Here are five fantasy taverns for you to use in your games inspired by real-world RPG blogs. You can find my first post, here. Tavern sign assets by Sophie Grunnet.
Mindstorm
The tavern is a tree house located in an elder oak at the top of a boulder-strewn hill. You have to do some actual climbing to get to Mindstorm. Those who do so are rewarded with good food, drink, talk, and the aid of the most helpful person in the city.
Proprietor: The proprietor Ty is a kobold (dog type not lizard type) and just about the most helpful person you'll ever meet. Any need you mention casually is frequently fulfilled by his quick paws. Misplaced items are sniffed out. Questions are answered. Introductions made.
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| Ty, happy to help |
Sights: Being a tree house, the whole tavern has a verticality to it--ladders lead to tables set on ledges, seats are rope swings hung from the ceiling. There are multiple stories, with boarding rooms and cellars being located in crow's nests in the tree's crown.
Sounds: "That’s how the real world works. It’s just this huge hodgepodge of a million different things, and you can look inwards at something (an organization, a person, an event) and it unfolds outward infinitely, a million things make up that one thing, all of them completely gonzo."
Tastes: Crisped potatoes and fish are served in corn husks for easy handling. Ty pours a variety of drinks fine beers, many of which are aged in old whiskey barrels, imparting a scent of toffee and vanilla. Ty also keeps a stock of energy potions that put the weary adventurer back on the campaign trail.
Rumors:
- Wait, is Ty the person who had the Fantastic Medieval Campaign? No?
- Oh wait, I get it. Ty is the proprietor of Hypertext Fish. ...No?
- I thought this place's name was "Brainstorm."
- Wait, I thought it's name was "Green Laser?"
- Have you seen Ty's paws? So handsome!
Prismatic Wasteland
Prismatic Wasteland is located in the Old City's Via dei Fori Imperati, an ancient shopping mall. "Buyer beware" is the tavern's tongue in cheek motto. A debate club is hosted on premises once weekly, and folks from other taverns gather regularly to engage in argument, rhetoric, and hullabaloo.
Proprietor: The proprietor, Warren, is a stentorious orator. He wears a mantle of rainbow zip bird feathers, earning him the nickname "Prismatic Warren" (to distinguish him from the I Cast Light proprietor). He has a lustrous beard and a sharp wit, often wading into his debate club on the side of whoever seems to be losing.
Sights: A tavern built in the ruins of commercialism definitely has an aesthetic. There is an inherent sense of antiquity underlying the modern façade. Each abandoned shop stall is a separate room for rent. A little sparse in amenities, sure, but there's plenty of privacy and space--otherwise rare commodities.
Sounds: "A cadre of tavern owners (hopefully a growing one) are interested not just in recipes, place settings or systems but in the procedures we use to run the bar. This is something that is often taken for granted, but paying attention to them is useful for veteran tavern keepers and downright enlightening for new proprietors."
Tastes: No simple ales are to be found here. Alembic, retorts, and decanters are filled with strange new concoctions which are mixed together with speed and skill. The bubbling contents are a delight to the senses and a bafflement to the mind.
Rumors:
- Sure, Warren is human, but he was actually raised in a dwarfinage. That's why his beard is so robust.
- Warren got the money for Prismatic Wasteland by finding a loophole in a devil's contract and actually got to keep both the coin and his soul. That's the story behind the motto.
- Actually, only part of that last rumor is true.
DIY & Dragons
The random tables around this tavern have a "more the merrier" attitude. They're mostly a younger crowd who use frequently use pseudonyms instead of their real names. At the same time, they avoid drama that sometimes plagues other taverns in this neighborhood. They're an energic lot who seems to know how to have fun.
Proprietor: The proprietor, Anne, is a kobold (lizard type not dog type). She's traveled far and wide. If you talk to her, she recollects her travels in a straight-forward, matter-of-fact manner. She pays top coin for maps that you bring her if they're both either particularly accurate or new, and sells copies of all the maps in her library. If you're new to the area, stopping by DIY & Dragons will give you a solid sense of where the landmarks and secrets of the City are to be found.
Sights: A solid wooden structure in the middle of the City, with a cozy common room and a serpentine bar top of river stones. A papier-mâché dragon is hung from the rafters. The hearth is wide and glows with an enchanted, ever-burning, color-changing flame. Maps of nearby dungeons are carved into the tabletops by adventuring guilds.
Sounds: "Aside from the possibility that we've been overly influenced by the prior artistic decisions of a few trendsetters, I think that pointcrawls probably better model the way we think about traveling between known locations, while hexcrawls and minicrawls better model the way we think about exploring unknown spaces." (Anne, describing her mapping techniques.)
Tastes: Anne pours an eclectic mix of sour beers, whiskies, and red wines. I recommend you ask for her boulevardier.
Rumors:
- Anne is the coolest.
- The bar name? I'm sworn to secrecy. OK, well, I'll let you in on it, but you can't tell anyone. Anne is actually a dragon. The kobold thing is just an illusion.
Wayspell
Less a tavern and more a...foodtruck? One-man travelling circus? In any event, a wagon pulls up to a different square in the City each day. Outside it, a hand-painted sign on it reads:
In it a...strange fellow...will serve you a terrible strong liquor for a pittance. Wayspell is the name of both the "tavern" and the "proprietor."
Proprietor: Its name is Wayspell. It stands a head-and-a-half taller than a normal human man. Its covered in hair. And the smell! Oh gods the smell. But it seems friendly enough. It'll pick your ticks off you, if you ask. At times, its hand disappears into its fur and retrieves some shrimp that it seems to offer you. Should...should you take them?
Sights: An unhitched, brightly painted vardo. Nobody has ever seen it hooked to a steed, but somehow it appears in different quarters of the City. The roof and the siding are a patchwork of different materials and colors.
Sounds: "I tell ya hwat, man, you got one of them dragons up over there, I say, no good. Here ya, ya get that water outta here, fish fuck in it, getcha one of these...wrap yha...yha lips around one of these wet whistles here I got in here, I tell ya hwat."
Tastes: Various objects are passed outside the wagon by a fuzzy hand. A mason jar of rotgut whiskey. A wooden tankard of thin, sweet beer. A plump oyster covered in cheese. Surprisingly good mead (with a hint of beets).
Rumors:
- Wayspell, whatever he is, makes all the food and drink himself.
- Sure, he makes the food and drink...from his body. That mead is his milk, actually. The shrimp are actually huge lice.
- If you ever don't take something Wayspell offers you, he will hate you.
No Foes, No Traps
No one should make the mistake that the tavern's name is ironic or sarcastic. This is a safe place. An enchantment of peace lays on lands of this little farmhouse-cum-inn that discourages (if not outright forbids) violence. Tavern brawls are all but unheard of.
Proprietor: Hodag is the tallest human you've ever seen. He stands in a stark juxtaposition compared to the small, cozy atmosphere of the tavern. He wears a continually benevolent smile and a rough, brown, hooded robe.
If the word made any sense contextually, people would call Hodag a "renaissance man." He has a bit of skill in many artistic crafts, from painting, to writing, to storytelling. He makes particularly nice, sturdy tables.
Sights: This tavern is a working Agricola-style farmhouse. A pack of farm hounds (mutts, really) roam the grounds, and sometimes come bolting into the tavern with wagging tails and lolling tongues.
The central courtyard of the square house is open to the skies. Here, Hodag has a rare and precious spyglass set up to allow patrons a look into the heavens. Hodag has many stories of the War of the Stars, which he delights to recount as people peer through his telescope.
Sounds: "Anybody with an open heart and an open mind is welcome at my table. Anybody who seeks the magic of the earliest days is welcome at my table. Anybody who seeks the rarity of wisdom in tales mirth, myth and mystery is welcome at my table."
Tastes: Though not a big drinker himself, Hodag's cellars are full of small beers well loved by the common folk--weak, sweet, and easy to drink a lot of.
Rumors:
- Hodag isn't a human at all. He's actually a giant halfling--a lingering enchantment from his adventuring days that's never been cured.
- People say all sorts of crazy stuff about Hodag because nobody knows a lot about 'im. Bit of a mystery, that one.
Love to see it
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