[center][img]https://www.thegeeklyfe.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/concept-4-tavern.jpg[/img]
[url=https://youtu.be/SnQ7jep1k3E][h3]The Craven Kraken Boarding House[/h3][/url]
[b][i]Evening, 28th Day of the 6th Moon[/i][/b][/center]
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The Craven Kraken was a well known watering hole in the Harbour District. Many sailors and merchants make it their first stop before venturing up the Harbour Lift and to the road to the city proper. On this night, with Founders Day only another day away, the Inn was experiencing its busiest night of the year. 

Patrons squeezed through each other in hopes of gaining one of the coveted table seats around the central hearth, where a bard circled with a lute in hand, and patrons drank and sang. Serving wenches hurried to and fro, tankards of ale and plates of mushrooms and seared fish in their hands.

At one table, a group of tieflings, riled up by one too many ales, pounded their fists against the table, hollering over the fate of their home, Runestone, and the unstoppable Khagoni hordes.

At another, a group of human and halfling sailors, wearing the distinct faded greens of the Shires of Eclor, argued over a game of cards, the last hand's winner loudly being accused of cheating. 

At the bar, laughing and drinking with the barmaid, were a pair of Officers of the Watch, oblivious to all else other then their drinks and the attractive maid.

In the midsts of all this commotion, and perhaps loudest of all, was Rambling Lockwood, the greatest pirate of the Forlorn Sea, at least if his boasts are to be believed. Pipe in hand, and surrounded by his crew and fellow sailors, Lockwood recounted a tale of a death defying encounter with a dreaded Aboleth. To hear him tell the tale, he stared down the giant sea monster and it fled the mortal plane in fright. 

At this moment the door burst open, and in stepped a breathless sailor, the pirate Sylvia Salthand. 

"Lockwood! Let's have a chat!"

The pirate Lockwood looked up at the door. The old seadog was always up for a chat, or at least someone to stay silent while he told his tales. He waved the lass over, just before a whisper from one of his crew, the young cut-purse Elit made him frown. Lockwood expected it would be himself who would be getting an earful.

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