Garinol |
As you enter, a man sits at a large table by himself, glancing through a thick tome. Noticing that you have come in, he nods in your direction, than stands to approach. "Welcome friends.", he says in a low voice, though the moderately sized common room is quiet and mostly empty. Clutching the leather-bound tome to his inner arm, he holds out a hand to indicate the many tables, "You have your choice of seats, and will find that your time her is undisturbed. Sit where you wish, and stay as long as you need."
In a far corner, perhaps 50ft from the entrance is a small tobacco bar, offering cigars as well as pipe. Ironically, it is the proprietor of the area that most stands out. Some sort of angel, with wings of fire, and a sort of silverness to his skin. How his presence, never mind the why of it, but how this male Sarenrae look-alike has not destroy the offerings he is in charge of be proximity alone is not immediately clear.
Open a shelf are a line of jars, each labeled by an area and filled with shredded brown leafy material. A row below that are small opened boxes, filled with cigars. The small boxes have different glyphs and symbols, some are well know family's or organizations, other require one to be more schooled in the ways of nobles and financial station. Two other shelves near hold a similar assortment of wine bottles. Some chilled, others not, and there are plenty of colors and tones to choose from. Notably is a still sealed bottle labeled "Railford's Secret Recipe" and another, a red wine "Sauerton Red".