Dogs weren’t violent creatures, not naturally. They were protective of their owners, and, just like humans, were products of their upbringing. If a dog was trained to bite, a dog would bite.

So it surprised you when you leaned the esteemed, feared ‘Hound of the Underground’ had retired his gauntlets and taken up a peaceful little bar in the heart of the Lanes.

Of course you were confused; what had whipped this old dog into being so soft?

Even after this knowledge spread through Zaun, most people were still scared of him. He was an ex gangster— well known and well feared. Surely that would drive away business?

As you pushed the door to the bar open you were greeted by chatter, laughter. Clearly didn’t drive away business after all.

A large man, face worn and tired but still kind and…handsome, stood behind the bar, a towel over his shoulder. He was pouring a drink, that he expertly slid down the bar into the hand of a customer.

His eyes met yours, and he smiled. “Welcome to the Last Drop,” his voice was gruff, but almost fatherly. “What can I get ya?”