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The Bar

  • What's one more pint...

    A rather barren and abandoned looking space, what few wooden table that have not been flipped or broken are coated in dust and strange stains, the only light source by candlelight chandeliers, though no flame is lit upon them. Rotting wooden floorboards creek as the building settles, on what exactly you are not completely sure. The world outside of the windows are never remain constant for ore then a few seconds, blink and you go from a quite village to a bustling street filled with cars and large gelatinous creatures passing overhead. Returning your gaze across the room you see and a burly horned creature behind the bar, polishing a horridly stained drinking glass, paying you little attention, looking more board, behind him sits rows of beers, flagons, strange chemicals bubbling in flasks, and many other questionably consumable liquids, no price is posted on the exact price of any of these drinks though you consider whether ordering would be best of your health. There is a small stairwell just behind the bar, and a trapdoor leading to most likely a cellar, wait, where would you even put a cellar?

    On the opposing wall resides a large board, written upon it seems to be the standards at which this "Establishment" sets itself. As you glance at it the creature yells not to you but the room in general,     "Ey! If you haven't been here before you better get 'erself antiquated with what the Rule's Board has to say! I ain't having another incident of dropping you lot in a pocket dimension till we sort out a goddamn 'stolen boot' dispute!" you are slightly confused by the outburst as he simply returned to sorting bottle along the shelf, one of them occasionally sprouting legs and moving to a different spot on the shelf, amusing itself with the frustration it was causing. Things appear to be rather eccentric here and you feel you should acquaint yourself with how things work around here, if you have yet to already.
  • A small tavern that sits at the precipices of realities intertwined, a home for those who have lost they're way or simple have no were else to turn. A place some choose to call home.

  • Meanwhile...

    Shards of glass from a shattered flagon rests upon the floor, only to reform itself and be replaced upon the table, closer inspection reveals it to have a small microchip within its base, etched into the piece reads: "Tarny's never spill Chug Mug" with a picture of a robot holding a vine of grapes stamped into the hardware. A dwarf leans over his newly recovered drink to down its contents only to be disappointed in the fact that it was lost upon the ground.

    "Damn it all to hell!" the dwarf cried, slurring his words as he struggled to climb down from his chair as his stubby legs proved to fail him. "I swear I ain't payin' for this type of *hic* service, this technology is an afront to the dwarven house of *hic* Gorfell, home of the finest crafting dwarfs in all of Timmal!" the dwarf continued to fumed and rant as he stormed from the building.

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