The Brass Lantern Inn occupies a converted warehouse near entrance to The Copper District, its high rafters still bearing the iron hooks and pulleys from its trading days. Dozens of tarnished brass lanterns hang at varying heights throughout the space, their warm glow creating pools of light and shadow that shift as they sway. The proprietor claims each lantern was donated by a different traveler in lieu of payment, and regulars swear some still carry enchantments—the blue-tinted one near the door supposedly reveals lies, which is why nobody sits beneath it.
The main floor is divided into distinct sections by old cargo crates repurposed as dividing walls, creating semi-private nooks while maintaining the open, airy feel. A ship’s mast serves as the central support beam, carved with initials, dates, and cryptic messages from decades of patrons. The bar itself is made from a single massive slab of petrified wood, its surface polished to a glass-like sheen that reflects the lantern light.
This bar tends to attract the upscale client, attracting many different nobles and commoners interested in the high life. Making it a good stop for overhearing new business opportunities, sealing the deal on a lucrative contract, or enjoying a classy cocktail.