Snippet #2586695

The bouncer stood in front of the hardwood door with his arms crossed in the usual bouncer fashion. He displayed the hefty steel club just under his cloak to Mavik. "Password?" He asked gruffly. He was missing a few teeth, and it did not look as if he would keep the rest for much longer if he kept up his habits. Despite his poor hygiene, the bouncer was well muscled, plenty stronger than Mavik. If it came to the fight Mavik would not stand a chance.

The Black Ale Tavern, somehow it stayed in business though no one left drunk or seemed to buy any drinks. The brown-stained clay building stood in the poorer, crime-friendly district of Ibn. The Clerics knew of its existence, of course, like they knew everyone else in the city, but they understand that a healthy amount of crime is more useful than eradication. The White-Bloods, after all, were only another branch of the city government. "Well, friend?" The bouncer asked in a less than friendly manner.