The life of the room produced a vibrant decor of sounds, aromas, and pleasantries that made this establishment famous. Every business has a trade in which they make their profit, and ideally, their mark. But this was a different type of business, that much was certain. While BP have their oil and the electric companies have their current, this business revolved around people.
Life was its currency. The conversation and pitter-patter of characters from all walks of life fueled this place, and the alcohol helped too. Stories from young and old imbued the halls with an allure that transcended sight. It was something you had to feel, and if you wanted to reach out and touch it all you had to do was walk up to a bar stool, order a cold one, wrap your hands around that mug, and just listen.
This was his Tavern. Built from the spoils of war and his efforts, he raised it from the ground board by board until completion. The occasional repair was needed due to some of the patrons inside causing more trouble than they could handle, but otherwise every board was arranged by hand and hammered in by the tavern's benefactor. Why this god of war created a place of this caliber where peace and civility are praised while conflict and turmoil are exiled is still in question, but it is indefinitely apparent that the boards and nails are not the structure that holds the tavern together.
It's the people. That is the magic he instilled in this place. There was no alchemy to this place. There were no spells out side of a few corrective enchantments to keep the place from collapsing into a state of disrepair that transformed the tavern into such a magical place. It was the blood flowing through every heart that walked through the two enigmatic, swiveling doors.
The guardian had gone out for only a small moment; know one knew why. The room immediately felt his presence once more as he entered the edifice and placed his hands on a support beam holding the frame of the building together.
"It's been some time, my patrons. I am here now, so why I have been gone is irrelevant. Please, toast your glasses and be merry once more. Maybe, if there is time, we may be in for a story."
The guardian smiled and took his place behind the bar. As he grabbed a mug from the shelves beneath him and began to polish it, he turned his attention to a few of the conversing individuals.
With a faint red glow resonating from his iris, the guardian calmly spoke.
"This thread is unique in that the character itself can sense it is a thread. This is a place for authors and their characters to gather and converse, but OOC chatter can be as easily heard as in IC chatter. Please, while in these halls at least, avoid OOC chat like the plague."
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