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The Root and Hearth

Founded forty years ago by a stonemason and a retired caravan master, the tavern began as a wayside alehouse built beneath a stand of old city oaks. When the neighborhood expanded into one of the city's busiest crossroads the tavern stayed put and became a cornerstone of civic life. It served as a temporary infirmary during the flood of year 14 and as a recruitment point during the militia muster a decade later. Over generations the building was patched and expanded, so that timber and stone from three different eras show in the rafters. The current owner took over after the previous keeper disappeared on a 'midwinter voyage' and left the keys and a half-burned ledger behind.

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Tavern

The Root and Hearth

Founded forty years ago by a stonemason and a retired caravan master, the tavern began as a wayside alehouse built beneath a stand of old city oaks.

8Amenities10Menu Items8Known Patrons8Plot Hooks
Eldra Thornbarrel

Tavernkeeper

Eldra Thornbarrel
HumanFighter

Keeper's Species

Human

History

Founded forty years ago by a stonemason and a retired caravan master, the tavern began as a wayside alehouse built beneath a stand of old city oaks. When the neighborhood expanded into one of the city's busiest crossroads the tavern stayed put and became a cornerstone of civic life. It served as a temporary infirmary during the flood of year 14 and as a recruitment point during the militia muster a decade later. Over generations the building was patched and expanded, so that timber and stone from three different eras show in the rafters. The current owner took over after the previous keeper disappeared on a 'midwinter voyage' and left the keys and a half-burned ledger behind.

Quirks

The tavern enforces a 'tell the truth for a dram' tradition: a small shot of spiced cider is traded for an honest story, no matter how small. The barkeep keeps a ceramic mug known as 'The Confessor' where patrons drop a coin to request that the tavern sing a bawdy or cryptic tune that sometimes contains news. A grey-furred mouser named Coal collects shiny buttons and occasionally returns them to patrons as 'found treasure'.

Lore

Locals claim the tavern's founding oak was planted at the city's original boundary and that rubbing the carved knot in the bar's post will grant a safe journey. The post bears an old, faded sigil no one remembers the origin of; some say it was the mark of a guild of travelers, others whisper it was carved for a goddess of hearth and harvest. Folk tales speak of a 'root-singer' who once performed on the stage and could quiet storms with a ballad. Whether true or not, callers to the door in a storm are almost always welcomed in, and no one has ever been turned away on the coldest nights.

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