[center][h3]Ivan’s Brew[/h3][/center]

The bar was packed today, the slavers seemed to have been celebrating a recent victory. Of what he could only guess, but he heard news of a recent attack on Liberty Island. It wasn’t impossible to assume they had been responsible for it. 

An armored man, a Slaver by the looks of it, walked up the bar and ordered a drink. “Whatever you are looking for we got it, only here at Ivan’s brew.” 

The man gave gleeful smile and shouted “Give me the best shit you got. I’ve had a long day, and I want to unwind.” Robs simply smiled and handed him a bottle of Ivan’s Specialty Brew. Before he even managed to take a single sip however a loud explosion was heard in the distance. The entire bar went silent, something Robs hadn’t seen a single day of his life.

A man ran inside the building and yelled “The Old Mans Corner is under attack, someone just blew up the barracks.” Nearly ¾ of the customers seated quickly jumped out of their seats and began piling out of the building. Those who remained burst into idle conversation and slight panic. 

Robs looked over at Oaf who was silently standing in the corner doing his usual business before he shouted “Oaf get over here. I want to see what all the fuss is about.” Oaf being somewhat reclusive in frightening situations reluctantly agreed. Though he didn’t mention it, the Old Mans Corner was the majority of his business, making this not only a huge threat to his business protection wise, but economically as well. 

When they finally arrived outside they could see the flames from Ivan’s Brew, and Robs heart sank. Oaf somewhat obviously began to point only saying only two words “fire bad”. However for Robs it was worse than bad, it was terrible. He wasn’t going to be able to run a business under these circumstances and slightly panicked. Soon after he began motioning to the leader of the mercenary group working under him.

“I want half of your men to accompany me to the Old Mans Corner. It seems we have an issue to deal with.” The man silently agreed and five of the ten hired mercenaries began to leave Ivan’s Brew. Once they had gathered they quickly followed Robs and Oaf to the Old Mans Corner. Each mercenary was armed with an assortment of weapons from rifles to shotguns, while wearing sturdy leather armor. Not exactly an elite force, but it was the best Robs could ask for.