As you climb the stairs to the top of the large stone block you are first struck by the architecture of the buildings. The manor house to your left and the odd but inviting building to your front are not only made of stone, but are the only multi story buildings you've seen in Zarash'ak. The Oddly shaped building seems to be a cluster of several small buildings that all join together on the second floor arranged around a courtyard. All the walkways between the buildings save one have decorative but functional looking Iron grates blocking the passage of anything small sized or larger.
The building to your right is a low single story stone building sporting a sign depicting a pair of legs comically protruding from a window with lettering proclaiming "Tavern" in common. The swamp smell is comletely overwhelmed by the sweet smoky smell of some sort of meat cooking. You can see several chimneys sticking up at the back of the tavern, all producing a steady column of smoke that hangs in the air about the place because of the lack of a breeze. A covered walkway leads from the dock to the tavern and on to the obvious entrance of the odd shaped building.
All over the top of the stone block are gardens, from potted plants to 25' square beds set down into the stone. Many of the plants and trees appear to be more common varieties not at home in the swamp, but they seem to be flourishing here.
As you enter the tavern the smoky meat smell becomes somewhat overwhelming, mixed with the smells of other foods, fish ranking high among them, and an odd biting scent that stings your nose, but builds your appetite at the same time. Of the twelve tables only four are occupied, mainly by foreigners from their clothes. Three sets of double doors on each side of the room lead to private dining rooms, five of these rooms are open and unoccupied at the moment. A long carved and lovingly polished wooden bar stretches the length of the back wall, tall chairs lined up in front of it, kegs, barrels and bottles lined up behind it.
A grey haired halfling and a balding orc of obviously advanced years doze at the bar, a neglected gameboard of stones set out before them. Other halflings bustle quietly about the room, tending their guests, moving quickly enough that it is hard to get an accurate count.
As you move further into the tavern you see thst although none of the furniture matches any of the other pieces, all are well made and decoratively carved. The entire room seems to match a wealthy persons idea of humble and homey. A lovely young halfling girl pops seemingly from nowhere and says Welcome, good Sirs to Huckabee's. My name is Cypress, may I get you a table?
