A warm fire, lively guests,
the starting point for quests.
A shelter for the company,
the waiter, an information key.

Beer, milk for the elven ranger,
in the dark corner, a stranger.
Workers playing cards,
a bard warming the hearts.

The party enters the scene,
stress on the screen,
all orders at once given,
the crew time driven.

Guests and personel interviewed,
the cosy evening screwed.
While food and beer is eredicated,
until a fuzz is created.

The dwarf seeks a tavern brawl,
against the weak tall.
The barbarian empties the wine cask,
and later every non empty flask.

After the interior is demolished,
and the floor with blood polished.
The party is ready to go to bed,
but the tavern keeper is not sad.

The check, worth a pile of gold,
the cave of the next dragon them was told.
Marked as debtors to the city,
with the shiny heroes no pity.

Could be worse, a quest asigned,
another secret behind,
To find the dragons lair,
is all the party did care.

They, could have, well asked,
probably properly tasked,
every story needs a tavern,
its every adventures secret cavern.