[Jevan Perspective]
I walked behind the bartender until he led me to a rusty sewer opening. He crouched, pulled off the iron cover, and dropped down inside. I followed.
The place branched out in many directions, but the bartender moved with confidence as if the sewers were his second home. The stench hit my nose hard and my sharpened senses only made it worse.
I could barely stand it even after covering my nose with my hand. After about half an hour of walking we finally surfaced.
We crossed several narrow side alleys before stopping in front of a house on this deserted street. The bartender stepped up to the door and began rummaging through his pockets.
After a few moments of useless fumbling he looked at me. From the look in his eyes it was obvious he had lost the key.
I sighed, stepped forward, placed my hand on the lock and murmured, "I hope the door opens."
