"Calimport. That is a bloody city too, though gambling does not always end in that. But it can." 

Amal spoke with a fond smile on his face, as if to ask 'what can one do?' He gave a shrug and began to walk toward the establishment Charynrae indicated, letting her follow in his wake so he could grab what attention they might garner. It was a good thing she was slight of stature. An orc would be harder to conceal, and even a duergar would have its troubles. Drow were also much more nicer to look at, he decided. More interesting company too, though Amal had heard a strange tale of a Duergar assassin before. He would be interested in sharing a pint with that one, too. 

"Calimport is far to the south. Maybe one day you'll see it. I'm sure I won't be as hunted in say, ten years." He said offhanded, and the two stepped into the common room. 

It was fairly spacious, with men and women from all over Faerun carousing and conversing, drinking and laughing. To the left was a small section to sit down, but to the right, against the wall they had just walked into, was the bar, and further right was a larger room with more tables. Amal supposed it was a sturdy place, being built under the stone of the great wall guarding Vaasa. 

"Excuse me sirs, but we'll need to confiscate your weapons." A broad fellow in a dark surcoast said, brown beard ensconcing his strong jaw. He looked congenial, but there was a hardness behind his eyes that showed he was not unused to forcing the issues. Amal pursed his lips and nodded, relinquishing his daggers and his saber. When he placed them in the hand of the fellow, the bouncer marveled at the make. "Magical?" 

"No, but well forged. Keep an eye on them for me. Oh, and my chultan friend is quite shy. He'll hand his over, however." Amal remarked, turning back to give Charynrae a subtle wink. The island of Chult was even further south than Calimshan, and the men there were of even darker skin than Amal. He seriously doubted any Chultan had ever been so far north, not within decades, at least. Charynrae could extend her hand at least, and she would not be incriminated by the man if he thought she was from the steaming jungles in that far off land. Though if her eyes were seen, that was another story. 

"Do you serve any arak here?" Amal asked to keep the man moderately distracted. 

"Arak?" 

"A drink from my homeland." 

"I doubt it, stranger." The bouncer remarked, rubbing his thinning head of hair. "But we've got good mead, beer, ale, and a nice stout."