Roadside
Rowdy
Modest prices
Three-Hoof Relay
the drovers' inn a day's drive from the river ford
The inn sits back from the road, its low porch piled with peat sacks, lariat coils, and the occasional bleeding straw where a driver napped. Inside, the common room smells of smoked meat, sweating leather, and stale ale. A long scarred table runs the length of the room beneath a rack of hooks where ribbons and odd trophies from pig races—rosettes, a brass horseshoe, a cracked bell—hang tangled with cattle tags. Lamps sputter; laughter and shouted bets ripple like thunder as boots stamp, spurs clink, and a handful of men and women lean on the bar telling the same tall tales in louder voices than need be. Behind the counter, polished tankards outnumber plates, and a wide hearth hosts the day's roast that never quite leaves the air. A narrow stair climbs to a loft where drivers collapse for a few silvery hours between droves; a back door leads to the yard where pennant-ropes mark the pig track and a rough scoreboard is nailed to the stable wall. Newcomers are watched at first—by the regulars with glee, by the barkeep with a tallying eye—then swiftly offered a wager or a bite, depending on how loud they can argue the odds.
A weather-beaten oak board carved with three boar hooves forming a triangle; one hoof is painted bright red and the paint is flaking. The iron bracket is rust-streaked but the sign swings loudly in wind and when draywheels roll by.
Garrim Vossin
Human
Manner
Quirk
Stats
Garrim's Red
5 spA potent mix of spiced ale, beet syrup, and a shot of housefire — it warms the chest, sharpens the tongue, and gives +1 to Charisma checks to persuade someone to take a bet for the next 10 minutes (once per drink).
Modest (5e lifestyle: about 1 gp a day)
Merek Hobb · cook
A scarred grillman who can turn a dog's rump into a feast and remembers every drover's favorite cut.
Tansy Reed · barmaid
Quick with a stein and quicker with a wager, she knows who owes and who will fold.
Brun Thatch · bouncer
A hulking ex-drover who stands in the doorway like a measured step between order and a brawl.
Old Jory
A wiry drover with one eye who always has a tipped ear for gossip and keeps the scoreboard true for reasons he won't explain.
Hest the Spinner
A pig-racing legend with a limp and a temper: she claims her champion boar 'Gimlet' was stolen for a private race at Iron Ford.
Ranik Two-Saddles
A young, nervous cattle driver trying to save enough coin for his own herd, always looking for an inside tip on the next race.
1
Hest the Spinner says her champion hog Gimlet vanished the night before a wager and was sighted being loaded onto a cart bound for Iron Ford.
2
A drover named Bren of Ashway claims a gang led by 'Knifetooth' sells branded hides at dusk behind the old mill at Iron Ford and Garrim's name came up in the ledger he found.
3
A prospector named Milla at Blue Salt Spring swears the new roadwork uncovered a seam of bluish salt crystals that glow at night and a caravan hauling samples never reached Three-Hoof Relay.
Made with the free LoreKeeper Tavern Generator · Free to use at your table · Licence
More roadside inns
The Brindle Spur
the drovers' rest where pigs race for coin
You push through a swinging plank door into a low-ceilinged hall alive with shouts, clinking tankards, and the sour-sweet reek of tack, smoke, and frying fat. Long trestle tables are scarred by…
The Brass Lantern Echo
the road's midnight festival
Warm lantern glow and the tang of spiced cider meet the road's chill as you push through the swinging door. Strings of colored fabric and paper lanterns crisscross the low ceiling; laughter…
Wet Duck Inn
the waystation beneath the alder bridge
The Wet Duck squats low against the bank where the road dips under a leaning alder. Inside, smoke and wet wool smell like an old companion; a peat fire chuffs in a stone hearth and lanterns hung on…
The Hollow Lantern
the inn that keeps its own light
You step under a low lintel into a wide, timbered common room where smoke has hung between beams long enough to become part of the wood. The light is thin — the lanterns over the bar sputter with a…
The Split Coin Keep
the toll-house that takes more than road fees
A lean, smoke-stained building squats at the side of the road where travelers must slow for the toll post. Inside the air is rank with boiled stew and damp wool; a single guttering lantern fights…
Last Coin Toll
the roadside post where the price is whatever they say
The Last Coin Toll squats where the road narrows between a ruined milepost and a copse of black pines. Lanterns gutter in oil-smeared glass; the light is low and chews shadows into the corners. On…
