The story of the Samara's Tavern

Deep inside the Samara's woods, in the center of the Erakis continent, lies an old tavern made by an odd man.

Regis, for that is his name, was a soldier. A good one. So good, that he was considered to be the most efficient warrior during the blood war, between the Dwarfs and the Northen kindgnom.

When the war was stopped by the Elves, menacing to unleash the power of their queen, humans disbanded their army, letting those poor souls to wander the earth.

Tired of the noise and the lights of human cities, Regis was roaming the eights kingdoms, looking for a place to stay and wash his hands full of blood.

One day, while he stopped to eat next to the main road, he crossed the path of a strange gnome.
The gnome, named Soremus, ask the man why he seemed so desperate. Regis, with nothing to lose, told him that he was looking for a peaceful place to stay, away from humans, elves or dwarves.

Smiling, the gnome told him about a place. A quiet place. A strange place. A place where nobody lives, except for some orcs and goblins.

With curiosity, Regis asked for the name of that place and if there were Nightmares in it.

The gnome laughed.
"Oh no ! No creatures of smoke and iron at night in this place. And no Inns or tavern. But there is a catch. There's only one road, and nobody will take it to help you build what you want to build. You'll be on your own."

Taking his axe in his hand, Regis smirked.

"Ugh ! I'd love to use that axe for something else than war" he said.

He walked 3 days. Barely stopped to sleep. Then he arrived. The forest was like the gnome described. She was dense and she was cold. Not one soul. Not a humanoid noise. So, he started building.

He chose every piece of wood carefully. Cut only what he needed. As much as he wanted to build a sanctuary in that place, he also needed to pay his respects to the ancient elders that had stood there long before his birth. Sometimes, he felt as though the forest itself told him what tree to cut.

And, as he did not have any training in that field, he tried and tried and tried again until he got everything right. Every tile. Every wood frame. Every little detail that he wanted to add. He trained himself on old branches, making miniature versions of what he had in mind. Then, when he was sure of the gesture, he used living wood, making the tavern an entire part of the forest.

From that day, Regis did not move from his tavern. Even when there was no one to pay for a room. Slowly, but surely, over 10 years, the Samara's tavern made quite a reputation. First, he won a food tournament with his butternut and cinamon soup. Then, some adventurers, looking for treasures inside the forest, told everyone how lovely his welcome was.

And from that day, the tavern was full.

If you manage to cross his path, please enjoy his welcome and food. And please tell him that I thank him from the bottom of my heart. He helped me in desperate times. Fed me when I had no money to pay. Gave me hope when the darkness shut my eyes closed.