As any civilised beast should know, exploring the lakes of the cumbra-land to the west of Northymbra is a risky proposition. The wild landscape, beautiful as it is, is home to many ruthless clans, warbands whom prey on the unwary, and a thousand other dangers beside! But amongst the danger lies riches worth the peril. For the artist, unparalleled landscapes. For the treasure hunter, lost and unlooted paychests. And for the most intrepid B.O.G. members, The Tall Oak on The Lake.
Before I begin this review in earnest, I must apologise to the publishers of The Tavern Tattle Tail, the Worshipful Guild of Fabulators, and the B.O.G., whom make it available for free to all beasts of Northymbra. The previous review of The Sunne in Splendour required many more pages and copious reservoirs of ink to produce than is normally permitted per issue. Whilst I did insist on the review being published in full, I am very thankful to the Fabulators that they were willing to negotiate the costs of the additional materials needed. B.O.G. members need not worry; the extraneous funds were not taken from B.O.G. membership fees to cover my own folly, but ceded from my personal finances with assistance of the City of Luneden's Council, thanks to Lord Mayor Snoddy. In the interest of transparency, I believe these funds were given as an attempt to encourage gentlebeasts to visit Luneden. I hope this apology settles any suspicions of scandal within the B.O.G.
Along the western coast of Ulfrvatn Lake, a few miles down from Vatnmillock, the lucky explorer will find what may well be one of the mightiest and most ancient Oaks growing on this fair isle of ours. The broad trunk dwarfs many of the houses in the "nearby" village, and the branches extend as grasping fingers trying to pluck the clouds from the heavens. The gnarled root ball at its base bulges across the shoreline, sending broad roots sprawling into the clear waters of the lake. Well-trodden paths lead to several dark crevices in the bark, though should one visit in the darker hours one will see these self-same crevices, along with a those higher up the trunk, glowing with ethereal light.
If one braves these ominous looking portals, they will find a surprisingly cavernous interior, furnished with crude-looking but comfortable furniture, overlooking a bar that extends out into the lapping waters. At all times of the day, indeed throughout the night, one will find a host of creatures thronging the naturally vaulted hollow. Many sport the circular tattoos and markings of the Wildings. More still will view any beast garbed in the trappings of modern society with deep suspicion. However, anyone who does not cause trouble (particularly those who leave metal armour and more state-of-the-art weaponry at home) will find a sufficiently friendly welcome in the heart of The Tall Oak's landlord, though this title may not be entirely appropriate.
MugsliDrasst (I believe that is the closest approximation of how to spell his name, the written word being something of a foreign concept to him; not unheard-of but never to be trifled with) is a toad of great renown within the communities around Ulfrvatn. Whilst not as hulking as his mate, whom I met later in the evening, he non-the-less towered over me. On learning who I was and that I pen this publication, he placed his meaty arm* around my shoulders and guided me to one of the higher tables in the room, asking my preferred style of beer. Shortly after, and despite Drasst never leaving my side or calling out to a colleague, a slender newt slinked across the room with a surprisingly large wooden tankard; I was expecting this to be for Drasst, but it was placed firmly in front of my more diminutive frame. I enquired about price and payment, along with hesitantly bringing up B.O.G. membership discounts, only to receive a hearty, croaking belly laugh in response. Apparently The Tall Oak, like may Wilding establishments**, do not accept currency in exchange for goods and services. Instead, one should expect to trade and barter for your meals and drinks. For myself, Drasst insisted that an honest review would be more than sufficient service to compensate for my sustenance for the evening.
Looking down into my drink, I initially feared he may be right that my time and skill would be worth more than the beers. Whilst I had said that I preferred dark beers and what was in front of me was indeed very dark, it also appeared to be as thick as a creamed soup, even threatening being chunky in places! To say I was hesitant to take a sip would be to undersell the point, though I tried to hide such from my host. After as much small talk as one felt one could manage before appearing impolite, I summoned the courage to sup on my beverage. The flavour was encouraging, with the richness of a milk stout, though lacking the sweetness. It took a few moments to get used to the thick, heavy body of the beer (again, the comparison to a cooled soup feels most apt) but once I had gotten my pallet around that, I found the beer to be quite satisfying. I could not in good faith recommend this beer as an extra-ordinary culinary experience, as it lacked any significant depth of flavour for those beasts of refined tastes or keen sense of smell, but neither was it so lightly flavoured for one to classify it as hogswash. For those used to modern beverages, the drinks will generally be more filling than expected, potentially even negating the need for one of the regular meals one would consume of a typical day. You may also find that the strength of alcohol to be less then your usual tiple of choice, though it could scarcely be called "weak". After a trying day or difficult travels, it would certainly hit that particular spot which relaxes one's muscles and aids in regenerative rest.
Particularly observant readers will have doubtlessly noted that one has failed to name the beer which one has been describing, making this a particularly difficult review to pen. The Tall Oak on the Lake offer only beverages brewed locally by various Wildling folk of the Ulfrvatn valley. By tradition, these are not named and can often vary by season, recent weather, and (if one is to believe such things) the Will of the Old Ones themselves!*** Expect the unexpected when ordering here, though I doubt you will be too disappointed by anything served. MugsliDrasst certainly appears to have a high standard for what he considers worthy of being served, based on our conversations throughout the evening.
Of course, the wise traveller will be conscientious that one cannot live on beer alone (as much as many of us wish we could, and indeed as some of the dregs of society may try). The food available from The Tall Oak is, unsurprisingly, simple faire. A hearty, deeply flavoured "life stew" is perpetually bubbling away over the only open fire within the tree; regularly topped up with fresh water, vegetables, herbs, and whatever scavenged meats have been secured that day. That included a fresh trout I watched being pulled out of the water INSIDE the pub, gutted in front of all the patrons, and deposited in the great cauldron; scales, bones and all.
Beyond this local delicacy, if such a phrase is fitting, seasonal fruits and seed bowls are liberally shared amongst the various guests of The Tall Oak. Around the waterside bar, additional snacks are available in the form of the many lazily flitting flies, midges, and other insects that inhabit the space, should one be quick enough to catch them. Whilst I would not expect to see such in a less rural location, the presence of these otherwise pests appears to be due to the proximity to the lake, rather than any hygiene concerns.
For those who may take offence to such an "infestation", it should be noted that there are other saloons available. On the side of the trunk furthest from the lake, a ramp concealed behind one of the natural folds of the heartwood of the tree curls upward, taking guests through the outer trunk to a bar approximately half way up the tree. Benches carved out of the wood provide more modern seating than elsewhere in The Tall Oak, with small holes in the bark (presumably in lieu of actual windows) offering excellent views across Ulfrvatn Lake. Noticeably warmer than the ground level, though with less capacious ceilings, this space may well appeal to most mammalian beasts; though the largest badgers, and mayhaps even wildcats, may struggle to fit their bulk through the narrow corridors required to access it.
In addition to the secondary bar, many snugs can be found scattered throughout the trunk and branches, though hollows may be considered a more accurate term. These offer a more private experience, but as with so many aspects of Wildling culture, this is a relative term. There are no doors or curtains to threshold these places; expect passers-by to poke their heads in to see if the space is unoccupied or simply to offer a friendly salutation (though the degree of warmth of said greeting may shift as they assess the modernity one's appearance...) Indeed, the very concept of personal space is somewhat fluid here, with many a beast curling up quite intimately to a complete stranger; do expect that your private conversations may suddenly involve extra persons without as much as a request for permission.
During the seasons with generally more pleasant weather, a further bar is set up at the top of the trunk, amongst the thickest branches. One would argue this should be exclusively for the use of avians, perhaps those other beasts of superlative natural balance or the ability to cling to beyond-horizontal surfaces, as there are no guard rails or levelled surfaces. Do not forget that one must maintain the required balance under the influence of whatever alcohol one consumes; the bar is so high up that to slip and fall would result in almost certain death! That said, the view is beyond stunning and any visitor to the area should be encouraged to climb to these highest heights to experience them****, before heading back down to the safer spaces to partake in sustenance.
Whilst there is no official accommodation offered by The Tall Oak on the Lake, being away from the the towns and fiefdoms of civilization means there are no laws or ordinances limiting the opening hours. Indeed, as previously mentions, there are no doors or locks to prevent entry to those seeking rest and refuge. I witnessed several patrons passed out from their evening's frivolities during my time at The Tall Oak, undisturbed by the management. Whilst I would not recommend trying such at most establishments, it does appear that the less stringent understanding of ownership that many Wildlings maintain also mitigates any desire to interfere with the belongings of others. Or perhaps they were just more wary than normal in the presence of an outsider such as myself. In either case, the option to rest protected from the elements certainly exists here, and is free! The lodgings a short walk away in Vatnmillock certainly offer a greater level of comfort, though one must make a choice as to whether this is worth the cost.
It is worth noting one additional peculiarity of The Tall Oak on the Lake. As mentioned previously, the only open flame exists solely to cook on, casting little light about the venue, and obviously not reaching the higher levels or walkways between. During the day, natural sunlight filters through the various openings, cracks, and fissures in the gnarly bark of the venerable oak tree, offering warmth and illumination such as the day's weather will allow. However, as the sun begins to set, a deep resonant chant begins to emanate from deep beneath the roots. The warbling, vibrato-laden bass voice cuts through all other sound; primeval words grating at the base of one's skull. Though it lasts just a moment or two, it is a deeply uncomfortable sensation, and one cannot imagine getting used to the feeling. Even the regulars, bedecked in their wooden armour and blue ringed tattoos, seemed to wince and spasm at the vocalisation. As the last echoes ebb away, possibly reverberating inside the minds of the assembled beasts rather than through the physical air surrounding them, the fungi protruding from almost every near-vertical surface begin to glow with a blue light, akin to the sky on a cloudless summer's morning. Though clearly not of natural origin, the aura of this light is less than threatening, and suffuses the entire tree with brilliance, even where one cannot see the fungi directly. Whilst this is clearly a wonder to behold, one may wish to consider finding themselves scarce for an hour or so either side of dusk if at all possible.
To summarize then: The Tall Oak on the Lake is well worth the visit to experience Wildling culture and cuisine, but beware that those beasts who appear more civilized may not be made to feel especially comfortable by any beast beside MugsliDrasst. The multiple levels of the tree offer distinct experiences and views almost certainly worth the detour, dependant on the weather (or perhaps because of it). Whilst the flavours of the food and beers may not be world-beating, they are satiating and an interesting experience in-of themselves. Free shelter (for one cannot honestly call it accommodation) is a welcome boon, but The Tall Oak also harbours less pleasant experiences one may wish to avoid.
As ever, your faithful servant,
Madam E.d.A-M
*I was most surprised to find his skin quite soft and dry despite the warty and slimy appearance!
**I am not sure if the word "establishment" can be correctly used to describe anything "belonging" to Wildlings, but am at a loss for a better word...
***Quite why such illusive and powerful deities should concern themselves with individual brews in the kitchens of backwater hovels is beyond me.
**** Weather permitting, naturally. A strong summer gust could easily dislodge the unwary, and a rain-laden winter gale poses obvious danger.
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