The sound of clinking glass, the smell of pints and the spilled ale across the table matched the music drifting around the air—the cozy strum of a country guitar and a faint sound of a percussion and a woodwind instrument lingered, drowned with the voices of laughter and yelling men and giggling women with a hint of scattered songs and chatters.
The tavern was full with a variety of individuals. Some were adventurers or mercenaries, guild members from nearby, few amateur mages from parties, and mostly common folk just chattering around with the lady waitresses drinking booze. There were, in the corners, few shady fellows.
Clad in a pitch-black cloak, boots muddy and suspicious-looking, an aura different from the rest. Rumors say people like them were down for underground businesses, and taverns are their constant meeting place, such as this one, to mask their presence and to hide from the authorities. In this particular night, such suspicious fellow is to be seen in Oscar's Tavern.
