You look around, and see a bar at the end of the room, not too crowded, and a barkeep standing behind it polishing a glass. There are many tables and charis around the room, some filled, most not. You see an unlit fireplace on the right wall and windows-- very filthy--lining the left. You decide to sit down at an empty table beside one of those windows.

Eventually the barkeep approches. "What can I do for ye?" he asks in a husky voice.

You smile and say "Just some ale, thanks."

The barkeep grunts, and goes behind the bar to fetch your request.

You look around at the happenings of the tavern. Almost everyone is looking at you unwelcomingly, and if they're not, they're drinking AND giving you unwelcoming looks, or they're too busy eating to be bothered. You acknowledge their stares with a smile and a nod.

The biggest one that you smiled and nodded at gives you the most evil look yet. You turn away from him, hoping you'll avoid a conflict.

The bartender returns to your table with a tankard of dark ale. You say "Thanks." He grunts and says he'll add it to your tab.

You raise your eyebrows in acknoledgement, and take a sip of the brown, frothy brew. And gag as you see what looks like a toenail floating in your cup. "Ewww..." you say as you put the tankard back onto the table. You peer into the drink, looking for the toenail. You see it, and pull it out of your drink, not sure weather or not to finish it.

"Hmm...." You look around at the patrons. Some of them are still giving you nasty looks. The ones that were drinking and looking at you earlier were looking at the toenail on your table, and then into their drinks, swirling it around their tankards wondering if there's anything in their drinks, too.

One of them plunged their hand into their brew, and emerged it holding a baby finger. He held it up for all to see.

A few of the patrons dropped their drinks at the sight, and a few actually retched. "Ewww..." you repeat.

The one holding the finger turned his attention to the bartender, and bellowed "Who brews your ale? A leper?!?"

The bartender was clearly taken offguard. "Why, no! My ale comes in from the town of Coperdon!"

"LET'S GO GET'EM!!" yells the one holding the finger. The rest of the partons are too drunk to care, and just moan in response. The man sighs, and sits back down.

What now?
Have another ?
Have something to eat, hoping there's nothing in it either?