They walked into the tavern and noticed right away that this place was unlike the one they had visited before.
The air was thick with the smell of sweat, cheap ale, and something metallic—blood, maybe, or old iron. The wooden floors were scratched and stained. The tables were covered in dents and burn marks. And the patrons.
No one gave a shit how they looked. That was the first thing Jason noticed. In the last tavern, every eye had turned toward them the moment they walked in. Here? Nothing. Not a single glance. Not even a flicker of curiosity.
But this felt like a gathering of criminals. They all looked so dangerous.
Jason's eyes swept across the room. A massive orc-like creature in the corner, covered in scars, sharpening an axe the size of Jason's torso. A cloaked figure with glowing red eyes, nursing a drink in the shadows. A group of armored warriors with weapons still strapped to their backs, laughing about something that sounded a lot like a recent kill.
