We eventually arrived at our destination: the Iron Feast.
Imposing, the building looked as if it had been carved from a single block of black rock, as though it had been torn from the very bowels of the mountain itself. A large sign made of raw metal, studded with rivets, hung above the double doors: it showed a hammer crossed with a fork, engraved in relief like crests. The smell wafting from inside was intoxicating—a mix of roasted meat, smoky spices, and fresh-baked bread.
Two statues of Gorr'Shan warriors flanked the entrance. Their stone faces bore the same tattoos as their living counterparts: warrior spirals, runes of strength, tears of war. Their crossed arms held an axe and a tankard each, symbols of honor and camaraderie.
— Here we are. I said with a smile.
Lysara nodded gently, silent as always, but she had drawn a little closer to me. Perhaps a sign of anticipation. Or simply curiosity.
