As you enter the Drunken Bugbear, smoke fills your eyes and you hear the sounds of glasses clinking, liquid flowing, and above all else the uproar of the inside throng. There’s a fire roaring at the far end of the room, filling it with warmth and a flickering light. The bartenders, a muscular elf, a well-dressed dwarf, and a halfling, are swapping jokes and sending platters of food and drink across the room with scantily-clad waitresses. And everywhere are adventurers – men and women with big names and bigger swords, swift of word and dagger, masters of the arcane and the divine alike. This is where legends come to live.
Tales from the Drunken Bugbear is a tongue in cheek name for a broad and suspiciously geographically-diverse world inhabitated by all sorts of civilized folk and even more uncivilized ones. It’s a world where empires have taken hold where they could and glare at where they couldn’t. The world is deceptively peaceful. You’d never know that there was so much to keep adventurers busy. Still, it’s a hero’s job to go poke out trouble to fix, and the world is always more than happy to oblige. Then, when he or she is finished righting whatever unsustainably-sized wrong he or she found, he or she goes back to the Drunken Bugbear in Greater Secropolis to make it an even bigger event. Bragging is a noble tradition at the Drunken Bugbear, and it’s your turn to contribute.