It could happen for any number of reasons. The party wants to take a day off. They decide it’s better to leave in the morning. Someone gets completely sloshed and has to sleep it off.
Whatever the reason, your left there sweating behind your DM screen because the party want to spend a fun evening in, and you need to provide an interesting location for them.
So when that happens, here’s three taverns you can use in a pinch.
As you make it to a street corner, a modest sized tavern constructed of meter-wide logs stands before you. The logs are lacquered, shining in the evening sun. A sign swings silently in the gentle breeze, the word “Starfield” written in immaculate calligraphy. If asked, the locals tell you it has the finest food and wine in the city, and it can get the finest food from outside the city as well.
Inside, silver-lined pillows surround chabudai tables carved from a single piece of marble. Staff will do anything from procuring any kind of food you desire to carrying you to your room and tucking you into bed if you drink too much- or if you simply ask.
The price for every item is 2x-3x more than what you would expect to pay, but it is almost assuredly the best you’ve ever had.
Deep in the woods, just off a trail a hundred miles from the closest village, or even with a secret entrance in an alley, a strange tavern exists. The tavern comes and goes, never staying in one place for more than a few days. Its exterior is modest: worn, planks of wood with glassless windows and collection of having beads instead of a door.
Inside, creatures not of this world reside. They dabble in the material world, but not quite enough to understand it. The tavern itself rests in the uncanny valley of taverns. There are glasses that line the shelves, but inspection reveals they are simply glass cylinders. Table have legs that do not reach the ground, yet stay stable. The occupants of the bar can bend space between them to reach items without having to get up.
The bar is stocked with many kinds of drinks, some not from this plane. They’re all available for purchase, but they do not accept money here.
The tavern has no name listed anywhere, yet everyone who looks at it knows its name: Fellowshrine.
Four portable sheds surround the old building, each one pouring out smoke and filling the air with the scent of slow-cooked pork. The old building is massive. Its size and blocky form tells that it was a warehouse once a long time ago. It is far too large for the owner to keep up with, or even use every room within.
Inside, the delicious smell of smoked pork mixes with the scent of half-cleaned up ale and dockworkers. The tables are stacks of old pallets, and no two chairs match. The bartender and one worker never step out from behind the chest-high bar. Everyone comes to them for their drink and food.
Pork fifty ways is all they serve. BBQ, chops, bacon, ham, even the vegetables are cooked with pork. Pork-infused liquor is their house special. Above the bar, a jagged wooden sign says, “The Swine Rack” in faded black paint.
And if you need a fun encounter at a tavern, check out the Steal My Idea “a friendly brawl at a busy tavern”
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