[hider=Ntaaj]
The tavern of Curaw is an interesting place indeed. A group of men in chainmail, mercenaries presumably, sit around playing a card game with rules you don't recognize. The bartender, a dark skinned woman in a green robe, chats with a common villager. Most of the tavern's population are unremarkable people though: Farmers, merchants, guildsmen. One particular peasant, a nervous looking, skinny, sweaty young lad approaches the mercenaries. He pleads with them, something you can't hear, and the mercenaries wave him off. From looks on their faces you can deduce he has plead his case to them many times. 

The young lad grabs one by the shoulder, says "Please!" loud enough so you can hear it, but the mercenary punches him the gut and audibly threatens him with violence if he asks again. The peasant hobbles off into the corner and looks miserable. The tavern is quiet for a moment, but the chatter quickly resumes after the mercenaries get back to their card game.

[/hider]