You see that the entrance of the inn beckons you with a feverish trophy. Five gigantic horns - about the size of two icemen - curve as to form a hand. You hear joyous music from inside, and you smell fresh roast and dark ale.

Inside, is a small podium set in an islet right in the middle of the inn. The dancing dwarf performs weird spastic movements as to intice attention and donations. To your right is the counter.

Various craven-looking men sit idly about, watching the commotion and drinking.

Lawmaster Galamestus is here, a crowd formed around him. Galemestus is a giant man (probably a half-ogre) shielded in curved slices of armor: a metal that breadths itself forward into a spitting mouth - and upwards into a pronged helmet - it's lines carefully crafted to give it the appearance of a monster. His axe is no different: it's head is broad and has a striking similarity to two crescent archs of runed metal that stop and the center of the handle. At top of the poleshaft is a metal pike. You see that it is almost like a pitchfork

-"GALAMESTUS!" shouts a drab. "LEAVE ME! I swears, I swears I don't do it no more!" the man's thin figure is cracked by a metal foot. A shrill scream echoes through the inn.

The lawmaster lifts his axe up and aims it at the rat's hands.

"No! No, not me hands!"

Blood sprays and then pools. The inn is quiet once more.

He cleans his axe with a milky white cloth.

You see too a particular figure that stands from the rest. An iceman: broadshouldered, tall, fair skinned, light eyes and hairs; but this one has a striking similarity with the deathbirds of the East: those that have beaks of iron and deep-set eyes, serviced to eat the remains of tortured victims. You joke of course. You see too a beautiful jeweled pommel, belonging to a blade enshrouded by a dark grey cloak that he too wears.

Another man catches your eye. A giant, even taller than Galamestus, with, what you presume, is a mask resembling a bull's head. Now, you've never seen a real bull. But your home has many legends of a man with a bull's head, the people of Minos; telling of great heroes of virtue, courage, might and of fertility; of their betrayal at ancient some war; their once great and fabled homeland, where only them have the knowledge to traverse.

The rest of the inn bears no interest to you.