The Mercenary's Pub
"Sorry, we don't have steak here." A serving girl said to the wolfman who had just entered, setting some drinks down on a table for some thirsty mercenaries. She turned around. "But we do have... AH!" She shrieked, upon seeing that the newcomer was actually some sort of beastman. Heads turned, and a few of the more xenophobic mercenaries lowered their hands to their swords, eyeing the creature warily. Others simply turned back to their food.
The bartender, a slightly pale middle aged man with short brown hair, some stubble, and an eyepatch, had a nervous expression on his face - whether it was because he feared a fight would break out, or that the wolfman wished harm upon him, or that he would drive away business, was unknown. Perhaps it was all of those things. Then he turned to Algirdeas, who had been
repeatedly
asking for Gabriel.
"Gabriel's over there." The bartender said, pointing a finger down at the other end of the bar. There, a lone man sat on a stool with his head down on the bar, fast asleep. He was in his mid thirties, with medium length black hair, tan skin, and a goatee. He wore sturdy leather boots, wool pants, and a cotton shirt. On his back was a battered hunting bow and a quiver with half a dozen arrows, and on his belt was a sharpened woodcutters axe. That was Gabriel.
Beneath the gold, the Bitter Steel.
22-May-2016 00:33:51
- Last edited on
22-May-2016 00:38:23
by
NotFishing