The Black Sable Tavern lay hidden at the end of the most winding alley in Treasure Island City's Dock District. The air here always reeked of cheap ale, sweat, salted fish, and the rotten sweetness of some bargain incense.
Although Treasure Island had become part of Bagnia and a new police system had been established, time and history had left this place a blind spot of the law, a nest for creatures of the shadows.
Apart from players, even the locals were reluctant to come here. The terrain was a maze, and the place harbored every kind of filth.
"Booze! Give me booze!"
"Another drink..."
"You motherfucker! You dare spit on me?"
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
The Black Sable Tavern was loud. The Black Sable Tavern was loud. The deafening uproar threatened to lift its low ceiling, blackened and greasy with smoke. Most of those gathered here were players involved in criminal or shady dealings.
And when enough players gathered, certain things naturally followed.
In one corner of the tavern, for example, someone had used chairs and rope to mark out a boxing ring. A sizable crowd had gathered to watch the fights and place bets, making the tavern livelier still.
Amid the din, in a corner at the very back where a battered screen barely provided a little quiet, Rex occupied the largest table. He was a bona fide arms dealer and underworld kingpin in Treasure Island City.
Rex looked like a man built as powerfully as a bull. A vicious scar he had deliberately cut into his own face ran from his left forehead, across his brow, and down into his thick beard.
The player wore an open linen shirt, exposing his hairy chest and bulging belly. Each of his thick arms encircled a scantily dressed serving girl who