The Roaming Roost
Let me spin you a yarn about the most barmy bub-house in the Outlands, The Roamin’ Roost. Now, hear me out: It’s an inn, right, but not just any old kip – it’s perched atop a pair of colossal chicken legs. You heard me right–legs! So this tavern, it walks about the Outlands like it’s got a mind of its own. You could be nippin’ a pint outside Glorium one evening, take a nap, and before you know it, you’re havin’ your morning beer overlookin’ Faunel!
Now, the cutter runnin’ this tromping wonder is old Floki Fowlfeet, a gnome with more tricks in his noggin than a yugoloth’s got plots. Floki’s got hair wilder than Limbo, and eyes that twinkle like he’s always in on the joke. Some say he’s got a bit of fey blood in him, others say it’s probably quite a lot of fey blood actually, and yet more whisper he won a game of cards with a demipower to get his hands on this tavern.
The Roamin’ Roost itself is a sight to boggle the brain-box. Outside it’s a normal-looking thatched inn. Only with legs. It’s decorated with a giant bird head made from straw and is always surrounded by a flock of whipoorwills who feast on insects in the thatch. Inside, its walls are plastered with maps of the Outlands, scribbled with notes and graffiti from a thousand travellers. The rooms are as cosy as a nest, each with its own peculiar charm. One has a bed that floats a few inches off the ground, which means you get a great night’s kip even when the inn is lurching around, another has a window that shows starry night skies even during the day.
But it ain’t just the oddities that draw the bloods and clueless to Floki’s inn. It’s the stories, the chant. Floki’s seen more of the planes than most cutters do in a lifetime, and he’s got tales that’ll curl your toes and straighten your hair. And the Roamin’ Roost, see, it’s got a mind of its own. Some say it seeks out places where stories need tellin’, or where folks need help, or cold beer. Floki seems to have no control over where it wanders; he’s as surprised as the guests each morning.
One night, you might find the inn moored at the edge of a battlefield, servin’ as a refuge for the lost and wounded. Come dawn, it could be halfway across the Outlands, hosting a celebration for planar travellers who’ve just completed an epic quest.
And the patrons? A motley crew if there ever was one. You’ve got your planewalkers, your lost souls, your heroes and villains, all mixin’ and minglin’. The Roamin’ Roost is strictly neutral ground, see. All squabbles are left at the door – Floki’s rules. Well, the Roost too, anyone causing trouble gets dumped through a trapdoor onto the ground 30′ below.
So, if you’re ever wanderin’ the Outlands and you see a tavern on chicken legs headed your way, fear not and step inside. If you whistle just right it should bend down and a rope ladder will drop for you. Have some bub, listen to the chant, and who knows where you’ll end up come morning in the Roamin’ Roost, the most curious inn in all the Outlands.
Source: Jon Winter-Holt, inspired by Plastic Mohawk
