"Greyfields '87 and leftover stew!" the dwarf bartender wasted no time in setting both a strong mushroom-liquor and an old-smelling stew in front of Raivo, the inn might have been sturdy but that was no reason to test it against an unknown. Sella's tune was the perfect ambiance to the madness that had just walked in the door, with the bird-sorceress, the dark lady of darkness and the already-drunken catgirl. Other patrons eyed them warily, muttering things like "magic" and "freaks."<br/><br/>A younger dwarf poked his head out from the back rooms, "Pa! It's the rats! They're back!"<br/><br/>"What? Which lot is it?" the bartender shouted back, a vein popping on his forehead.<br/><br/>"The Wretched 33rd! They've brought cannons!"<br/><br/>"What?!" reaching under the bar, he grabbed his axe, "I'll not surrender my crackers to those vermin! You lot!" He jumped up on the bar and bellowed, "the vermin are back! A silver a head to defend the clan-hold!"<br/><br/>