From what Silwen could see, the patronage here appeared to be mixed. Though, at this time of day, many seemed to working males taking the opportunity to quench their thirst after working in the sun, evidenced by the abundance of brown, sweaty skin and loud-mouthed cursing that seemed to be going on. The atmosphere was quite rowdy and boisterous and most of the clientele seemed to be so concerned with stories and drinks that few of them even noticed her as she entered wearing her dark cloak.<br/><br/>It was a typical tavern; mostly constructed from timber with worn wooden floorboards and about a dozen tables of varying sizes – most of them quite sturdy and aged, with a plethora of deep carvings along the surface, which most likely came from patrons with too much time on their hands. A handful of stools stood along the bar, none of which were occupied; and Silwen took her place and waited to catch the attention of the barkeep. The most notable feature of the place, unsurprisingly, was an incredibly life-like statue of a goblin that stood on a shelf behind the bar - it stood about three feet high, with weathered skin and an animated pose which included a half-pint mug in its hand.<br/><br/>“Ello’ darlin’.” Came the gruff voice of the barkeep, as he made his way over to Silwen. “What can I get ye?” When Silwen looked up, she was greeted with the handsome, if somewhat rugged bearded face, of a man of about forty years who appeared to have spent much of his life outdoors and had the look of a retired fighter about him, with more than one deep scar cut into his flesh and the bronzed muscled frame of someone who’d worked out regularly. He leaned with his hands upon the counter and seemed to try and catch a glimpse of her face beneath the dark cloak as he waited for her response.