A dingy two-story building in the Doodkanaal district of Marienburg. It has one window, but it has been boarded up. A sign hangs above the door, showing a disreputable fellow making water.
The interior is no more welcoming. It’s dark, with a few lanterns making a feeble effort to pierce the gloom. Surprisingly, the place is often busy, filled with sinister men nursing tankards of ale and casting wary glances around them. Conversations are whispered. At the bar running along the side of the building is Hans Kleinhopper, who happens to also be the landlord.
Five pennies buys a meal of meat pie, though the contents are anyone’s guess. Ale costs a standard price, but it has a bouquet of sewage.
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