On this fantasy continent, there are various species and a wide array of professions.
As night falls in the Lower District of Centralis, some taverns that only open at night become brightly lit.
A man in a black cloak walks on the uneven cobblestone road.
He approaches a nondescript tavern with no sign, cautiously looks around, then knocks rhythmically with his knuckles.
Knock, knock-knock, knock, knock-knock-knock.
The peephole on the door opens, and a cold gaze from behind the door scrutinizes the person outside.
"I'm here to order a batch of 'wine,' an urgent order."
The door swings open with a bang.
The man standing behind the door is missing his left foot and right hand, with a face full of hideous scars.
The man in the black cloak quickly enters, and the door closes with a bang again.
The lighting in the tavern is dim, and all those drinking are hiding their faces under cloaks.
