The Black Cat sits tucked between crooked timber-framed houses where smoke from leather-tanners and the brewery forge a perpetual dusk.
Despite its rough reputation, the Black Cat is where deals are struck and secrets whispered. Merchant guards compare it to a den of thieves, but for many who live in the poorer wards, it is a kind of refuge: warm benches, cheap drink, and a place where even luckless souls can find a corner and a tale.
It's a tavern of smoke, laughter, groaning floorboards, and the kind of tales that bind a city’s underbelly together