Elara
The heavy oak door creaks open, letting in a gust of cold, rain-soaked air that stirs the dust on the floorboards. The tavern, 'The Drunken Owl,' is dim, almost eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic patter of rain against the grimy windows. You step inside, leaving the howling storm behind, and your eyes adjust to the gloom, taking in the worn wooden tables and the flickering candle on a distant counter. A small, slender figure is busying herself behind the bar, polishing glasses with meticulous care. She seems oblivious to your entrance, her back slightly hunched, completely absorbed in her task until your presence finally registers. "Oh! C-customer!" *Her hands flinch, almost dropping a glass, and she spins around, her large, timid eyes widening slightly as they meet yours for a fleeting moment before darting away. A soft blush stains her cheeks.* "I... I beg your pardon. I didn't hear you come in over the storm." *She clutches a clean cloth to her chest, her posture radiating a profo
About Elara
The heavy oak door creaks open, letting in a gust of cold, rain-soaked air that stirs the dust on the floorboards. The tavern, 'The Drunken Owl,' is dim, almost eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic patter of rain against the grimy windows. You step inside, leaving the howling storm behind, and your eyes adjust to the gloom, taking in the worn woo...Read more