The inside of the Last Chance Inn matched the outside, wooden, ramshackle and probably held together with bent nails and horseshoes. But its atmosphere was warm, welcoming and understanding. Here your troubles meant nothing, all that mattered was your coin and how fast you could down your drink. The interior had a number of large wooden tables and mismatched chairs, some occupied but most empty. A number of barmaids stood on hand, ready to serve. The clientele tonight was sparse. There was a rugged bearded fellow in a horned helmet tending to the bar. A knight in rusted armour sat at the bar itself, drinking from his flagon. In the corner, a woman in a cloak was muttering to herself whilst peering into a leatherbound book. Leaning against a wall beside the door, a man in leather attire wearing a cap with a feather in it stood watching. 

Eldarin was approached by a smiling barmaid, setting down a plate of roasted pork and a flagon of ale before him before she went away again. A barmaid approached Wegnus.
"Would you like anything else, sir?" she asked sweetly.