Rainoga

The Gargling Coin is equal parts tavern, gambling den, and mild maritime hazard. Its lower level is partially sunken, perpetually flooded ankle-deep with seawater that sometimes moves against the tide. Built into the rotting hull of a decommissioned galleon known as The Fiend's Promise, the tavern is said to be cursed—or blessed—depending on which old drunk you ask. Local legend holds that the tavern’s namesake “coin” was minted by a sea god and that each drop into the Wager Bowl echoes across planes. Patrons come for the thrill: the unpredictable magic, the impossible luck, and the high-stakes games that sometimes rewrite reality. Most bets here are made with more than coin. Souls, secrets, memories, and years of one’s life are common ante. House rules shift depending on who’s watching and what kind of planar bleed is affecting the bar that night. The barkeep, known only as Floods, insists the tavern remains “strictly neutral territory.”

The exterior resembles a half-drowned ship, with warped planks and a menacing figurehead of a horned mermaid. Inside, the air is thick with salt and smoke, illuminated by floating glass orbs and shimmering algae. A central pit holds the ominous Wager Bowl, while worn tables are marked with arcane sigils.