[i]Vodrahin[/i] was one of the major towns in the region. While -- as it was rather typical for the small human kingdom of [i]Hadral[/i] -- the outer circles primarily consisted of poorer people's wooden housings which turned more and more into farmer's buildings separated from each other by bigger and bigger fields the further one went away from the town's center, the latter one had already fallen victim to what in modern times probably would be called 'gentrification'. Times were peaceful, at least in this part of the world. Along the eastern borders however things were about as tense as the weather after a day-long sweltering summer heat. War had not yet started with [i]Ythrim[/i], but rumors had it that preparations for it were already underway while envoys were still at least pretending to try and avoid the worst.

Not that this would have been of any significant relevance for the local inn. One could say that the [i]Nail In The Coffin[/i] was doing quite well at putting some real meaning behind its strange name. At least not few of the patrons had already reached a considerable level of drunkenness despite the fact that it had not been that long ago that the sun had sunk below the horizon and the tavern had opened. Its scattered, reddish light was still illuminating the wide roads sufficiently for the more wise of men to make an escape, even though it was a lurching one.

The inside was filled with warmth from guests and an open fire in the middle of the room. It served primarily the purpose of heating, light and entertainment, the cooking was done at a separate place not accessible for the common visitor. Due to its central position, shadows of furniture and people were dancing on the decently decorated wooden panels all around the large room. A large, rather chubby looking man was waiting behind the high and broad counter for someone else who had not arrived yet. It was the tavern's owner who at this time also was responsible for accepting any orders from his guests.