The three moons of Krynn hang over the landscape, dimly shown with the sun out shining its warm glow, slowly sets. The polished wood of a bar gleamsslightly and the sound of cooking can be heard in the back rooms. Otik is leaning against the bar
wiping out a glass with a towel as he watches
all the activity intently, waiting for someone to place an order for thier next drink or plate of food. A small fire has been started in the fire place and people are starting to come in and share talks of heroes and sorrows of the War of the Lance.
