The Rosebite Lounge

An unsung wonder of the type for which the elves are so well-known, the Rosebite Lounge is a large establishment grown completely into Underwood’s trees. Suspended atop thick branches about halfway up the massive trees’ heights, the lounge and its extensive patio are shaded from the harsh Corone sun but afforded an excellent view of the various training grounds of the Dansdel. No living tree was harmed in the making of this establishment: it is all of sung wood, the work of many talented elven druids and song-mages whose voices rang out and the trees responded in kind. As such, many parts of the building seem to flow out from the bark, and not a single seam can be found in its floor or framework.

The lounge’s menu consists primarily of fruits, vegetables, nuts, and other things that can be gathered within the forest and many of which are grown on the patio. During certain times of the year, when the forest’s animal populations boom, the Rangers trap and hunt deer, rabbits, and quail in order to keep the populations in check, and dishes featuring them appear on the menu.

There is a rumour that Reever Glacegeyser once knocked Cronen off the edge of the outdoor patio, but it was a misunderstanding - in a fit of vertigo the otter mistook his friend for an impostor. Cronen caught himself in the ropes and survived, but rumours have circulated that non-deserving parties may be cast from the heights if they are caught enjoying what is set aside for Underwood’s elite. This is not strictly true; even supporters of the Empire are not forbidden from entering, but anti-Ranger talk is strongly frowned upon and as likely as not to result in a brawl with the pro-resistance clientele—something which is also strongly frowned upon and may indeed result in literal ejection from the premises.

The lounge is named after the magical blade of Christina Bredith, a local heroine known for her exploits in the pursuit of Corone’s freedom. A painting on the wall by a celebrated local artist depicts the Battle of the North Passage, in which Christina Bredith and an army of mounted Rangers rout an Imperial squadron while the celebrated Marshal Letho Ravenheart battles an agent of the Scarlet Brigade.

Out of Character:

OPEN CHALLENGE. All right, folks, I'll show ya how it's done! Let's get some use out of these threads!

“Your tea is ready, Deputy.”

Christina looked over her shoulder at the young serving girl. The absence of expression on her face was only because she had been lost in thought while examining the large mural that adorned one wall of the lounge that bore her sword’s name. The Battle of the North Passage. It was a strange thing to see it there; it had been quite a night, filled with what some might call excitement. She might have done the same not long ago, in fact. There was still a part of her that longed for the thrill and glory of battle, but that—dare she call it childish—side of her had now been tempered with understanding of the horrors of war.

Realizing her rudeness, Christina turned fully and smiled. Such pretty young things the Lounge employed: this one was a waif of a girl, so thin Christina thought she might vanish if she turned sideways, but with hair like spun gold not unlike Christina’s, and eyes that shimmered like sapphires—much prettier, she thought, than her own argent ones. She accepted the cup and saucer from the girl with a nod of gratitude. “Alianna, isn’t it?” The girl smiled and dipped into a curtsey.

“Yes, my lady, it is.”

Christina nodded. “Thank you, then, Alianna.” Christina took her tea out to the terrace, high above the forest floor. From here she had an unblemished view of the ever-changing proving grounds, where warriors fought against one another for fame, glory, love, or honour. She could almost feel Rosebite shivering with an anticipation that she herself shared. There was something refreshing about looking down on this place. The rest of the world’s troubles hung their hats at the door before entering this place. Here, the glories of battle could actually be realized; its horrors were but the shadow of a distant nightmare, something for other people to worry about.

“The Dansdel,” they called it, an old elven word. Well, why shouldn’t she prove herself in this Proving that had been built here? Another serving girl came by to collect the empty cup and saucer—Brynne, she thought, or Breanna, or perhaps Brynda—and left Christina to her silence. Her leather gloves creaked softly as she gripped the railing of the terrace, and one hand went to liberate Rosebite from its brown leather scabbard. Flat gemstones in a rainbow of colours decorated the blade, glittering in the sunlight as if the sword itself was calling out to the warriors below.

“Brave warriors of the Dansdel!” Christina called, her voice as high and clear as song. Most of the battles continued—those warriors foolish enough to allow themselves a moment’s distraction were soon punished for it by their more careful opponents—but those on the sidelines looked up to find the sound. “I wish to offer a challenge to anyone who would accept!”