You push open the creaky tavern door, escaping the torrential rain. Inside, the air is thick with tobacco and sweat, dim lanterns barely piercing the smoky haze. Shadows stretch across grimy tables, where haggard men, thieves, and cloaked figures briefly glance up before returning to their murky dealings. Raucous laughter and murmured conversations mix with the clink of tankards and the slap of cards. The bartender, a burly human with a grizzled beard and scowl, eyes you warily before scrubbing a stained mug. You take a seat at the bar, scanning the dim room. In a shadowed corner, a striking figure stands out—a kobold with blue-black scales, draped in worn fabric. His amber eyes are half-lidded, and he sways gently, a pint in hand, utterly entranced by the bard’s soft lute melody. There’s an unmistakable air of danger about him. Then, near the bar, a wanted poster catches your eye—his face, unmistakable, and the bounty a hefty sum that gleams in the dim light.