Friadoc
Explorer
During workdays the Welcoming Tide lines up tables around their domed inn, like spokes from a wheel, so as to best handle the fluxing masses they often service. Staggering, yet manageable are their number, as tables can always be added at the end of a rung if the need is pressing.
Under the heavy boughs of an old oak the eclectic bunch finds themselves a bench and table. A pitcher of cold water and several mugs for it are upon the table, along with a list of the various sundry food stuffs and drinks common to the inn's morning rush.
Once it's made known that you're ready, one of the inn's waitstaff makes their way to you. He's a pleasant young man, with floppy brown hair, dark eyes, and a lazy smile upon his face.
"What'll ya have?"
Under the heavy boughs of an old oak the eclectic bunch finds themselves a bench and table. A pitcher of cold water and several mugs for it are upon the table, along with a list of the various sundry food stuffs and drinks common to the inn's morning rush.
Once it's made known that you're ready, one of the inn's waitstaff makes their way to you. He's a pleasant young man, with floppy brown hair, dark eyes, and a lazy smile upon his face.
"What'll ya have?"