In a town like many others, it's true identity and location impossible to tell from architecture or environment, many guards dressed in armours beaten down from being passed generations upon generations, none of the damage being from actual combat or proper usage of the protective gear, they all looked rather tense, shifting uncomfortably as they surrounded all entrances and exits of the local tavern.
It was early morning still, the entrance had not been locked when the last patrons left late the night before, and the early birds that had come to get themselves drunk first thing first had been greeted with a most sobering sight, leading them to empty their bowels, run away, or do both at the same time, tripping over their own inept feet.
