Thread: Celebration on Tap Who: Open to All Where: The Taphouse, a tavern in Amaranthine When: 28 Ferventis, 9:45 (Evening) Summary: The city is alive with celebration. In the week leading up to the the tournament at Vigil's Keep, such rowdy nights at the local taverns are not uncommon. Stop in for a pint, join the celebration! Rating: E/PG (Subject to change)
The sun had not long been set on the city of Amaranthine, the lamplighter still making his rounds. As he passed the Taphouse, the door swung open, issuing a drunken patron who stumbled out into the street, then laughed and raised his hand in greeting. The lamplighter lifted a hand in return, recognizing him. Usually that was the case. Amaranthine was not as small as some villages or towns such as Redcliffe and some places throughout the bannorn, but it was much smaller than Denerim or even Highever and so most of the people who lived there go to know one another at least by appearance if nothing else.
Lately, that had not been the case. With so many people coming in for the tournament there were constantly new faces around every corner. This morning, the lamplighter could have sworn the Chantry's attendees had doubled in numbers. At least if they were coming from elsewhere, they were civilized enough to believe in the Maker.
Shaking his head the lamplighter moved on, oblivious to the scene behind the tavern doors.
Inside the room was awash with sound; laughter and music. In one corner of the room a trio of musicians played, the fiddler sawing out foot-stomping notes as one of the patrons led the others in a rousing drinking song. Beer sloshed in mugs, taps were pulled, and a pair of village ladies pulled up their skirts to dance across the scarred wooden floor.
Somewhere in the back of the room a toast went out to the Wardens, and a cheer went up. A pair of young lovers sat close at the bar, flirtatious words and looks exchanged that left them blind to those around them. A burly dwarf sat close to the fire, complaining bitterly about the ale as he downed another pint in a near swallow and folded out of the game of diamondback he'd coaxed a few others into joining.
The bartender was in a fine mood, even if the serving wenches were running ragged trying to keep up with orders. His profits lately had been high, and tonight promised to be a record for earnings. Pulling out some more pints he filled the orders and let the sounds of happiness and laughter wash over him. It was a good time for Amaranthine.