The moonlight over Wales.
The pagan moon of the celts.
Round and bright, the cloudless sky.
Reflected upon the lake.

Ted was most certainly not the barkeep's name, Theodore really, but everyone either called him barkeep, bartender, or something of that nature. He was not the first vampire behind the counter, placed so many years ago when the foundation was laid. Despite the mix of young blood, Ted was most likely the eldest after "Aldaric". While picturesquely serene by the moonlit lake, the Whispering Oak held many secrets within the wood walls and stone floors, and if one listened carefully, the tale of the ages could be sung from the stones which prate with every step and creaking wood. A Tavern rustic, still serving foods from the renaissance period, perfected by the First Keeper of the Oak Syth'Kas as entrusted by Bedivere. A vampire bar to conduct business, to swap stories and share in blood, bottles of the stuff stored in the cellar below within Oaken barrels. Blood stew and blood soup for a hearty meal, blood wines to fill the blackest soul with delight, blood beers and spirits to go with a classic dish fried fish from the lake itself. To reveal in the debauchery of human suffering as they gathered for the feasts as blood poured as freely on the taps as any other.

Curiously in the middle of the Inn was a large and mighty Oak, rotund and far more ancient than any vampire present. The gnarled boughs supported the floor above, the rafters of the rooms for the would be patron, while the twisted roots dug into the cellar dungeon. Its leaves were faded, perpetually brown and orange as if in eternal autumn, a lonely tree by the lakeside. The spiral staircase which encircled it led to the scant rooms of the inn, merely for décor perhaps as few vampires ventured up the stairway to reside in a room given the amount of activity on the ground floor. There was a simple set of rules to be followed, keep the weapons sheathed and tongues guarded. Any vampire caught trespassing these rules would have to deal with the owner of the bar.

"Good evening." Speak of the devil. The newest vampire entered the building, primly dressed in a business suit, an umbrella held in one hand as the other took off a coat and hat to be hung in the corner. The room silenced itself for a moment as the white-haired pale one wandered in, eyes taking in the masses as they edged themselves away from his presence. "Welcome to the Whispering Oak Sir Varomere, the second finest establishment in all of Wales." Bedivere had made his way up to the counter, spying Mithias in his suit shooting the bull with Ted. This greeting had also revealed Mithias' identity to the crowd who paused, a slight tension filled the inn only to be dismissed as an equally cold stare from Bedivere challenged any would be hostilities towards his guest.

"A table for two then Theodore. Tea, and treats by ten." Bedivere turned to the slightly flustered barkeep to put in an order, well more than just an order, perhaps a demand or command really. Of course everything in the Whispering Oak was served with blood, as macabre as this may be, what more did you expect from an old vampire bar? The younglings barely fanged and fledged could have their nightclubs and raves, the more cultured and sophisticated would gather here as they had through the centuries.

"Oh, I did not expect your arrival so soon my Lord. Your usual seat is empty of course. But I'm afraid we are short on Ceylon this evening. May I have permission to use the Darjeeling instead?" 

With a nod the old knight replied as he return to face Mithias, "Well then my boy, shall we?" He directed an open palm to suggest a seat in front of the oak tree in the middle of the room. "There is much to discuss business-wise as you know, however before we begin, I would like to know a bit more about the vampire I had invited to share meal with me. Come, introduce yourself to your elder will you not?"