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Welcome to The Tavern!
The low walls are white-washed and the roof made of peat. Dusty glass windows, panes thick at the bottom with age, flicker with the tavern's inner orange firelight. The doorway is an open black rectangle and you pass from the Irish night through it.The smell of baking bread wafts around you as you take a seat on a bench near the door. Men and women laugh in corners. The fire, snapping in an open fireplace, flickers. A man is telling stories. He shovels ashes out of the fire and onto the floor, then uses a stick to draw in them. His audience laughs at a joke you cannot hear.
A woman in an apron, her kind face open, approaches and asks what you'd like.
Choose Your Area of Interest:
About MeAll Things Celtic
Collectible Card Games
Fiction
Humorous Stuff
A Photo of Me
Poetry
Role-Playing Games
Storytelling
What Does Seanchai Mean?
Contact Me at Seanchai0@aol.com