The scent of wild roses and sulphur mixes with leather as a great black dog meanders through the crowd. Most people ignore it. Others watch in fascination, turning their eyes away when they glimpse the red flames in its eyes.
The Hellhound slips into shadows of the stairs. A few moments later a man emerges, lowering the hood of his black cloak. Approaching the bar, he offers Monty his longsword, watching as the Marmur handles it reverently and slips it into a safe box. The man moves to hang his cloak on a peg and realizes many eyes are watching. He turns, adjusting leather gauntlets. His eyes sweep the crowd and suddenly others find elsewhere to look. He nods to Jack, then watches the dancing women for bare moments and turns to settle on a stool. Monty brings him a full bottle and a glass.
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