The tavern wench walks around offering drink and lighting the tavern's many candles. A couple of dwarves stop her, their cheeks red with smiles and ale. One grumbles something inaudible and her hand reaches out as quick as lighting and strikes him across the face. He and his friend laugh, she stomps away. The dim light in the room hides the grime on the tables. The corner bursts out with the laughter of gnomes and a few humans.
The barkeep taps a new keg and the fresh ale's smell permeates through the room.
The door opens wide and a tall human man comes in, his clothes are fine and stand out in this town, anyone can see that this man's trade is flesh. He eyes the room looking for new girls for his brothel, a girl follows him in service, she is wearing little more than rags, and her face is tattooed marking her as a slave for life. The couple sit down and the tavern wench brings them ale, they are familiar to her.
Only a few patrons sit isolated from others.
(Tell me where you are and what you are doing and give me some action, you are strangers, so you don't have to sit near each other)