In an age long forgotten, atop a mountain higher than any other, where the blizzard never seemed to show mercy to anyone who dared venture into the region, a wooden tavern stood as a way to challenge that dangerous terrain with an unshakeable might.
Inside, it glimmered with warm light that transformed the place into something completely different from the harsh blizzard outside. Warm and cozy, it looked and felt like it had nothing to do with the storm raging just beyond its walls, the interior unveiling how safe it truly was compared to what waited outside.
Wooden tables and chairs, worn, a bit scratched, uneven. A wooden bar lined with bottles, mugs, and barrels.
The rough floor was covered with an old, worn-looking rug that had seen better days, and in the corner, a stack of straw could be seen right beside the fireplace, which also had a hand in the warmth and brightness filling the room.
