On a gently rising hill stood the sprawling Seaside Tavern. The greyed and aged planks of its siding stood testament to its longevity, but also of a sturdiness tested by the frequent storms off the Sea of Gales and simply by time itself. Low overhead, the setting sun was bright red, lazy plumes of rainbow clouds, driven by seaward breezes, drifting by in a orange sky bleeding to purple toward dusk. The air was crisp and autumnal, and the waves crashing against the shore well below the tavern lapped gently in this mild weather. Overall, a pleasant day transitioning to a pleasant twilight. The end of a good a day for travel, the very beginning of a night of promise. Regardless, the doors of the Seaside Tavern were wide open and ready for business.