Gutless Griffon
It’s almost impossible to separate the reputation of the Gutless Griffon tavern from that of its beloved proprietor, Fronsac Shimm. For nearly twenty years, the charming bon vivant has tempted revelers and lodgers alike with a jolly atmosphere, delicious food, and well-curated selection of liberally poured beers and spirits. Shimm spends most evenings working the crowd, introducing himself to strangers and his patrons to each other, always ready to slap a back, order a new round, or encourage one of several bawdy songs popular in the district. A few years ago, Shimm parleyed his influence into a seat on the Ivy District Council (and a later appointment to the Grand Council), giving him a “rags to riches/ common man in government” patina that only adds to his personal appeal.
Most of the structure’s two floors are given over to a large taproom and the balcony overlooking it. The taproom is flanked by a well-stocked bar on one side and a modest stage on the other. Bards play from this stage almost constantly, and it is a favorite with talented performers who are not necessarily on the right side of the Street Performers and Actors’ Guild. Fronsac Shimm and Guildmaster Alain Always are old enemies, though no one knows (or can remember) the circumstances that soured their once-strong friendship. Whatever happened, their disagreement seems to be based in mutual respect, for while the guild refuses to endorse performances at the Gutless Griffon, Always rarely reprimands those who perform there, and uses his influence with the Thistleguard to keep the law away from Shimm’s operation. The guildmaster has little power over Bor Dralfo’s Brotherhood of Abadar, however, who make the Griffon a regular stop of their scolding patrols.
The taproom’s main floor is dominated by several long tables and benches, and seating in the crowded tavern is an opportunistic affair. You’re almost forced to sit with strangers at the Gutless Griffon, but the atmosphere is so convivial that no one seems to mind. Smaller tables set into alcoves along the outside wall of the balcony allow for more secluded candle-lit gatherings away from the noise and cheer of the main floor. The balcony also opens into a hallway leading to the Griffon’s modest guest accommodations, which are more often rented by revelers too drunk to stumble home or those more interested in brief encounters with one of the numerous courtesans working the crowd than by travelers seeking more long-term accommodation.
The tavern’s most famous feature is the huge hearth on the wall opposite the main door, notable from the exterior by a distinctive chimney constructed of several oddly shaped bricks. A clutch of benches are arrayed before the hearth, which usually holds a roaring fire that proves extremely popular on cold nights, particularly in the winter. The hearth of the Gutless Griffon is like sacred ground to the storytellers of Absalom, who compare holding court there to sitting on a throne, reigning as the temporary sovereign of the greatest tale-spinners of the Inner Sea.
Most of the structure’s two floors are given over to a large taproom and the balcony overlooking it. The taproom is flanked by a well-stocked bar on one side and a modest stage on the other. Bards play from this stage almost constantly, and it is a favorite with talented performers who are not necessarily on the right side of the Street Performers and Actors’ Guild. Fronsac Shimm and Guildmaster Alain Always are old enemies, though no one knows (or can remember) the circumstances that soured their once-strong friendship. Whatever happened, their disagreement seems to be based in mutual respect, for while the guild refuses to endorse performances at the Gutless Griffon, Always rarely reprimands those who perform there, and uses his influence with the Thistleguard to keep the law away from Shimm’s operation. The guildmaster has little power over Bor Dralfo’s Brotherhood of Abadar, however, who make the Griffon a regular stop of their scolding patrols.
The taproom’s main floor is dominated by several long tables and benches, and seating in the crowded tavern is an opportunistic affair. You’re almost forced to sit with strangers at the Gutless Griffon, but the atmosphere is so convivial that no one seems to mind. Smaller tables set into alcoves along the outside wall of the balcony allow for more secluded candle-lit gatherings away from the noise and cheer of the main floor. The balcony also opens into a hallway leading to the Griffon’s modest guest accommodations, which are more often rented by revelers too drunk to stumble home or those more interested in brief encounters with one of the numerous courtesans working the crowd than by travelers seeking more long-term accommodation.
The tavern’s most famous feature is the huge hearth on the wall opposite the main door, notable from the exterior by a distinctive chimney constructed of several oddly shaped bricks. A clutch of benches are arrayed before the hearth, which usually holds a roaring fire that proves extremely popular on cold nights, particularly in the winter. The hearth of the Gutless Griffon is like sacred ground to the storytellers of Absalom, who compare holding court there to sitting on a throne, reigning as the temporary sovereign of the greatest tale-spinners of the Inner Sea.
Comments