An Inn Better Than The Prancing Pony

The Mad Boar Inn. 9 Chestnut Street, Newharrow.

The above address came to Sidwell in a dream. Lying about on a cold stoney mattress, a voice emanated from the depths of his intricate mind, telling him,

"Sidwell! What the hell kind of mess have you gotten into here on the floor of the Prancing Pony, surrounded by vile liquid, and none of your friends? Come to the Mad Boar!"

And so came the full address. The voice was a replication of none other than Deorda's, a friend of his. His mind may have been dreaming this since they spoke just a few hours earlier. Either way, Sidwell knew that the Mad Boar was his destiny, and his destiny was the Mad Boar.

Of course, everyone except Sidwell knew that he was semi-conscious on the doorstep of the Pony, being lectured to by Deorda herself, not a mental manifestation of her voice guiding him to his destiny as he originally thought. But it mattered not, for the message was conveyed, and he was indeed guided.

Upon entering, his inner sanctum of thought could only describe the Inn like this: a conflumption of warmth surrounded by deep wooden furnishings which only invited rest and relaxation upon them. Food everywhere, beautiful bards who not only played songs from the current dimension, but also interacted with the Inn's patrons. 

The Mad Boar Inn was the change Sidwell was looking for.