The Brine

The Brine is a weathered yet welcoming inn nestled by the docks of Saltmarsh, its sturdy timbers steeped in the scent of salt and aged wood. A favorite haunt of sailors, fishermen, and traders, it serves as both a place of rest and a hub of maritime gossip. The building itself is a two-story structure of dark, sea-worn wood, reinforced against the coastal winds. The sign above the door, depicting a cresting wave, sways slightly in the breeze, its paint faded but still recognizable to all who pass through the bustling waterfront.
Miriam Northway, the inn’s proprietor, is as much a fixture of Saltmarsh as the tides themselves. A sharp-eyed woman with a knowing smile, she runs The Brine with a firm hand and a warm heart. She keeps the ale flowing and the rooms clean, tolerating no nonsense but always offering a sympathetic ear to those in need.
Inside, the common room is dimly lit by lanterns, their glow reflecting off the low, beamed ceiling. The scent of roasted fish, spiced rum, and damp wool fills the air. Wooden tables, scarred by years of tankard slams and dagger tosses, are occupied by salty seafarers swapping stories of distant shores and treacherous waters. A stone hearth crackles in the corner, providing warmth against the ever-present coastal chill.
The rooms upstairs are modest but comfortable, with thick wool blankets and the steady lull of the waves offering weary travelers a restful night. Though not the grandest establishment, The Brine is a place of camaraderie, comfort, and the promise that no matter how rough the seas may be, there will always be a warm meal and a strong drink waiting at its hearth.