I pushed open the door into the small tavern, letting the sounds within wash over me as I stepped over the threshold. Loud and cheery, the sounds of everyone inside was swirling around in an incoherent mixture. The voices were unknown to me, but the atmosphere was not - boisterous and rambunctious, the energy of people relaxing after a hard day of work. I felt a smile stretch my face as I headed over to the bar, catching the eye of the bartender who was in the middle of washing a mug as I came up.

“You look like you got on the wrong side of a woodsman’s axe.” I glanced down at the bandages on my arm, where the man was looking as he spoke. The wounds from the fight with the weird cat-like creature were still fresh, stinging slightly even now. I had found a healer’s workshop, and gotten my arm treated and re-wrapped with clean linens. That said, the new bandages were already becoming tinged with red from the seeping injuries beneath. I shrugged slightly, feeling the curiosity emanating from the man and a few people nearby who had heard him speak.

“Met a weird beast while I was traveling to town. It tried to take a bit of a nibble, and I disagreed with it.” Understanding lit the bartender’s eyes as I sat down, taking a spot on one of the wooden stools. A hand clapped my shoulder as one of my temporary compatriots leaned over.

“Aye, some rotten beasties are buggerin’ around nowadays. Goin’ alone’s a good way to get yourself kilt.” I nodded as the man sat back - he wasn’t wrong after all. Being on my own in an unfamiliar world had definitely been going rather poorly for me. Hells, I had barely found my way to this town from the last one, and that was on a single road. Satisfaction. That was not surprising to feel from the man, since most people liked it when people agreed with them. With my nod he went back to talking to his companion on his other side, and I focused my attention back on the bartender, who was looking at me expectantly.

I drummed my fingers on the varnished dark wood of the bar as I thought for a moment before resting my injured arm on the countertop. “A mead, please.” One eyebrow rose slightly before he nodded and pulled a mug up from beneath the bar. He walked away from me, heading over to a small oaken cask to start filling up the mug. It seemed like the honeyed alcohol wasn’t quite as popular as straight ale or beer was here. The bartender brought the drink back over, setting the frothy cup in front of me.

“Seven copper.” I nodded and pulled the coins from the pocket on the inside of my vest, handing them over to him. He grunted and walked over to where someone else had started waving their hand for his attention. I closed my eyes for a moment as I curled the fingers of my good arm around the handle and brought the mug up for a drink.