The Beer Garden: Silver's Rest

[Fitz]

Open to one and all!

To the west of the ruins now being utilized as lodging for the Garden’s many visitors a small beer garden has been established. This simple open air tavern is centered around a modest portal that glows with warm hearthfire tones. A low wooden stage has already been constructed not far from the portal’s mouth. Tables are groups in small clusters around the stage, portal, and bar. At the center of each cluster are large bronze braziers which will provide some heat and light during the evenings. The bar is being assembled north of the stage. A temporary but solid looking piece of construction it wraps around on three sides a variety of kegs are being positioned on stilts behind the bar. A large iron grill is also being prepped in the background.

A handful of workers scurry about the place putting the final touches down. They disappear into the portal only to appear a moment later with a chair or crate of bottles. The red haired half-elf behind the bar seems to be orchestrating the operation as he polishes the cherry bar with an oil rag. Leaning against the bar talking with the bartender as he scans the progress is a large half-orc fellow dressed in a dapper grey suit with a luscious red orchid blossom pinned into his lapel. Various waitstaff are making their rounds about the tables taking orders from those travelers to impatient or parched to be bothered by an official opening. As work seems to be drawing to completion a gaggle of musicians have taken the stage and are preparing to perform.


The Heath Fire Portal: this is a direct link to the true Silver’s Rest
Tryle Silverleafs pride and joy. It deposits travelers just inside the main
hall as if they had literally stepped through the halls massive walk-in
fireplace. The Main hall is open at all hours and offers a robust menu of
meals and drinks. Lodging is also available while it lasts on a nightly
, weekly, and monthly basis. While Tyrle oversees the beer garden Anna
Disgiest maintains operations.

Characters of note:
Tryle “Slim” Silverleaf – head bartender, and proprietor of Silver’s rest. Tryle
dresses in common white linen tunic with a heavier brown woolen vest and
matching slacks. Whiles behind the bar he wears a light leather apron. His
only visible adornments are a pin upon his jacket in the shape of a stylized
arrowhead leaf wrought in silver with golden musical notes working their way
across. A pin you note all of the employees wearing. In addition Tryle wears
a simple wedding band which appears to be mithral cords woven to appear
like a small stem tied together much the ways a child might craft a ring from
wild flowers. Tryle has a slender face distinctly influenced by his elven
heritage. His pale blue eyes seem soothing to any who catch their gaze, but
turn dark as a storming sea when his ire is raised. His long red hair now
streaked with flecks of grey is pulled back into a long ponytail.

Tryle is mild of temper and jovial of tone. He greets all comers with a smile,
and has a deep appreciation for the arts being an accomplished bard in his
own right. In his home dimension many roomers surround this unassuming
tavern keeper. The legends of his dealings with various godlings are told
throughout the land. Kings and poppers have been known to share tables in
his tavern, while demons, angles, and mighty assassins have served upon his
waitstaff. It is further rumored that Tryle is the master of an elaborate
brotherhood of spies and knowledge seekers. Other tales tell of the Rest’s
involvement in the god wars, and that Tryle himself is in fact a great king
living in self imposed exile. None but Tryle and perhaps a few of his faithful
band know the truth.

Kagen Bloodreaver – floor manager and head of security. Kagen is one of
Tryle’s oldest allies and closest confidants. He has been with Tryle since the
very beginning, and owes the tavern owner more then he believes he can
ever repay. Kagen is a brutal combatant and screwed businessman. He is
equally dangerous in a bar fight or a contract negotiation. Over the years he
has developed an unusual affection for the finer things in life. Kagen baths
daily and scents himself with perfume. He dresses only in finely tailored
wardrobe. Even with battle gear looks designer. He speaks eloquently and
has a love of poetry. He is however no less the vicious warrior then he was
the day Tryle found him. His transformation is rumored to be due in part to
his tragic relationship with the scarlet lady. Another mysterious former
employee of Tryle who is rumored to have become an agent of the sanguine
host a deity in Kagen and Tryle’s Home dimension. Those who hold to this
explanation point to the fresh blood red orchid Kagen wears each day, and
the rumor of the bleeding orchid tattoo he possesses on his right forearm.

As for Kagen’s day to day appearance he wears his black hair short and slicked
back. It is always well kempt as he is never without his silver pocket comb.
Kagen is well muscled and maintains his physique through a rigorous morning
exercise routine usually involving long runs through the hilly streets of the
city. Kagen’s tailored suits are always clean a crisp. He keeps a spare in the
office should he need to do any dirty work. Kagen always well groomed and
scents himself with pleasant simple aromas such as rose petals, lavender, or
vanilla. He is even tempered and willing to chat with customers but he has
nowhere near the patience of Tryle and will personally relocate rowdy
clients. He will attempt to solve most issues peacefully at first before moving
on to strong arm tactics. Should things truly get out of hand the door guard
keeps one of Kagens masterful mithral axes at the door with a matching axe
kept behind the bar.

Anna Disgeist – one of Tryle’s trusted employee’s who has worked for him for
several years now. Anna has a great deal of respect and admiration for
Tyrle. She is a beautiful young human women in her late 20’s.

Gideon – Tryle’s apprencie, and a blossoming musician and yarn spinner.
Gideon is in a human in his early 20’s.

Milos Draken – A childhood friend of Tryle Milos is a gifted inventor and
magewright however is true passion is food and so as served as Tryle’s head
chef and brewmaster for many years now.

[Fitz]

Seated one of the tables in the cluster south-west of the stage a stranger sits. His soft leather riding boots kicked high upon the tables rounded edge and his wide brimmed leather hat tipped down upon his face the stranger reclines upon the back to legs of his chair sipping casually from his dark porter. He watched casually as the workers finished readying the beer garden for the official opening. Occasionally his steel grey eyes would scan the portal in the area watching the numerous arrivals and departures.
Quintrel was not entirely certain why he was here; all he knew was that it was better than where he left. At the very least the bar had a good selection. In his left hand he produce the cryptic letter which had drawn him here and read it as if this hundredth reading would unravel some mystery the previous had left dormant.


Greetings contestant,
The stories of the great battlemages of Breyton have reached far and wide. You blending martial and magical force tempered by the grace born to all sons and daughters of Breyton is a unique and potent tradition. Such a tradition must not be allowed to simply fade away. We offer you an opportunity to prove your prowess, and perhaps preserve you people’s legacy for all time. If you accept our offer and all that it entails meet at the docks tonight when the moon is at its peak.

Quintrel closes the letter once more and tucked it away into one of his dusters many pockets. For now there was nothing to do but wait. He knew he need to find himself a partner for this shindig, but so many of the people around here seemed so god aweful strange he didn’t know where to start.

[La Fantasque]

Hello there, Fitz! I hope you don't mind the liberties I've taken with Tryle. If you do, I'll edit asap.
“You were sent here to help, you say?” Tryle Silverleaf eyed the newcomer with an equal share of suspicion and curiosity, yet he remained assiduous in polishing the bar counter, each skillful brush of his rag imbuing the wood with a richer, wine-like lustre. “By whom, if you don’t mind my asking?” the half-elf went on, sparing a courteous glance to the fair-haired woman standing opposite the countertop.

“The Cabal sent me,” she replied almost dazedly, her tone so soft it was as if she had just woken from a long, lethargic dream. “I’m supposed to help with freelance establishments like these,” the girl continued, her half-lidded gaze wandering left and right without a hurry. The bartender watched her look from the assorted tables to his workers and waitstaff, then to the lukewarm ring of flames that was the portal to his world. “That would look nice in my apartment,” she said out of the blue, with about as much emotion as a heavily-sedated patient could muster.

“I… suppose so,” Tryle answered tentatively, throwing the rag over his shoulder as he straightened his back. “Then I take you have met these elusive godlings? For the organizers of such an event, I have to say they have been rather inconspicuous.”

“They’re not,” the girl answered in her faraway tone. “They’re absent. Preparations to make.”

“So you have talked to them,” Tryle said with a satisfied smile.

“No. They left me a memo.” The strange lass paused for a pensive moment, blue-grey eyes flashing with an intensity that belied her lackadaisical demeanour. “They’re not the most well-mannered bunch.”

“Those seeking godhood rarely are, I agree.” While serving a tankard brimming with froth and gold to a new patron sitting at the bar, the half-elf continued his subtle appraisal of this bizarre creature, seemingly unfazed by the countless untold mysteries that surrounded her. “How are you going to help?”

“Waitressing.” Holding the folds of her long, crimson skirt, she sank into a curtsey, reserved yet elegant. Once more, she broke away to inspect her surroundings, though this time with a bit more focus in her eyes. “I can also spruce the furniture with macramé tablecloths.”

“Ah… just waitressing shall be fine, thank you.” His heart quite nearly sank when she showed her first obvious emotion since their meeting – disappointment. “We… can see about the decorations at a later time. Meanwhile, would you mind bringing this mug of malt to the lone man with the slouch hat?” The girl merely nodded, gingerly taking the sloshing dark mug in her hands. “Oh, and may I ask your name?”

“You may.”

“Ah, yes, thank you again. Then… what is your name?”

“Elliot,” she said darkly, and Tryle now sensed a grim quality to the air she breathed. “But I’d rather be called Elle or Ellie.” Again, she took one of those pauses that were rapidly becoming her trademark. “Or Elizabeth.”

“Duly noted,” the bartender added with amusement as she turned round and left. He watched her waltz through a tight throng of tables and a thicker crowd of people, awed by her unexpected ease and even grace. “Dance on, Elizabeth, and speak not... lest the illusion shatter.”

“Mister Slouch-Hat-Man, sir?” Elliot called out loudly – and repeatedly – as she addressed the lonesome patron. “Here’s your drink, courtesy of that man at the bar,” she said without shame, rudely pointing back at the half-elf with her thumb.

And so, in Tryle Silverleaf’s mind played the wistful symphony of a thousand broken shards.