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The inns across 5 books….

In 5 of my 5 books, I have an inn scene. Somehow—somehow, my characters are always walking into inns. This has often led me to consider whether I have a love for this type of establishment.

So, here it is. From my first book to my most recent one—all the inn scenes. It’s fun to see how I started writing with just pure, blatant errors in my paragraphs.

Awakening The Nightstrikers

He worked his way around the back of the restaurant and sauntered up the ally, there was a patter as a pack of invisible wolves followed him. That was almost funny, now they were following him into a town they never ventured into… or did they? They could wreak a good deal of mischief and never be known, only suspected. He walked around to the front, read the name of the restaurant, it was called, Dry Wolves.


…soon they had found the inn that Lythik had mentioned. The happy laughter, joyous conversations, and friendly batters that Jerry heard when Lythik opened the door all dropped out when the verfric espied the priests

“What in Blackthys?” Curses and exclamations of shock made a cacophony that spread around the room when they saw Lythik and the priests, but the packed room of verfric watched awe-struck as the two followed the priests in. Jerry took in his surroundings quickly. Inside, it proved to be a restaurant as well as an inn. With walls built of tightly-overlapping hewn planks, the building was impressively tall. Huge beams arched the ceiling—painted with murals of verfric in intricate detail. In the corner, a huge fire burned under a mantle of stone. Jerry looked twice at the fire. There was no fuel, only a ruby stone with fire on it. Stretched across the chimney was a scaly hide, painted in some glowing depiction of swords. Tables made of blackened driftwood crowded the room, most occupied or over-occupied. To the front, there was what seemed to be a bar of some sort. Lythik led them forward.

A bulky verfric broke the torpor of surprise that pervaded the room by jumping up, topping his seat backward and drawing a sword. The blade shimmered in the coalesced light of lamps and bulbs.

Bloodlines of Fire

Ryla slowed her mount. The old house was beautiful in the falling dusk. Golden light emanated from the windows and filled the yard and eves with a lucent warmth.

Benja motioned her forward and she spurred her mount to follow him. “My childhood home.” He said. “My mother’s inn.”

They crossed the yard and then dismounted around the side of the house. The cherry orchard behind the house was aglow with fireflies.

The Ghouls of Rethwaur

Opening the heavy door of the inn took some strength from their stiff muscles, but they got it open, and stepped into the warmth of the building.

The chairs and tables of the inn sat under the gaze of the sun, which drifted in from the glass window. The back of the inn was dark, but a lighter, kitchen-y ambiance and delicious smells came from a door in the back. A fire of coals lived in the center of a great fireplace.

Dren let his pack fall to the ground and, peeling his frozen gloves, moved over to the fire and started letting his hands thaw.

Bloodlines of Fire [Reimagined]

Dominik barged into the inn, and everyone stopped eating and started staring. 

They looked over his long arms and bulky form, his hardened face with his sweat-matted blond hair spilling around his eyes, his black and gray armor—well-worn, but expensive. And there was his sword too, a long blade slung over his back.

The barkeeper was behind the bar, in the middle of passing out a couple bowls of soup. 

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