Ferroc's Clan

A rough voice calls out from behind a long bar counter.

"Found another traveler, did ya Malphite? Well, come on in. We'll get ya fixed up. Hope ya don't mind spice."

As one head speaks, the other is busy drying dishes and wiping down the counter. Malphite points to the open seats by the bar before slipping behind the counter themself and disappearing behind a beaded curtain. The abberation manning the bar leans one muscular arm on the polished wood.

"So, what'll it be? We've got everything, from contaminated tapwater to fruit juice. Malphite cooks, I serve. Tonight HotCheeto and HotSauce are making their fabled hot sauce cuisine, but if ya can't handle spice, we can get ya somethin' else."

A veilspun who had been leisurely lounging on a nearby seat chimes into the conversation. She appears to be nursing a tall glass filled with radioactive green liquid that looks decidedly unhealthy.


"I can recommend you something, if you'd like."

Her smile is just shy of cruel, amusement sparkling in her eyes. Delicate claws gently rake through a floracats' fur, adjusting leaves here and there.
The bartender snorts, and rolls her five collective eyes.

"Don't get my customers sick, Venom. Most dragons don't spend their evenings ingesting poison for fun."

Venom cackles, and elegantly glides off her stool, glass cradled in her paw. The cat jumps down from the counter and affectionately brushes against her side.

"Spoilsport. Well, I wish you a lovely poison free evening, traveler. I've some business to attend to."

The abberation shakes their heads in unison, before focusing back on you.

"She's probably off to bother Aen. If you're lookin' for work, I recommend heading down to the 'Weekend Warriors' in the morning, they usually have some tasks that need doin'. Talk of work after hours is against the house rules."