For the scum of the Great Realm. Warriors, footpads and double-dealers gather in the tavern to drink, gamble, whore and spend their ill-gotten gains. The wooden floors glisten with spilled ale and wet blood, and the walls are stained with years of violence and woodsmoke. No light penetrates these abyssal hellholes, and only the flickering light of tallow candles on skull-mounted holders casts a dim illumination. Shadowed corners conceal all manner of wretches and those seeking trouble will find it easily enough. The unwary traveller seeking sustenance or refreshment would be better off elsewhere, for there are unscrupulous rogues aplenty in the tavern who will cut their throat for the laces of their boots.