Bleary eyed, a gentleman(?)dressed in renaissance peasant style pokes his head through the loose shutters of the window (the glass has long vanished - gone who knows where) and peers through the dim interior. "Could choose some worse places to get married then this tavern," he commented. " A little clean-up, a few decorations, pack it wall to wall with friends and things should go off quite well...

The moose-head over the bar has GOT to go though..."