The Red Herring Inn, a warm, weathered tavern with faded sails for awnings and driftwood beams darkened by time. Inside, the hearth never truly dies. Patrons huddle close, sharing tales of sea beasts, lost ships, and the gentle wisdom of the forest druids. Music spills out at night—flute, fiddle, and the occasional drunken shanty—and travelers find welcome here, so long as they bring more stories than trouble.