The mass of oaken planks and iron hinges creaks open to reveal what may have once passed for a tavern. The usual accoutrements are plainly there...the bar counter, various mounts upon the walls, games of chance...but nothing about this place seemed right. The walls were stained black with soot, completely blocking any view of the material beneath; yet only a small wood stove sat in the middle of the room and it had a vent pipe. No visible windows graced the room whatsoever. Where perhaps several tables and chairs, a few private booths even, should have been now only contained a small handful of benches as the rest of the room had been converted into hastily crafted beds stacked three high. On the back wall to the left of the counter sat an old, well worn staircase leading out of view. While there was talk and chatter in the room, many spoke in hushed tones, some in downright whispers. After your initial entrance none of them really seemed to pay you any mind.