Soft rain dances along the road as the night draws in around you. The deep darkness of the world is broken by light spilling from lanterns that are hung on finely carved posts along your way. You feel your knee buckle as you stagger and look down at your legs. It is about time you left this cobblestone path that your feet have tread for many long miles.

A shiver runs up your spine as you draw your hood in a bit tighter to keep the cold breeze and raindrops out. As you continue to walk along, you see a building up ahead. The delightful establishment steadily grows out of the darkness as you get closer to it’s door. Warm, golden lamplight reveals a hanging slab of wood over the door that is engraved with Riverbrook Inn. The sign squeaks softly in the cold evening wind.

Your legs ache from your burdens and you long for a place to rest the night. The inn has a warm and inviting glow that beckons you to enter. With a deep breath, you step forward and being to push at the door. As you open the old, heavy, wooden door, the muffled sound of merry making erupts throughout your senses.

“Good evening, welcome in!” A busy woman shouts from the behind the bar. Her grey hair is pulled back with a silver tie and she wears a comfortable looking leather tunic. She gives you a long-sweeping wave to call you over to an open seat at the bar.

You scan the warm room with the countless joyous faces that are dry and busy laughing their troubles away. Then, you look down at your attire. A soaked pack with a large coat and boots to match. You hesitate to bring all this wet gear further into the space and risk ruining the picturesque scene.

The woman shook her head, “Will you be staying the night?”

You eagerly nod your head.

“Fantastic, then leave your baggage and coat at the door. Get on over here and warm yourself. Do you have a horse?”

You shake your head as you take your wet belongings off and stamp your boots.

“Not a big talker, eh?” The woman laughed, “That is fine, plenty of words to go around in here tonight. Harold? Gathers our guest’s belongings and bring them to an open room.”

As you walk to the bar, a large man with heavy footsteps walks past you to the door and grabs your items.

“Thank you,” you say politely with a smile.

The large, bearded man gives a smile in return and grumbles as he walks up the stairs to your left. That is where you guess the rooms for rent are located.

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As you get to the bar and grab the open stool, the warm embrace of a nearby fire reminds you how tired you really are. You can hear the logs snap and crackle as it’s aroma fills your nostrils. You can feel the smooth, white stone tabletop under your hands. As you slump down in your seat, the man to your right gives you a playful slap on your back. The bump is accompanied by a mumble of inaudible words.

“Hands off, Fred,” the woman snapped as she pushes a mug of ale to you. “Let me know if Fredrick over here gives you any trouble. These herdsfolk sure do put down their ale at the end of the day.” The woman extends her hand and gives you a firm shake. “Name is Freya. Welcome to the Riverbrook. This place has been under me and my family’s charge since it was built a hundred years ago. Had run it with my husband up until about a year ago now.”

You notice her trail off as a tear forms in her eye. She reflexively wipes it away and takes a quick, deep breath as she continues.

“Anyways, my little inn is always filled with good folk and great stories. And we at least try to match that with good service,” Freya smiles as she elbows one of her workers, who is carrying a tray of bread.

“S-sorry Freya,” the young man stutters as he stumbles past.

Freya gave out another laugh. Her face wore long lines of wrinkles. They were the type that looked as if she had many long, happy years of life. Her grey eyes gaze on you with curiosity as she gestures to the glass mug in front of you.

“Here is a mug of Riverbrook Red. This was invented by my grandfather and is so good that you will wonder why you have drunk anything else in your life.”

You reach for your coin purse that is filled with silver and gold coins.

Freya shakes her head and raises her hand. “First one is on the house. Anyway, you seem good for it. We can settle your bill in the morning. In the meantime, please relax and enjoy yourself. You seem to be deserving of a good night’s rest.”

Your muscles relax and you return a smile as you survey the room. It had been a good while since you were afforded a night like tonight. You decide to savor every soothing moment from this enchanting place.

There is a cozy glow to the large area. In all, it seems that there were about a hundred people in the Riverbrook Inn tonight. Some are at tables, quietly sipping on ale, others are singing songs, and some are laughing and look to be telling tales of all kinds.

“Got any stories for us?” a voice shakes you back to your seat and out of your mindless gaze. It was Fredrick who seems to be less drunk and more pleasant than you had originally taken him for. Some other eyes from down the bar look over as if they too were eager for a new tale.

“Give them a moment to enjoy themselves,” Freya yelled as she walks past and gives Fred a slap on the arm.

“Sorry to be a bother,” Fredrick says sheepishly.

After a moment, a woman from down the bar cut through the chatter of the room. “I have one for your all.”

Her willingness to give a tale was met with resounding approval as you join your fellow patrons in a joyous hooray and click your mugs of ale.

The woman drew herself up, took a swig of her ale, and started her story.