Aehdyrkha, Gaeh'deh clan

You see a battered old Aeolotai, grimacing over the bar, limping about while cleaning leftover glasses left about the bar top. His face shows signs of many battle scars, his wide shoulders well suited for carrying kegs of ale about, and a long knife buried in his back pocket, to open the specialty bottles, and intimidate difficult customers. From the looks of him, you can tell he fought in countless battles, although he has replaced his armor with a loose linen shirt and some canvas trousers. His dark leather boots are worn, and the leather cracks with age, and what looks like lack of care. His eyes are half open, where his eyelids have began to droop from old age.

ambients:
The barkeep glances down, and with a quick fwomp, squishes a bug under his brown leather boot. With a slight smirk, he returns back to cleaning the glass in his hand.

As the barkeep reaches to grab a bottle from the top of the shelf for a well dressed patron, you notice one of his wings had been sheared off. Almost instinctively he responds, 'Lost that protecting one of our empaths, but you should have seen what was left of the Kiramon that took it.' He then turns away to pour the spirits before taking them down to the end of the bar.

'In 5103, we came stumbling through this rift, and the Illistim guardsmen saved our lives. After that, they decided we needed our own place to live, away from their sophisticated city." The barkeep chuckles to himself, before returning to his duties.

The barkeep glances around suspiciously, before revealing a dull bronze keyring. Kneeling quickly, he pulls a small box from under the countertop, and returns with a small crystal vial. He pours a few glowing drops into each of the glasses, before returning the bottle back to it's safe hideaway.

The barkeep washes the few glasses collected in his sink, before grabbing a towel and cleaning the bar. Muttering something concering dung beetles and cleaning habits, he quickly scrubs the counters back to a sheen.

The barkeep looks up at a couple sitting in the corner, who have seem to look around quite displeased. He barks at them,'We've made quite a nice town out of the land the Illistim gifted to us. We operate without prejudice to anyone who comes through our doors. Unless ye a Kiramon or Krolvin."

"A lot of people come here, as a welcome retreat from the life in the city. I like the quiet this place offers." The barkeep gazes lovingly over his bar, before going back to cleaning.

"A few years ago, a lass named Helga came to visit. She spent most of her time between bragging about her bar, the guard who sleeps at her bar, and how my bar is a bit too clean for her. Pity." The barkeep snorfles back a laugh, before going about his duties.

"One of these days Targon is gonna come visit. I don't really know who has more stories ta tell, but we'll find out!" The barkeep chuckles as he attends to his back counter.

"I'm thinking about one day expanding this place. Maybe a Honeymoon suite or two. That'll get the tourists ta come visit more often." The barkeep scans the guests, before furrowing his brow while counting them.

Just some ideas. Brutish/Ben