archmages in the world ended up living on the street,or more accurately under a bridge? Now I won’t bore you with the long sad story of my childhood, suffice it to say I was a constant disappointment to my father. I didn’t inherit his level or control of the arkane. I struggled and studied everyday just to master the basics. My powers equate to no more than party tricks. So upon his death instead of receiving the family inheritance, one that had been passed down through a hundred generations of the Dovana family, I received an eviction notice.

My father, in his infinite wisdom and unbenounced to me, made the decision that his ward and apprentice Brode Rothgard would make a more fitting beneficiary. No sooner was my father in the ground than I was summoned by the new Lord of the manor. Borde saw no reason to keep me around in what was now is home, so I was summarily dismissed from the estate and put out on the street.

I bounced around from family friend to family friend but in each instance I quickly wore out my welcome. I lasted the longest at my most recent accommodations, The Skull Breaker Inn. The place is owned and run by a goliath named Greth. In my father's younger days he had hired Greth as a freelance adventurer and the two of them had traveled from one side of the world to the other together.

Now Greth is much more than your average goliath. Not only is he a huge mountain of a man but smarter than every goliath I have ever met put together. He has a head for business. I know it sounds like an oxymoron, a goliath businessman, but as soon as his escapades with my father had earned him enough coin he built and opened the Skull Cracker Inn. Within 6 months he was turning a profit. Helped in no small part by the illegal casino he ran in the basement. Hey I said he was a businessman, I never said he was legitimate.

When I arrived on the doorstep of the inn 6 months ago he took me in. On their last job together he and my father got into a little trouble and my father ended up saving his life so out of loyalty he gave me a room. But loyalty only goes so far. I still don’t know what straw it was that broke the camel's back, all I did was go down to the bar and ask for a drink but Greth flipped out.

“That's it. You’re DONE!”

And without so much as a by your leave the goliath innkeeper picked me up by the belt and waistband of my breeches and proceeded to carry me across the tavern to the front door, my feet dangling a good foot of the ground. I tried to reason with him the best I could but from that angle I was at a bit of a disadvantage.

“Come on Greth, I just want a drink. You know I’m good for it.”

This seemed to strike a funny bone in the man because he let out a hearty gafa.
“I know nothing of the sort girl. You are a drunk, degenerate gambler who has lost more gold at the tables than you could ever hope to pay back. Even if you literally stumbled upon a dragon's hoard. I’ve only suffered your debts this long out of respect for your late father but NO MORE!”

With a small grunt of effort Greth kicked the front door open and unceremoniously threw me into the muddy street, during the middle of the worst thunderstorm so far this season. I struggled back to my feet in the slick footing and with the cleansing help of the torrential downpour attempted to wipe the worst of the mud off my face.

“Greth, buddy… Come on it’s pouring out here. If you want me gone I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

I tried to maneuver past him and back to the door but I was stopped dead in my tracks by the look in his eyes. No longer the eyes of the good natured businessman I’d come to know over the past few months. These were the eyes of a goliath only a drop of blood away from a full rage.

“No, you’re out. If you were anyone else I would have broken your legs before throwing you out, be grateful for small favors. Don’t try coming back here, even for a drink, unless you can settle up IN FULL.”

“No problem. How much do I owe you?”

“Thirty two hundred gold.”

I let out a slow whistle and tried to wrap my head around how I could have ended up owing so much.

“Yeah I guess it was a bad couple of nights at the tables.”

“Try a bad couple of weeks. The debt I owed your father is cleared. Go on Morac, just get out of here.”

Without another word Greth turned his back on me and walked back inside.

I yelled after him, “What about my…”

And before I could even finish my question my pack came rocketing out the front door, knocking the air from my lungs as it connected like a lance to my chest and landed me ass first back into the muddy bog masquerading as a street.

So now I’m here. Under this old rickety bridge on the edge of the city, coveting what little relief it offers from the constant barrage of rain, and pondering my next move. Greth had been the last of the family friends. No one left to mooch off of, and if that wasn’t bad enough the rain is getting to my journal and it’s making the ink start to run. So I’m done for the night, maybe if the find a dryer spot I’ll pull my quill out again but I doubt it. I’d be surprised if there is a dry spot left in the city after this tempest.

They say hope springs eternal. What they don’t tell you is that it actually comes from a spring. Or at least mine did.

It’s been a week since I left the city of Arenum, it’s taken that long to let the pages of my journal dry out. It rained for another two days after my restless night under the bridge. I decided that as long as I was going to be wet anyway I might as well be wet and moving so the morning after my last entry I set out for Drenar, the main commercial city on the coast. It was the third day of walking that broke with a cloudless crystal blue dawn making travel exponentially more enjoyable. I managed to walk for another few days before my canteen finally ran dry halfway across the wide arid expanse of the Jarnan valley. It took half a day of wondering before I finally found a trickle of water running down an old dry creek bed, and the rest of it to follow the snaking creak back upstream to it’s source. But the vista was well worth it. Before me I gazed upon a picturesque pond at the base of a cascading waterfall surrounded on all sides by a dense canopy of evergreens. After a day without water it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

I had just bent down at the edge of the pond to fill my canteen when the thought crossed my mind, now that I had water all I to do was find a place to bed down for the night. A rustle in the trees caught my attention so I looked up and there it was, a building.. no a tavern, nestled into the woods on the opposite side of the pond. It had just appeared there in the blink of an eye. I screwed the cap back onto the canteen and cautiously made my way over to the strange building. The first thing I noticed was a note nailed to the front door.

Dear Morac,
I was deeply saddened to hear about what your father did right before his passing, depriving you of your inheritance. There isn’t a lot I can do for you from where I am but I can give you this. This is The Tavern. I acquired it on one of my first adventures so very long ago as payment for an exceedingly dangerous job. It is not an ordinary building, it has been imbued with the arkane. The magic performed here in essence gave the building a conciseness. It’s not alive but it lives. Take care of it and it will in turn take care of you.

There is a lot I could tell you about this place but half the fun of an adventure is discovering it’s secrets for yourself. I will tell you this however. When exiting all you need do it think of a place and when you open the front door you will find yourself there. The same is true to return. Just think of the Tavern and any door you open will bring you back. So go little one. Go have that epic adventure you always dreamed about.

All my love,
G Da

P.S. The Tavern will grow as needed so don’t be afraid to make a few friends along the way. There will always be enough room.

Now if a magic building appearing out of thin air wasn’t enough the signature on the note was another impossibility to add to the list. G Da. It was the pet name I had for my grandfather when i was a little girl. He was a great man, who died of natural causes over 20 years ago. I put that thought away to be analyzed at a later date and walked inside….

So now I’m here, standing behind what I guess is my new bar. The place is empty, gonna need to find some furniture, and there is a thick layer of dust on every flat surface visible, but somehow I know I’m home. Let the ass kissing Brode Rothgard have the Manor and the estate. I’ve got The Tavern, and somehow I’ve got the nagging suspicion that I’m going to end up having way more fun.

Description
Becoming the Proprietor

If anyone from my former life saw me now their first question would be, how? How is it the daughter of one of the most powerful human archmages in the world ended up living on the street,or more accurately under a bridge? Now I won’t bore you with the long sad story of my childhood, suffice it to say I was a constant disappointment to my father. I didn’t inherit his level or control of the arkane. I struggled and studied everyday just to master the basics. My powers equate to no more than party tricks. So upon his death instead of receiving the family inheritance, one that had been passed down through a hundred generations of the Dovana family, I received an eviction notice.

My father, in his infinite wisdom and unbenounced to me, made the decision that his ward and apprentice Brode Rothgard would make a more fitting beneficiary. No sooner was my father in the ground than I was summoned by the new Lord of the manor. Borde saw no reason to keep me around in what was now is home, so I was summarily dismissed from the estate and put out on the street.

I bounced around from family friend to family friend but in each instance I quickly wore out my welcome. I lasted the longest at my most recent accommodations, The Skull Breaker Inn. The place is owned and run by a goliath named Greth. In my father's younger days he had hired Greth as a freelance adventurer and the two of them had traveled from one side of the world to the other together.

Now Greth is much more than your average goliath. Not only is he a huge mountain of a man but smarter than every goliath I have ever met put together. He has a head for business. I know it sounds like an oxymoron, a goliath businessman, but as soon as his escapades with my father had earned him enough coin he built and opened the Skull Cracker Inn. Within 6 months he was turning a profit. Helped in no small part by the illegal casino he ran in the basement. Hey I said he was a businessman, I never said he was legitimate.

When I arrived on the doorstep of the inn 6 months ago he took me in. On their last job together he and my father got into a little trouble and my father ended up saving his life so out of loyalty he gave me a room. But loyalty only goes so far. I still don’t know what straw it was that broke the camel's back, all I did was go down to the bar and ask for a drink but Greth flipped out.

“That's it. You’re DONE!”

And without so much as a by your leave the goliath innkeeper picked me up by the belt and waistband of my breeches and proceeded to carry me across the tavern to the front door, my feet dangling a good foot of the ground. I tried to reason with him the best I could but from that angle I was at a bit of a disadvantage.

“Come on Greth, I just want a drink. You know I’m good for it.”

This seemed to strike a funny bone in the man because he let out a hearty gafa.
“I know nothing of the sort girl. You are a drunk, degenerate gambler who has lost more gold at the tables than you could ever hope to pay back. Even if you literally stumbled upon a dragon's hoard. I’ve only suffered your debts this long out of respect for your late father but NO MORE!”

With a small grunt of effort Greth kicked the front door open and unceremoniously threw me into the muddy street, during the middle of the worst thunderstorm so far this season. I struggled back to my feet in the slick footing and with the cleansing help of the torrential downpour attempted to wipe the worst of the mud off my face.

“Greth, buddy… Come on it’s pouring out here. If you want me gone I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

I tried to maneuver past him and back to the door but I was stopped dead in my tracks by the look in his eyes. No longer the eyes of the good natured businessman I’d come to know over the past few months. These were the eyes of a goliath only a drop of blood away from a full rage.

“No, you’re out. If you were anyone else I would have broken your legs before throwing you out, be grateful for small favors. Don’t try coming back here, even for a drink, unless you can settle up IN FULL.”

“No problem. How much do I owe you?”

“Thirty two hundred gold.”

I let out a slow whistle and tried to wrap my head around how I could have ended up owing so much.

“Yeah I guess it was a bad couple of nights at the tables.”

“Try a bad couple of weeks. The debt I owed your father is cleared. Go on Morac, just get out of here.”

Without another word Greth turned his back on me and walked back inside.

I yelled after him, “What about my…”

And before I could even finish my question my pack came rocketing out the front door, knocking the air from my lungs as it connected like a lance to my chest and landed me ass first back into the muddy bog masquerading as a street.

So now I’m here. Under this old rickety bridge on the edge of the city, coveting what little relief it offers from the constant barrage of rain, and pondering my next move. Greth had been the last of the family friends. No one left to mooch off of, and if that wasn’t bad enough the rain is getting to my journal and it’s making the ink start to run. So I’m done for the night, maybe if the find a dryer spot I’ll pull my quill out again but I doubt it. I’d be surprised if there is a dry spot left in the city after this tempest.

They say hope springs eternal. What they don’t tell you is that it actually comes from a spring. Or at least mine did.

It’s been a week since I left the city of Arenum, it’s taken that long to let the pages of my journal dry out. It rained for another two days after my restless night under the bridge. I decided that as long as I was going to be wet anyway I might as well be wet and moving so the morning after my last entry I set out for Drenar, the main commercial city on the coast. It was the third day of walking that broke with a cloudless crystal blue dawn making travel exponentially more enjoyable. I managed to walk for another few days before my canteen finally ran dry halfway across the wide arid expanse of the Jarnan valley. It took half a day of wondering before I finally found a trickle of water running down an old dry creek bed, and the rest of it to follow the snaking creak back upstream to it’s source. But the vista was well worth it. Before me I gazed upon a picturesque pond at the base of a cascading waterfall surrounded on all sides by a dense canopy of evergreens. After a day without water it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

I had just bent down at the edge of the pond to fill my canteen when the thought crossed my mind, now that I had water all I to do was find a place to bed down for the night. A rustle in the trees caught my attention so I looked up and there it was, a building.. no a tavern, nestled into the woods on the opposite side of the pond. It had just appeared there in the blink of an eye. I screwed the cap back onto the canteen and cautiously made my way over to the strange building. The first thing I noticed was a note nailed to the front door.

Dear Morac,
I was deeply saddened to hear about what your father did right before his passing, depriving you of your inheritance. There isn’t a lot I can do for you from where I am but I can give you this. This is The Tavern. I acquired it on one of my first adventures so very long ago as payment for an exceedingly dangerous job. It is not an ordinary building, it has been imbued with the arkane. The magic performed here in essence gave the building a conciseness. It’s not alive but it lives. Take care of it and it will in turn take care of you.

There is a lot I could tell you about this place but half the fun of an adventure is discovering it’s secrets for yourself. I will tell you this however. When exiting all you need do it think of a place and when you open the front door you will find yourself there. The same is true to return. Just think of the Tavern and any door you open will bring you back. So go little one. Go have that epic adventure you always dreamed about.

All my love,
G Da

P.S. The Tavern will grow as needed so don’t be afraid to make a few friends along the way. There will always be enough room.

Now if a magic building appearing out of thin air wasn’t enough the signature on the note was another impossibility to add to the list. G Da. It was the pet name I had for my grandfather when i was a little girl. He was a great man, who died of natural causes over 20 years ago. I put that thought away to be analyzed at a later date and walked inside….

So now I’m here, standing behind what I guess is my new bar. The place is empty, gonna need to find some furniture, and there is a thick layer of dust on every flat surface visible, but somehow I know I’m home. Let the ass kissing Brode Rothgard have the Manor and the estate. I’ve got The Tavern, and somehow I’ve got the nagging suspicion that I’m going to end up having way more fun.