“Don’t mind the glow. If the skull likes you, it burns brighter.”
The largest public hall in Ember Bastion, the Hollow Flame is equal parts messhouse, ale-den, and pressure valve for a garrison stretched thin. Capable of seating up to 165 souls elbow-to-elbow, it serves as the evening hearth for soldiers, scouts, and dungeon-haunters alike. Long wooden tables run beneath soot-darkened beams, and the reek of boiled onions, sweat, and pipe smoke hangs permanent in the rafters.
The name comes from the massive iron brazier sunk into the hall’s center, always lit, always hungry. It simmers the daily stew, provides warmth to the stone walls, and casts flickering shadows that make even seasoned officers twitch. Hanging above it is the Hollow Flame’s most curious fixture: a yellowed humanoid skull, bound in a blackened cage. Barkeep Lorn Vael swears it’s the skull of a lich, and indeed—it glows blue in the presence of arcane power, flaring brighter the stronger the caster. Most believe it’s a parlor trick. Most don’t ask twice.
Lorn, a grizzled and tight-lipped veteran of some kitchen-bound horror campaign, keeps the bar running with sharp eyes and heavier silences. On rare nights, when the brazier burns deep blue, he’s known to speak in unknown tongues and pour wine for someone no one sees. Few interrupt him. Fewer want to.
Whether you're looking for food, a drink, or just a place to lose a few hours in the comfort of familiar noise and firelight, the Hollow Flame waits. Just don’t stare too long at the skull. It might stare back.
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