The heavy ash doors swing outward from their central resting place. Loud creaks echo into the vast opening of the many stories bar. Tables are strewn about the lowest level, surrounding the dark stained bar at the center of the room. A mishmash of chairs sit turned over atop the tables.

Standing in the center of the bar, the walls open up tall in homage to the Mouth that lingers high above Ettlemont. Cobbled together railings encase each off the four floors as they ascend. Light pours down from the open mouth of the building above, a translucent screen filtering the light, but not catching the cuts of dirt and debris the swirl amongst the beams of cascading light. Shadows of tables and suits of armor linger by the rail ends, shadows of the times past, hero’s forged, and veterans lost.