Frothing Otter Tavern

For those who care little about safety, or just don't know any better, The Frothing Otter Tavern was the place to be. Lying on the fringe of the plains, within walking distance of the gates of Atalan, The Frothing Otter was probably one of the more widely known gathering spots, if not the most luxurious or secure. There were a lot of regulars here, forming a melting pot of races and creeds, which could often be an eye-opening experience to many newcomers. Merchants, sailors, academics, mercenaries, adventurers, even priests and arcanists ... anyone "in the know" will often find their way here at some point, either for information, to resupply, or perhaps to find someone willing to do less than savory acts ... for a price.

Selkirk and his common law wife, Maggie May, were the owners, if any sort of designation of ownership could be made. Originally a hardened merc, Maggie May started taking security jobs on the shipping lanes, and it was on one of the first Atalan expedition ships that she met a tough grizzled sailor named Selkirk. They struck an unusual and fast friendship, and even before the decision was made to colonize the City, Selkirk and Maggie started laying plans, recognizing the potential of owning the only watering hole and gathering place ... at least for a while. They started pilfering from ship stores at first, kick-starting their venture. Over time, the tavern became self sufficient and fairly profitable, particularly as they remained the only known establishment that operated outside the City Walls.

There were some rumours that say Maggie had more than a few dealings with 'the city below', althougdh no one could prove any of these stories. Both Selkirk and Maggie make sure to keep on the good side of any officials that may patrol through the area, often giving them a warm drink during the winter (or cool one in the summer) free of charge, and a discount on food. For those whose drunkenness or obnoxious manner far exceeded what even Selkirk and Maggie deemed appropriate, there were always the ham-sized fists of the Valkshir bouncer, Vidarr, whose grunts and snarls had meaning all unto their own, and the downright frightening Velkan.

The Frothing Otter has since been destroyed in the dragon attacks of Summer 986IY. Where the proprietors have ended up now, is anyone's guess.