The Halfway Inn is as close as some travelers may get to the hidden and secretive city of Evereska. This sturdy brick inn is also a trading post where hunters, trappers, prospectors, and farmers from across the region meet to exchange goods and share stories. The patrons include a few skilled artisans from Evereska itself who come here to sell their wares.
As one of the closest taverns to the great desert sands of Anauroch, the Halfway Inn does an excellent trade in tequila, a spirit distilled from the desert cactus—also known in the Elven tongue as "Elquesstria."
Moonrise
The redoubtable elven settlement of Evereska maintains a cool relationship with the Halfway Inn's proprietor, Myrin Silverspear. Silverspear offers a warm welcome to all who step through the doors of his inn, in stark contrast to the proudly unapproachable Evereskans.
In spite of this difference in approach, Evereska tolerates the inn's unusual proximity to the secretive community because the people of Evereska respect Silverspear as a fair broker and because Evereska benefits from having a trading post nearby. It is rumored that Silverspear is an exiled noble of Evereska, which would explain why he is so respected and tolerated and yet still excluded.
The Moonrise cocktail, with its distinct layers, is said to evoke the view of the rising moon from the heightened vantage of Evereska through the haze of the city's own magic field. It's one of the most beautiful and cherished sights and one that Silverspear knows he will never see again.
Eye of the Beholder
Contrary to common claim, there is no beauty in the eye of a Beholder. Those dungeon-dwelling creatures are ugly and repugnant floating abominations, with a disturbing number of needle-sharp teeth and ten grotesque eyes on serpentine stalks, all writhing around its one central dinner plate-size eye. Beholders can kill with a single glance, so they are no laughing matter. However, few people will ever encounter a Beholder, and fewer still will live to tell the tale, so the creatures retain an almost mythic reputation in the minds of many adventurers.
It is with utmost unseriousness that Beholders have been immortalized in the name and design of a tart green party punch. A few glasses of this, and everything seems beautiful in the eye of the beholder.
Deadwinter Fire
Travelers to the Halfway Inn sometimes bring their traditions and rituals with them. For example, orcish migrants from the rugged lands of Chessenta brought Deadwinter, a festival that marks the turn in midwinter from longer nights to longer days. Deadwinter is a three-day celebration of love for the lost; it's not a sad occasion but rather a joyous one marked with music, laughter, and delicious decorated cakes. Deadwinter Fire is a seasonal specialty, cold on the lips and hot in the belly, with pepper syrup that represents life, love, and passion. This is not a solemn drink; it's spicy!
Competitive celebrants sometimes try to outdo each other with just how much heat they are willing to add to their Deadwinter Fire. First-timers are advised to approach with modesty!
Seafoam
Sea elves, merfolk, and members of other oceanic cultures are not a common sight in surface-world bars because alcohol is dehydrating, and so is being out of the water. Seafolk are an especially rare sight at the Halfway Inn, which is far from any saltwater coastline. Ocean merchants can find many other places to trade that are not on the edge of a large, dry desert.
Even so, everyone is welcome at the inn, and all staff are trained on how to make this cocktail just in case the occasion demands. Brackish and savory, the Seafoam is undeniably unique, and it has proved popular not just with those rare few seafolk visiting the interior of Faerûn, but with all sorts of landlubbers with a nostalgic fondness for the sea!
Poetess
Many centuries ago, a beautiful young woman with a five-stringed harp of green vines stepped into the roar of a powerful river. She spoke in such elegant tones of the destructive and creative power of nature that the waters calmed around her. As she plucked her strings and continued her recital, she stirred magic into the very rocks of the canyon. This is how Evereska was formed—at least according to one telling.
The woman, an elven goddess known as the Poetess, was either a female aspect or an avatar of SCAG, the Faerûn god of creativity. In honor of the Poetess's legacy, bards meet every year at the Halfway Inn for a tournament of battle poetry, an extraordinary event that combines magic, dance, martial arts, and spitting bars.
The official drink of the festival, the Poetess, is as beautiful, elegant, and quietly formidable as the goddess herself.
Hellish Rebuke
The Halfway Inn tries to offer something for everyone: fine wines for elves from Evereska, frothy ale for dwarves from the mountains, and sweet mead for humans from the prairies. The inn even has a drink concocted specifically for tieflings: a smoky, fiery drink named after a tiefling fire spell.
The reaction was mixed. Proprietor Myrin Silverspear realized that tieflings all had wildly different tastes, no matter what shared culture they have developed. This epiphany was a turning point for the Halfway Inn. Silverspear encouraged his servers to engage with their customers to find out what they really wanted. The staff discovered that some elves actually preferred ale to wine, and some dwarves preferred wine to ale—and some folks from every species and culture enjoyed the punchy kick of a Hellish Rebuke.
The Hoard
Every adventurer dreams of discovering a dragon's hoard—the astonishing mound of jewels and riches that are a dragon's most prized possession. Every adventurer also has nightmares about encountering a dragon, which is unfortunate, as dragons are often found asleep on top of their hoard.
The hoard on offer at the Halfway Inn is much easier to enjoy and requires no dragon-taming! Look no further for a platter of crunchy corn chips stacked high with delicious treasures and smothered with golden cheese. Adventure parties often come to blows when splitting the haul from a dragon's hoard. Parties splitting the hoard at the Halfway Inn tend to be less aggressive, though that's not to say that axes have never been thrown and fireballs have never been flung over the last scoop of beans.