Hollis in the Kingdom of Almiria, the Northern Plains
Thunder rolled in the clouds to the west. Still distant, but the wind told them that it would be a wet night. Heading down the lane tents, shops, and wagons made them think of the refugees to be found in lands were war ravaged the lives of common folk. A troop of Centaur cavalry past by in the other direction with their weapons stowed away in the town.
Passers-by seemed to be from every corner of the land; Human and Half Elf, Elf and Dwarf, Centaur and Tortle, even Orcs and Half Orcs walked the lane from trade wagon to stall, from shop to merchant's table. The lane was busy as people traded for food, wine, cloth, tools, and coal; the common needs of common lives.
While there were many buildings, mostly shops and homes, the largest structure by far was the tavern they had been directed to. The weathered sign over the door read 'Welcome to the Drunken Unicorn Inn' and it was shaped like a big tankard. Music filtered out, the sounds of singing and laughing and feet stomping in time to a lute accompany it. The smells of wood smoke and searing pork escaped the slotted shutters. All in all it seemed like a thriving place.