Tavern Review: I Was Stabbed by the Barkeep and Did Not Have Tyme to Write One on Account of My Wounds

Many of the Kingdom’s taverns be known for a level of violent fun and chaotic merrymaking not oft seen in the light of the publick square. Indeed, all types of folk — from peasants, to craftsmen, to wandering rogue knights, to hybrid creatures of questionable origin — doth frequent the pubbes during their rare reprieves from toil. Mayhaps no tavern in the Realm hath a rowdier reputation than Ye Uncouth Schooner, the sailors’ bar by the Wharf.

I took it upon mineself to write a review of Ye Schooner. Most know it in name only, as learnéd peoples typically don’t survive a visit to that part of towne. And, indeed, I was accosted on numerous occasions before I had e’en reached my destination.

Whilst walking through the Wharf’s cobbled alleys, which were wet with briny puddles and stank of olde fish, a shady merman-like creature tried to sell me a graham of merryberry leaf. When I refused he slapped me so hard with his slimy fins that I thought I might vomit. If one hath e’er been slapped by a merman, one knows the revolting texture of their scaly finnacles is enough to make one’s stomach turn.

But survive I did, and I continued on my journey to the bar to write my review. After much searching, I found ‘tis located in Sogfish Alley and can most easily be located by following the scent of death. There is usually a dead body outside. There were two when I arrived at its entrance. One was another foode critic I knew, likely stricken down as he attempted to write the first ever review of Ye Uncouth Schooner as well. My luck!

If the smell of death and rotten fish outside was notable, then on the inside ‘twas pervasive , with only the addition of stale beer and sweaty flesh. I will not describe the vulgar patrons which inhabited this place, and my memory is a bit hazy on account of the bloodletting which I would soon suffer.

I pulled up a seat at the bar, which appeared to be made of planks from an olde ship, surely stolen by a band of pirates – of which there were many here now playing cards, dead man’s hand, I reckon – and sold to the proprietor.

The barkeep approached me and said, “We don’t be takin’ kindly to foode critics in these parts. Take thy leave posthaste or I will stab ye.”

Mayhaps I should have taken his advice, for I refused to leave and he stabbed me. The pirates laughed then went back to playing cards. The rest is but a blur, but I managed to stumble my way back home, blood pouring from mine innards the entire tyme. My wife managed to stitch me up. A few organs did fall out of my torso and she was not able to get them back in, but it seems those particular organs were not that important for my bodily functioning.

Anywho, I didn’t manage to write that review, on account of the stabbing and my subsequent wounds. But I did take a few preliminary notes on a napkin, which I managed to save, bloody as it was. Here be my partial review based on those notes:

• Atmosphere. Dank. Horrid smell - rotten fish/death? Everyone angry. Orc just murdered guy with club. C-

• Service. Stabby. D-

• Location. Soggy. Not welcoming to non-pirates/non-seafaring criminals. C

• Food. Didn’t see any. Orc appeared to be eating the guy’s arm. Does that count? D

• Overall. Maybe enjoyable if thou art into foul fishy stenches and violent crime, but surely not a place for the faint of heart or foode critics. D+