Rowdy and warm, filled with yeasty scent of spilled ale and musky smell of drunken men after a long day of work, all contained in a small wooden tavern that endures the cold rain outside.
Goric liked these places, for he was a minstrel, wordsmith and very eager to show everyone with just a way of his tail, a tailraiser. Being easy on the eyes and ears, he relished his work, and there was no better time or place than where he was now.
The pleasant tunes played to the percussion of rain droplets on the windows, inviting those outside to come in. A passing storm would bring gasps of fresh, cool air, and even more customers seeking refuge.
With such a nice crowd he already had plans to earn a few coins extra. Usually, he would do it by charming those who looked like they had the most coin. Not this time though. He had his eyes on those who were already eyeing him up with blurred drunken gaze. With all their focus already on him they wouldn’t realize that this was in fact, a group performance…