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One of the most popular joints in the city, the White Candle Tavern (known to its fans as the WC) is a very reputable establishment on the second level of the city. The decor is clean and polished, with a French-styled interior this year. (Every year the tavern chooses a different theme; last year it was Korean and the year before Mayan) Several sturdy iron chandeliers keep the place well-lit and the service is usually quite good. Bar fights are discouraged, though they do occur rarely.

The WC's specialty is an elven ale dubbed "Black Cat" that will light a fire in your throat and settle into your stomach for the long run. They serve a wide selection of beers and wines and have one of the best whiskey and vodka selections in all of the elven realm. They also have a selection of non-alcoholic drinks including several varieties of non-alcoholic mead and various fruit concoctions.

The waiters and waitresses, of which there are at least seven working at any given time, are currently dressed in French costume with high wigs and overdone makeup. The bartender is dressed as King Louis XIV, though the majority of visitors don't know who that is. The poor bartender doesn't know either.

In addition to alcohol, the WC serves several basic meats and vegetables which you can basically have roasted or in a stew and that's it. But their roasting techniques are fantastic, particularly the corn.

Part of the WC's popularity is due to the fact that the owner's fairy is an Ice element who prepares ice cubes, a rare treat for anyone who doesn't possess freezing skills. The owner is currently Jovi Baen who comes by about once a week to make sure things are running smoothly. The cleaning staff are slaves, and about half of the waiters and waitresses. The other half and the bartender are mostly free humans, with one crossbreed cat/human waitress.

Things have gotten a bit more hectic with the festival on, but the staff is coping fairly well with the influx of people, though on busy nights there may be as much as a fifteen minute wait to be seated. (Several elves find this inacceptable, of course.) All species are welcome provided they have enough shiny coinage. The WC only accepts trade goods from merchants and traders registered with the tavern.

Alcion watched each of her movements like a curious child, visibly a little amazed at all the different things he had never seem before, as he rarely headed out of his father's residence. Now this was something you'll never learn from a book, for sure.

He took the vial when it was handed to him, and clasped it securely on his belt.

"Thank you, ill be sure to tell her... This was incredibly kind of you, miss Spade, and I am extremely grateful. If there anything I could do for you, please ask..."

...But then the last question hit him.

Where was Tessa... ?

...In a lovely assortment of elven curses, Alcion got up.

"Tessa ! She is waiting for me at the area ! Im sorry, but I believe I really need to be going... She's probably already waiting for me..."

He tore a page from his sketchbook, and scribbled down an address.

"This is where Tessa and I are lodging for the festival... If you need anything, be sure to tell me, allright ?" He smiled. "Thank you, again, but i better get going !"

With a last wave, Alcion was out of the inn, wandering the streets to the area...

Miranda entered the tavern, her hand on Aleric's arm as if afraid he would run... or fall down. He was somewhat better from right after the fight, but not enough.

She headed for the servant nearest her, motioning airily. "We need a table. And food, please."

"Yes, mi'lady." The servant said, leading them to one of the tables in the back. Miranda moved, helping Aleric sit, even though the large bear didn't seem to need any help already.

"How are you feeling?" She asked as she slipped into the chair across from him.

"I don't think I should drink." He muttered in reply. Too much blood loss mixed with alcohol... It's not... an intelligent thing."

"Then we'll get you a mead." She replied calmly, looking him over with an appraising eye. "You've done well this last week."

He grunted, bringing his arm up to show the scars from the first fight. "I'm not a warrior."

"But you're close to becoming one." She replied, not disagreeing.

"If I don't get myself killed first." He replied, shrugging. "I came close today." He reached up, fingering the scar left from the burning.

"But you didn't. And that's all that matters." She replied, almost brisquely. "You're a strong fighter, good lines, good power. Stamina. You'll make it to the top."

He grinted, looking up as a waiter came by and ordering his meal. She followed suit, looking thoughtful.

"Please, play for us, young bard." Miranda called, smiling slightly. She had dragged the bear in for yet another night of food, hoping he would be revived for a fight the next day. "My friend here needs to have his spirits lifted."

Aleric grunted, taking a drink of fruit juice before glancing at the bard Miranda was speaking to. He gave a slight smile. "I would appreciate it." He said softly.

Miranda smirked, watching as Aleric choked on his drink. "What a fascinating song." She said, digging through her things and tossing the bard a piece of gold. "I'm sure he appreciated it."

"I'll never look at a mermaid the same again." Was all Aleric said, his tone dry. "I picked up some cash from the fights, can I treat you to a drink?" He asked, standing.

Miranda said nothing, but she inwardly fumed at being abandoned so easily. Mostly she worried that if he wore himself out on... diversion... he might not have as much energy as he should in a fight.

He nodded, motioning towards one of the more quiet tables, then motioning to the bar for two drinks. When he had gotten the drinks he headed for the table, placing them down and waiting for her to sit.

"I'll be fighting again tomorrow." He said as he pulled her chair out for her. He wasn't trying to flirt, actually, just knew it was considered good manners.

Aleric nodded. "She is." There was a tiny hesitation before he went on. "She's... good at what she does." And it was true. She evaluated warriors as well as he did and in half the time. It was almost scary. But he wasn't sure how much he liked her cold blooded criticism.

"How are you enjoying the festival?" He asked, taking a drink.

Miranda had already found a new group to talk with, some of the younger males from the betting boxes. She smirked slightly, looking them over for a second. Too young, too young... that one preferred males... not enough stamina... Hmm.... Was that a cross dresser? How amusing!

"I'd tell you, boys, but a lady never reveals her... secrets." She finally said, smirking directly at the crossdresser. This was almost as entertaining as winning!

"What if we bought you a drink?"

"I won't stop you from trying."

He shrugged. "Being a fighter comes with risks." He replied, watching her for a second. What could he say? Sure, the fighting is fine, but I'm a little pissed that the reason I came here in the first place isn't working out? That would consist of whining.

"I am... learning as well." Was what he settled for. "And gaining a few more scars." His tone said it wasn't that bad of a thing. A fighter with no scars was a questionable creature. Because no matter how good one got, there was always the training it took to get there.