The sign proclaimed the inn to be the Nymph and Satyr. Even the unlettered would know it by the vivid picture of a buxom red haired lady being lasciviously embraced from behind by a randy satyr. The look in both their eyes promise a time of heated frolic.
Within the atmosphere was one of comfort. It was well used in the few months since its opening but it still smelled more of fresh paint and sawdust than spiced wine and pipe smoke. Tables and chairs lined the outside of the common room with plenty of cushions about the center for those that wish to be more comfortable. The long bar at the back was an homage to the bar they all remembered from the Pan's Touch: a young pretty sister to the grand old lady they left behind.
Anora, attired in her recently refitted dress, glanced around and found the scene familiar. A sense of comfort, not just the atmosphere that already surrounded the tavern, but one of almost being home, seemed to curl around her petite form as she surveyed everything. She could almost imagine a buxom brunette, many yahren older then herself yet still with an air of youth surrounding her, calling out to rowdy customers and flirting outrageously with all and sundry. A small smile slipped onto the lips of the amnesiatic girl.
"Hi," she said to the barkeep, her pixie face turned up with a smile. "I'm new in town and Paloma said that I might be able to find some help here."