<div class="floatright">(http://www.ambient-mixer.com/images_template/e/a/1/ea17d86c1dfe7119fbe3cde9d3d17282_full.jpg)</div>Each year at the Freeromp Festival, the Storm and Queen Tavern has outdone themselves.  Some cynical sorts would say that it's simply to keep people interested in coming in for a drink as temperatures start to go up and there's less need to huddle by a fire, but the truth is that Ayca Alfzar pushes her uncle to it every year.  The doors are thrown open, the shutters and glass removed from their panes, and the last breath of spring is let into the tavern along with whatever odd sorts have a taste for dancing, singing, and the traditional shell race.  Of course, that's still some hours away, though the turtle shells (sized up to the point that a passing minotaur could probably join in) are lined up and cleanly polished for the mud-sledding that will happen later behind the bar.  This year, the rumors have it, that Burnus paid a mage to enchant the mud, making it just a bit more slippery.<br/><br/>In addition to the regulars of the Storm and Queen are a number of visitors, mostly young people and merchants come to enjoy the festivities and get some trade.  Farmers sons and daughters arrive by the dozen for Freeromp as metaphorical apron-strings are loosened.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a5/12/17/a5121791078186cc5742da0bb14ba15e.jpg)</div>Although Ayca frequently can be found playing her lute, she's at the moment delivering drinks.  Instead an odd little gnome with a drum in front of him is pounding away while shouting out a most ribald ballad with a catchy, easy to learn chorus that many of the revelers have joined in to.  Accompanying him is a female halfling whistling upon a set of panpipes, but what is drawing attention is the sheer depravity of the brave hero who saved a town using naught by a bucket and his nethers.  Laughter fills the place at regular intervals.<br/><br/>"Don't want to fall asleep tonight before things get interesting," comes a laughing, cheery voice as Ayca approaches the table where some of the Delvers are carousing.  The crimson-haired half-elf steps lightly and carries a little try with an assortment of glasses all filled with emerald liquid.  The sheer amount of ice in it makes it difficult to notice the odd, semi-transparent swirls, clearly some kind of alchemical mixture.  "This is a new one, keeps people up and aware hopefully.  No need for Freeromp to end any earlier than it has to, right?"  She quickly wipes her hands on a white rag at her waist and offers a bright, dimpled smile.  "I can count on you to at least join the shell race, right?"