>>6062897>>6062903>>6063153>>6063425The One Eyed Crow definitely isn't trying to bring in the foot traffic. You check the address twice before descending the stairs that lead to the basement entrance. A crude drawing of an eye is spraypainted onto a wall, with a line running through it. The door stands out, subtly at least, looking more solid than the walls surrounding it, though that was a low bar to be sure. You tell the voice in the back of your head to fuck off and knock twice.
A panel slides open, though no face rises to look through it. A few exposed pipes are visible on the other end, and warm babble of voices leaks out. "Yeah?" A voice asks.
"Is this is the One Eyed Crow?"
"Hmm. I dunno. You someone's girlfriend or something?"
"Is this one of those stupid things where I have to kick your ass to get in? Cause I just wanted a drink."
There's a clatter on the other end, then a different, female voice speaks up. "Get out of the way jackass and let me take a look at her...holy shit did one of our guys do this to-"
"It was a fucking bear! Fuck! Can I get a drink or is there a fucking secret password I need first?"
There's a long pause. "What kind of bear?" The woman asks slowly.
You glare at the opening. "The kind the size of a house."
"Holy shit. How did you let that thing sneak up on you?"
You grimace. "I...might have taken a shot at it with my crossbow."
There is another long silence, then in unison. "Holy shit."
"Can I get a drink or not?"
The familiar rhythm of bolts, chains, and a chair being removed sounds out. The door finally opens, revealing a tall pair of redheads that you'd bet your last twenty on being siblings. The woman, a solid foot taller than you, grins and grabs your hand. "Hey, you tell the story of surviving a fucking arkson and I'll buy the drinks all night." She practically drags you down the hall, past exposed pipes and dusty shelves until you're surrounded by conversation and laughter, the clink of glasses, and a lot of fucking muscle. Yeah, you're definitely the shrimp of the crowd. Your guide drops you at a plain wooden table and comes back with a pitcher of beer and a pair of glasses.
"The name's Helen, and I'm just gonna say it right now, how the hell did you get into hunting? You aren't exactly the type you know."
You take a drink, a blissfully strong drink. "Not really sure to be honest. I'm just a cashier, and a jorhound showed up at my job. Next thing I know I'm beating it to death with a golf club."
Helen barely catches herself mid swallow before laughing. "A golf club? Did my first kill with a spear out in the woods, with my dad. How'd you go from that to taking shots at a fucking arkson of all things?"
> Tell the tale> "Wait, this is a family business for you?" 
