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hit the Red Pony for a pint
visit Fagnspar Library and read a book
stop by Blue Reed’s Leaves and take stock of the selection
go to the Info Pages

Welcome stranger to the Red Pony ! Aye, a fine time o’ day to be dropping in on me; the port is beautiful right now, ain’t she? Ho! but we is in Imir, ain’t we?!

Please, rest your arse here at the bar, take a pint on me coin, and let me tell you a story, lass. I’ve been cookin’ up a good on’ fur ye’. Yes, you! This whole time been thinkin’ up a fine tale just fur you. Keeps the chill out o’ the tavern, ya’ see.

Now, Old Bottom Fagnspar, the librarian —drink up! the missus doesn’t brew us the finest ale in the city just for it to keep the bar cool! Who lived next to Blue Reed’s Leaves down thar, yes on the left, was out on sababishal…shwamabat-out on a tour o’ the country side when what do he and the Lady Fagnspar spot?

Yes, ol’ friend, you’ve guessed it: a great big red two-bags a burnin’ ‘cross the Autumn-dawn skies! ’Twas comin’ o’er the Ornr Mounts that ship when she caught fyre. Old Bottom and the wench (she was a wench; seen a few too many baths, that girl!) saw ‘em, the whole crew, crawlin’ at the riggings like spyders, purple eldritch fyre manes atop their skulls. A dreadful sight.

And the cargo she was a’carryin’? As fierce as any purple-crazed tempest: raw amalgam, lass, raw amalgam. Oh, forgive me, here take me towel and dry yur’self.

Fresh out o’ the Urnish mines. Not a moment later, a bolt shot out o’ the engines and she ‘rupted into a fyry mass of burning timbers, steels, and fyne sailor lads. All but on’ died and Old Bottom took him back wit’ ’em.

And that, friend, is how me father came to Imir.

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Chronicles of Mervan XorinDelfar