Wind rushes through the doors, and the candles in the tavern flicker as a traveler enters the front room. As he gazes about, scanning for a seat, he sees characters of varying scrupulosity. Some of the bar patrons are sunk into their stools, lurching towards their drinks in simultaneous joy and agony, and some sit upright, their movements precise and dignified, as if with each hand gesture they say "Well, I never," as they slowly drink themselves down to the level of civilization that some of their compatriots enjoy. For tonight is the eve of the Festival of the Sun, and merriment is spreading like wildfire through the normally sedate night air of the city of Stonedeep. Tomorrow, these bar patrons will wake up at the crack of noon, just in time to stumble into the church and give thanks for the Sunstone that lights their city. The bell tolls midnight, and the bartender shouts out for last call. Those with homes to go to go to them, and those with rooms in the tavern loosen their boots and begin to trudge up the stairs. A few bar patrons stay for their last round of drinks, and the bartender begins to roll down the doors protecting the goods in the tavern. The candles in the front are extinguished, and the air in the tavern finally settles, the wild antics replaced by serene calm.
[spoiler]Give a post introducing yourself, you can either sleep now or have a last drink or some third thing.[/spoiler]