There are several taverns in Brunas, but there is only one called the Silver Fox. Ubiquitous here are the brawny and fierce mercenaries and bandits, along with some fishermen and riffraff with tattoos covering their faces.
"You're a rare visitor, Wes!" The bartender, wiping a glass in his hand, spoke to the man who had just walked in looking very spirited.
A somewhat uncomfortable smell lingered in the air, and the light from the gas lamps cast an unhealthy glow over the entire tavern.
"I've been a bit busy lately, after all, you know, I've always been teaching people lessons." Wes pulled out a chair and sat at the bar, scattering some copper coins on the table: "A mug of ale!"
He didn't hide what he had been doing recently because he knew that the bartender opposite knew a lot of things.
