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The Firebrand Tavern

DESCRIPTION - LOCATION - PEOPLE - CLIMATE
FLORA - FAUNA - RESOURCES - MYTH/LORE

Description:

The Firebrand is an average-sized, two-story building made primarily out of stone, both outside and inside. A building made out of stone may sound strange, but expert craftsmanship and ample furnishings of wood (both inside and out) give it a feeling of warmth and togetherness not commonly seen in such a building, or in such a location. The exterior is rather carefully designed - several patterns have been chiseled into the rock facing, almost as if they were telling a story through pictographs. The most prominent is the image of a large red dragon stretching across the awning, with what appears to be a humanoid figure on it's back. Although the glyphs are rather crude, they're unique in design and add a certain charm to the aesthetic of the building. Clearly whoever had a hand in building the place wanted their presence and work to be very well documented.

This isn't the case with the interior, however. It's modeled more or less like you would expect a tavern to be - from the moment you walk in the front door, you'll notice a bar on your left, stocked with every kind of alcohol you can imagine (and probably some you can't). A handsome wooden affair with several bar stools sitting up front and large, mirrored shelves behind it displaying available spirits and, for some bizarre reason, several weapons. Most recently added are an oversized b*****d sword, a set of six-shooters, and a samurai's blade - an old, weathered katana. Perhaps they have some sort of deep significance? They certainly have a prominent place in the tavern.

For the people who don't drink, there are plenty of items to chose from when it comes to food and drinks. Although the local gallery of dwarfs may be short, they're excellent cooks, able to prepare most dishes with ease. They largely set their own prices based on cost of food and labor, so if you order something that's not on the menu expect to pay a little extra for it. Still, they're more than welcome to take your order if the need for a waiter or three arises.

The rest of the main floor is left for a fairly standard-looking eating area, although it can be a little bit of a clash of styles. Some tables are made of wood, other of stone, others of metal, and the same can be said for the chairs. However, each one is set up nicely and seems to find it's place. Several of them (much like the walls of the interior) are adorned with different dragons - a few plushes, salt and pepper shakers, and paintings, among other things. One of the more interesting trinkets is a Wanted poster. It seems to feature a young man with short green hair and brown eyes, flashing a peace sign at the camera that took his picture. The price on his head appears as "Name your price," and instead of saying "Dead or Alive" under the Wanted, it simply says "Dead." Judging by the look of it it's a few years old, though. It's framed on the wall, hanging between a set of bokuto. In fact, the inclusion of various weapons (all out of reach or of the non-lethal type, of course) seems to be a common decoration around the walls. Clearly the owner enjoys this sort of thing.

Now, the kitchen is a lively little place opposite the entrance to the tavern; Full of busy dwarfs and the occasional yelling of orders, plenty of clattering and clamoring can be heard as dishes are prepared or cleaned, freezer doors are opened and closed, and steaks simmer on the grill. Only staff is allowed to enter, of course.

To the back of the building, there's a terrace off to the right, a small grassy cliff that rises just high enough above the waters to be comfortable without worry of getting wet... at least, on the calm days. Two stones sit here, seeming to be left for a reason. Gravestones, perhaps? It's too hard to tell due to the lack of names from the intense weathering over the years.

On to the second floor. Up the stairs that reside next to the bar, is a hallway with eight doors, four on each side. They're available to rent, although the first one on the left is permanently taken by the owner. They're a bit sparsely furnished (only a bed, nightstand, a table and a chair), but each one has a window looking over the beach or the ocean (depending on which side you're on) and a small bathroom with a shower / bath combo. It isn't much, but it's enough for a weary traveler who just needs a place to stay for the night.

There's a hatch that opens to the roof, although if you're not careful you'll be locked out with no way back in if you let it close behind you. There's only two ways to get back inside after that - jump two stories down to the less-than-soft sand below, or use the steep, man-made path up the small cliffside to get back to the road. Needless to say, there's a reason the path is man-made.

Location:

Located on a sandy coastline due North of Barton, this average-sized building made of stone and wood is nestled between a shear cliff to it's East and a beach that stretches out for quite the distance to the Southwest. Since it's not a heavily traveled (and somewhat remote) area, the beach tends to remain untouched, often being the witness to various wildlife, including seagulls looking for scraps of food or whatever stray shiny objects may have washed their way onto the beach. Because of it's remote location it is often overlooked - particularly because there is no actual road or path to the building. If one wants to reach it, it's probably best to come on-foot or use a vehicle that has little trouble on sandy terrain.

People:

Known as having something of a reputation for and the occasional barfight, the Firebrand is primarily host to almost all the peoples of Gaia. If it exists, the Firebrand will cater to it - it's part of their staff training, actually. After all, they've had to service everything from cats to giant mounds of pure muscle, so they're prepared for anything. Their primary concern, however, is the host of humans and meta-humans that stop by every day, mostly for their good food and excellent drinks. Dwarfs, in particular, seem very at home, considering that the staff is made almost completely out of their kind with a particularly round and bearded one that wears a viking helmet calling most of the shots.

The bulk of the patrons, however, are either travelers or those on their way home from a long day that are looking for a drink, some people to talk to, and maybe get a glimpse at a few people getting into a brawl - it's said that the place's green-haired bouncer and bartender particularly likes that last part.

Defenses:

In the case that anyone is wild, reckless, or maybe just stupid enough to attack the Firebrand, there are few actual defenses to protect the building. It has, after all, been destroyed twice now. However, most people will testify that attacking the place at this point isn't the best of ideas.

For one, the dwarfs will protect their livelihood (and only source of payment) with... well, not their lives, but until they figure it's just not worth the paycheck.

Second, the large, red, fire-breathing dragon named Ryuji (that is usually completely harmless - kids love to get their pictures taken with him) kicks into action, and it's probably not the best idea to mess with sharp teeth, sharp talons, and jets of fire.

Speaking of which, the final defense is the owner himself - er... owner-slash-bartender-slash-bouncer himself. A strong-willed man who seems rather adamant about making sure the building and, more importantly, the people inside are safe. It's said that he will stop at nothing to protect the people that he cares the most about.

((Grab at another post... just because. You never know when it's going to come in handy.))

A woman's voice, bemused, came falling down from the sky.

"Need some help, Rage?"

Within moments, the speaker was in view, poking her head out over the awning...which she was laying on. Yup. You could tell Owle had been hard at work, supporting her brother at his labors...

Yawning, she scootched over to the side and rolled off, tumbling down in a mess of blue hair and loose fabric; her tiny brown wings were thrown out behind her, motoring in a half-assed attempt to gain a dignified landing.

She landed on her feet, arms thrown out to the side to control the immediate wobbling. Once she was steady, she regarded her brother's handiwork from a vantage point that wasn't directly above it. "Nice..."

She may have been about to say more, when her sharp brown eyes noticed the bandages on Rage's arm. "Hey, what happened? You fall into some nails or something?"

Owle sighed, trying to stifle the laugh bubbling up within her. "You sure you don't want to leave the hammering to me? I could get it done with fewer injuries, you know..."

Of course, she would get it done next year at the slow, steady pace she worked. But she wouldn't hammer her own finger or almost swallow nails like Rage seemed to be doing.

As if to demonstrate, she fished one of the dropped nails out of the sand of the beach, picking up the hammer.

"Man...this'd be easier if it wasn't horizontal..." Strength was not her strong point, and hammers were heavy. Still, she placed a nail and started gently tapping it into place.

Two minutes later...

Owle administered the final tap to the nail, looking quite pleased with herself.

"See? No injuries!" she exclaimed proudly, ignoring the fact that she'd manage to stretch a job that should have taken five seconds into a full two minutes...

Owle pretended she didn't notice the fact that Rage had gotten every other nail in the door in place in the time it had taken her to do one.

"Yeah, I'm starving!" Owle replied. She was, too...she had neglected to eat breakfast when she'd woken up, instead deciding to take a quick run down the beach. It wasn't that she'd suddenly wanted to keep in shape; rather, after all the aches and pains of her pregnancy, she planned to celebrate being able to move without pain.

Gingerly testing the door to make sure it didn't fall down on her, she moved inside, waiting for her brother to do the same. "Are you cooking?"

"Or am I?" she added, with slightly less enthusiasm.

"Yeah," Owle agreed wholeheartedly, making a face. "I don't even want to know what he put in that...the bite I had tasted more like beard than tuna."

She trailed after him, clearly intending to keep him company in the kitchen if not do any work herself. "I'll take anything without a beard in it. Maybe a salad and some soup? Oh! And warm bread to dip in it...I can heat up some bread..."

"No problem," Owle said, a sweater suddenly appearing over her tank top as she ventured into the freezer. "Chicken and steak sounds good..." Her voice came wafting out of the cold. "But I'm going to have to eat something green. Want to stay healthy, and all that."

She emerged quickly with an armful of meat: chicken and steak as he'd requested. She waited for him to take them from her and arrange them on the grill however he liked; just as he didn't want to walk into the freezer, she didn't want to go putting anything directly on top of a fire.

The door swung open and his nose twitched. This place had that new building smell, not only that, someone was cooking something.

Cro had come out of the fight in Latent...relatively unscathed, but for the bandage around a good portion of his midsection where the flying debris had caught him.

Some person had carried him to safety and he'd woken up to a healer patching him up and magiking the worst of the damage. Now all that needed doing was recouping and waiting. Oh...and probably a new job, but he'd worry about that later.

Upon entering, the first thing noticable was how dark the boy was, in our world he might have been taken as Egyptian, which was known to happen when he visited. His features were soft enough to be mistaken as feminine, but the attitude with which he carried himself made it hard to believe that he could be anything but male.

His hair was pitch, short in the back with a few longer strands to the front. Cro's eyes for the moment were covered by sunglasses the colour of aquamarine. He was dressed normally enough, in ripped jeans and an unbuttoned shirt.

He took a seat at the bar and simply waited. That's when his more...unique features would take a sharper light, a short furred, brown tail hung down over the barstool and twitched every now and then at the sting of his wounds, and two fuzzy, feline ears lazily listened to anything going on behind him.