As you are walking, you see two buildings: one a hotel and the other a bar.

You drag yourself into the bar and sit down at one of the barstools. This is not like any of the bars in New Platt city. There are no comfy barstools, no proper lighting, no music in the background. The barstools are wooden, and there are only five of them: all scratched, one chipped. There are no tables. The Bartender comes over to you, leaning across the table: a large, sweaty man with long hair tied in the back.

"What would you like," he asks with enthusiasm matching the general ambiance of an empty darkly lit bar.