>>5441253>>5441281>>5441312>>5441325>>5441391>>5441548>>5441561>>5441611>>5441737Tea is pleasant, but the thought of filling your belly with something more substantial is so much more appealing. Alas, the one and only pub in this one-lizard town is named the 'Sick Dog.' Certainly, you have been deceived about a plentitude of facts pertaining to the world of light, but knowing that you are to be dining at an establishment named after an ailing animal still leads you to assume that your meal will be of, put generously, questionable quality.
Trudging through the persistent snow of yesteryear, you stroll into a cozy establishment which is not at all as lively as the Stag at Bay, nor anywhere close to being as grand as the Dreaming Dragon. 'Frugal' is the word that comes to mind, although 'mediocre' and 'bland' could serve as suitable substitutes. Tired traders and whatever dogsbodies or mercenaries they hired to accompany them chat in low voices, throwing curious looks your way now and again. No hostility - that is always a reassuring sign.
The roaring flame which illuminates the interior deters the preeminent draft of chill wind that seems desperate to find its way in by any means, driving you to seek a warm spot at an empty table near the fire. The best feature of the Sick Dog, you discover, is the inexpensive food and drink. You may not be able to pronounce the names of anything on this menu, nor do you comprehend what they are meant to be when the insipid serving girl explains them to you, but you are able to secure a meal and more for the pittance of a single coin.
The benefits of being in the middle of nowhere, you suppose.
