You step from the arrival courtyard then glance around wondering where to explore first. You head toward the merchant district with equipment and supplies on your mind. You travel only a few hundred feet when something catches your attention, A large red sign hanging over a doorway which reads: Virgil's Tavern. You spot mercs coming and going steadily from this place. Quickly you decide meeting your potential allies and travelling companions might be more important than gathering supplies at the moment. You head toward the building.
As you walk to the door of the tavern, you can see the titanium material wrapping about the whole door. Intricate designs are plastered against the door, making it seem like small heads and people are writhing to push themselves out of its surface. When you reach for the handle you notice that it's in the shape of a small metal skull. Perhaps it's to remind the visitors that they are all dead men and women walking.
��As you push the door forward, it swings with ease, and a fresh cold breeze infiltrates your skin from the central air. The scent of food, drinks, sweet perfume, and other fragrances linger in the air. It draws you in and as the noise drowns into you, different languages and accents can be distinguished. The music that invades rushes through speakers stragetically placed about the tavern.
Your eyes take in the ceiling, cathedral style and offering wooden rafters to and fro, from side to side. You suddenly realize that Virgil's tavern was once a cathedral as stained glass windows let some light from the street lamps penetrate through, their colors depicting fallen saints, and forgotten Gods.
The wooden floor is old, creaky, and if you look hard enough you can even see the indentions and marking of where the pews where lined. Although it being a cathedral at one point, this place holds anything but saints and Gods. Rows of lights are bolted to the rafters however they are not turned on. Instead the dim light of the tavern is produced by torches along its walls in some places. Oddly their flames give off neither heat nor smoke. Candles on tables, and small lounge lights here and there help illuminate the tavern just enough to be able to recognize fellow patrons from across the room when needed.
To your right are tables, some with intricate designs distinguishing them from the others, perhaps belonging to different groups and organizations. Booths surround the tables, some claimed by the larger and more important affiliations. People are residing in them and as you watch them they make sure you know you're being watched in return. Whispers fall and questions arise about you, but you seem to actually have more interest in the ambiance of this place that what they are saying.
To your left, a mahogany bar, something that looks ancient but well restored and is about 13 feet in length. As you walk over and begin to take notice, the same framing and decoration found on the door, lines the bar's edges. The chairs, lined with a cushioned backing in black and holding out welcoming armrests are lined against the bar. Behind the bar, there is a mirrorscape, and bottles are lined against the wall, five rows reaching from end to end.
A tender stands behind it, reclining on her elbows and taking a liking to a fellow patron. Behind the wall of drinks, is a kitchen about 1100 square feet big, with all the latest and affordable appliances. To the far right of the bar, a large screen TV blares the recent news of the city and is held in position against the wall, couches and chairs surrounding it. There's a coffee table there as well, some old newspapers and magazines laying invitingly on its surface. Beside it, a small 12 by 12 area of wooden floor is for dancing, an old fashioned jukebox, settled in the corner. And to the wall, crimson tafetta curtains hang, obviously framing the small stage.
The walls seem to constantly move with swallowing shadows, but all the more remain in their place, making you question reality. As you walk from one end of the tavern to the other, there is a hallway leading towards the ladies and gentlemen's bathroom. A phone booth is hanging against the wall, smeared old numbers having been written through out the years on the wall surface. The hallway still goes a long ways out and you can see different doors with numbers on them, and names with titles.
You decide to check out the bathroom and as you step in you realize that instead of a wall separating the bathrooms there is a huge tank, holding saltwater fish and exotic beasts. The glass is surrounded by sturdy material, it taking at least 900 pounds to even make a nick in the plexiglass. The bathrooms are clean enough for a place like this and you can find your average drunk laying in a pool of his own blood for making the wrong choice. As you step out again you walk towards the door, patrons arguing, talking, laughing, everyone just being who they are and melting to what they would never be.
To your right is a small section squared off by a wall that reaches to your waist. There is a small entrance to the front of the wall and you decide to step over and observe what may be seen. Darkness broods about this corner and you watch two women discretetly share intimacy in a booth in the corner, almost being shrouded in darkness. These booths seem darker than the rest of the pub and you see a small little engraving on the wall to your left reading, "Oscuridad", its meaning is left to mystery.
The way you came is to your right, the back of the door seeming much plainer than its front. You sense eyes on you, and the ambiance in the room is a melting mixture of different attitudes, lives and cultures. Perhaps you should leave, or you can take your chances, turn around and have a drink with anyone in the pub. Truly you are the master of your fate....And this...is your call to decide....Welcome to Virgil's Tavern.