With the day’s break, the journey begins. The desire to carry on, even when the destination is unknown. Each day brings with it the same challenges, the same trials, the same tests of fortitude. Time and effort must be spent acquiring nourishment - a venerated cup of ale, if one is lucky enough. Whether by scavenging, hunting, or bartering, one must retain adequate strength for the long road ahead. Reliable traveling gear is required for any wanderer on a long and arduous quest where moments of respite are illusive and only nature bars the way.

But does nature truly stand the only foe along this lonely path? Surely, the weather and wolves would hold no ill will towards a hapless traveler - the needs of beasts are fewer than that of man and far more primal. Nature unto itself is indifferent: an obstacle that plays favorites with no being of flesh and bone. But what of mankind and his industry? A merchant, who balks at a fair trade from a perceivably uncouth wanderer, could bring disaster for the road ahead should resources become scant. A barkeep, who serves watered-down wine, provides meager relief to a weary traveler from distant lands. A blacksmith, who produces brittle steel, could spell doom for the life of any intrepid adventurer. Thus, man may pose a greater danger unto himself, lest one grasp the true threats on paths ahead. Yet, there is hope if one retains lucidity in the face of despair.

Knowledge of purpose, keen awareness of necessity, and allowances of revelry are key to survival on the journey. Reliance upon companions can benefit any traveler and provide support in the event of danger or sheer melancholy. Yet, one must also be prepared to face the unknown and the intangible. Tales from distant lands tell of sorcerous discourse through the aether ephemeral. A vague myriad of imposing judgments, sentiments, and general impressions of dismissive reverence veil kindness and sincerity by masking true intentions. For they are spells of deceit cast upon friend & foe alike with sheer indifference. Can such sorcery assist in a journey into the unknown? Must one strive to achieve perceived greatness through sacrifice of thine own self or those who stand by our side? How can one truly succeed if thou know not thyself? The measure of a man or woman, be it good or ill, may surely be found by breaking bread and sharing in one’s company.

Yea, it be that only small pleasures may drive away the darkness that builds within during a time of struggle. A warm fire, a bite of cheese, or a mug of ale could be all that stand between a wanderer and their salvation from utter despair. The Tavern stands as a sanctuary along the crossroads of twilight - a shelter of reprieve along the road sought to stave off the inevitable storm. A humble monument to act as a bulwark amidst external forces of chaos bearing down to break one’s will. Such a haven carries, not with it, the common burdens of man. Nay, within these halls, only comfort resides. Among the passing of countless strangers, wanderers from near and far, tales of joy or sorrow, bearings of merriment or trade… only The Tavern remains.

Along the roads less-travelled, meager holdings can often take root. Humble hovels of little renown may arise as spring grass through forsaken tundra. Standing as though a fluttering flame marooned in a sea of darkness, glimpses of shelter may draw any desperate pilgrim from an arduous expedition into monotony. A seasoned traveler will recognize an auspicious establishment. The amenities afforded to the forlorn in spite of monetary capacity dictate the true worth of the haven sought. Indeed, the same conditions apply to the proprietors of such a sanctuary: sincerity and cordiality often prevail among flat ale or insipid stew.

Thou shalt face many a crossroad whereby the prospects of the uncharted trounces the seduction of the flourishing, yet mundane, hamlet. The paths taken by any wanderer are not always straight, nor certain, for what true wealth may be gained by perpetual haunts into holdings of finite possibility? A table set, already entrenched in success, need not consider the realms of scrupulous authenticity. All too often does facile opulence corrupt the candid barkeep who, in turn, abandons sincere practices in favor of those which yield heftier coin. Alternatively, a table set in obscurity must appraise the true value of its accommodations, the quality of its services, and the utility of its very existence. For it is not inherent of any meager tavern to lack for quality in the form of sustenance or comfort. Tenuous, yea they be, a wise wanderer shall discern the intended propriety as genuine, for it is the small ember of potential that may kindle the flame of prosperity.

Ask thyself of the roads most commonly tread. Consider the paths that thou shouldst journey towards, and the tables at which thou mayst rest. A time shall arrive to consider when and where to lay down thy burdens. Holdings of scant repute are often dismissed with little regard to their conceivable realizations. Strange halls brimming with bizarre folk may one day be occupied with familiar faces and more intimate relations. A wanderer of an ambiguous fate, at the crossroads of convenience and uncertainty, shall never cultivate wisdom through routes most habituated. Choose wisely traveler; two roads, two havens, Two Tables… where dost thou destiny lie?

Mother Nature stands beholden to neither thine own arrangements, nor to the grueling months spent in preparation for a long journey. Impending showers threaten to wash away hopes while intense gales risk toppling dreams. Yet, grand opportunities should not be met with continued procrastination in light of dire circumstance. Amidst the perils of unexpected elemental exposure, perseverance may yield the greatest rewards. Favorable prospects await adventurers and entrepreneurs alike in the face of bitter obstacles intent on shattering resolution. Such was the fate of a modest establishment known as the Two Tables.

Unbeknownst to this humble wanderer at first gazing upon such a simple structure, the halls of this tavern were brimming with amicable patrons. Perhaps it was the chance to escape from a dreary climate, or merely a favorable contingency for lack of alternatives, but nary was there an unpleasant visage to be found. Admittedly, such genteel surroundings are quite baffling upon previous proclamations from this very same establishment stating that “some guests will be dressed, and others will not.'' Suffice it to say, these conditions were not met, as this candid wanderer will attest. Yet, lacking the advertised garmentless affair need not draw away from the commendable services of its proprietors, regardless of the disappointment of some. Pleasures, however, were found elsewhere: a hot stew and a horn of ale do provide these to a wearisome traveler and should never be understated. The prospects of winning additional coin from transitory companions for the sake of obtaining further pours from the tap becomes a worthy endeavor unto itself. Patrons’ cultivating varying games of dice earned fortuitous levels of revelry unforeseen by the proprietors. Indeed, such games of chance may become more commonplace in the wake of this unequivocal achievement.

While the simple accommodations of food and drink are a mainstay for any tavern at the crossroads, unexampled sources of entertainment may be invaluable in providing a more spiritual reprieve. After a long day spent feasting, gambling, and conversing with strangers from foreign lands, a musical duet adds a sense of proper finality to the overall engagement. The structural canopy giving way to a long day of enduring the harsh elements, utterly drenching a fair maiden, adds a sense of whimsy and hilarity to an otherwise modest affair. Tokens of virtue bestowed upon exceptional individuals creates a degree of notoriety and fellowship amongst fleeting companionship. Alas, a sudden apathy befalls this wanderer regarding the journey ahead: Can such notable merriment be found at any tavern along the forthcoming road? Will the warmth of the approaching solstice give way to such comparable amenities? For amidst the ensuing storm, the Two Tables endured.

Lords and Ladies of the Bay,
Gather around for this short tale,
Passed on to me by a wanderer past,
Something of which he yearned to regale.

Only several weeks ago, he happened upon a place,
Not far from yonder dale,
Requesting only friendship in exchange
for storm shelter under its sturdy percale.

The wanderer perched upon a bench and took up the task
To study every nuance in great detail.
Around him sat other travelers of various ilk and social skill,
Lauding that meager can sometimes seem full-scale.

Upon entering the humble yet agreeable establishment
The wanderer found himself finally able to exhale,
As his empty belly was soon filled with many offerings
That without shame he eagerly began to inhale.

A quick glance towards the bar let the Barkeep know
Liquid refreshment it was time to unveil.
As the wanderer drank his fill of the fresh brew
He relished in the comfort and contentment that did prevail.

After all forms of sustenance were fully acknowledged,
Uproarious laughter and coin slinking began to pervade the air.
The wanderer observed light-hearted gambling afoot,
And after an hour of dice rolling found his earnings more than fair.

Upon being bid farewell from a few fellow shelter seekers,
A beauteous sound into his ears did melodiously sail.
The humming and strumming and drumming from the minstrels,
Left the wanderer feeling as though departure was to be something to curtail.

The wanderer watched as fellow travelers permanently passed by
His lack of relishment in the fleeting moments leaving his heart feeling stale.
Though the clouds had parted and the sun had broken through,
His movement towards the door were nothing short of travail.

As he passed me by the other day with his heart ever heavy,
To me, he did deliver a message to avail.
So, I am here now fulfilling his plea,
Posting fliers of paper and sending this mail.

Dear travelers, wanderers, and shelter-seekers alike,
Please note that although that event may have passed the veil,
Planning of the next gathering of this sort is already unfolding,
Keep your eyes and ears open for the next one named Ale and Bale.

A refreshing breeze to wick away the sweat before it gains purchase upon thine brow, and a charitably luminous sky with scarcely a cloud in sight are precious boons, indeed. ‘Tis a simple, yet most welcoming setting to achieve the most productive journey. Maintaining a favorable pace in all possible scenarios, even in the most adverse conditions is the mark of a seasoned traveller. However, when nature presents thee with such opportunity, do not shirk cultivating new purpose; for sustaining a budding momentum yields a chance to reclaim time lost, gain new ground, and potentially reap unexpected rewards.

Let not thine own measures of poise and determination blind thee to the hardships that remain along paths ahead. Overconfidence hath taken many a life of sturdy adventurers, and left many an empty pocket for the most cunning of vagabonds. The rations of a single water skin must not be forced to the brink without clear insight towards the next opportunity for replenishment. The stakes of the journey should only be raised with a keen awareness in thine own abilities and standing; thus granting the necessary morale and wisdom to strive for loftier heights.

It would be ill-advised for a tavern to tap an additional barrel of ale unless their first batch has already been proven worthy. There is no shame to be found in remaining a modest enterprise, providing simple manners of reprieve in a land of ever-present uncertainty and peril. Yet, no lucrative establishment achieved such prestige through stagnation, just as no wanderer reaches an objective through complacency.

The steady gaze of the midsummer sun may provoke impeding waves of apathy upon even the most steadfast adventurers. Vast fields of wheat wafting listlessly in the breeze as well as a medley of blooming perennials may perchance lure a hapless wanderer towards passivity. Take pause from the temptations of inactivity and find motivation from nature’s innate bounties. Observe the humming of bees, ever diligent in their duties for harvest, and cherish the unrequited fruits of their labors. Give not a scrap of terrain to indifference or lethargy. Press forward fellow wanderers and seize what is yours! Onward to The Ale & Bale!

Woe unto thee for expectations of lethargic perspiration amidst warming rays of sunshine cut by gentle gales. A sultry incandescence may yet prove a greater foe along the path compared to a calm and consistent weeping of the heavens. Perhaps this wanderer erred in partaking in a rather grisly affair of demonic musical rituals while also consuming copious amounts of brew late into the witching hour on the evening prior to reaching the intended destination. Yea, thou must assume responsibility for thine own foolish actions which led to an ill-prepared journey, regardless of such invigorating distractions. Take heart, for bleary, ale-induced visions of masked visages and pyromancy cast to the booming of drums shall fade into the morning mists with renewed purpose in accomplishing the task ahead.

Despite one’s arrival in a state of personal discomposure, the Ale & Bale presented an atmosphere of comforting propriety. An air of maturity was accentuated by more exuberant activities and bountiful offerings. New competitive games of chance with bustling rivalry evokes one to maintain a tighter grip upon thine coin pouch. ‘Tis evermore crucial to maintain a steady bounty when faced with a choice between the mysterious Feoh and the more lavish Ansuz. Thou shalt look the proper fool lest ye forget the funds to afford the more robust and hearty meals offered at the Ale & Bale. The delights bestowed by this tavern were only matched by its aura and authenticity. Yet, as sultriness intensifies amongst the more luxurious seating options, and guests begin melding nigh unto a single table of activity, one begins to question deceptive influences beyond the veil of sight.

‘Tis as though the moonlit rituals of the previous evening bled into the rays of the rising sun, twisting and warping its emanations upon the revelry below. Chaos was nigh when patrons began passing beyond the sacred barrier of the barkeep’s table and pouring ale for themselves. A honey-enriched saison to be felled by the adoration of a simple, yet refreshing golden ale feels a thing most profane. A sense of parasitic wasps snatching away a sweet prize carefully cultivated by bees toiling endlessly to contribute sustenance is an image that cannot escape this wanderer. The merry tunes of The Unquiet Grave cast shadowy themes of tragedy and eccentricity across an overall luminous event. Yet, the familiar and delightful pluckings of the bards continue to ensue joyous finality to a long afternoon of festivity. It would seem that reliance upon conjecture with regard to an anticipated setting shall often leave one open to bewildering astonishment.

As very little evidence of the event remains, one may be led to believe that the Ale & Bale may have been nothing but a dream. An exuberant and strange affair that may only live on in the memory of these pages. For those that experienced this fabled tavern, one must wonder if the delights were true, or if they were merely delusions wrought by a tainted sun. As this wanderer cannot be certain, the next destination must be far and away while thoughts are gathered, and proper preparations are made. Perhaps the most logical endeavor will be visitation to an establishment beneath the peaceful moon and stars, bereft of debauchery, with heat and light to be provided only by candle and hearth.

As memory fades into the gloom of twilight and the season becomes frigid, a final milestone must be met before sheltering for the stormy year’s end. Let not the deepening chill temper thy designs nor the growing darkness suppress imagination. With the passing of the cycle, thou mayest evaluate the experience of the paths travelled through relishment of pertinent memories and dispense the weight of mistakes from ventures past. Such reflection may evoke feelings of gratitude for the knowledge bestowed. Allow the abating moon’s gleam to stand as matron to thy mental encumbrance, absorbing adverse tension until the culmination of release by a renewed rotation, a new beginning.

The Harvest has come, and with it, a time for feasting, a time for merriment, a time for celebration with friends and strangers alike before Winter’s breath threatens to bite through the bones of any foolish traveler left in the wilderness. Beneath the waning moonlight, ‘tis an opportunity to cleanse thy soul of dreariness, undo the bindings of uncertainty and adjust course back towards the goal with newly invigorated purpose. For at the road’s end, thine own measure of fortitude shalt be matched only by the yield of the Harvest itself. Upon its waxing return, flames shall be kindled anew amidst the tavern to the fore, perpetuating as a beacon of realized potential.

Beneath a robust canopy, an ale of stout flavors begins to concoct, and a crafty brewmaster is said to have poached a fabled recipe from a tavern of yore. Proprietors of the tavern blend seasonal spices with newly garnered squash and begin stuffing fresh links of wurst. Warmed by solitary hearth, the lodge’s starches begin to bake and rise, whilst apples are baked into a pudding accompanied by a bone-thawing mulled wine. ‘Twill be an ambitious affair amongst modest proportions, yet wisdom gained by faults previously tread upon shalt alloweth for refined innovation. Vivid and famishing are the dreams of this wanderer’s next destination, but ‘tis the Harvest season, and nary a morsel must fail to be recounted nor partaken.

Let the insight achieved by previous sojourns hone thy methods, fellow wanderers, and press on towards the adventure’s climax. The journey will be long, allowing for proper preparations to be made, and further doubt to be washed away. A sudden sense of anxiety and excitement begins to grow as with the turning cycles of the moon’s glow, and with growing illumination from the waxing gibbous orb, a budding strength begins to take hold. No longer will the harsh rays of the hot sun obscureth intent or ambition, for the moonlight shalt guide thee towards transformative refinement. Set out with restored determination, and seek to fulfil thine own wishes, for the Halfmoon Harvest awaits.