Tale of the Ingcalsa

A story is often told across Chenravo, by bards, regulars, and bartenders alike. Those who frequent inns and taverns know this story as well as they know their favorite drinks. You would be hard pressed to find a hard drinker who didn't know of the Inglasca and its founding, for it is a story that flows through taverns almost more liberally than drink. Known across the continent as the greatest tavern to ever exist. It was the template for all those that came after, for none had come before. It is the holy gathering place for bar patrons the world over. So gather now, and hear the Tale of the Ingcalso.
Our tale begins in the early days of Chenravo, before even the first century had come and gone. In those idyllic days, when the world remailed largely unsullied, there was a bear-based biethtìre woman by the name of Grashka. She was one of the first of her kind to leave the Goldengrass Plains in search of an environment that suited her better. She wandered for years, largely letting the wind, streams, and prey lead her, trusting that Jakular was acting through them. Eventually she found herself in what is known today as the Lindral Forest.
There, she fould streams stocked with salmon, bushes with bounties of berries, and hardy herds of herbivores. In short, it was an ideal place for her to settle down. She built a cabin deep in those woods, creating tols as she needed them, and improving earlier parts as she figured out new techniques and methods. For every tree she claimed for lumber, she planted ten of the same kind.
One day, after having lived in the forest for years, there was a sound like a great explosion, and the ground began to shake most violently. As Graska looked around, she saw the Hammershard mountains begin to rise mightily into the sky. The mountains grew very close to her home, but Halfar, and his love for craft, must have stopped the mountians just before her house, and protected it from the debris. It was over in moments, and as the dust setteld, Grashka realized that her home was no longer in her forest. The tree line was now several miles north of her, and there was debris everywhere between her home and the forest.
She had to choose: stay at the home she had built, or move back into the forest. Trusting Jakular to populate this now environment, and not wanting to abandon what she had built, she chose to stay. She had stores of food, but still made treks to the forest to ensure she was well stocked on dried meats and preserved berries. Over the coming weeks, near her home, she saw growth. Berry bushes of a kind unfamiliar to her began to grow, then trees she was unfamiliar with as well. Soon, the devastated land between the forest and the mountains grew into a new kind of environment. When she looked at the saplings, their name came to her on the wind: Buloke. She know that one day these would have strong wood. With all of these new plants, she did not assume any of their properties. She began to learn the properties of each plant. She recorded her discoveries in leather journals that she created herself. She killed the animals and tanned their leather. She made the paper and writing utensils by hand. When she tired of plants, she observed animals. When animals tired her, she studied rocks. Soon there was nothing near her home that she did not have an intimate understanding of. 
The weeks and months went by, as she learned to live with the new plants and animals here. The solitude suited her fine, as she kept company with nature. She wasn't opposed to others, but she didn't miss the lack of them either. Still, after years on her own, she was surprised when a dwarf appeared. His name was Uqtunal, and his job was a cartographer. He had been sent by the Clandom to survey the far sides of the mountains. She invited him to stay at her house, which he was glad to do. It had been some time since he'd had a warm bed or home-cooked meal. She gave him the fruits of the plants that grew near her home. He'd eaten some forage as he went, but he had never tasted what she served that night. One berry in particular drew his attention: it was about the size of a blueberry, but shaped like a teardrop. The bain body was a burnt orange that faded to red at the tip. It had a taste like honey mixed with fire, sweet and spicy. Uqtunal's passion was making alcohol. All kinds: beer, rum, wine, and more, he was happy just to brew. The fruit she served him that night inspired thoughts of new brews. 
He left the next day, continuing on his map-making, but thanked her immensly for the shelter and the food. As he went, he found that none of the fruits he found along the way could rival those near Grashka's home. Finally, months later, he arrived at one of the dwarves western settlements, he made a choice. He delivered the map to the local offices of Clan Sekkinfur, staying only long enough to make a copy for himself and buy supplies. When this was done, he turned around, going back to the house that had fruit such as he had never tasted before. 
Grashka welcomed him back, and even built an addition on to her home for him to live and brew. She understood his desire to make alcohol, and offered him the use of the field guides she had written. Making alcohol is no quick matter, and it was months before he had finished his first batch. As with most first attempts, it did not go well. He couldn't bring himself to make Grashka suffer through its taste. Despite the time he had sunk into the project, he was not discouraged. He was well aquainted with the difficulties of the distillation process. So, he began again. It was on his fourth batch that he felt he had created something he was comfortable sharing with others. When he gave it to Grashka, she disagreed. Not out of hand, he had seen her consider its taste and texture. It had simply fallen short of her standards.
This set a fire under Uqtunal, and he was determined to create something that she would not only accept, but enjoy. He expanded his efforts, making more batches at once and trying different methods with each. He kept meticulous notes on each one, trying to crack the code to the best drink he could make. Whlie brewing takes a lot of time, much of it consists of waiting. When there was nothing else for him to do, he took up his old trade and mapped out the surrounding areas, sometimes for days at a time. Grashka always joined him, eager to find new resources to add to her field guide. Together, they learned the land around them very well.
After countless batches and the better part of a decade, Uqtunal finally made a batch that he felt would be up to Graska's standards. Her eyes twinkled as she tasted the deep amber liquid. He had blown far past her expectations. Before she had even set her glass down, she had decided. This brandy was too good not to be shared. Over the next months, as other batches finished, half of his resources were being used to make what he had created for Graska, while the other half tried to find ways to improve it. As they built up a steady supply, Graska built a sturdy cart she could pull so that they could transport the liquor. Over the years, they had found several villages in the forest, mostly biethtìre such as herself. She figured that they could bring the brandy to them. They didn't particularly need the money, but after seeing how much effort her friend had put into the brew, she refused to let him part with it and get nothing in return. 
When the batches were done, they left on a journey spanning several deimai. There was no one who tasted it that could refute its quality. They ended up having to cut their trip short, as all the liquer had been bought much quicker than expected. This only made Uqtunal all the more determined to increase his brewing capacity. They made many more trips, but Uqtunal disliked Grashka having to pull the cart, and thought it reduced her to little more than a beast of burden. She shrugged off these concerns, saying that she was happy to show what he had made to their small corner of the world. He persisted, and presented her with an idea: a place where they could sell the liquor near their home, where people would come to them. Their brandy was liked well enough, and well enough known that people would come. It had been a long time since Grashka had built, but the idea sparked inspiration, and she was quickly on board.
They decided to build it out of stone and the buloke wood. Though it had only been perhaps a decade since the mountains had erupted from the dirt, the Buloke trees had grown tall and firm, another blessing from Jakular. They planned the building: a main dining room, a kitchen, and due to their remote location, an upper floor with extra rooms people could sleep in overnight. A stable outside for animals. A hearth for the cold months. Food to go with the drink. Untunal helped her gather the materials, but when it came to the actual construction, he was hopeless. After the first day, Grashka banished him to work on making other things that they would need. As she made the building, he made nails, mixed varnish and stains, sewed together blankets, pillows, and sheets for beds, and constructed a spit to go over the interior fire pit. When this was done, he started on furnature, chairs, tables, and benches. Then it was the dishes they would serve with: forks, knives, spoons, bowls, plates, and a dozen different types of glasses, mugs, and tankards. Finally, it was interior design: he made huge copies of their maps, but with far more accurasy and art than he usually used to hang from the walls. He tried to help her with the bar they had designed for serving, but she declined, not out of malice or due to his architectual difficulties, but because she knew that her place would be behind it, and she wanted to forge her connection with it. Their maps and field guides were indispensible in locating resources like sand for the glass or metal for the spit and utensils.
The buloke wood was hard to work with, and was the hardest wood either of them had ever encountered. Regardless, they used it, hoping it would weather well. They used different stains on the wood to make it appear to be different types of wood. The flooring was made to look like teak, the bar coated in an oaken color, and much of the furnature was the deep red of mahogany. Even though it was all the same wood, the colors made it appear to be well differentiated. 
It took over a year from start to finish, with brewing continuing the entire time. Uqtunal had devised several other fantastic drinks during this time, which he added to his expanding efforts to brew more and more. Finally, it was time. They brought out the cart one last time, and journeyed towards the villages. When they got to the first village, one of the fox-based biethtìre there asked what the name of the establishment was to be. In all their time building it, they had never considered a name. After speaking to each other for a moment, they settled on a name: Ingcalsa, the name of the berries that had nourished Grashka after the formation of the mountains, brought Uqtunal back, that he had used in his signature liquors, and that they had not found anywhere else. They quickly made their way to the other settlements and told them of the Ingcalsa. 
The two proprietors barely had time when they got back to prepare before patrons began appearing. One brought a lute, and played, much to the entertainment of those gathered. They did so well, in fact, that the owners agreed to build a stage for future performances. Grashka tended bar while Uqtunal cooked and served food. The atmosphere was lively, the drinks flowed well, and the music was beautiful! Their first night was a rousing success, as was every night after. 
Grashka and Uqtunal fell in love, for how could they not with all that they had done together? Their children were strong and clever, as their parents were, and the family still owns the Ingcalsa to this day, though there have been many changes. It has done so well that now the tankards, mugs, and glasses are all gilded. Many generations have had to build onto Grashka's initial building in order to keep up with demand. It now has several private rooms, a few different main rooms, and over one hundred rooms for patrons to stay in. It has such a reputation that brewers often pay to have their drinks served there. It is the place for bards to perform. They only accept performances from bards that have been reccmmended by those who have been well-received at the tavern. Through it all, they have continued to serve their Ingcalsa brandy, formula unchanged. They even use much of the original equipment that Uqtunal used. The Ingcalsa: the first and the foremost amongst taverns. Should you ever find yourself near the Hammershard Mountains and the Lindral forest, search for it. You'll regret nothing so much as declining to visit.