Tonight was going to be special.
When Dwarves and Elves aren't waging non-stop wars on the floating islands of Arkheim, they often like to gather to their preferred place, Tales 'n Ales. It's a place you can't miss; all walks of life are welcome, especially if you have information of some kind to share. There's always a feeling of kindness and friendliness there. If you walked past the building beneath the moons, you'd feel a familiar warmth coming from the large hearth, with cheers and laughs inviting you to go inside.
As you enter Tales 'n Ales, you're greeted by beautiful smells, fine Elven music, and what look like Goblin skulls along old wooden shelves as high as the eye could see. The Tavern Master was, as usual, buried with orders but still manages to bellow an audible "Welcome!" to you above the rest of the jeers and cheers. In the distance, tankards could be heard being hit together, followed by a loud thud as something or someone had fallen on the wooden floor. The loud noise was accompanied by a thunderous cheer. This place was something else.
Above you, ancient-looking beams, as thick as an Ent, supported the upper floor, with rows of small herbs attached to the side, giving off an incredible otherworldly scent. The walls follow the same wooden construction, with small trinkets here and there to give the room more flavor besides the long line of Goblin skulls. Someone obviously pays attention to fine details here. Tales 'n Ales was packed. Newcomers had just arrived on the floating islands, so several long tables were already fully occupied, more so than usual, by Dwarves and Elves having a good time. The same could be said for the front of the old oak bar, whose stools were entirely taken, too.
This tavern was famous for something other than its fine ales, Elven music, and otherwordly smells. It was known for its tales. Stories of ancient Arkheim and other legends were told here... For a few sapphires, of course. If you wanted the best stories, none tell them better than the Tavern Master. Tall, burly, with light blue eyes, jet black hair, and a face that's seen more wars than he'd like to talk about, the Tavern Master is the proprietor of Tales 'n Ales. He stands proudly behind the oaken bar, serving the many Warlord patrons, many of whom are clearly regulars.
You somehow manage to find a seat and prepare for what will undoubtedly be a grand evening. Tonight was special, after all. The Tavern Master was going to tell one of his famous tales. He served the last of his drinks to Olek, the white-bearded Dwarven Warlord, and put his red and white cleaning towel over his left shoulder, signaling he was about to begin. As the Tavern Master made his way from behind the bar to the very front, everyone stopped. The tavern went utterly silent. The previous loud cheers and cries slowly faded, the music ended, and people looked, listened, waiting in anticipation to hear his story.
After a few moments of silence, he began to tell his tale.