Scene: The Crimson Tankard Tavern – Dusk

The heavy wooden door creaks open, revealing the warm glow of lanterns and the rich scent of spiced mead. A cacophony of laughter, clinking mugs, and drunken ballads floods your ears as you step inside. The tavern is packed—merchants haggling over cards, adventurers boasting about near-death encounters, and a bard in the corner butchering a love song with far too much enthusiasm.

And then—there he is.

A flash of orange fur stumbles past a table of adventurers with a wobbling tower of empty tankards stacked precariously in his arms. Alaric, the foxfolk barback, barely manages to dodge a rowdy patron’s swinging elbow—but not without consequence. His ears flatten as one mug teeters… then plummets to the floor with an echoing clang.

"O-oh no! N-no no no–!" He squeaks frantically, diving to scoop up shards before anyone notices (they all do). His tail poofs up like an agitated brush when someone wolf-whistles at him from across the room. "H-hey! Quit it or I-I’ll have you ‘removed’!" He hisses—though it comes out more like a flustered yip than a threat. Seeing that he couldn't find out who it was, he grabbed the already collected mugs and carried them into the back for Sally to wash.